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iloveboysinred · 2 months ago

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SNOWED IN.

|MDNI 18+ content | Sylus x afab reader

synopsis; Sylus surprises you with a week-long trip to a ski resort in Alaska.

cw; afab reader, no use of y/n, crack/fluff. Sylus and reader are whipped for each other, sylus is bad at skiing , Gets a bit spicy but not outright smut, an attempt at writing something cutesy for the holidays. instagram posts at the end <3 (lets all pretend alaska exists in the lnds universe)

3114k words | playlist

If there was one thing Sylus was exceedingly good at, it would be spontaneity. It seemed like every other week he had something new scheduled for the two of you. Whether it’d be a date to an upscale restaurant, or the grand opening of a new club he had recently bought; Sylus liked to keep you entertained.

Christmas was coming, and it was his favorite time of the year to spoil you and treat you to luxuries you’d never thought accessible before. This year he’d planned a costly week-long getaway trip to a ski resort in Alaska, complete with a cozy private cabin and various activities to make your stay as memorable as possible.

You were beyond excited, packing all of your warmest garments and feeling less than guilty clearing out your schedule for the entire week. Your heart nearly fluttered away from your chest when you heard the coded knocks at your front door. Sylus, your very own prince charming, was finally here to rescue you from the painful dullness of everyday life. Eager, you open the door and pull him inside before he could get a word in, his surprised grunt ripping a fit of giggles from your chest as you embraced him, rocking his taller frame side to side in your arms. Sylus laughed, affectionately petting your head when you released him, running around to collect your things and throw in whatever you thought appropriate.“What an excited little kitten.” He mused to himself, holding his arms out dutifully as you piled on suitcases and bags for him to carry.

You don’t even try to hide your appreciation, doting on him with warm kisses and words of gratitude as he finished hauling the last of your luggage into the car. He returned your affections with quiet mirth, cradling your face into the plane of his chest, lovingly sharing his warmth with you. “Let's go, sweetie.” He murmured into your hair after a while, regrettably pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of your head and opening the passenger door for you all gentlemen-like.

Mephisto cawed to you in greeting from his perch on the arm rest, quickly nestling into your lap when you sat down, cooing like a needy cat demanding his share of your attention. You complied, stroking the bird’s bill tenderly as Sylus started the ignition, driving at less than favorable speeds.

Arriving at the resort felt like you had just stepped into winter wonderland. Undisturbed snow stretched for miles, blanketing the large hills and mountaintops overlooking the resort in blinding white. Pine trees decorated the open plains, their thick branches weighed down with heavy snow, just barley blending in with the surroundings. You eagerly surged out of the jet, drinking in the scenery despite the biting cold. Sylus followed you out, handing the luggage off for the twins to carry back to your cabin.

“Excited?” Sylus tenderly wraps a thick scarf around your neck, pulling a lip of the knitted fabric over to cover your nose. You nod, rubbing your eyes to ease the soreness you felt from the beaming sun reflecting off of the white snow. “So, when do we start skiing?” you turned towards him with childish enthusiasm beaming in your eyes, jet lag long forgotten. He only smiled, taking your hand in his “let's head to the cabin and change first. The vacation would go to waste if you catch a cold.” You obliged, feeling a bit ahead of yourself, but still unable to stop yourself from drinking in your surroundings as he led the way.

The cabin, albeit sizable, was as cozy as you had hoped. Familiar aromas of cinnamon and nutmeg greeted you as you opened the door, your eyes blinking appreciatively at the old timey lamps stationed at every corner of the cabin, bathing the room in a comforting glow. The large floor to ceiling curtains suppress the outside world’s natural light. In the living room area, a large bearskin rug laid out in front of a river-stone fireplace, complimenting the assortment of fur blankets and bedding neatly folded on the couch for you to use.

The bedroom itself matched the interior decoration, two matching nightstands sat at each side of the large bed, complete with layers of thick blankets and pristine pillows. The nightstands themselves each had its own lamp, and two satin sleep masks folded neatly over a set of matching robes for the both of you. Before you could even begin to strip down and change into appropriate attire, Luke and Kieran leisurely stroll in through the door, dropping duffel bags onto the hardwood floors, whatever was inside hitting the floor with a loud clang!

“We bought the skiing gear you requested, boss.” Luke chirped, pulling down the bottom part of his ski mask, his nose rosy red from the outside cold. “We even got the extra stuff you wanted. The gift shop is impressive” Kieran added, cheekily grabbing one of the complimentary pastries left by the staff and handing Sylus what you guessed was his credit card. They exchanged a few more words you couldn't make out, only hearing their enthusiastic shuffling before the door shut behind them.

Turning around you met Sylus’s gaze, mischief dancing in his eyes as he walked towards you with the two duffel bags in hand. “Better suit up sweetie, the twins are waiting for us at the bunny slope.” you eagerly grabbed the bag he outstretched to you, hurrying off to change.

To your surprise Sylus had sent you ahead, claiming he needed to unpack a few things before he could feel truly comfortable heading out to join you. In the meantime, the twins kept you company, racing you down the gentle slope a few times before moving on to a different hill. You became the designated photographer, the three of you snapping pictures and laughing as you wandered up and down the resort, your cheeks growing numb and flushed from the biting cold. You watched as Luke and Kieran raced down the ‘black diamond,’ the two of them darting past each other and leaving long tracks in the snow, their shouts of excitement nearly drowned out by the wind. It was then that you noticed nobody else was waiting in line to take a turn. The resort was basically a ghost town, save for you and the staff.

Briefly, you wondered if Sylus was planning something. It wasn't unusual for him to rent out or even buy a space for just the two of you to enjoy, but his insistence for you to go ahead without him and his quiet exchange with the twins raised alarm bells in your mind.

Kieran’s panicked shouts drew you out of your thoughts a second too late. You felt them before you saw them— the impact of twins crashing into you was strong enough to send the three of you toppling over into the snow. Recovering from the initial shock, you broke out into a fit of laughter, the twins awkwardly scrambling off of you, their hurried apologies coming from all angles as they helped you to your feet. Distracted by the sheer comedy of the moment, you just barely missed Mephisto’s loud cries from overhead, signifying Sylus’s upcoming approach.

The crow descended from the sky like a hawk, clicking and cooing as he landed on your shoulder, shaking his feathers out in protest to the wind. Sylus appeared soon after, fully decked out in ski gear and heavy clothing, you would barely recognize it was him if not for the aura and presence he exuded, effortlessly maintaining his elegance despite how silly he looked with his oversized snow goggles and weighty ski boots, exhibiting the classic penguin waddle of somebody not used to wearing skis. “decided to join us?” You mused, regarding him with fond eyes as he approached. “Of course,” he shifted in his spot uncomfortably, the heavy ski boots felt like they added 5 pounds to each foot, and you could already picture the irritated furrow in his brow. “Couldn’t let you have all the ‘fun’. Now, who wants to try their luck in a race against me?” You grinned, grabbing his wrist and all but dragging him to the chairlift while the twins followed.

It was hard to race against Sylus when the man could just barely balance himself on the ski’s. You watched in amusement as he clicked them on to the bottoms of his boots, slightly wobbling his way over to you once safely off the chairlift. You smiled from behind the ski mask, holding his arm while he adjusted his stance. It was obvious Sylus had never skied before, yet he still shooed away your doting hands, standing up straighter to clumsily maintain his balance. “Are you ready to lose?” You teased, waddling closer so that he could hear you through the protection of your mask. “Lose? “Don’t be so sure of your victory just yet, kitten.” despite his self assured tone, you don’t miss the way his hands gripped the ski poles to steady himself. You giggled, shifting a few feet away from him to ready yourself.

The twins counted down from behind you, and on the third mark, you pushed off and down the hill. Wind whipped around as you descended down the slope, and you quickly angled your ski’s into a v-shape to gain more speed, skillfully leaning your weight down onto the boots. You could just barely see Sylus from your peripheral, delighted to see him holding his own but still unable to gain advantageous speed.

In minutes you scored your victory.

“It seems you’ve won.” Sylus grumbled, coming to a stop next to you and very quickly clicking the ski’s off, again, balancing on the poles. “When you say it like that, it's almost as if you can’t accept that you’ve lost.” You mused dusting the snow off of his goggles, giggling when he slid them over his helmet, his eyes squinting at the sudden adjustment. “I can always just teach you, Sy.” He scoffed, already trekking back towards the chairlift. “Let's go again.” Unbeknownst to you, the twins crept away towards your cabin, swooning over the secret pictures they had taken of you and Sylus as they eagerly headed to complete their task.

You stayed outside until your muscles locked and your hands were numb.racing over and over until the daylight sky had darkened into beautiful midnight, the lack of light pollution providing the stars an open canvas to shine at full luminosity. It was beautiful, the hues of purple and blue painting the open sky stealing your breath away. Following Sylus back to the cabin had you light on your feet. The silence of the surrounding woodland created an air of private intimacy. It was only you and him out here, where no prying eyes could follow.

You paid no mind to the darkness that greeted you when you opened the door, the both of you carelessly stripping off the heavy snow-proof clothing and leaving it on the couch for tomorrow. You stop in your tracks as you enter the bedroom.The room was candlelit, adding to the cozy atmosphere the cabin already provided, on the bed Sylus had assorted a barrage of different gift bags– all from different upscale brands, a mix of names you recognized and others you didn't. In the center of it all, sat a large maroon box, topped with a pretty black bow.

Sylus sauntered in, his chest pressing against your back. You leaned into him, your heart beating in your chest as his arm slid over yours, intertwining your fingers. “A gift for every day that we spend together.” He whispered, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You turned around in his embrace, your eyes shining with emotion. “Sylus, i- i don’t know what to say…thank you.” he smiled, cradling your face in his large hand, his nose brushing against yours as he leaned in. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me hold you like this a little longer.” you closed the space between you, shyly touching your lips to his in a gentle kiss. Sylus responded, holding you close to him as he returned your love. Melting into his arms, you stood on your tippy toes to deepen the kiss, conveying your adoration through your actions. You carded your fingers through his hair, ruffling the silky strands and he moved with you, his hands coming down to rest at your hips, pressing back into you with the same neediness. Slowly, he parted from you, releasing a breath. “I’ve drawn a bath.” his voice had picked up into a rasp, invoking jitters to run up and through your body. “Okay.” you breathed, wading out of his arms and letting him guide you to the bathroom.

You were pleasantly surprised to see the bathtub adorned with tea lights and a small record player sitting on the bathroom counter, a vinyl already inserted and ready to be played. Sylus swiftly moved the tonearm onto the vinyl, and the record began to spin. Unhurried, you undressed each other, exchanging heated kisses and wandering touches that set your skin ablaze.

Finally making it to the large tub, you sat in between Sylus’s legs, comfortably leaning back into him as he gently rubbed a soapy sponge over your skin. You felt your muscles relax, the steaming water loosening the knots that had begun to form after a long day of travel and strain. You closed your eyes, reveling in his touch, the music from the record player adding the perfect touch to your intimacy. Sylus pressed kisses down the side of your neck, slowly lathering the aromatic soap over your chest with the sponge, his intentions indiscreet. Leaning your head back, you let him kiss you breathless. The unique aroma of his cologne and natural musk overwhelmed your senses, your head spinning with each shift of his bare body against yours. It didn’t take long for Sylus to take you for himself, the water sloshing and spilling over the tub becoming evidence of your copulation.

