#very little of this has to do anything with her holding his wrist actually it's just shameless....whatever this is. so you're welcome!

[dark-konohagakure2]

Hi! Could you please write an Akatsuki X reader scenario where they kidnap shinobi Reader and the best way to convert her to their cause is by fucking her until she breaks? (If you could include Obito that would be awesome too)

tw: noncon, forced kissing, degradation, nipple play, abuse, mind break, forced orgasm, overstimulation, biting

All characters depicted are 18+

Deidara knows firsthand just how bothersome it is to be forcibly recruited into the Akatsuki, but despite the shared experience he isn't very empathetic when he tells the young kunoichi that she has no choice but to join their ranks, either willingly or by force.

The girl is loyal to her village, so she'll initially refuse, which angers the blonde artist. He didn't have a choice when it came to his recruitment, so why should she? Deidara is going to make her join, and he knows just how to do it.

Despite his being a lean man, he's very strong, so Deidara is able to knock her backwards with her clay and pin her down with his body, sitting on her chest as he holds her wrists with one hand and covers her mouth with the palm of his other hand, using the mouth on that hand to forcibly kiss her.

The tongue on his palm will force it's way down her throat, making her gag as Deidara rips her clothes off with the other hand, practically salivating at the sight of her perfect breasts, but he doesn't have time to enjoy the scenery when his main goal is to force her over to the Akatsuki's side.

Deidara isn't one to pull his punches verbally or physically, bullying his cock inside of her vulnerable entrance, manhandling her into whatever position works best for him as he shouts threats and insults at her.

"Cmon you little idiot! Just agree to join before I get more forceful, hmm! I'm not gonna stop until you say yes, un!"

He'll force his hand-mouths onto her breasts, using them to lick, bite, and suck her sensitive nipples, his actual mouth forcibly on hers as he pounds into her, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air as Deidara shoves his tongue down her throat.

He isn't very experienced due to his age and eccentric personality, so he's just fast and rough when he fucks, his his slamming against her ass while his only goals in mind are to convert her over to the Akatsuki's side and get his rocks off, and there is nothing she can do about it.

Deidara will have her overwhelmed from the bombardment of stimulus from his hands, mouths, and cock, he'll leave her whining and squirting underneath him despite herself, much to the artist's delight and smugness.

Deidara is a energetic young man, so he can go for hours if he really wanted to, but he'll stop on one condition. Each time he pulls out after cumming in her, he'll ask her if she's ready to cooperate yet, and if she is; he'll stop, but if she isn't; he'll go for another round with her body.

"Ready to cooperate? Well should be! Because I'm not gonna stop fucking you until you turn into a good little Akatsuki member!"

Deidara is glad that he's able to recruit a brand new member for their little Akatsuki family, now he'll earn the respect of his senior members, and he gets to have a brand new toy to play with as a bonus.

tw: noncon, kidnapping, drugging, aphrodisiacs, fuck or die, age difference, riding, mind break

Sasori hates dealing with new recruits, they're all just brats who know nothing about art and respect, so when he's tasked with coverting a shinobi they captured over to the Akatsuki's cause, the red haired puppet master isn't the slightest bit happy.

He feels nothing, so Sasori can't appeal to emotion in order to sway her, instead he'll use threats towards both herself, her comrades, and loved ones, but when she doesn't budge, Sasori decides to show her that his words are anything but empty threats.

Before she can even react, Sasori is already injecting her with a special poison he created just for brats such as herself, it isn't fatal in small doses, and it's designed to instill obedience in it's user, but it comes with the very unfortunate side effect of forcibly increasing her arousal levels as well.

Sasori totally didn't anticipate this side effect, but he's not going to let this unique opportunity pass him by, in fact he's going to take advantage of it. He'll force her warm and soft body onto his own cold and wooden one, forcing her onto his cock and telling her to make herself useful for once.

"Faster, brat, or do you want me to increase the dosage? Good girl, now ride it like your life depends on it, because it does."

Sasori won't make any noises, facial expressions, or even blink as she reluctantly bounces on his wood, her discomfort contrasting his indifference. If she slows down too much for his liking, Sasori will inject her yet again, although he's careful not to give her too much of his poison, he doesn't want to kill her yet.

Despite his lack of moaning or any expression at all, Sasori is rather enjoying the sight of the needy prisoner moving up and down on his cock while under the effects of poison is very satisfying to the emotionless puppet master, but the only time his satisfaction will be known is when he's cumming inside of her.

Eventually the combination of the stimulation, humiliation, and the drug is too much for the poor kunoichi to handle, being too drugged up and overwhelmed to even resist anymore, reduced bouncing on his cock and obeying his demeaning demands like a good little puppet, much to Sasori's satisfaction.

Sasori won't even bother to hold back his taunts at her expense, finding it incredibly satisfying that he was able to reduce a respectable ninja to his own personal puppet with just a few injections and his cock.

"Good little puppet, you'll make a perfect pawn for the Akatsuki, and the perfect hole for my cock..."

Before he knows it, the Akatsuki has a brand new member and Sasori himself has a brand new puppet to play with, which is very convenient since he's been looking for a new test dummy for his poisons.

tw: noncon, genjutsu, mind break, size difference, fingering, forced kissing, mental torture, mild degradation

Forcing people to do things they don't want to is a rather trivial task for Itachi Uchiha, but he prefers to not use violence to get his way, so when he's tasked with forcibly recruiting a new Akatsuki member, he'll get the job done using his specialty: genjutsu.

It's almost too easy, all he needs to do is make eye contact with her, and she's all his. He won't just use a genjutsu that makes her loyal to the Akatsuki, because it would just wear off eventually which would cause problems in the future, instead he'll cast a genjutsu that will make her more susceptible to his demands and advances.

Itachi is much bigger and stronger than she is, especially when she's in such a state, so it's not much of a challenge for him to take advantage of her, slipping his hand into her panties and his tongue into her mouth while she squirms in his grasp, under the effects of his sense heightening genjutsu.

His enjoyment won't be very evident on his face due to his stoic nature, but it's most certainly evident in his pants, the bulge in his pants pressed against her clothed pussy as his fingers move inside of her and he speaks to her in his usual flat tone, yet with a hint of mockery underneath.

"This feels uncomfortable doesn't it? I would stop if you would just cooperate, but I can plainly see that someone like you wouldn't know compromise if it stabbed you in the face..."

Eventually he'll pull his fingers out of her, which is somewhat difficult with how tightly her cunt is squeezing them, although her pussy won't be left empty for very long once Itachi forces his cock into her, hitting even deeper places inside of her that his fingers couldn't reach, such as her precious womb.

Itachi doesn't just jackhammer into her like a uncouth mutt, instead his pace incredibly slow, bordering on torturous as his cock slowly stretches her out and hits her womb with each thrust, his cock forcing her into submission better than any genjutsu ever could.

He'll have her whimpering and squirming underneath him in a matter off seconds, reapplying the genjutsu on her whenever she fights back too much, eventually she'll be so deep in the genjutsu that she won't be able to distinguish between reality and illusion, she won't even be able to tell if she's actually getting fucked or if it's just another genjutsu, it's an incredibly disorienting and terrifying experience, one that Itachi tells her she can end anytime if she just cooperates with the Akatsuki.