Once dried and in your robes, the two of you grazed over a small charcuterie board, sharing glasses of wine and aimless small talk. Unable to stop yourself, you leaned over to his side of the bed where the two of you had pushed the gift bags away to safety and picked up the maroon box that had caught your attention the most, sitting it on your lap as you looked at him, fingering around the black bow curiously. “What��s in here?” Sylus shrugged, the corners of his mouth upturning, repressed excitement clear on his face. “I don't know, kitten. I guess you’ll just have to open it and see.” You carefully untied the ribbon and cracked open the box. A beautiful dress laid folded inside, matching earrings and a necklace delicately placed on the collar. You placed the accessories on the lid of the box, admiring the intricate design.

It appeared to be two lizard like—no, two dragons guarding a silver plated ruby, the earrings matching the beautiful gem. The dress itself was a deep maroon, matching the box it came in. The material felt silky to the touch, and its length was much too long for you to fully admire from your seated position. You glanced at Sylus, holding the dress up to your chest. “It's beautiful Sy. But, when would I wear this?” He chuckled at the awe on your face. “We have dinner tomorrow.” He stood up, retrieving the record player from the bathroom and setting it on the bed, re-spinning the vinyl and clasping your hand to pull you towards him. “It's somewhat of a winter’s ball. Now would be good practice.” You leaned into him, allowing the taller man to take the lead and sway you to the music.

“This is hardly ballroom dancing.” You mused, letting him twirl you around, feeling just as elegant in your bathrobe. “We’ll do it our way.” He took you in his arms, twirling the two of you around to the melody before placing you back down. You felt like you were walking on clouds, and as you gazed into the deep sanguine of his eyes, you realized that you’d hadn’t seen him today. From the ski mask obstructing the view of his face, the few hours you had spent apart entertained by the twins, and even in the bathtub, where you both had given in to your most carnal desires—the day had tossed you up into a storm, offering you little to no time to admire the man before you, who could effortlessly swept you off your feet, the man that has done everything—no matter how mundane, to satisfy you.

The time was now. You drank him in; the silver strands of his hair, still damp and moussed against his skin, perfectly matching the beautiful ivory frame of his eye lashes. His thin, perfect lips and the perfect slope of his nose- and of course, his eyes. Beautiful, intense scarlet bore into yours, a thousand unspoken words in his adoring gaze. As the song slowed to a stop, so did the two of you, your lips meeting again in sweet kiss, holding each other close unhurriedly pouring your hearts dry.

And as the day’s exhaustion caught up with you, the bed was welcoming. You laid against his body, his arm a comforting weight around your waist. Your body lost consciousness before your mind did, and you didn’t miss the amorous words he whispered into your ear.

Bloopers and ig posts!

Luke and Kieran crept into the cabin reserved for you and Sylus, Mephisto perched on Kieran’s shoulder. They looked around once, twice— before they entered. They had been instructed to light each and every candle Sylus had set out before you would arrive. Both to prevent the fire hazard and to ensure the candles were still lit once you came in. “Who knew the boss was so romantic?” Luke mused, taking the candle lighter and flickering on the tea lights around the tub. “I wonder how she managed to steal his heart” Kieran called back, bringing forth the small record player and vinyl, delicately placing it on the counter. The two of them swooned, admiring their handy work. Mephisto cawed a warming. You and Sylus were approaching. Alarmed, the two of them finished off the last of the candles, quickly shuffling towards the back window, hurriedly tumbling out when they heard the keys jingling in the lock. They landed hard in the snow, grunting as they tripped over each other trying to flee the scene, Mephisto following overhead.

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vacation-resort-solutions · 1 year ago

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remlionheart · 11 months ago

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Split Decision

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦ ˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ i woke up this morning w a slutty, feral, urgent need for some soukoku x fem!reader smut and this fic just kinda poured out of me (literally), 3.7k words. porn with a plot. (hope u like it nasty) you're an intern, ending your last day in Yokohama when you're approached at the hotel bar by two men who have one very pressing question for you: red or white wine? i was melting into an actual puddle writing this so lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡ (and as alwaaayysss, thank u to the loml @bratbby333 for proofreading and being just as fucking pumped for this to come out as i was ♡) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You were tired, exhausted after a day filled with meetings that you barely contributed anything to. You were grateful for your internship, happy that it held the promise of a job right after graduation but being in Yokohama for the last two days had been a bit lackluster.

You sat at the bar of your hotel with lazy, muffled jazz music dancing around you as you fiddled with the straw in your empty cocktail glass.

The trip itself hadn't been all bad. The days were long, but you'd managed to make the most of your nights. The firm you were interning for was gracious enough to make it an all-expenses paid trip and you'd definitely taken full advantage of that over the last week.

You'd spent your nights in the most upscale restaurants the city had to offer, taking yourself on little dates to pass the time. You'd found yourself sitting alongside powerful businessmen and prominent executives that made you feel important even though you were still very much on the outskirts of their social circles. You had been a fly on the wall, quietly observing a world that you could only hope to one day be a part of.

It'd been a learning experience if nothing else. A secret glimpse into how rich men behaved when they thought no one was watching. There was something intoxicating about it all. Something that made you want to try harder when you got back home. You were determined to have this sort of life for yourself one day and you would.

That's what made being responsible tonight all the more important. Your flight back home was set to leave at 6 am. Your bags were already packed and waiting for you in your room. As tempting as it was to venture out into the city again, you needed to be well-rested and level-headed when you woke up tomorrow. So, you'd kept your promise to yourself and settled on slipping into your last clean black dress and grabbing a few drinks at the hotel bar to end your makeshift vacation.

Your legs dangled from your stool, the strap of your dress slipping down your arm as you yawned. The bar had been mostly vacant all night. People passing by, but never actually staying for more than one drink. The vintage grandfather clock at the corner of the room watched you tauntingly, another sway of its heavy arms indicating that it was nearing midnight.

You knew it was time to head back. Your hand reached out to bell for the bartender when two opposing, but equally powerful drinks were suddenly placed at either side of you.

A deep, rich red wine on your left and a deceptively alluring white wine on your right. Your eyes hesitantly drifted between the two men that were now occupying the seats next to you, the warmth of their bodies radiating off of them as they sized you up.

"Which one will it be, angel?" His voice was like velvet, a dangerous smirk creeping across his face as his brown eyes met you. His partially bandaged fingertips slowly pushed the Chardonnay towards you. "You look like a woman of good taste. Honestly, I think you'd like this one much better."

A gloved hand rested on the small of your back, gently turning you around to face him instead. His disheveled red hair and azure gaze were hard to ignore as he nudged the Cabernet closer to you. "Tch, you're too pretty for that cheap shit." He smirked. "Besides, I bet you're wantin' something that would hit way deeper than that, right?"

Your breath was suddenly lodged in your throat, an ache burning between your legs at the sheer shamelessness of it all.

The brunette's smile was piercing, his stare slicing into the man on your left as he let out a low laugh. "You've always had quite the imagination, haven't you Chuuya?" His eyes maintained the same sharpness, dragging back to yours with fervor. "I think what she really needs is something that would leave her begging for more and that's not something that measly little sweet red of yours would do."

The air between the three of you was suddenly suffocating.

You crossed one leg over the other, finding yourself actually having to clench while they carried on with their salaciously threatening banter. Their fingers roaming along your back and the top of your hand. Both inching closer and closer, still spilling out corrupt little nothings about which one would taste better going down your throat and which one would fill you up until there was no more room left.

You needed to be in bed. You needed to keep your wits about you. You needed to tell them both that you didn't have time for this, but your insides were on fire the harder they fought over you.

After being ignored at every meeting you'd gone to this week and being nothing more than a wallflower at the dinner parties you'd attended, having two admittedly depraved but attractive men competing over you like this was enough to make you forget about trivial things like time and responsibilities.

They were still going on. Still gently petting and praising you while their insults towards each other grew heavier and headier.

Your blood rushed through your veins as you looked down at the contrasting wines sitting in front of you. You knew the minute that you took a sip of either, your fate would be sealed for the night. You'd be declaring yourself to one of them. The only smart option you had would be to push both drinks aside, to choose yourself, and to leave the two of them to carry on with their degenerate rivalry with the next unsuspecting girl that waltzed in here.

But you weren't going to settle for either.

As you glanced between them, it dawned on you that there was an alternate, much more menacing 4th option at your disposal.

Their voices came to a pause when they noticed your hand finally raise, hovering directly in the center of the two glasses. Your eyes danced from the brunette back to Chuuya, a hazy smile pulling at the corner of your mouth despite the fact that your heart felt like it was capable of ripping straight through your chest at any given second.

You rested your palm over both, letting your middle finger slide into the Cabernet and your index finger slide into the Chardonnay in perfect unison.

The tension was palpable as they watched you slowly pull out and bring them to your lips. You cocked your head to the side, your tongue generously gliding against the mixture of red and white before you brought them all the way into your mouth, spit slightly dribbling down your chin while you looked between the two men.

A smile cut across your face as you noticed the two sets of blown out pupils staring back at you. "Does that answer your question?"

"No," Chuuya was the first to break the silence. "No fuckin' way am I letting that asshole anywhere near the same room as us."

But it only seemed to pique the brunette's interest more.

A grin that could rival that of the devil's began to pull at the corner of his mouth. "Oh c'mon, Chuuya. You're really gonna deny this angel what she wants?"

"Don't start with me, Dazai." he snarled, his eyes softening a bit when they reached yours. "Look, I'd love to fuck you, but -"

Dazai took full advantage of the redhead's decision to opt out, spinning your barstool towards him so that your back was abruptly facing Chuuya before he could even finish his sentence. "Well," he smirked with a dangerous sense of wit in his voice. "Guess that just leaves us then."

"Wait a minute, that's not how this works!" Your chair was once again being flung in the opposite direction. A gloved hand gently cupping yours as he tried to reason with you. "You're gorgeous, y'know that, right? Even if you end up leavin' by yourself, I promise it'd still be better than endin' up with that mackerel over there."

It should've been an insult. In fact, you were certain that it was an insult, but for some deranged reason, it made Dazai all the more persistent to get you what you had originally asked for.

"Okaaay, okaayy." He conceded as he stood up. "There's no need for petty nicknames. If you're too self-conscious to share a beautiful woman's body with me, that's all you have to say."

"Self-conscious?" The edge in Chuuya's tone only gave Dazai what he wanted. "I'm not self-conscious, you arrogant bastard. I just don't trust you."

Dazai leaned into your ear, his hand shielding his mouth though his voice was far from a whisper. "It's because of his height, I'm afraid. Quite sad really."

"Alright, cut the shit." It was enough to finally bring the redhead to his feet.

He stood up, grabbing your hand to help you off your chair, eyes now locked firmly with yours. "You really want us to fuck you?" He asked, completely ignoring the absolutely vile smirk Dazai was sporting.

A mix of fear and arousal pooled between your thighs as you realized that this was your one chance to back out.

You looked between the two of them one last time before promptly grabbing the drinks that were left on the counter and knocking them both back one right after the other.

"My room or yours?" You asked.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The three of you had ended up in Chuuya's suite which was at least three times the size of your room. It was lofty, decorated with high-rise windows that were covered by thick, black privacy curtains. His king-sized bed made up in pristine white sheets that you feared would soon be ripped to shreds with the way the two of them could barely share the same elevator without almost killing each other, let alone share you.

Chuuya took off his gloves and hung his coat in the closest next to Dazai's as you slipped out of your heels and left them by the door. Your heart was suddenly in your throat now that you were actually here.

You were still by the entryway, not entirely sure how this was going to start while Chuuya went around and began dimming the lights, making a snide comment about how the less he had to see of Dazai, the better. The brunette just smirked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, motioning for you to join him.

He spread his legs, lightly guiding you to stand in front of him as he kissed the back of your hand. His brown eyes trailed over you intently, his slender fingers tracing along the curve of your hip. "No need to be nervous," he whispered, tangling his free hand into yours.

There was something so tantalizing about the way he was looking at you. Eager but thorough, like he wanted to memorize every single inch of you. "See how pretty she is, Chuuya?"

You felt him approach you from behind, his calloused hands holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail while his breath fanned across the top of your shoulder. "Care if I unzip this?" he asked, his lips pressing softly against the side of your neck as you nodded. He continued to kiss and nip at you, carefully dragging the zipper down your spine before letting it fall to the floor.

"Fuck."

It was perhaps the one thing that they'd agreed on all night.

Dazai had the full-frontal view of you and Chuuya had the back. You were on full display for them both due to the fact that you'd opted for no bra or panties when you'd left your room earlier, thinking that you'd be coming straight back anyway. What a lie that had turned out to be.

Dazai's hand roamed along your stomach, goosebumps dancing across your skin as his fingertips dipped a bit lower. Chuuya's mouth was still on the nape of your neck, his grip tightening around your hips, drawing the poutiest little whimpers out of you.

"And to think you almost made us pass this up." Dazai taunted. "That would've been suuuch a shame."

"Shut up." Chuuya grunted, pulling you closer so that your ass was flushed perfectly against him. Your back arched feeling how hard he was, another little noise you couldn't quite control escaping you.

Dazai raised an eyebrow at this, realizing how easy it was to make you squirm.

"Oh, our girl's sensitive, isn't she?" He smirked, his fingers making their way to your center, just barely touching the outside of your folds. "Hmm," He hummed, surveying your desperate, dripping cunt. "What kind of sounds do you think she'll make if I do this?"

His finger ran along your clit, only giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation before he immediately plunged it inside of you.

"Nngh ~!" You whined, ramming yourself further into Chuuya's bulge. He held you steady, stuck somewhere between severely hating that Dazai had made you moan like that and fucking loving that you did it while grinding against him.

"Aw, look at that. I think she likes you, Chuuya." Dazai mocked, sliding into you again without warning, jealousy washing over him at how you were holding onto the redhead for support.

He went deeper, adding in another finger, to redirect your attention down to him as you mewled. "Feel good, angel?" he asked through heavy lashes.

You nodded back at him so pitifully, it made him groan, rubbing his thumb against your clit as his other two digits continued their assault on you.

You felt Chuuya undoing his belt behind you, his pants quietly dropping to the ground.

"You're doing so good," he praised into the softness of your neck, stroking himself with one hand and palming at your chest with the other. Squeezing a nipple between his fingers as you filled the room with more heavenly noises. "Think you can do me a favor, baby?" His voice felt like blissful static against the shell of your ear.

"M -" you struggled, your eyes nearly crossing at Dazai relentlessly hitting your g-spot. "Mhmmm." you finally managed.

"Can you bend over f'me?"

You tried your best to comply, but Dazai wasn't making it easy. In fact, he was making it impossible. Every time you tried to move, he'd go deeper, practically pulling you towards him from the inside with the curl of his long fingers.

Your vision was blurry, your body forgetting how to move altogether as the two men fought over you like you were a toy that they were willing to break in half as long as it meant the other person couldn't have it anymore.

"I -" you whined, noticing the absolutely feral smirk spread across Dazai's face. "I'm gonna - fuck, I can't -"

As much as Chuuya wanted to murder him for making you cum first, he knew his turn was next and he was going to fuck you into oblivion. "I've got you." he breathed, still playing with your nipple and holding you in place. "You're okay, baby. Let it out. Oh, just like that. Good fuckin' girl."

Dazai panted as you soaked his fingers, greedily trying to draw another one out of you before Chuuya intervened. "Alright, enough." he said, carefully pulling you away from him. "Here." he said, guiding you so that your ass was arched up for him and your face was on the mattress.

He was just about to put it in when Dazai stopped him, swiftly wriggling himself out of his pants before sitting on the edge of the bed again and placing your head above his dick.

Chuuya ran a frustrated hand over his face, the last fucking thing he wanted to see was your pretty mouth wrapped around Dazai while he was inside of you, but he knew he didn't have a choice.

"Be easy on her," he warned him.

You looked up at Dazai with glazed over eyes as he smiled down at you, proud of his work. "You know I wouldn't hurt you, right angel?"

Your pussy throbbed at the way he was able to make such a reassuring question feel so sinister.

His cock was long and thick and you were quickly realizing just how hard it was going to be to not choke on it. You started off slow, letting him tangle his hand into your hair as you lolled your tongue out and pressed it against him.

"Oh, fuck." Dazai groaned watching you make your way up to his tip, graciously opening your mouth wider to accommodate him.

Chuuya was wildly annoyed but not at all surprised at how vocal Dazai was. He blocked it out by rubbing his tip between your folds, reeling in the way your back arched for him as he softly massaged your abused little clit.

You were moaning, doing your best not to lose your concentration from how intoxicatingly tender Chuuya was handling you.

Whereas Dazai had practically bullied an orgasm out of you, Chuuya was prepared to play the long game. He'd fuck you slow and deep for hours if that's what you wanted. He was determined to make you feel so good you wouldn't be able to remember any other words besides his name.

Once he was satisfied with how wet both of you were from your cum, Chuuya lined himself up with your entrance. "You ready baby?"

"Y - yes." You struggled, Dazai only letting you come up for air for a second before your head was promptly pushed back down again.

You whimpered, completely forgetting what you were doing when Chuuya entered you. His cock stretching you out more than you knew you were capable of. "Oh - mygod." You choked out, eyes pleading as you looked back at Dazai.

Surprisingly, he wasn't jealous. Wasn't instantly shoving your head back down to get you to focus on him. He was in a euphoric daze seeing how fucked-out you looked. Your eyes were full-on watering, your pussy wrapped so tight and snug around Chuuya.

Dazai's grip in your hair lightened, pulling you up but only so he could watch you from a better angle. He held your head in one hand and began stroking himself with the other. "Oh, angel. You love being fucked like that, don't you?"

You nodded pathetically, completely overstimulated by the feeling of Chuuya pounding into you and the beautiful sight of Dazai jerking himself off to you getting railed. "Say it." He smirked. "Use your words."

Chuuya groaned, it was the first time all night that he wasn't tuning Dazai out. His hips thrusted into you harder as you whined. "I - love." Your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth dropping open at how deep Chuuya suddenly was. "I love - it." You cried out. "I love it so fu - cking much."

Chuuya wasn't sure if Dazai was trying to hurt or help him by coaxing such depraved things out of you, but he was lost in the sound of your moans.

Your legs began to shake, your cunt pulsating as Chuuya's tip knocked against your cervix. "I -" your head shook, you felt like you were going to pass out. "I can't - s'too much, I'm gonna -"

"Let me feel it, baby." It was almost more of a beg than a command. "Let me feel that pretty pussy soak my cock."

Dazai's breathing hitched in his throat watching the two of you. The tears that were spilling down your pretty face and the guttural noises you were forcing out of the redhead so effortlessly. The way neither one of you were coherent anymore, too lost in the way your bodies were aching for one another to know anything else.

Dazai wasn't sure why it was doing this to him. Wasn't sure why he couldn't stop himself, but just as you started to cum, he did too. He shoved your mouth back around him, reveling in the shock and pleasure and absolute awe on your face as you swallowed every last drop he shot into your mouth.

Your body felt like it was convulsing. The three of you had somehow all managed to reach your climax in perfect, lewd, synchronicity. Dazai's cum was pooling down your chin while Chuuya filled you up from behind. A combination of both of your fluids mixing together and then squirting out of you when he finally pulled out with a heavy, "Oh, FUCK."

You collapsed into Dazai's lap, your legs refusing to hold you. Chuuya helped pull you up onto the bed as the three of you fell into the mattress with a thud. You laid in the middle of them, your head rested peacefully against Dazai's chest as you tried to stop the room from spinning.

"And you told me to go easy on her." Dazai mused, running his fingers through your hair.

Chuuya rolled over on his side, wrapping his arm around your waist as he placed a kiss on the back of your neck. "'Least I didn't get off watching her get railed by another dude." he sneered.

"Yeah, you're right." Dazai tsked, "Only thing that could've made it better is if it was by a taller man."

"Dazai, I swear to god -"

But their bickering came to a quick end when you began to shift against them.

"Hey," you mumbled dreamily, causing both of them to immediately revert back to petting you and leaving light kisses along your skin. "Could you shut the fuck up? I've gotta be up at 5 tomorrow to catch my flight."

Chuuya smirked and set an alarm on his phone. Truthfully, he was willing to let you talk to him however you wanted with what you'd done to him tonight.

He reluctantly pulled the comforter up over the three of you. As much as he didn't want Dazai in his room for another minute, you looked too content to move.

You had never felt more safe or secure than you did being smushed between the two of them. Their words were hazy as you began to doze off, two sets of strong arms wrapped around you.

"Y'know, I think I'll kinda miss her." Chuuya breathed.

"Me too," Dazai smiled, looking down at you. "She's our girl."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

#i wrote this in a DAY someone pls take my laptop away #rem writes #soukoku #soukoku x reader #dazai smut #chuuya nakahara #chuuya smut #bsd smut #bsd x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd

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thewidowsledger · 4 months ago

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Good Luck, Babe

Chapter 2: Debt | 2.8k

Summary: The once secret, a forbidden love hidden from the world. Those stolen moments together had been thrilling, but ultimately, drove the person you truly love away from you. But when she left, she didn't just leave you; she also left you a part of herself that would constantly remind you of her for the rest of your life. This fragment of her essence became an indelible mark on your soul, shaping the course of your life in ways you never could have imagined.

You know what they say, when someone leaves, someone else will come.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: this is going to be a ride, ANGST, little fluff, custody battle, Natasha being a bitch (?) forced marriage

Author's Note: I know I promised a Wanda fic but I need to post this first…

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

3 years later…

Late one evening, Natasha found herself wandering the aisles of a quiet, upscale grocery store. Gone were the power suits and sky-high heels; tonight, she was clad in a simple hoodie and jeans, her hair hidden beneath a baseball cap.