Eventually she'll become so disoriented and overwhelmed by both the illusion she's under and the sensation of him roughly fucking her that she'll practically burst into tears, weakly whimpering and sniffling as she begs Itachi to stop the genjutsu already, she won't even ask him to stop fucking her, she just wants to be free of the illusion, and if she agrees to the Akatsuki's terms, he'll gladly oblige her.

"Good girl. See? That wasn't so hard was it? All you had to do was ask nicely, it's quite simple really, even for someone so bereft of knowledge..."

He isn't surprised that she ended up caving to his demands, mental torture is his forte, and if she ever steps out of line with the Akatsuki's goals again, he'll have no qualms about giving her another 72 hours worth of suffering.

tw: noncon, size difference, double penetration, monster cocks, mind break, creampie, breeding, biting, degradation

In terms of physical appearance, Kisame is the most terrifying member of the Akatsuki, standing at nearly 7 feet tall with a set of razor sharp teeth and a shark-like appearance, he's the best in the organization at intimidation, and Kisame is more than happy to use brute force when attempting to force a potential recruit over to the Akatsuki's side.

Usually just flashing his teeth or brandishing Samehada is more than enough for Kisame to get his way, but when his dear little prisoner future coworker doesn't give in, Kisame decides he needs to take a much more rough and physical approach with her, the blue skinned man has been rather pent up as of late, and dealing with a brat is just increasing his frustrations, so he decides to kill two birds with one stone.

He's a brute, so he'll just throw here down onto the ground and force himself on top of her, his body huge compared to her slight form, Kisame practically moans at the sight of her eyes widening in terror when she feels his massive bulges rubbing against her, making it more than clear what Kisame is going to be taking from her.

Her pussy is almost comically tiny compared to Kisame's twin cocks, it would be damn near impossible for him to fit even one of his huge members inside of her virgin cunt, but Kisame Hoshigaki has never been one to let a little bit of difficulty stop him from getting what he wants from someone.

"Oh come now, don't go whining and crying on me yet! You don't even have the first one all the way in yet! So save your bellyaching for when they're both deep inside of you, sweetie..."

Befitting his appearance and reputation, Kisame is rough when he fucks, forcibly cramming both of his cocks into her tight pussy as he pounds into her, his huge body engulfing her's entirely while he's having the time of his life turning her body into his personal cocksleeve.

Kisame is a biter, he just can't help himself, it's in his nature after all, and he especially can't hold back his more primal urges when his cocks are balls deep inside of her and he's cumming directly into her fertile womb, his sharp teeth digging into her neck hard enough to draw blood, and when sharks see blood, they go into a feeding frenzy.

Kisame's sheer size is all the more apparent when his entire muscular weight is pressed down on her as he rearranges her insides with his cock, his huge body smothering her only adds to the poor girl's disoriented state, it's nearly impossible to breathe when a giant shark man is on top of her and using her as his breeding toy.

When Kisame eventually cums inside of her, he cums a lot, emptying his huge balls into her sensitive little womb, and the poor kunoichi is left completely cockdrunk just from one round of Kisame bullying her poor pussy with his big cocks.

"Oh how cute! You did didn't even last one single round! What was our leader thinking asking a pathetic weakling like you to join our little family..?"

This entire experience has once again reminded Kisame why he just adores newbies so much, they're so weak and overconfident even when against someone as fearsome like him, and the stubborn toys are all the more fun to break.

tw: noncon, sadomasochism, abuse, degradation, fuck or die, misogyny, slapping, blood play, fear play

It's no surprise that a sadist like Hidan loves nothing more than causing distress and pain to others, even if it isn't for his religion or organization, so he's as giddy as a schoolgirl when he's given the task of forcing their latest recruit into submission, and if there's something that brings Hidan joy, it's forcing people.

He isn't the strongest in the Akatsuki, but he's one of if not the scariest member when it comes to just how unwaveringly brutal and heartless he is, and not only is Hidan brutal, he's also a complete pervert, a fact that will become almost instantly apparent to his already scared captive when he starts groping her and talking about how pretty of sacrifice she would make to Lord Jashin.

Hidan hurts people as easily as he breathes, so the morally bankrupt Jashinist has absolutely no qualms about forcing himself onto someone, it's like a power trip to him when he gets to have complete free reign over the organization's prisoners, subjecting them to his depraved whims at his leisure.

The white haired man will absolutely love it when she desperately fights back, kicking and scratching at him with the futile hope of getting him to back off, but getting hurt by her mid-fuck just turns Hidan on even more, he's the kind of man who loves both giving and receiving some of that sweet pain.

"Ohh..! F-Fuuuck yes~! Keep fighting me like that, babe~! It just makes me want to hurt ya right back, you feisty bitch!"

While Hidan really does love receiving pain, he's still going to return the favor tenfold, he'll slap her across the face for every kick that lands, and practically stab her with his spike each time she scratches at him. See? Hidan isn't a selfish lover at all! He's returning all of the sweet, addictive pain she's so graciously giving him, she should be thanking him really.

Hidan has the highest sex drive out of all his comrades, practically using her as a pocket pussy to empty his balls into, and to no ones shock, he doesn't even try to be gentle, forcing his fat cock in and out of her with the main goal of getting his rocks off, slapping her ass or breasts with each rough and sloppy thrust.

She'll inevitably start to bleed a little bit from how many times he's bitten her or poked her with his sharp weapons, but that won't deter Hidan in the slightest, in fact it'll only excite him more, and he'll even lick up the blood from her wounds, resulting in his skin taking on it's skeletal pattern, which only terrifies her all the more.

It doesn't take too long for his sheer sadism and brutality to take a toll on her, and she's begging him to stop, sobbing that she'll do whatever the Akatsuki says as long as Hidan just stops. Hidan is incredibly annoyed and disappointed that his fun is being cut short, and all because she can't handle him going easy on her.

"Huh?! Done already?! Geez, this is just what happens when ya let the broads join the boy's club, but fine! Welcome to the Akatsuki, you whiny cunt!"

Hidan isn't particularly happy about having another shrill pussy with legs in the same organization as him, but he manages to look on the bright side of things; at least he doesn't need to go down the street corner for a quick fuck anymore, now he only needs to go down the hall.

tw: noncon, age difference, size difference, tentacles, gaping, degradation, misogyny, bondage, anal

Kakuzu hates newbies, they're all brats without a shred of respect for their elders, it's bad enough that he has to put up with Hidan's nonsense, but now he has to deal with converting a new member? He's going to make her pay for his troubles, despite the fact that she wants to be there about as much as he wants her there.

He'll cut straight to the chase, plainly telling her to join the Akatsuki or else, although he doesn't elaborate at all on what the 'or else' will entail, so she doesn't take him seriously and immediately refuses. Kakuzu doesn't like that very much, he absolutely hates not being taken seriously, so the miser decides that there's no time like the present to make sure he knows that he's a very serious threat to her.