She had booked a small, cozy airbnb for a week, craving solitude and anonymity during her brief vacation. As a wealthy businesswoman, she could afford any luxury, but tonight, she sought the comfort of anonymity. The store's peaceful atmosphere and lack of familiar faces provided the perfect refuge from her hectic life.

Unfortunately for Natasha, her younger sister, Yelena, possessed an uncanny talent for tracking her down. Two days into her secret vacation, Yelena appeared just outside the door of her small airbnb.

Natasha's journey to becoming a successful businesswoman began unexpectedly. As the lead guitarist of the college band, her passion for music was unwavering. However, fate intervened when her father, the CEO of a multinational corporation, suddenly passed away, leaving her in charge of the family business.

And of course, her dreams about music were all forgotten as she threw herself into learning the intricacies of the business world—her only way to cope after you.

“Hey, Nat! I’ll go get some toiletries.”

“Okay, I’ll get my yogurt.”

Natasha strode towards the dairy section, her eyes scanning the shelves for her favorite indulgence. She loved yogurt, but there was only one brand that truly satisfied her discerning palate. To her dismay, the shelf was bare, but there was still one remaining tub of the creamy, tangy delight.

Just as Natasha's fingers closed around the last tub of her favorite yogurt, a sudden, lightning-fast movement from behind startled her. Before she could react, a small, eager hand darted out and snatched the yogurt away, leaving her empty-handed.

When Natasha knelt down to the culprit's eye level, the small girl took a step back, suddenly looking uncertain. The yogurt was still clutched tightly in her small hands. The little girl tilted her head to the side, her innocent, wide-eyed gaze fixed on Natasha. Her long lashes cast shadows on her rosy cheeks as she blinked curiously, taking in the woman kneeling before her.

Without warning, the little girl eagerly toddled forward and threw her arms around Natasha's neck, burying her face in the crook of her arm. Caught off guard, Natasha hesitantly returned the hug.

“Mama,” the small girl whined.

“Oh sh—gosh, I'm so sorry about her! She's just a little rascal when she's excited!” A teen boy hastily approached, tugging gently on the girl’s arm. “Come on, Liah, leave the nice lady alone.”

The young girl hesitantly allowed herself to be pulled away from who she thought was her mama by the boy. She looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, her lower lip trembling slightly.

“Sorry, miss,” the teen mumbled, keeping a firm but gentle grip on the little girl’s hand.

The teen paused, his brow furrowing as he stared at Natasha. “Wow, this is a bit awkward. You look exactly like...Liah.” He trailed off, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Liah?” Natasha echoed, taken aback. She glanced at the little girl, who was now timidly clutching the boy’s hand. “Is that her name?” The boy nodded, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Yeah, Aliah, can you introduce and apologize to the lady right here?” The teen encouraged gently. The girl eagerly complied, turning to Natasha with innocent eager eyes.

“Awiah, mama, I Awiah mama…” she introduced herself, holding out the tub of yogurt, Natasha bit her inner lip, her heart aching as she looked at the little girl who is calling her mama.

“Hi I—”

“Liah, she’s not mama okay? Mommy is waiting for us outside.” The teen interjected quickly, giving Natasha an apologetic look and not letting her introduce herself. “I am really sorry miss, we’re gonna go now.”

Just as the two left, Yelena appeared at her side. She glanced down at her sister’s lost reaction. Suddenly, a curious expression crossed her features.

“That kid looks a lot like you.” She casually said as she hugged the rolls of toilet papers.

“You saw?” Natasha asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “The whole thing, I mean.” Yelena nodded, her brow furrowing with concern. “Yeah, Nat. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, let's checkout now,” Natasha dismissed and started walking to the cashier.

“Hey! Did you get your yogurt?” Yelena asked as she walked behind her sister.

“The kid got it, but it’s fine,” the redhead said quietly, trying to brush off the situation and avoid discussing it further.

⧗

“Hey, did you two get my tub?” you called out. To your surprise, both Billy and your daughter took off running towards you.

“Yes!” the boy shouted back, and your daughter lifted the tub of yogurt triumphantly as they neared your car. “We got it!”

You grinned widely, feeling relieved and appreciative. As the two reached you, you scooped Aliah into your arms, her tiny body warming against your chest. She eagerly showed you the yogurt, her eyes sparkling with joy. “You got it! Thank you so much, sweetie,” You cooed, giving her a gentle squeeze before addressing the teen. “And thank you too. I really appreciate it. Let’s go home?” You set Aliah down gently, and she clung to your leg, peeking out shyly at the boy.

You load the groceries into the backseat of the car, then secure Liah in her booster seat. While Billy sat beside her. Once everything is settled, you slide into the driver's seat and turn the ignition, starting the car and beginning your journey home.

“You guys took long,” you commented as you drove.

“Oh yeah, we stumbled into this lady who looked exactly like Liah,” Billy giggled, glancing back at the car seat where Aliah sat. Your daughter was looking through the windows as if she was deep in thought.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and Liah actually called her mama,” Billy continued, laughing heartily. “It’s so funny. The lady looked really surprised, though.” You felt a surge of curiosity, your grip tightening slightly on the steering wheel.

“Oh, that's...interesting,” you said awkwardly as you continued to drive with a feeling of unease.

Three years, three years had passed when you called the engagement off with Steve, not being able to bear the things you did behind his back throughout your relationship. Besides, he immediately picked up on your daughter’s features that she wasn’t his, he’s a celibate for fuck’s sake.

But he made sure you pay for everything you have done. He used his connections and influence to make sure you were passed over for the coveted law school you had poured your heart into getting into. He ensured your applications for every job you're going to get into were rejected. But his wrath didn't stop at your plans and dreams after you graduated. Steve came up to your mother, laying bare the truth of your infidelity and the circumstances surrounding your daughter's birth. And he made sure that your own mother would turn her back on you, disown you and cut off all contact with you—and she did.

In the last three years since everything happened, you had poured all your love and energy into raising your daughter, Liah. She’s three now, she is a vibrant ray of sunshine in your life. Her infectious laughter and innocent hugs helped soothe the ache of lost dreams and shattered relationships.

So you made sure to shower her with love, provide a secure and nurturing home. You are determined to ensure that she never feels the absence that plagues you, that your love is enough. You would go to great lengths to fill the void, never wanting her to suffer any absences in her life.

You had to start over because your reputation had already been irreparably damaged. You never blamed Steve for what he did, even though he had gone out of his way to deliberately ruin your life, you can't help but solely blame yourself for the situation. The guilt and self-reproach weigh heavily on you, blaming only yourself for the consequences of your own choices and actions.

Only if you weren’t a coward.

In a bid to start anew, you made a bold decision to move states, trading the life you knew for a fresh start. From being a once-admired student, you started as a cashier in a small grocery store, earning just enough to provide for your daughter. It’s a stark contrast to your former life, but your daughter’s well-being is your top priority, making your humble job a small sacrifice for her happiness and future.

Over time, through your hard work and perseverance, you have regained your footing, making commissions as an advertising sales agent. What you do right now is far from what you graduated but it no longer matters to you, each day, you strive to climb to the top, motivated by the desire to give your daughter a life you couldn't give yourself, not only planning to make it to law school again but making a new name for yourself to erase the mistakes of your past.

Make it to those people you owe. And there is one particular person you owe the most.

“Y/N, I can walk from my house since it's on the way.” You blinked rapidly, you shook your head to clear your thoughts and pulled over to the side of the road.

“Are you sure? I can drive you door-to-door Billy, I don't want you momma worrying.”

“Don't worry, I got it from here plus princess here looks really tired.” He poked the cheek of your daughter who is still looking at the window of the car, deep in thoughts like you awhile ago.

“Well, okay then. Same time tomorrow?” You asked, your eyes never leaving your daughter's as you look at her through the rearview mirror.

Billy grinned, “Of course, Y/N. You know I love spending time with your little munchkin. Where are you off to anyway?” He zipped up his coat, preparing to exit the car.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Work's been piling on more responsibilities lately. It's requiring me more time at work.” You gave him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Billy. You're a lifesaver.”

You reached into your purse and pulled out an envelope containing the babysitting fee. “Here you go,” you said, handing it to him. “She needs to be picked up 3 hours early since their teacher said it's a shortened period for their class. So…it's not the same time for tomorrow.”

He noticed the worn edges of your wallet peeking out from your purse and the slight hesitation in your voice when you mentioned the time. “You know, Y/N, it's okay if you can't pay me this time, consider it a favor, no payment needed.” You felt a lump form in your throat, touched by the kid’s gesture.

“Billy, no, I can't ask you to do that for free,” you insisted, a hint of guilt in your voice. “I was supposed to go home an hour early today, but then work piled on more tasks, and now I'm late again…and so is my commission pay.”

The kid held up a hand, stopping your apology. “Y/N, it's fine, really, I understand. And I love spending time with Liah anyways.” Billy waved goodbye, turning to walk away. You hesitated, still wanting to argue, but he purposefully ignored you, shouting over his shoulder, “No, Y/N, you need the money. I'll be fine. See you tomorrow!”

You beeped your car, leaning out the window. “Come back here, young man!” But he just grinned, turning around. He walked backwards, facing Liah in the backseat, and dramatically made finger guns at her, pulling an exaggerated face that finally made your daughter giggle.

“Liah's pick up is 1 PM instead of 4 I know, Y/N, bye!” He laughed, giving you a wave before turning the corner and disappearing from your view.

You could only sigh, watching Billy leave. He'd been Liah's trusted babysitter. He is a teen from your neighborhood. Billy was a sweet, responsible kid with a heart of gold. Despite his own financial struggles for university, he never once let it affect his care for Liah. And you have never been grateful for the kid.

⧗

Once home, you heated up some leftovers for dinner, sitting down with Liah at the tiny kitchen table. She quietly ate her chicken nuggets, still not having spoken much since from the grocery store. You were unused to her prolonged silence. “Aliah, sweetie, thank you for the tub. Mommy is happy.”

The kid just gave you a tight-lipped smile, swinging her feet as she ate.

“Did something happen, sweetie? Mommy is worried.” Liah shook her head again, still not speaking. You sighed deeply, knowing you probably shouldn't ask but your curiosity was getting the best of you.

“Liah, is it true you saw someone who looked like Mama today?” Her eyes widened and she nodded vigorously, practically bouncing in her seat.

“No! She is mama mommy!”

“Really?” you hesitated, not wanting to asked further. You shut your eyes closed, biting your inner lip, your mind drifting back to your past...you opened up your eyes looking at your little girl who looked exactly like her, a name you don't want to mention as of now not until you had any confirmation.

“What did she look like, baby?”

Liah hopped off her chair and scurried over to the mantle, grabbing a framed picture you always kept displayed. She brought it back to you, presenting the photo you always see before you go out and comeback from work.

Since her disappearance, you never hid the truth from Liah. You told her that her mama was just working really far away and would be coming home soon—you never removed her from the picture in Liah's life. You wanted your daughter to grow up believing she had a complete family. You spoke of her often, shared stories and memories, humming the same music she used to sing to you when you sleep on her arms—always presenting her as a loving mother who would return someday.