She can barely even react when his threads emerge from underneath his mask and cloak, quickly wrapping around her limbs and forcing themselves down her throat, muffling her noises of protest when the rest of his threads start slithering towards her vulnerable holes between her legs with no regard for gentleness or permission.

Kakuzu's metallic tentacles are uncomfortably harsh as they force themselves into her pussy and ass, stretching her holes out to 'prepare' them for Kakuzu's big cock, all she can do is weakly struggle and bite down on the threads in her mouth as Kakuzu gives her a stern talking to about how much of an ungrateful brat she allegedly is.

"Stop biting, brat. It hurts when you bite down on them like that. But I'll hurt you a hell of a lot more than you could ever hurt me if you don't shut up and take it."

He'll use his tentacles to spread her pussy out enough for him to get a good look at it, being sure to make sure he knows how shocked he is that she's still a virgin with how indecent she acts. Girls these days are just so disrespectful towards men, probably because none of them have a big strong daddy to put them in their place, but Kakuzu is about to change that.

His cock is just as big as the rest of him, so it will stretch her out a great deal when he forces in inside of her, even after all that preparation. Kakuzu is a product of his time, he doesn't prioritize his pleasure over her's at all, because that would imply he even considers her's in the first place.

He doesn't even really need to hold her down given how strong he is, he has her bound for his enjoyment, not his convenience. Kakuzu always finds it amusing when his prey struggles against his superior experience, and he finds it almost hilarious how she squirms against him, even with his thick meat buried balls deep inside of her.

Kakuzu doesn't really care where he cums, just as long as he does. He doesn't think it really matters if he cums inside of her, he's nearly a century old, he probably can't get her knocked up, so she can stop being so damn hysterical about such a slim possibility.

"Shut up. Trust me, idiot, I'm far too old to give anyone a baby, much less a whiny twerp like you. Besides, having a baby is all women like you are good for."

New members are always so troublesome for Kakuzu, all they do is drain the Akatsuki's finances even more, and Kakuzu is going to make sure that his dear newbie pays him back every last cent.

tw: noncon, power imbalance, mind break, god complex, violence, piercings, humiliation, kidnapping

Pain is the leader of the Akatsuki, so he'll deal with coverting potential members more often than not. He's the best man for the job, he has the reputation, status, intimidation factor, and most importantly; he has the abilities to back all those qualities up with action. Only a fool would try to deny Pain, but it seems that his dear future subordinate is something beyond just foolish with how much she's resisting.

She can resist to her hearts content, but she's a mouse in a trap compared to his godlike powers. When she inevitably true to make a break for it, Pain will simply use Universe Pull to force her back towards him, pinning her down underneath his cold body, his body temperature being enough to nearly make her shiver, even with his cloak on, and the proximity doesn't help matters at all.

Pain's method of restraining her is swift and cruel, he'll stab one of his chakra rods straight through both of her hands, pinning them to the ground and causing immense pain, to which he shows no remorse, because he's about to show her an even more intense pain with a very different kind of rod.

His Rinnegan eyes will be locked onto her's as he forces himself on top of her. She isn't as foolish as he initially suspected, and she instantly knows what he's attempting to do to her, but Pain will pay no heed to her struggles, treating what he's about to do to her like its the most justified thing in the world.

"Enough resistance. It's futile against me. I am God, and now you'll get the privilege of witnessing what happens to those who resist God's will."

Pain's cock is both thick and pierced, so it fills her up to the brim and the cold metal of his piercings touch every inch of her untouched depths. It's hard to tell if Pain can even feel the sensations of her pussy gripping his member, since his remains cold and impassive throughout.

Its unsettling how calm Pain is throughout the ordeal, lecturing her about understanding pain and the Akatsuki's goals, all while he's pounding into her, his thick cock bullying her womb with each thrust, increasing the intensity of the agonizing mix of pleasure and pain.

He could just use his Rinnegan to put her under his control and 'tame' her, but Pain doesn't have to do that, he's physically strong enough to brute force her body into submission, and the most effective way to do that is to brute force her pussy into submission first, and the rest will follow.

Once Pain has had his fill with her holes, he won't even need to ask her if she's going to come along with him or not, she has no choice. He's already destroyed her village, so she has no choice but to join his cause or be left to die alone.

"Playtime is over, little one. It's time for business. You will join the Akatsuki, or I'll just have to put you through this torment again..."

Swaying even the most stubborn of individuals onto his side is a trivial matter for someone like Pain, it's truly amazing how a little bit of destruction and degradation can go such a far way in terms of the elimination of one's insubordination.

tw: noncon, facesitting, suffocation, cunnilingus, rimming, age difference, piercings, power imbalance, fuck or die, humiliation

Being one of the most important members of the Akatsuki, Konan is used to recruiting new members. While she isn't a brute, Konan isn't above using physical means to get what she wants from the more particularly standoffish individuals.

Konan will attempt to negotiate at first, gently explaining the benefits of being a part of an organization as well-known and feared as the Akatsuki, and how it's much better than serving any village. But when the young woman continues to refuse Konan's kind offers, she decides to take more forceful measures.

Like a stern mother about to punish her unruly child, Konan will give the girl a few moments to reconsider her foolish choices, but when she inevitably doesn't, Konan decides to test just how stubborn someone is able to continue to act when they're unable to move or breathe underneath their superior.

Konan is a very strong woman despite her lithe physique, so she's easily able to hold the other woman down and sit on her face, pressing her entire weight down as her mature pussy presses against her face, practically suffocating the younger woman underneath her perfect ass, not budging an inch until she secures the girl's cooperation.

"Sorry, but you aren't allowed to come up for air until you agree to join the Akatsuki. If you keep squirming like that I'll simply add another ten minutes to your sentence..."

Konan is a very patient woman, she has all the time in the world, so she won't be in any rush to move from her rather comfortable seat on her face, simply occupying herself with her origami or by explaining more details about the Akatsuki and their goals, being sure to speak very highly of the organization that the girl will belong to in the very near future.

While patient, Konan is no saint, so she'll get bored of simply sitting around and waiting for the uncooperative girl to come around, so she'll demand that if she wants to live, she better get Konan off before the suffocation gets to her first, with how stern Konan sounds it's difficult to tell if she's being serious or not, but it would be foolish to take that chance.

While not usually very vocal, Konan will let out soft moans when she feels the younger woman's tongue against her perfect womanly holes, the wetness caressing the piercing on Konan's clit. If she keeps up the good work, then Konan will be more than happy to let her live.

She's a stern woman, but she isn't overly cruel, once Konan is brought to climax, she'll finally let the poor girl breathe, that is, if she agrees to the terms, and between joining a criminal organization and dying in such a humiliating way, becoming a rouge ninja is the much more preferable fate.

"That's a good girl... Now I just know you'll be a lovely fit for our great organization, you have the perfect... talents for us all to enjoy..."

Konan is very glad that the Akatsuki finally has another female member, now the purple haired woman will have someone she can go to whenever she finds herself needing a more female touch.

tw: noncon, overstimulation, degradation, pussydrunk!Tobi, size difference, exhibitionism, humiliation

Tobi is giddy at the opportunity to prove himself to his comrades by converting their lastest member over to their cause. But there is one small problem: she doesn't take him seriously at all, and really who would? He presents himself as a bumbling and immature man child, so nobody really pays him any heed, much to Tobi's dismay.