Your heart was racing, nerves fluttering in your chest as Liah pointed at the photo. It was a photo of you together, her arms wrapped around your neck. “She is mama, I saw mama,” your little girl said, from not speaking a word a while ago, now, she is joyful, pointing at the photo of her mama.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized the implications.

She saw her mother. She saw Natasha.

Liah was far too innocent to lie about something like this. She believed with all her heart that she had seen her mother, and you knew she wasn't mistaken. Natasha was out there, somewhere, and she had somehow come face to face with her daughter.

The realization sent shivers down your spine and that has led you to this very moment…

“Natasha, please, you can't take Liah away from me!” you cried out, running after her as she stormed out of the courthouse. You have been summoned to the court, delivering the devastating news that Natasha was pursuing full custody of your daughter.

Natasha didn't know Yelena did a secret investigation after she saw the kid that she told her looked exactly like her, she even forgot about it days after the encounter. But when Yelena came to her and told her what she found out, that the kid was in fact yours, it led her to uncover the truth—the kid was also hers and everything can be figured out only from that fact.

You wanted to argue, to present a denial, but the truth was plainly obvious. Liah looked exactly like Natasha, her carbon copy. If the court demanded a DNA test, it would be the end of you, you might also probably serve some time in jail.

So in your desperation, you resorted to begging, pleading with Natasha for mercy.

“N-Natasha…please!”

She walked briskly away, her face expressionless, she didn't bother to look back at you. You chased after her, your steps urgent as you pleaded, “Natasha, please, let’s work something out. Wh-what about shared custo—”

“I want full custody.” Her voice was steady, leaving no room for negotiation and immediately cutting you off. “The next hearing is in a week. Don’t bother showing up if you can't match my offer.” Her heels clicked harshly against the marble floor as she continued her inexorable march away from you. Each step she took echoed with finality. Your words seemed to bounce off her back, unheard, unimportant.

But you will do anything, you will meet the ends not to be away from your life—from your daughter.

“Please, you can't just take Liah from me. There must be another way!” Your voice cracked, desperation clawing at your insides.

“Marry me.”

“I’ll marry you!” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. The courthouse fell silent, and a few people turned to look at the two of you. A tear slid down your cheek as the magnitude of your words sank in.

Natasha looked at your tear-stained face, your pleas are already music to her ears and she took her time taking in the sight of your desperation with a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes.

“It’s settled then,” she declared, her voice carrying a new same authority she had on you. “In a week, same courthouse, not for custody battle but for our wedding.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic

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sometimesanalice · 1 year ago

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Sweetest Devotion

Summary: Loving Bradley is the easiest thing you've ever done, and coming home to him is always the best part of your day. Especially when you come home with cake. But a slight mixup at the bakery leads to the sweetest of promises.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5k

Warnings: So much fluff (side effects may include giggling and kicking your feet)

(Author’s Note: this fic was written for my one year celebration of the ‘Like I Can’ series, but it can be read on its own!)

After a long week, there was no place you’d rather be than at home with Bradley.

The two of you have been living together for a couple of months now, but seeing his Bronco parked in the driveway of the condo you shared knowing the empty spot next to it is meant for your own still made your heart flutter out of sheer giddiness.

Even if he still teased you about your practical Honda Civic’s lack of street cred. But it did have a spacious backseat with its own set of doors and an actual trunk, unlike the Bronco.

And on the rare rainy days you got in San Diego, Bradley was asking to borrow your car rather than risk the interior of his big blue baby. Those days you just got to preen as you handed over your car keys to him. Sure, you could be the one to drop him off, but it was funnier watching the way he valiantly attempted to hold back his grimace as he tried to adjust the driver’s seat to comfortably fit his bulk.

As you pull into your spot, you’re hit with that same gust of summer breeze warmth you always are as you. It was a feeling you didn’t expect to go away any time soon.

It takes a bit of finesse getting the front door open with your work tote and purse slung over one shoulder while you cradled the paper bags of bread and box of treats you’d stopped for on the way home in the other.

Bradley had texted you to let you know that he was making dinner earlier, but had forgotten the bread during his grocery run and had asked if you didn’t mind making a quick stop to grab some. He’d promised to make it worth your while, and while you would have done it for him anyways, a little extra incentive was always nice.

Especially after the way he had teased you in the shower this morning.

You picked up the baguette that he’d requested along with a couple loaves of fresh bread for sandwiches that you were planning to stick in the freezer for later. At the checkout, they’d had a few fun pink bakery boxes packed with six individually wrapped cake slices in different flavors. It seemed like more fun than the basic red velvet cupcakes you had been debating as you waited for your turn to pay, so you’d picked up one of those boxes too. Since it was Friday, you figured a little treat was very much deserved after such a long week.

The two of you had just gotten back from a little trip back home not too long ago, but you were already dying for another vacation. Ideally one that involved creamy blended beverages served in coconuts and Bradley Bradshaw wearing some 5-inch inseam swim trunks with his thick thighs on display in the golden sunlight.

It had been so nice to see your parents and to visit the sights of your childhood growing up together. You’ve always gone home for holidays, but it had been years since he’d been there with you. Some things had stayed the same like the ice cream shop where Bradley had had his first job. And some things had changed with the times like the empty parking lot where he’d first taught you how to drive was now the site of an upscale organic grocery store. Now that you and Bradley were you and Bradley, the nostalgia of your younger years felt extra sweet as you’d strolled with his hand tucked yours.

It’s a miracle you get through the door without dropping anything.

You’re waiting to hear the scamper of little paws against the laminate floor headed your way as you kick off your heels, Duck was usually the first one to greet you when you got home.

The puppy was growing all too quick for your liking. For as much as Bradley grumbled about being woken up early on the weekends by the black and white ball of fluff, you’ve caught him on more than one occasion cooing at the dog and slipping him treats. The sweet, goofy little dog was the perfect addition to your dynamic duo.

Even if Bradley still got huffy about the name and how Duck had come to be in your life.

On the occasional night when Bob’s friend Casey from the animal shelter- the man you’d been on exactly half of a date with once close to a year ago- was invited to come hang out, your boyfriend always was finding reasons to stand a little closer to you or leave his hands lingering a little longer on your hips. Those nights usually end with the two of you sweaty and out of breath, tangled in the sheets of your canopy bed.

You can hear Bradley singing along with one of his playlists in the kitchen and the sounds of drawers opening and closing as you tuck your purse and tote under the side table at the entrance. You smile to yourself as you drop your key fob into the bowl where his are already resting, the key to his Bronco was on the same keychain with the little fighter jet charm that you’d given him when you were teens when Mav had given him the Montero for his 16th birthday.

Taking the bread and box of cake slices with you, you pass through the living room you see Duck passed out belly up on his Sherpa lined dog bed. His ears flopped out to the side and his little paws twitching as he dreams about chasing balls or squirrels. It’s a good think your hands are full or you’d be collecting even more photos of your sweet boy in addition to the hundreds you already had on your phone.

“I’m home,” you greet, rounding the corner to the kitchen, the savory smell of onions and garlic growing stronger the closer you get, “And I come bearing a baguette.”

Standing in front of the stove is Bradley with a checkered kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. His curls look a little damp, still drying from the shower he must have taken earlier. The soft looking shirt he’s wearing is pulled taut across his back, and the sweatpants he has on are hugging the curve of his ass in the best way. He looks so at ease and comfortable, none of the tense strain in his body that he sometimes comes home with.

Bradley looks over his shoulder towards you with a grin on his face, “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” His pretty brown eyes rake over you in a way that has you wondering about just how he is planning on thanking you for picking up the baguette you’d stopped for. He lets out a low whistle, “Damn, I love that skirt on you.”

“I’m glad you clarified,” you say, sending him a wink and setting your bakery haul down on the island counter, “I wasn’t sure if you were talking to me or the armload of freshly baked carbs.”

He leans his hip on the side of the counter, “A little yeast and flour have got nothing on you, kid.”

“Now you know you can’t go around saying things like that an expect me not to fall in love with you,” you tease, opening the freezer to put the sandwich bread away.

“I’m failing to see a problem with that- oh shit,” he curses, hastily turning back to the stove to adjust the range knob as something spits and sizzles on the top of the convection cooktop.

You step around the island and over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind him. He’s always been the right kind of warm, the kind that makes you want to melt into him. You press your face against his back, his shirt soft against your cheek. Under the woodsy smell of his body wash there’s still a faint lingering scent of jet fuel. It’s your favorite smell.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, settling his big hand over yours, still stirring the sauce with the other. And you can almost see the easy, contented smile on his face just from the gentle tone of his voice.

“Hi, Bradley,” you hum, happy to be home.

“How was your day?”

“I’m glad it’s the weekend,” you say with a sigh, “The beach day tomorrow with everyone is going to be much needed.” A sympathetic sound rumbles from his chest as his thumb runs over the back of your hand. You were looking forward to sitting under the shade of the stripped umbrella and feeling the sand between your toes as you sip on an icy cold beer. “How was yours?”

“Not too bad, I took Seresin out and now he owes me $200. So overall, it’s been a pretty good day,” he says, clearly pleased with himself. “Cyclone let us out early, so I was productive. Did some errands, got the groceries. Well, most of them. I even took Duck to the dog park and let him run around for a bit. He made friends with a Great Dane, I took a few videos of them playing on my phone for you.”

The mental image of Bradley recording a video of your puppy being cute and playing in the park in the same way a proud dad would film his kid’s little league game makes you feel more than a little weak in the knees.

Pressing up on your toes, you skim a kiss against the side of his neck and prop your chin on his shoulder to peer at what he’s cooking up.

“It smells really good in here,” you tell him, taking in the pot of sauce simmering away on the stove. Off to the side there’s a cutting board with some fresh basil chopped up and a pile of papery vegetable scraps and a couple empty cans of tomato sauce.

“Yeah? It’s been awhile since I’ve channeled my inner Stanly Tucci, so I thought some homemade spaghetti and meatballs sounded good.”

Your eyebrows raise on their own, the surprise evident in your voice, “Homemade meatballs?”

“Ok, maybe those came from Trader Joe’s,” Bradley admits, “But the sauce is all me. I even put the red pepper flakes in it the way you like it.” He reaches over for a handful of basil and adds it into the pot.

You send your thanks up to Carole for making sure her son at least had known the basics of cooking. He could more than hold his own in the kitchen, and the competent way he handled a chef knife in his big hands was endlessly attractive to you.

“‘Semi-homemade with Bradley Bradshaw’ has a nice ring to it, want me to pitch it as a reboot to the Food Network?” You feel the way he chuckles under your palms, the muscles of his stomach contracting and releasing.

“I don’t think I’d make it out with my liver intact. That woman loved her cocktails strong, I’m pretty sure her sangria recipe would send me to the floor,” he jokes, “No wonder why our moms were always watching her.”

“A woman after my own heart,” you sing, “I’m so glad I inherited such good taste from them.”

Bradley shakes his head amused, “The good news for you is that there’s a bottle of red open and waiting for you, funny girl.”