Poor, sweet Tobi tries to be nice, he really does, but she's just so mean to him, calling him an idiot and shoving him away whenever he gets close to her. Tobi looks like he's about to give up and sulk, when the masked man suddenly remembers the advice his sempai gave him; that a true Akatsuki member needs to be cool, concise, and mean.

Tobi is shockingly strong for someone so apparently airheaded, his muscles pressed against her body as he gets on top of her, revealing a surprisingly huge bulge in his pants as he does. Tobi seems completely oblivious to the fact he's rubbing his cock up against her however, scolding her in his squeaky voice to stop squirming and being so mean to poor Tobi.

He'll act as though its a freak accident when he fat cock slips into her pussy, he'll even sheepishly apologize when it happens, but since it's already in there, Tobi decides that this is the perfect opportunity for him to get to know his new best friend even better!

"Whoopsie daisy-! You were moving too much and I slipped! Now you have to be a good girl and take responsibility for getting Tobi stuck!"

For someone who's apparently so well meaning, Tobi is incredibly rough with his new toy friend, his hips slapping against her ass while he roughly holds her in place with his gloved hands and making obnoxiously loud noises of pleasure from behind his mask, clearly he's never gotten his cock wet before judging by how whiny and overwhelmed he gets almost instantly after sticking it in.

He's so loud that it's more than likely that the entire Akatsuki can hear what he's doing behind closed doors, the more annoyed members will even chime in, telling him to 'shut up!' and 'keep it down in there!' from outside the room, the fact that her other captors can hear what's happening to her is all the more embarrassing, but Tobi is too lost in the feeling of her perfect cunt around his meat to care.

Tobi is just too pent up for his own good, recklessly dumping his load into her pussy whenever he cums (which is a lot), and he'll feign surprise when she panics about him cumming inside, he as a grown man will claim that he didn't know that was how babies were made, demonstrating that he's either completely stupid, or a brilliant actor.

After spending so much time playing with her perfectly snug pussy, Tobi loses his composure, his voice dropping multiple octaves as he let's his mask slip, although not the literal one, but even with his face still covered, it's like there's a completely different person talking now.

"Soooo are you gonna be a good little girl and join the Akatsuki? You are?! Great~!! Now learn your place in our ranks, you pathetic slut."

She's most certainly learned a very valuable lesson now, she was right in only one assessment; Tobi isn't someone to be taken seriously at all, but Obito sure as hell is.

[a-hazbin-reader]

could you do something about how alastor gets jealous and how he shows it? Like what things would get him jealous and stuff like that and then how he would go about it? Thank you!

I guess I gotta- 🥵

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a red flag, Wifey is into it even though she pretends not to be, A widdle suggestive

Description: ☝️⬆️

It doesn't take much to make Alastor jealous, he has a big ego to defend and doesn't like to share your attention

He also doesn't think a lot of people are worthy of your attention so that's a big part of it

Alastor is almost childish the way he acts out when he's jealous, it's painfully obvious even though he denies it every time

He sulks and acts out to get your attention back on him, doing anything he can to make you just look at him

He's rude and intimidating to anyone he thinks is flirting with you or trying to take you for themselves

After every incident, he tries to pretend like nothing happened and refuses to acknowledge his jealous streak

Can't people just understand that you're a married woman and that Alastor deserves all of your time???

Someone is talking to you and you're laughing too hard, cheeks a little too pink? Alastor is right there to sniff out any ill intention

"What's so funny, my dear? Surely you're not gossiping without me.."

He's wrapping a protective arm around you and kissing your cheek, eyeing the other person the entire time as he asserts his husbandly dominance over them

"Hm? Oh! He was telling me a funny joke about-"

Alastor takes a break from kissing your wrist and palm to snap his gaze to the other man, a wicked gleam in his eye

"Ohhhh! So you're a clown! Wonderful~! Your attire had me wondering what you do for a living, but now it all makes sense!"

The other person is visibly uncomfortable by your husband's unspoken challenge and backs out of the conversation with their tail between their legs

"I guess he had other things to do~"

You roll your eyes as Alastor nuzzles your neck, petting his around his ears and antlers

"You're are not a very subtle man, my dear."

You're dancing with someone who's not him? Alastor will physically shut that shit down

He spends maybe a full minute pouting and ignoring everyone else around him, eyes locked on you and your dance partner

"Alastor, are you even listening?"

"Out of all the women here, why did he choose MY wife? I walked away for one second, and he snatched her up!"

He doesn't care for how closely they're holding you, the way they blush and smile from your attention

Alastor isn't having it, striding over and using his hip to push the man away from you and off the dance floor, taking your hand

You're trying not to smile at him, pressing against your husband as you take his hand and dance with him

"Alastor, that was rude..."

He simply chuckles and spins you around happily, snapping his fingers to change the song into something more romantic

"I would say I'm sorry but we both know I'm not~ Besides, I waited for my chance to dance with you!"

It's hard to stay mad at him when he's looking at you like you're the only person in the world and holding you like you're something precious

It helps that he's so handsome, you can't help but lean up and steal a kiss from him, feeling familiar butterflies at the touch

"You've been dancing with me all night, and you barely waited a minute... you greedy demon~"

He leans into your hand as you cup his cheek, tail wagging from having your undivided attention again

"Is it a crime that I want to hog my darling wife? That I crave every opportunity to dance with her and steal the show?"

He's leaning in for another kiss, and it makes you instinctively move in closer to meet his lips

"It will be if you keep injuring people~"

And those are just some examples of people who weren't flirting with you, it's so much worse when someone actually wants you

You're waiting for your husband to meet with you for your date, dressed up and looking your absolute best

When you hear a sharp whistle from behind, only to see a sleazy looking demon towering over you and eyeing your body

"And just where do you think you're going looking like that, beautiful? My place is that way~"

He's much too close, placing a hand on the wall behind you in order to keep you from running, completely unaware of the danger he's in

You can't help but roll your eyes at the situation

"I'm flattered, really I am... but I'm not interested, I'm waiting for someone, actually."

You casually move out from under his arm, completely unfazed by the way his expression darkens as you fix your appearance

"Oh really? And just who might you be waiting for? Let me guess, your boyfriend?"

He doesn't look like he believes you, making air quotes around the word boyfriend

You can't help but laugh at the poor soul, putting a hand on your hip as you whip around to face him-

"Husband, actually~ My name is Alastor though maybe you'll recognize my other name! The Radio Demon~ Maybe you've heard of me?"

It's such a treat to watch the cocky demon lose his composure in fear and so sexy to watch your husband be the cause of it

The demon is so much larger than Alastor but he's practically cowering away from him, Alastor grinning at him as he tilts his head

"Look uh-I'm sorry! I didn't realize-"

Your husband tuts at the demon, antlers already growing as he morphs into his larger demonic form

You can't help but blush at how sweet Alastor is being, rushing to your rescue like this

"Didn't realize what? That you were hitting on my wife? You think I would just stand by and let you think you have a shot with her? She's much too far out of your league, unfortunately."

He's so cute when he's jealous

"Darling, do be quick with that? I don't want to miss our reservation-and no eating him! I don't want you to spoil your appetite!"

Alastor looks at you and visibly blushes at how good you look, the other demon simply an afterthought as he tears them apart

"My dear, you look absolutely ravishing~ How am I going to keep the other men from looking at you when you're so delectable?"

He's still humongous, a large claw reaching out to stroke your leg tenderly, a lovesick expression on his face

You can practically see the hearts in his eyes~ Smiling at your husband and blowing him a kiss

"It's a good thing that you're the only man I have eyes for then, isn't it?"

He shrinks back down to his normal size and kisses your hand before wrapping an arm around you as you two walk together

"It's something that I'm extraordinarily grateful for~"

You can't help but lean your head against him, letting him nuzzle the top of your head in an affectionate manner

"Though~ I wouldn't mind a refresher of just how much you adore me...~"

You can't help but snort at the comment, gently slapping his chest before pulling him in for a kiss

"Dinner first~ You'll need your strength~"

I might go back and change this one a bit ngl

[fruitsboots]

I'm a nail technician and here's a big list of headcanons about the kinds of clients the TOS Enterprise crew would be!

Kirk:

-shows up on time for appointment but sometimes has to cancel super last minute.

-doesn't bite his nails but picks at them and his cuticles. not enough to bleed or anything but enough that most of his appointment is cuticle work.

- "Cut them short" my guy there's no free edge.

- holds still, uses arm rest appropriately, doesn't stiffen his hands. no polish, just buffed smooth. jokes every time that next time maybe he'll go with a hot pink.

-asks a lot of questions and chats at the beginning of the appointment but ends up getting a little bored by the end.

-always tips very well but doesn't rebook, he'll call you.

Spock:

-doesn't make appointments, just shows up sometimes on slow days and asks to use certain supplies.

-does his own nails and keeps them very nice and neat. nail beds to die for. Nails grow very fast.

-On occasion has been talked into a dark polish and will let someone else do that for him (he's not very good at the application).

-sits a little too stiffly like he's concentrating. speaks when spoken to. doesn't linger long, the smell gives him a headache.

-doesn't tip but you’re not sure if he knows he’s supposed to.

McCoy:

-calls and asks if there’s time for a walk in then shows up later than he tells you but usually has a good excuse.

-Hands are dry as hell from washing them a lot. Worst, driest cuticles. Always gets a split on the edge of his pointer finger.

-Sits too far away from the table, at an angle, hunched, wrists on the armrest and elbows locked. Has to be asked to scoot arms forward a million times.

-Is annoying to work on technically, but fun to chat with. Always turns into a complaint session but in the best way. Wants to know the drama in your life and gives opinions.

- Closes eyes and tries not to doze off during the hand massage. Wipes off all the lotion that he desperately needs.

-Tips alright and always says he’ll come back soon but you know it’ll be another 4 months.

Uhura:

-has a standing appointment every 3 weeks and is never late, sometimes she’ll bring you a drink and apologizes when she doesn’t.

-Did her own nails for a long time and keeps them well manicured between appointments.

-Will (properly!) remove her own gel polish before appointments to save you the trouble.

- Tends to go for lighter, pearlescent shades. Always asks what you have that’s new but then picks one of her go-tos.

- Loves to look at nail art but doesn’t usually get it.

-Super bubbly during appointments, very patient, sits perfectly. Always enthusiastic about the result and gives lots of praise.

-Tips well and takes business cards to give to people.

Chapel:

-Not really supposed to get her nails done but does anyways. Doesn’t have super regular appointments but usually books with Uhura when she does.

-Usually shows up with chipped polish from last time that desperately needed removed 3 weeks ago.

-Gets light/sheer colors.

-Sometimes will book for a gel manicure and then tell you she doesn’t actually want polish this time even tho she needs it. Nice nails beds but they are thin and peel a bit without anything on them.

-Apologizes for no reason multiple times. Thanks you as if it were an inconvenience to do her nails? 

-After a few appointments, she loosens up a bit. Tips decent.

Sulu:

-has gotten his nails done like five times just for fun.

-Keeps them short, not much cuticle work. Why are you here??

- Will get a couple “masculine” designs and isn’t picky about them. “You just do whatever you think will look best :) “

-genuinely fun to have as a client but needs some direction on how to sit etc. can talk about anything.

-Didn’t tip the first time bc he didn’t know and felt bad so he always does, but it’s not much.

Scotty:

-how can one man have so much grease under his nails?

-Has a standing appointment once a month for just a nail trim but should be more like every two weeks.

-Asks questions about nail equipment (UV lamp, e-file, etc).

-Talks a bit during the appointment and then stands around after chatting. Always tips like 2$ but sometimes brings baked goods, etc.

Chekov:

-wanders in with a bruised nail and is like “what can you do for this” nothing dude.

-Leaves and comes back later to buy a gift certificate to give to a girl.

[madschiavelique]

Hiii! Could I request some angst/fluff jealousy headcanons with Rolan, Raphael, Haarlep, Karlach and whoever else you think might work? For f! (Or gn) tiefling Tav

hi love!! i'm so sorry i took so freaking long but the burnout is insane and i'm trying to get back into both art and writing but i hope this will be good <33

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ characters : rolan, haarlep, raphael, karlach

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : mention of threesome (not actual threesome), mostly fluff, these are super soft, fem!reader, no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 2102 ( between 444 and 600 per characters)

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ rolan : 

Rolan wants to pretend that he's not affected by anything, to keep his composure no matter how much his brothers and sisters tease him. However, he is far from indifferent when he sees someone trying to win you over using his own magical territory.

An elf magician was trying his luck by talking to you, surely thinking that an ‘exotic’ creature like a tiefling had probably never seen a magic trick. He was trying to charm you with coloured sparkles in the air sprouting from his fingers, letting little fireworks dance before your eyes.

His tricks were nothing extraordinary, but the braggadocio with which the elf tried to win you over as if you were an easy mark left a bitter taste in Rolan's mouth.

This pathetic amateur was displaying classic spells, ones you'd obviously seen before. But he had the nerve to get a little closer to you with each trick.

It was when he pulled a rose out from behind your ear that Rolan couldn't stand still. 

A shower of scarlet petals fell from the sky. You looked up at the ceiling of the tower hall, but no one was throwing them, they were all coming down like snow from nowhere. 

With a flick of the wrist, a few falling petals joined together to form two wreaths that impaled themselves on your horns.

Rolan calmly walked over to you, a smile and a triumphant attitude to his gesture as the elf seemed to blush with shame.

“If you're trying to charm someone who's worth more than anything your miserable centuries of existence have brought you, you'd better crown her like the queen she is.”

The elf didn't even say a word, glaring at him before leaving with a hasty step, Rolan watching him until he disappeared behind the tower doors. His gaze fell once more on yours, who also looked as triumphant as ever.

“Like the queen she is, hm?” you repeated.