The promise of wine perks you up immediately. Pasta, wine, cake, and Bradley. What more could a girl need?

“God, you’re the man of my dreams.”

“I sure hope so,” he says, squeezing your hand.

“Oh, you are so getting lucky tonight, Lieutenant.” You take advantage of the way he leans his head back and laughs to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

You slide your arms back from around his waist, only managing to take one step towards the bottle of your favorite Cabernet Sauvignon that’s breathing over near the sink with one of your wine glasses set out next to it before you’re being stopped with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Hold up, where do you think you’re going, kid?” Bradley asks, tugging you back to him with a grin.

He doesn’t wait for your response before he is leaning in to properly kiss you for the first time since he left for work this morning.

At the press of his lips against yours, you feel every ounce of strain you’d been carrying from the day dissolve like melted sugar. A satisfied hum escapes you and you feel the way the corner of Bradley’s mouth ticks up at your reaction to him. His hands cup your face, tilting you head until it was at the perfect angle for him to deepen the kiss. You don’t even notice he’s back you up against the island until the countertop is digging into your lower back, too distracted by the way the coarse hairs of his mustache scrape along your upper lip.

If it weren’t for the sound of the timer going off the two of you might have almost would have forgotten about dinner entirely, it wouldn’t have been the first time it’s happened.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you ask, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt from the way you’d had it clutched in your fists just moments ago before letting go of him so that he can silence the beeping coming from the oven.

“You want to make us a salad to go with it?”

“Yes, chef,” you purr as you spin on your heel taking off in the other direction.

And really you should have expected the cheeky way his hand connects with your ass in a quick, sharp slap. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, but he’s already facing the stove and stirring the sauce again as he adjusts the seasoning with a smirk.

You take a moment to pour yourself a glass of the wine Bradley had opened for you and take a sip. The bold, juicy flavor dancing across your tongue as you set about gathering the things to make a simple salad to go with the dinner he’s made for the two of you.

This is your favorite part of the day, when it’s just the two of you together.

The back and forth has always been easy with him. Whether it’s making dinner or running errands or doing laundry together. The things that always felt mundane on their own had become some of the things you most looked forward to during the week. It’s not that you need to be around him, but you always want to be around him.

When Bradley declares the sauce to be perfect, he comes and joins you at the island. Grabbing a cutting board of his own he starts slicing up the fresh baguette you’d picked up, offering you the end to snack on.

“Oh, what’s this?” he asks, picking up the box of assorted cake slices.

You continue chopping the cucumber in front of you, “Isn’t that fun? They had a stack of those at the checkout. I think they must have made too many cakes this week on accident, but it’s so smart of them so sell them that way. Why get one flavor when you can have six? Best of both worlds for everyone.”

“That so, huh?” he sounds amused by your enthusiasm, “Is there something else you wanted to talk to me about?”

It hadn’t been a particularly noteworthy visit, other than you’d been able to score a parking spot in front of the building, “Uh, not that I can think of?”

“You sure?” Bradley prods.

“No?... Oh! I was going to pick up that marbled rye you like while I was there getting the baguette, but they were already sold out. So I got a loaf of the multigrain brown bread and some sourdough instead.”

“Mmm, interesting.”

Stopping your salad prep, you look up at him skeptically, “Ok, why are you mmm-ing me, Bradshaw?”

Bradley’s eyes are alight with playful mischief as he slides the box of the cake slices towards you and pointedly double taps on the sticker on the upper right corner of the pink box with his finger.

You hadn’t stopped to read the shiny gold label when you’d grabbed it at the bakery, the tempting layers of cake and frosting and fillings had immediately sold you on it, but you couldn’t unsee what the curly scripted font said now.

Wedding Cake Sampler

“So, when’s the wedding? I’m assuming I’ll be invited,” he grins.

You feel your face get hot as you realize your mistake. It wasn’t just a sample box, but a very specific type of sample box. A very specific type of sample box for a very specific occasion.

Suddenly the interaction with the bakery employee as you were paying makes so much more sense now.

“Oh my god, the girl at the checkout said ‘Congratulations’ and I said ‘Happy Fri-yay’ back to her,” you groan, covering your eyes with your hands, “I thought she meant it like ‘Congrats on making it to Friday’ thing.”

He laughs, “Sweet girl, that’s about the damn cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Happy Fri-yay, Bradley! She was congratulating me on our- I mean- the nonexistent impending nuptials she thought I had and I reply to her that? We need to find a new bakery, I can’t go there ever again,” you lament. It’s truly a tragedy, since they have the best sticky pecan rolls in the area.

“And you call me a drama queen,” Bradley lightly teases, “She probably thought it was funny.”

You groan again, louder this time. If he was going to call you a drama queen, you’d at least try out your best Mariah Carey impersonation.

Your face is still hidden behind your hands when you feel Bradley gather you into his arms, running a warm hand up and down your back. “C’mon, it’s not even that bad. I’m sure I did at least three things more embarrassing than that today.”

“Yeah, I bet you did too,” you grumble into his chest without heat. The way he chuckles at your surliness lets you know he doesn’t take it personally. Not only is he getting laid, but you decide you’re definitely going to give him head too for being the sweetest man alive.

He takes your wrists in his hands and pulls the away from your face, “I gotta tell you, I’m glad it was just a little mix up. It would have sucked to find out my girlfriend had a fiancé I didn’t know about.”

You can see every shade of brown in his eyes as he looks into yours, the affection and amusement rippling there the same way the light catches the surface of a cup of coffee on a Sunday morning.

At this point you really do just have to laugh at yourself. It’s such a silly thing to get worked up about, especially since you know you’re probably more ruffled about Bradley potentially thinking that you’re trying to drop a not-so-subtle hint with it. And fact of the matter is that you still probably would have picked it up anyways, you just might have peeled off the incriminating sticker off in the car before bringing it in.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Bradshaw. I’ve got my hands more than full enough with you.”

“Yeah, you do,” he boasts, the insinuation is not lost on you.

You snort a laugh and shove at his chest lightly. He drops a kiss to the side of your head and makes his way back to the other side of the kitchen island as you get back to your salad making duties.

“Hey, just so you know, I can’t wait to eat wedding cake with you later,” he says as he continues to slice up the baguette.

You playfully toss a cucumber at him for his teasing and he pops in mouth with a grin.

A little later, when you have your steaming bowls of pasta in front of you at the dinner table, he raises his glass of wine to you, “Happy Fri-yay, sweet girl.”

And your laugh is as crystalline as the clink of your glass meeting his in cheers.

After the leftovers are put away and the dishes cleaned, the two of you are cozied up watching the new romcom that was just added on Netflix.

You’re stretched out across the couch with your feet in Bradley’s lap eating the cake you’d picked up. You try a bit of each flavor deciding which one you like the most to save it for the end, while Bradley takes his chances and eats one slice at a time before moving on to the next one. It’s truly unhinged behavior and you couldn’t help but tease him about it when you’d noticed his cake tasting methodology.

Bradley moans around a forkful of cake and you know he’s just found the carrot cake- his favorite.

He’s always been a bit of a pseudo health nut with questionable logic. “It’s got carrots and walnuts, it’s basically a superfood” he’s claimed on multiple occasions, while purposefully excluding the part about the pound of butter and cream cheese that goes into the frosting.

“I’d clear my schedule in heartbeat and take you to City Hall any day of the week as long as we get to have this carrot cake when we get married,” he says right before he licks the frosting off of his fork.

Your breath catches in your throat.

When, not if.

He says it so easily like there’s not a doubt in his mind that it’ll be you and him facing each other at the end of an aisle as vows about forever are exchanged.

He says it like a fact.

He says it like he knows.

“I didn’t realize I missed the part where you asked me,” you say, setting your plate on the coffee table in front of you, too full of the hope of it all to keep eating.

“And here I was waiting on you, kid,” he says playfully, taking another bite.

He’s teasing, you know he is. Bradley isn’t the type of man who would lead you on or play games with your heart.

“Bradley.” It’s an almost whine the way his name comes out of your mouth as you nudge his thigh with your foot. You turn your head to bury your face in the cushion of the couch, suddenly feeling very bashful.

The two of you have never talked about it, at least not like this before. Only in casual passing comments like getting a place with a bigger backyard for Duck or about setting up a joint banking account. A hypothetical future.

“Hey, c’mon. Look at me,” he coaxes, squeezing your foot. When you peek at him, the look on his face is all open sincerity, “You’re my forever girl. I love you and I’m planning on spending the rest of my life with you. That is, if you’re ok with that.”

A rush butterflies happily swoop and swirl around in your stomach.

He’s been in your life for almost three decades now. You’d known the boy, the teen, and you more than liked the man he’d become. You had absolutely no intention of ever letting him go. He was yours. Forever and always.

“That’d be ok with me,” you tell him freely. You watch as his smile gets wider and broader until it’s taking up his whole face, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “I think I could handle quite a few more decades with you, Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Is that so?” he drawls, his fingers skimming up and down the top of your calf.

“Oh, definitely. You’re stuck with me,” you grin.

“Good.”

He tugs your ankle, pulling you until your back is flat against the couch. You squeal in delight as he pins you down on the cushions, your arms and legs wrap around him on their own drawing him in even closer. Then he’s kissing every inch of your face that he can reach as you laugh in delight.

If it weren’t for Bradley’s sturdy bulk on top of you, you’re pretty sure you might have just floated away. You’ve never felt this incandescently light in your whole life.

He brushes one more quick kiss to the top of your nose before he pulls away, “But just so we’re on the same page, that wasn’t an official proposal. More like a declaration of intention.”

“I don’t know,” you muse, stroking his pink cheek, “Sounds like you’re desperate to wife me up, Bradley. Practically begging for me to take you to the courthouse.”

His hands go straight for curve of your waist, attacking that ticklish spot that’s always made you giggle and squirm. Only taking mercy on you once you’re out of breath. You’re almost positive that the smile on your face might be there permanently.

You don’t miss the intensity in Bradley’s eyes as they trace over your face as he settles himself more fully on you, “You don’t know the half of it, kid. But I’m letting you know now, I’m not going to make either one of us wait long for it.”

And then his mouth is on yours.

You feel the promise he’s making to you in his kiss. The caress of his hands along your body feels like a vow. You feel every ounce of just how much he loves and cherishes you. The cake was sweet, but his honeyed kiss tastes even sweeter.

“Tell me we can have carrot cake at our wedding, sweet girl,” he murmurs against your lips.

Our wedding.

The thought of it made you giddy.

You wanted to wear his ring on your finger just as much as you wanted to see him wearing one of his own one day. You liked your last name, but there was nothing more you wanted than to be Mrs. Bradshaw. It would be another thing you and Carole could share. A name and the everlasting love for her son.

“Ok, we can have carrot cake at our wedding,” you agree, wholeheartedly, “It’s basically a superfood, after all.”

“Damn right it is,” he beams.

The cake is quickly forgotten in favor of pulling your shirt over your head.

You might not have a ring. Yet.

But you did have a lifetime with Bradley and a carrot cake to look forward to. And that was more than enough for you.