Rolan's cheeks turned from poppy to cherry, the shelves and tiles in the tower suddenly looking very interesting.

“He had no right to take you for a fool,” he muttered.

You smiled, taking one of the crowns on your horns and placing it around one of his. You cupped his face and kissed him lovingly, pulling away from his lips to look into his eyes.

“All the other wizards may try, only you can enchant me.”

You kissed him on the forehead, moving to the reception desk to greet a customer as you said: 

“Oh and,” you pointed to your flower crown, smiling, “I like these rings,’.

Rolan covered his face with his hands as he turned redder than ever.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ raphael : 

Raphael knows that he has nothing to worry about when it comes to being jealous, because you're faithful to him and he only has eyes for you.

However, he's well aware that the fact that you're his partner can lead to a few mischievous people trying to get at you for various reasons.

The first, of course, is to use you as leverage for Raphael. They think you're his weakness, and while that's not entirely untrue, he doesn't want to involve you in his affairs.

Others simply want to push him to his limits, pester him until he loses his temper.

And others try to get close to you to try to influence you and get Raphael to do things for them. They know that in his darkest moments you're the light that holds him in place, and they try to play on that.

But he knows that no matter how hard they try to make him flinch through you, it's futile.

However, he can't help feeling annoyed when, once again, when Mizora is visiting him on business, she keeps ogling you.

Every visit was like that, with her making undisguised advances towards you, observing every outfit you wore and remarking on those you'd worn before, telling you that she'd buy you some better clothes to suit the beauty you were.

Raphael wanted you to be well dressed; he presented you with a variety of outfits and it was up to you to choose them. It didn't matter to him, you looked stunning in every outfit after all. But it was insulting that Mizora tried to tell him how his taste was awful through her advances to you.

He watched Mizora's insistence from his desk, her behind you, grabbing you by the shoulders to whisper something. Her tail wrapped around your waist, and that was too much.

"Mizora, I think your business here is finished for the moment, I'll study the file you've brought. I've got things to do for now, and I suppose you've got a busy schedule yourself. I'm not showing you the way out, you must surely know it by now."

Mizora gave a dry huff, looking Raphael up and down with annoyance.

"Perhaps your little love could show me the way back ?" she teasingly suggested, looking at you like you were her next meal.

"Don't you have other tortured souls in need of help to care to ?" he sighed, unamused by her comment.

She hummed, frowning at him before disappearing in thin air.

Raphael was about to say something, his lips parted, but you cut him off.

"By the Nine Hells, I thought she'd never end," you sighed loudly in annoyance, slamming the book you were clutching brutally and putting it back on the shelf.

To say that Raphael was surprised was an understatement; he looked at you, mouth agape and eyes wide as you approached him.

"To think she can defeat the master of charm at his own art, in his own house," you said, one of your hands resting on his chest as your middle and index fingers mimicked two legs going up to his shoulder, "devils truly think they can win it all, can't they?’’

He smiled, one of his hands coming to rest on the small of your back to press you closer to him. His free hand came to grip your chin, his thumb caressing the skin of your lower lip.

"I did win it all, didn't I, my little mouse ?"

You smiled, kissing just the corner of his lips without ever touching them.

"I could say the same, my devil."

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ haarlep : 

To think an incubus would be jealous would be ironic, especially for Haarlep. They have taken so many lovers, are not attached to anyone, and their very nature generally isn’t used to making attachments that pull that hard on the strings of their desire-red heart.

Except you. You’re obviously the only one that matters to them, the only one that actually considered them as something more than an object of lust but as a real being.

This connection is something they want to protect, to keep as theirs, as the only thing they ever considered they could have for themselves.

So obviously they are not much of a fan of the fact the Archivist is trying to hit on you.

Being stuck in the House of Hope, they spend their time like they can, and most of the time they spend it with you. Not just because they love you but because you’re the best company they had in an eternity.

And this idiot thinks he has the right to come near you like that.

They see him, trying to have your hands touch when you’re reaching for a tome in the archives. They see how he tries to get closer to you to show you an inscription in one of the many books in the stacked shelves of the room.

However their patience runs thin when you climb on the ladder to get to the higher tomes, and he keeps it steady while his eyes are shamelessly on your ass.

“Little one ?” they call, “why don’t you come over here and read to me ?”

Without questioning them, you go down the ladder under the confused eyes of the Archivist. You walk up to Haarlep, sitting next to him as you open the book, but he stops you before you even start.

“Come on, love, you know you’ve got a much better sit than that.”

They pat their lap, and with a little smile you sit on them. They lace their arms around your waist instantly, pressing their cheek against your neck as they hug you and you start your read.

They keep their eyes planted in his as they press a kiss on your neck that makes you giggle, placing pecks on your skin and making you laugh.

“Are you even listening to me ?” you ask, turning to them with a smile.

“Of course I am,” they assure you, one of their hands coming to caress your cheek before softly kissing your lips. “Please, continue.”

As you set more comfortably against them and continue reading, Haarlep’s eyes go back to the Archivists who’s biting the inside of his cheek.

You’re too immersed in the tome to notice how Haarlep is glaring at the Archivist, their tail circling around your ankle.

It’s silent, Haarlep wouldn’t dare to interrupt you again while you’re reading, but their eyes speak for it all : Mine.

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ karlach : 

Karlach isn’t jealous that easily, she trusts you more than anyone in this world after all. she knows you care for her, more than anyone ever did, and most importantly you’re the person she trusts the most.

she has more complicated matters to worry about than you being interested in someone else, such as her heart problems. so naturally, she is not jealous that easily.

One evening, however, you were staying in an inn for the night. You had gone to the counter to collect your orders, as the old couple running the inn had become less adaptable and lively and were no longer serving the food. 

There were quite a few people there that evening, and the little children helped them as best they could. It was while you were waiting at the counter that another tiefling struck up a conversation with you.

Karlach was watching you from afar as she sat at your table, seeing you smile, then laugh as the stranger chatted with you. 

Suddenly her heart felt cold. It was obvious that the man was trying to flirt with you, whispering something in your ear, and you were doing almost nothing to interrupt him or push him away.

The orders finally arrived, and you came back to the table smiling.

"You won't believe the conversation I just had," you began excitedly.

Karlach thought you were going to dwell on the fact that he was funny, funnier than her, better than her in your eyes. 

“Oh yeah ?” she asked nevertheless before taking a sip of her freshly arrived ale, never wanting to break your happiness.

“Yeah! He tried flirting with me, and when he asked if he could buy me a drink, I told him I was taken already.”

Karlach’s shoulders untensed instantly, whatever fear or doubt she had about herself vanished in the air.

“As if he had a chance with you,” she laughed along.

“You don’t know the best part yet,” you leaned towards her to lower your tone, “he asked me if the one I was with was the super hot tiefling lady at my table.”

Karlach blushed as she heard that, hearing from the mouth of other people that she was hot - other than literally hot - always felt so unusual.

“What happened next ?” she asked, leaning towards you as well to hear you better.

“I said yes, and he came to whisper to my ears,” you leaned towards her until your lips were grazing her ear, “would you two be interested in a threesome ?”

Her mouth fell open, the sensation of your lips on her ear like so and the lust-filled suggestion whispered to her was almost enough to make her forget about her previous worries.

You pulled back, grabbing your fork and knife to start your food. “I gently pushed him off, that doesn’t interest me, especially when I have the best partner I could ever wish for. He’s gonna have a hard time being better than best.”

Karlach’s heart was ablaze again, fueled up for the entire night, hells, the entire week.

“I can still make sure you get your ride tonight, sweetheart.” She suggested, tilting her head to the side.

“Finally an offer I can take,” you smiled, bringing your cup of wine to your lips as your eyes set on hers.

“How long till you’re done eating ?”

“Five minutes.”

“Poor owners, they might have to buy a new bed after us.” she laughed.

[scaredpigeons]

Deus Auri

Zhongli x reader (gn)

Word count: 1.04k (smol)

CW: sfw:) mild spoilers for Neuvillettes voice lines about Morax, he calls him Deus Auri, which is god of gold in Latin— might just be a title but any little tidbit of Morax we get I just gobble gobble up. Flirting, zhongli calls you my dear, darling, vixen. No pronouns or other gender specific language used. Some kisses and allusions of wanting more.

Enjoy!

“Deus Auri.”

You can nearly hear the crack of Zhongli’s neck as his gaze whips towards you, but you keep your gaze trained on your book as if you hadn’t seen its comical swivel in your peripherals. 

“I’m sorry my dear, could you repeat that?” He said, though there was an edge to his tone. 

“Deus Auri—God of Gold. What can you tell me about that name?” You said, index finger gliding down the edge of the book. You were no longer reading, but still kept your eyes trained on the pages to pretend like you weren’t vibrating with excitement at his reaction. 

Zhongli was naturally very stoic, a well maintained facade to those who weren’t interested in looking deeper. 

You had been plenty interested, taking one look at him and instantly knowing he was no ordinary man. 

Now the better part of half a year into your blossoming relationship, he still hadn’t outright told you, but he’d grown comfortable. 

You’d catch glimpses of his wrists, normally covered— deep onyx with veins of pure gold. Though this only happened in the safety of his home— there was a time he had to remove his gloves to help you in the kitchen, and his perfectly pale, human hands had distracted you the entire time. 

The glamor he kept up in public slipped a bit when he was more at ease. 

To the eye that was actually looking, zhongli really wasn’t subtle about who he was. 

“Well, why don’t we start with where you heard such a name?” He asked. 

“I was with the traveler last week, helping she and paimon with a commission in Fontaine.” 

You can see the minuscule wince he gives out of the corner of your eye. Just a twitch of the brows as he blinks, so graceful, but you catch it because you’re looking for it. 

“I overheard a conversation she had with a lovely gentleman over there, though I didn’t get to introduce myself. He mentioned the name when the traveler was asking him about Rex Lapis.”

You closed your book, finally turning to look at him, though you kept your gaze coyly through heavy lids, peaking demurely at him through your lashes. 

“And you know, I thought that was very strange, her asking him about Rex lapis, when she could learn anything and everything about him from our resident expert.” 

“The traveler has not visited liyue to see me in some time, darling. And I'm sure there are others who’ve studied the gods. I am not the only knowledgeable one in Teyvat.” 

“I know, I know.” You chewed on your lip a bit for effect, looking puzzled. “So who is this Deus Auri? Is it perhaps another one of Morax’s many names?” 

You looked at him expectantly, grinning as he grew more stiff in his seat beside you. A mere foot of space between you on the couch and he looked like he was ready for you to pounce on him. 

You wanted to, you have wanted to, but he so chivalrously insists upon taking it slow. 

Hand holding in the harbour. Chaste kisses good night. You wanted so badly to break through his barriers but you knew he was holding back.

“You are…” he let a puff of air through his nose. “Correct in the knowledge that Morax was known to have many different names. Unfortunately that is all I can say on the matter.” 

“So cryptic.” You squinted at him. He often shut you out when you pried like this, poking and prodding in places you know you shouldn’t be, but he was always kind and straightforward about it—so you usually dropped it as soon as he denied you. 

“Do you think he had a favourite name that he went by?” You pushed a bit more, hoping to get him to give you just one more crumb before you played your cards. It was time, you were getting tired of hiding it.

He smiled thoughtfully, relaxing into the couch once more. “I’d like to think that he enjoyed the name Rex Lapis, the name given to him by his people. I’m sure it brought him a great sense of pride.” 

You grinned, soaking in his expression and words. Knowing what you know— gods. He really was so cute sometimes. 

You open up your book, stilling your grin to prepare for what was next. 

“Really? I’d like to think Zhongli is his favourite. Retirement is a good look for him.” 

You expected denial, perhaps his neck snapping back to you like it did when you first mentioned the ancient name. 

What you didn’t expect was to be tackled to the floor, a gloved hand supporting your neck instinctively as you and your book tumbled along the floor with the blur of rich oranges and browns that took you down. 

When you finally settled, you were on your back with him looming over you, pining you to the ground. 

“You little vixen. How long have you known?” His eyes were wild, hair a mess, cheeks flushed and breathless. Disheveled.

He looked more beautiful now than you’d ever seen him before.  

“From the moment you opened your mouth.” 

He kissed his teeth in a quick tsk, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Nothing escapes you, does it? I knew I would be in trouble with you.”  

You cupped his face in your hands, pulling him back towards you. 

“And yet you kept me around regardless.” You smiled, giving him a quick, teasing peck on the lips. 

“How could I not? You have an inescapable magnetism that I am completely captured by. I’m afraid to say that you’re unraveling me even as we now speak.” 

You grinned at him, face feeling just as flush as his. 

“How much more unraveling do I need to do to get you to let down those walls you keep around you?” 

“They were gone the moment I saw that you knew the truth, my dear, you should have said something much sooner.” He tilted his head with a soft grin. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer. 

“Kiss me then, you old blockhead.” 

He gave a rumble in his chest that sounded very much like a growl, and it set your nerves on fire.  

“Behave.” He said sternly. 

“No promises,” you said as you kissed him. 

[normansnt]

Could I request a third part of the prince? I love it!

YES OMG YOU ARE MY FIRST REQUEST HIIII THANK YOU SM IM HAPPY YOU LIKE IT🧡🧡

Yeah I might have forgot to mention I do in fact take requests😎

Actually ya'll have been loving the prince series and I was wondering if you want me to making it into like a full blown story like following the series events and what not, or like just a little series of cute scenarios?

Let me know.

Warnings:

The prince (part 3)

(Alastor x male reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Currently you were arguing with your father. Since the moment he found out you are dating Alastor he was not happy, to say the least.

"Why the sudden urge to leave? Is it not good here anymore because I can clean up the rubber ducks-"

"No dad thats not the point I just think I'm old enough to move out and Charlie has her hotel with a lot of rooms, and I mean I guess her dream is not that impossible-"

"Yeah right, like I'm going to believe that you just want to move in with that bambi of yours" he scoffed

"Dont call him- thats not- ok fine yeah, I want to move in with Alastor why is that such a problem I am a grown ass adult I can do as I please." And with that you left the room to pack.