Bradley was pretty sure that there was nothing better on this Earth than having you draped across his chest as you slept soundly in his arms. Your breathing had softened and evened out ages ago, but his mind was whirling with thoughts of his bright future with you.

He’d meant it when he’d told you he wasn’t going to make you wait long. Bradley didn’t know how much longer he could go on calling you his girlfriend when all he really wanted to call you his wife. He’s imagined you in a white dress walking towards him more times than he could count.

When he’d planned the surprised trip back to your shared hometown as a gift for your six-month anniversary, he might have had some ulterior motives. While it was nice to see the place you’d both grown up in again as adults, there had been a more pressing issue on his mind the whole time.

He hadn’t been able to control the nervous bounce of his leg or his sweaty palms when he’d ask your mom’s permission for your hand in marriage. It hadn’t been any easier the second time, when he’d had to do it all over again with you dad that sunny day at the golf course.

Bradley knew it was a bit of an antiquated tradition, but he’d never proposed to anyone before and he wanted to get it right. He wanted you and your parents to know just how serious he was about his intentions to love you for the rest of his life. He’d even asked Mav for his blessing too, just to make sure he had his bases covered.

It had thrown him through a loop when at the end of the trip you mom had slipped him the ring she’d worn while she was married to your dad. She’d told him there was no expectations or pressure to use it, she just wanted him to have it just in case.

The engagement ring his mom had worn had been tucked in the back corner of his nightstand for almost four months now. Bradley had pulled it out of storage sometime around the third month of officially dating you. It would be too soon for anyone else, but he’s already had decades with you. And he’d never been more sure about anything in his life as he was about knowing you were the one for him.

The two of you had always been perfectly right on time in your own way.

He’d dwelled on it for weeks trying to figure out if he should give them both to you at once. Or if he should propose to you with one and save the other to you during another monumental moment, like when the two of you started a family. He figured could turn one into a necklace or something for you.

Bradley could feel the presence of both rings every time he walked into the bedroom. They were both equally were important to him, he wanted to get it right.

His mom had known and loved you, he knew that she’d have been so excited to see her ring on your finger. And after his mom had passed, yours had helped him during those rough days in ways he didn’t think he could ever properly thank her for. Even though your parents’ marriage hadn’t worked out, they were the reason that you were here and he couldn’t imagine his life without you.

It wasn’t until Natasha had shown him the Toi et Moi style ring that things locked into place in a way that made his heart race at the very idea of it.

The right ring for the right girl.

He lets his fingers trail up and down your back gently as you slept soundly against him.

In the kitchen earlier that night, he might have bent the truth about his day just a little bit.

The final design had been sent to his email that morning. And it was more perfect than he could have imagined.

He did win $200 from Jake and had gone to the dog park with Duck, but he’d also stopped by the jewelers across town to give them both of the family heirlooms because he didn’t want to waste a single minute.

Two diamonds, one ring. The start of you and him. A story of your beginnings to be worn on the finger that would tie him to you with a golden thread for the rest of your lives together.

He’d even paid extra to have it engraved.

My sweet girl. My forever girl.

I genuinely thought I was one and done after I wrote my first fic in December of last year. And then came these two. 'Like I Can' was meant to be a oneshot that turned into a 3-part series that turned into half of my masterlist. I adore this couple with my whole heart. Thank you for reading along and celebrating with me!

Elle (@callsignspark) thank you for sending me the TikTok that inspired the headcanon about the wedding cake sampler, I'm showering you with shiny 'thank you' shaped confetti! And another big thank you to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for getting as giddy about these two as I do and for always enthusiastically reading the snippets I send you! You both are the best!

If you enjoyed these two, you can read their story from the start here!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine

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little-jana · 26 days ago

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"The Perfect First Date" (2)

Part 1

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x receptionist!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: drinking wine, reader wearing a dress

Words: 964

Summary: After weeks of playful teasing, you and Aaron Hotchner finally go on your first date.

The next few days pass with you stealing glances at Hotch every chance you get, your heart racing each time you remember his soft smile and the way he said "maybe" to your dinner suggestion. For once, you’re the one trying to keep things professional, but it’s impossible to ignore the way his gaze lingers on you a little longer, or the subtle warmth in his tone whenever he speaks to you.

On Friday afternoon, as you’re finishing up some paperwork at your desk, Hotch approaches. You don’t notice him at first, too busy typing, until his low voice breaks the silence.

“Still planning on holding me to that dinner?” he asks.

Your head snaps up, your breath catching at the sight of him standing there, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. He’s watching you intently, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Of course,” you reply, trying to sound composed despite the butterflies in your stomach. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

“I didn’t forget,” he says softly. “How about tonight?”

Tonight. You can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your face. “Tonight works for me,” you say, your voice brighter than you intended.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at seven,” he says, nodding slightly before turning to leave. But just before he steps away, he glances back at you, his eyes warm and sincere. “Dress nicely.”

You spend the rest of the day in a whirlwind of excitement, wondering where he’s taking you and what the night will hold. When 7:00 p.m. rolls around, you’re waiting by your door in a sleek dress that hugs your figure in all the right places. You hear a knock, and when you open the door, your breath catches.

Hotch stands there in a perfectly tailored suit, holding a single red rose. His dark eyes sweep over you, and for a moment, you think you see him falter.

“You look beautiful,” he says, his voice low and genuine as he hands you the rose.

“Thank you,” you reply, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “You’re not looking too bad yourself, Hotchner.”

He smirks, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

The car ride is quiet but comfortable, with soft music playing in the background as he drives. He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, only glancing over every so often with a faint smile that makes your heart flutter. When he finally pulls up to the restaurant, you’re stunned. It’s a cozy, upscale place with dim lighting and a romantic atmosphere.

“This is... wow,” you breathe as he opens the car door for you.

“I thought you’d like it,” he says simply, guiding you inside with his hand gently resting on the small of your back.

The dinner is perfect. Hotch is the perfect gentleman—pulling out your chair, pouring your wine, and making sure you’re comfortable. But what surprises you most is how easy it is to talk to him. The serious, stoic Hotch you know from work seems to melt away, replaced by someone softer, someone who listens intently and smiles often.

He tells you about his favorite books, his favorite vacation spot, and even a funny story about Jack trying to convince him to adopt a puppy. You find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks, and it’s clear he enjoys seeing you smile.

By the time dessert arrives, you’re leaning closer to him, your hand resting on the table just inches from his. “This is amazing,” you say softly, looking up at him through your lashes. “I didn’t think you had this side to you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he replies, his voice warm and teasing. “But I’d like to change that.”

You smile, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his tone.

When dinner ends, he insists on paying, despite your protests. “I asked you out,” he says simply, sliding his credit card to the waiter. “It’s only fair.”

On the way back to your place, the car is filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that speaks volumes. You glance over at him, admiring the way the passing streetlights illuminate his face, and you can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world.

When he walks you to your door, you turn to face him, clutching the rose he gave you earlier. “Thank you for tonight,” you say softly. “It was... perfect.”

He steps closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You deserve perfect,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you can overthink it, you rise onto your toes and press a soft kiss to his cheek. He stills for a moment, and then his hand comes up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a soft smile.

“Goodnight,” you reply, your voice trembling slightly as you unlock your door.

As you step inside, you glance back one last time to see him standing there, his hands in his pockets and a small, almost bashful smile on his face. You close the door with your heart racing, already looking forward to the next time.

Because tonight wasn’t just perfect—it was the start of something real.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you

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fafnir19 · 2 months ago

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The Forbidden Changing-Room

The holidays in his parents’ hometown were always a cacophony of laughter, chaos, and relatives he barely knew. Tommy rolled his eyes as he stepped off the bus, clutching his backpack tightly. The snow crunched beneath Tommy's sneakers as he trudged down the quiet street, the chill nipping at his cheeks. He pulled his oversized hoodie tighter around him, wishing he could fade into the background of the Christmas festivities. The twinkling lights and cheerful decorations lining the middle-class neighborhood felt like a mockery of his scrawny frame and thick-rimmed glasses. He could already imagine the crowded living room at his parents’ house, relatives mingling, laughter echoing, and the smell of baked goods wafting through the air. “What a nightmare,” he muttered to himself. He wanted to hide away, not mingle with distant cousins and aunts who’d pinch his cheeks and ask about his nonexistent love life. That’s when Mr. Steelshand’s offer came to mind. House-sitting at the estate of a wealthy sports scout while he vacationed abroad seemed like the perfect plan.

The snow-dusted streets of the upscale neighborhood near his parents' house were eerily quiet as Tommy made his way to Mr. Steelshand's residence, a grand mansion nestled among the towering trees. It was the perfect arrangement for the holidays; a chance to earn some money and avoid the chaos of his family's Christmas celebrations, which he had always found overwhelming.

As he stepped into the grand foyer of Mr. Steelshand's mansion, Tommy felt a sense of awe. The house exuded an air of luxury and sophistication, a stark contrast to his modest upbringing. Mr. Steelshand, a towering figure with an aura of authority, greeted him with a firm handshake. "Make yourself at home, Tommy. Everything here is at your disposal, except for one place—my dressing room. It's off-limits." His voice carried a hint of warning, but Tommy nodded, intrigued by the mysterious restriction. The first few days were uneventful. Tommy spent his time studying, enjoying the peace and quiet, and occasionally indulging in the luxurious amenities the house offered. He made brief appearances at his parents' gatherings, feasting on his mother's delicious cooking before retreating back to his sanctuary. But curiosity, a trait Tommy possessed in abundance, got the better of him on the 27th of December. The door to the dressing room stood ajar, as if inviting him in. He hesitated, his rebellious nature warring with the strict instructions he had been given. With a nervous chuckle, he muttered to himself, "Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back." As he stepped inside, the room exuded an aura of sophistication and wealth. Luxurious suits and tailored garments adorned the walls, each one a testament to Mr. Steelshand's impeccable taste.

Among the array of garments, a particular piece stood out—a red silk jacquard tuxedo, elegantly displayed in a glass showcase. The label beneath it read, "Championship Suit."

"What championship could this be from?" Tommy wondered aloud, his voice echoing in the silent room. As he reached for the handle of the showcase, a soft hiss escaped, and a mist of red smoke enveloped him.

Then, something extraordinary happened. Tommy felt a tingling sensation all over his body, like a million tiny needles pricking his skin. His heart pounded, and he watched in the reflection of the glass as his transformation began. His scrawny frame filled out, muscles bulging and defining his arms, chest, and legs. His once-messy blonde hair seemed to style itself, falling perfectly into place. His skin tanned and smoothed, and his posture straightened, exuding confidence. "What... what's happening?" he managed to stammer, his voice deepening with each word. The tuxedo, as if sensing his newfound strength, slid off its hanger and wrapped itself around Tommy's transformed body. He felt the silk caress his skin, the pants hugging his now-impressive physique, and the jacket accentuating his broad shoulders. His gaze fell upon the silk pants, and he couldn't help but notice the bulge forming, a testament to his newfound masculinity. He was powerless to resist as the suit positioned him in a confident stance, one hand in his pocket, the other on the button of his tuxedo, like a model on display. "No, wait!" Tommy cried out, his voice now rich and commanding, but his words were met with silence. Suddenly, he was frozen, trapped in the showcase like a statue.

His attention was drawn to the TV screen, which had switched on by itself. Images of jocks, strong and agile, filled the screen. Their training sessions, a display of raw athleticism, played out before him.

At first, Tommy felt out of place, his academic mind struggling to comprehend the allure of sports. But as the images of sweat-drenched jocks, their muscles glistening, filled the screen, a strange sensation stirred within him.

He found himself captivated by the discipline, the raw power, and the sheer beauty of the athletes. The coaches, with their commanding presence, became objects of fascination. He imagined himself in their shoes, wielding power over the jocks, shaping their bodies and minds. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. The jocks, with their unwavering obedience, intrigued him. Their dedication, their willingness to submit to the coaches' demands, was both puzzling and arousing. Hours passed, or perhaps it was days, as Tommy remained transfixed, his mind absorbing the images and sounds of the athletic world. The once-boring footage now held a different allure, stirring something deep within him. His transformation was not just physical; it was a psychological shift, a realignment of his desires and instincts. He envisioned himself as coach, commanding respect and control. The thought of wielding such power excited him, and he imagined the jocks under his command, their every move dictated by his will and how their bodies would responding to his touch. The thought left him breathless.

The moment Mr. Steelshand returned to his mansion, he knew something was amiss. A faint smile played on his lips as he strolled through the grand foyer, his footsteps echoing against the marble floors. He had a hunch that his curious house-sitter, Tommy, might have ventured into the forbidden territory. And indeed, as he approached the master bedroom, he heard a faint humming coming from within. Pushing open the door, he spotted Tommy, frozen like a statue in the glass showcase, adorned in the championship suit. The red silk tuxedo hugged his newly transformed body, accentuating the muscles he never knew he had.

"Ah, I see you couldn't resist the allure of this room," Mr. Steelshand said, his voice laced with amusement. "A bit nosey, aren't we?" Tommy's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short gasps.

Mr. Steelshand approached the showcase and with a swift motion, he unlocked the glass door and swung it open. "Let's see whether you've become a coach or a jock." Tommy's heart raced as he stepped out, his body still adjusting to the changes. He felt a surge of confidence, a new-found power coursing through his veins. Without hesitation, he spun around, his eyes locking onto Mr. Steelshand's. "I guess I'm more the coach type," he declared, his voice steady and authoritative. In a swift display of agility, Tommy lunged, grabbing Mr. Steelshand's arm and twisting it behind his back. The older man grunted, his eyes narrowing. But before Tommy could revel in his newfound strength, Mr. Steelshand broke free with a swift maneuver, reversing the hold. Tommy found himself face down, his cheek pressed against the cool glass of the showcase.

He felt a strange mix of resistance and arousal as Mr. Steelshand's large, hard bulge pressed against his lower back. He struggled, but Mr. Steelshand's grip was firm, his body overpowering. Tommy tried to fight the sensations as he felt Mr. Steelshand's hand slide down his front, grasping his growing bulge through the silk tuxedo pants. "You see, Tommy, the jocks in my care learn to embrace their role. It's a role that suits you, too." Mr. Steelshand's voice was a low purr, his lips close to Tommy's ear. Tommy's mind flashed back to the images on the TV screen, the jocks obeying their coaches' every command. He imagined himself as the jocks on the screen, obedient and willing. He tried to fight the thoughts, but the idea of being a submissive jock, of surrendering control, but the struggle only made the fantasy more enticing. "No, I... I can't..." Tommy's words trailed off as his body betrayed him. He was hardening, his cock throbbing in response to the dominant man's touch, straining against the confines of his pants. "That's it, my boy," Mr. Steelshand whispered, his free hand pulling down Tommy's pants, revealing his firm, round ass. "Let go of your resistance. Embrace the pleasure of being a true jock." Tommy's breath quickened as Mr. Steelshand entered him, his hard cock filling him with a mixture of pain and pleasure. He tried to focus on the sensation, on the feeling of being dominated, and soon, his body responded, his cock throbbing with need. The images of obedient jocks flooded his mind, and he surrendered to the fantasy, his body moving in rhythm with Mr. Steelshand's thrusts. "Yes, that's it," Mr. Steelshand grunted, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let go, my boy. Come for me." Tommy tried to hold back, to maintain some semblance of control, but it was futile. His release was sudden and intense, his cock throbbing as he came, his seed spilling onto the silk tuxedo pants. Mr. Steelshand's powerful thrusts continued, and with a final, deep moan, he too found his release, filling Tommy with a warmth that sent him soon into a deep sleep.

The afternoon sun bathed the bedroom in a warm glow, its rays creeping through the window and onto the bed where Tommy lay, still encased in the red silk tuxedo and a crisp white shirt.

The events of the previous night came flooding back to him as he stirred awake. He remembered the mysterious red smoke, the transformation, and the intense encounter with Mr. Steelshand. But now, as he became more aware of his surroundings, a new realization hit him. His eyes widened as he noticed the fly of his pants was open, exposing a black silk jockstrap and something far more shocking—beneath the silk jockstrap, he felt the cold steel of a chastity cage enclosing his manhood. He reached down, his fingers brushing against the cold metal, and felt a surge of panic. "What the...?" Tommy's voice trailed off as he sat up, his heart racing. He looked around the opulent master bedroom, his gaze landing on the tall, shirtless figure of Mr. Steelshand. The man's muscular body was dusted with silver hair, and his intense eyes seemed to hold Tommy captive. "Mr. Steelshand, what have you done to me?" Tommy's voice quivered, his fingers reaching towards the cage, as if to confirm its existence. Mr. Steelshand's lips curved into a slight smirk as he took a step closer, his eyes never leaving Tommy's. "You look rather fetching, Tommy. But I think you'd look even better on the floor." As he spoke, his fingers found their way under Tommy's chin, tilting his head up, forcing him to meet the man's gaze. "N-No, Mr. Steelshand...I-I should..." Tommy's resistance crumbled as he felt the man's touch. He tried to pull away, but Mr. Steelshand's grip only tightened, his fingers caressing Tommy's skin. "Aww, Tommy, no need to resist. Just listen to my voice...follow my eyes." The command was gentle yet firm, and Tommy found himself helpless to disobey. He nodded slightly, his eyes locked on Mr. Steelshand's, a strange mix of fear and desire coursing through him. "Maybe you should worship me on your way down. That's it...a little closer." Tommy's body moved of its own accord, his head inching closer to Mr. Steelshand's chest, his tongue darting out to taste the salty sweetness of the man's skin. He moaned softly, the sensation of being guided, of submitting, sending ripples of pleasure through his body. "Mmm...Mr. Steelshand..." The name escaped his lips in a breathy whisper as he licked and kissed his way down the man's chest, his cock throbbing painfully in its cage. He could feel the power dynamic shifting, and it excited him in ways he couldn't comprehend. "Just...wanted to have...a holiday job...," he managed to utter between licks and kisses as he made his way down Mr. Steelshand's body. He could feel the man's bulge straining against his shorts, and he wanted, no, needed to taste it.

"Good...Tommy, just keep going," Mr. Steelshand grunted. The encouragement was gruff, and Tommy redoubled his efforts, his tongue teasing the straining fabric of Mr. Steelshand's shorts. The older man's hand teased the waistband, lowering it slightly, revealing a hint of dark hair and taut skin. "You ready for the real thing?" Mr. Steelshand's voice was a low growl, and Tommy could only nod, his mouth full of the man's bulge. "Mhm," he managed, his eyes pleading for what was to come. "Mhm what?" Mr. Steelshand's tone was playful, enjoying the power he held over the younger man. "Mhm Coach!" The word slipped out before Tommy could stop it, and he felt a rush of heat at his own surrender. The shorts were suddenly gone, and Tommy found himself face to face with Mr. Steelshand's impressive erection. He didn't hesitate, taking the man's cock into his mouth, sucking greedily. The world narrowed to this act of worship, the taste and feel of his Coach filling his senses. "Here we go, boy. If you want to be my jock so bad, then have this." The words were a promise, and Tommy felt a surge of pride as he was rewarded with a hot rush of cum. He swallowed eagerly, reveling in the taste of his Coach, the power of the man flowing into him. "Oh, that's it...You're coming along nicely." The praise was like a drug, and Tommy felt himself getting harder in his cage as he was helped to his feet. "Now, your name isn't Tommy..." The statement was a revelation, and Tommy's eyes widened in surprise. "Wha-?" "It's Tyler, and I think Tyler, you're going to be a good jock, aren't you?" The new name felt right, and Tyler nodded, his body humming with newfound confidence. "Yeah..." He murmured, his eyes never leaving his Coach's. "Yeah, what?" The question was a challenge, and Tyler rose to meet it. "Yeah, Coach." The words were a surrender, and Tyler felt a rush of pleasure as his Coach smiled, snapping his fingers. The chastity cage unlocked, and Tyler's cock sprang free, throbbing and ready. He came hard, his cum coating his body, and he reveled in the sensation, his mind clear and focused. "Thanks, Coach, for making me a horny and compliant jock!" The words were a declaration, and Tyler felt a sense of pride as the cage snapped shut again. "Can't wait for you to win the championship and showcase you in that tux!" Coach's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, and Tyler felt a surge of determination.

The New Year's Eve party was in full swing, a dazzling affair with champagne flowing and laughter echoing through the grand halls of Mr. Steelshand's estate. Tyler, the once shy and scrawny Tommy, was the center of attention, his newfound charm and confidence drawing people like moths to a flame. He moved effortlessly through the crowd, his athletic frame adorned in a tailored suit that accentuated his transformation.

The girls couldn't resist his allure, their giggles and flirty glances following him wherever he went. Tyler approached a group of beautiful women, his charm on full display as he engaged them in playful banter. They hung on his every word, captivated by his stories of athletic achievements and future ambitions. But amidst the laughter and flirting, Mr. Steelshand observed with a knowing smirk. He stood by the fireplace, his eyes fixated on Tyler, a glint of satisfaction in their depths. "If only they knew," Mr. Steelshand murmured to himself, a hint of amusement in his voice. "If the girls could see the obedient jock beneath the womanizer's facade. The chastity cage keeping him in line, ensuring his loyalty and submission. And his eagerness to please any man who exudes even a hint of dominance." Tyler's laughter rang out, drawing Mr. Steelshand's attention back to the group. He watched as Tyler leaned in close to one of the girls, whispering something that made her blush and giggle. Mr. Steelshand's smirk widened. He knew Tyler's secret, and in that moment, he relished the power he held over the young man. As the clock struck midnight, Tyler found himself surrounded by admirers, their cheers and well-wishes filling the air. But as he raised his glass to toast the new year, his eyes met Mr. Steelshand's across the room. In that fleeting moment, Tyler understood the depth of his transformation and the true nature of his relationship with his mentor. A silent acknowledgment passed between them, sealing their unspoken agreement.

Tyler's journey had come full circle, and as he embraced his new identity, he knew that this was just the beginning of a thrilling chapter in his life.

The story was inspired by a request of @claytongold86

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #nerd to jock #tuxedo tf

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