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

"I swear, he still thinks I am a kid." You were pacing in Alastor's room while he was sitting on a couch and calmly drinking tea.

"He let Charlie go?? Why not me why cant I do what I want with my life" you continued your angry ranting while unpacking you clothes.

At this point you were basically moved in with Alastor. You had all your stuff there you just needed to unpack, which he solved with a flick of his wrist. You could have done that too, but your father raised both you and your sister to not be careless with the amount of power you have, also you were busy rambling.

"*sigh*...thank you honey." You said quietly as you took a seat next to him slumping into the couch.

Alastor looked at you. Till now he was just half listening to you ramble and he thought you would feel better once you let it out and you two could cuddle but right now you looked even more sad, defeated even.

This did not sit right with him. If there was anything he hated most was seeing you sad or hurt.

He took a hold of your hand and put his other one on your cheek to guide your head to look at him.

"My dear, this issue will be resolved just as any other, you will make up with your father." He reassured you with a smile.

"I know but than it will start again, and I'm starting to feel like he will never accept you even though you are so important to me and... it's just too much right now, I'm sorry I need to be alone." And with that you left.

There it was again. That stinging feeling in his chest. Alastor had to take matters into his own hands.

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

You walked down the stairs and took a seat by the bar.

"Damn kid, rough day?" Asked Husk as you put your head into your hands and groaned.

"Thats one way to put it, can you please get me a whisky on the rocks" you said in your ever so kind voice.

Husk liked you. On contrary to your father and older sister you were calm, quiet and well spoken. All this while still having the heart of gold they have as well.

He never understood how a charming young man such as yourself would find himself in a relationship with a demon like Alastor.

During your numerous visits to the Hotel you have talked to Husk a lot and you two became really good friends. The same went for Angel who usually joined you guys. You three usually sat by the bar chatting for hours.

"Hi (Y/N)," you heard Angels voice approaching as you sipped on your whisky. He took a seat next to you and shared a quick kiss with Husk. You chuckled to yourself quietly, you have been rooting for the two from the very beginning and when they finally got together you were so happy you shedded a few tears.

"Hi Angel" you gave him a small smile but he saw through it.

"Aww, toots hard times?" He asked as Husk handed him his drink.

"It's a long story" you answered.

"We got time" said Husk encouragingly.

You smiled a little than started telling the story.

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

Alastor was on his way to find Charlie. He needed to solve the situation or he had to gauge his own eyes out so he doesn't have to see you sad.

He figured if he got your father to come to the hotel you can talk things out. As well as, he is going to try and make an effort not to be a complete ass with him but Lucifer has to try and be nice as well, for your sake.

He needed Charlie for this because if Alastor asked Lucifer to come he would not. However if Charlie asked, he'd be there in a second.

"Oh Charlie?" He wondered into the princess's room.

"Yes? OH Alastor HI how is my brother doing?" She asked with excitement. She was more than thrilled that her little brother is going to move into her hotel.

"Not so well I'm afraid I acquire your assistance to make him feel better"

"What? Whats the problem is he ok? Did you hurt him? Alastor I do not care how helpful you are around here if you hurt my little brother-" Her eyes started glowing red as her hair was swept into the air and her horns started to show.

Before this could go any further Alastor cut her off.

"My dear, rest assured I would kill hell's entire population and my self before causing any harm to your darling brother." He said calmly.

"Oh, then whats the problem?" Asked Charlie now calm.

And so Alastor explained everything to Charlie.

When Alastor and Charlie knocked on her father's door there was no answer. They looked at one another and Charlie checked if it was open. It was, so they could go in without problems.

"Hello? Dad?" Yelled Charlie as her voice echoed in the huge mansion.

"YOU, It's your fault you took them away from me" they heard as they looked to their right.

In seconds Alastor was tackled to the floor with a very angry Lucifer on top.

When Charlie registered what she was seeing she started to pull her father off of the Radio demon to almost no avail. The devil wouldn't budge.

"YOU TOOK BOTH OF MY CHILDREN AWAY FROM ME ARE YOU HAPPY NOW IS THAT ENOUGH?"

Lucifer was not happy. He was yelling in his demon form wings out and fire spewing from his mouth.

"DAD"

Everyone stopped. You were standing in the door looking at the scene before you, baffled.

You rarely raised your voice, so to hear it this loud and clear shocked most people in the room.

You cleared your throat. And said in your normal calm voice again.

"Can we talk in private."

Lucifer calmed down and followed you into the room you left to.

When he entered the room to his surprise, you hugged him.

"Listen dad, I understand that both of your kids growing up is hard for you, and I'm sorry for leaving you alone but I need my space I'm starting to live my life and its with Alastor because I love him."

You said in a very gentle tone.

Your dad looked at you for some time then hugged you again.

"You really love him, kiddo?" He looked at you with understanding eyes as he let go.

"I do, dad I really do." You answered.

Your dad sighed. He took a hold of your hands.

"All that matters to me is that you are happy. I'm sorry I have been such a jerk about it but...it's so hard to let you kids go, you will always be my babies" He sniffed lightly.

You chuckled at that and squeezed his hands.

"Can you please make an effort to not hate Alastor?" You tried.

He groaned.

"Yeah, yeah I'll see what I can do but he needs to be cooperative"

You walked out of the room.

Charlie stood up with tears in her eyes and hugged you both.

"Oh...the walls are thin here aren't they?" You asked as you looked at your dad.

"Yeaaah, forgot to mention that."

"You guys, I'm so happy you made up are we ok now?" She asked between sniffles.

"Yeah, we are ok" you smiled at your dad.

After your sister let you go from her crushing embrace Alastor walked up to you.

"I- listen no pressure about saying-" he cut you off by swapping you off your feet into a breathtaking kiss.

"I...I love you too, darling" he said quietly, without the radio statics, he said it in his real voice, as he put his forehead on yours.

"OK, see, I promised to be nice but there is no need to rub it in my face" your father said as he dragged you away.

Alastor straightened up and, with the static back in his voice and an eye twitching, he held his hand out to your father.

"I promise to make an effort to not murder you" he smiled eerily at your dad.

Lucifer had a brooding expression on his face but shook the radio demons hand none the less.

"Thank you." You said at last as you hugged both of them. They hugged you back. While glaring at each other behind your back.

Sure they are gonna make an effort. When you're looking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TADA

I really hope you like it again thank you for the request.

Also please let me know if y'all want any of what I mentioned in the beginning.

When Alastor's staff broke and he started talking w/o the statics I was ON MY KNEES.

I WANNA THANK EVERY SINGLE ON OF YOU WHO LIKE MY STORIES THEY HAVE RECEIVED A LOT OF LOVE AND IM THANKFUL BEYOND IMAGINATION THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU💗💗

OK LOVE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT/MORNING WHATEVER MWUAH💋

[superprincesspea]

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 19 - Criminals

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Only when Vhagar settles on the beach, do you notice the crumbling ruins of an old castle, its shattered walls peeking through the trees like a mischievous child.  

People had lived here once, you think, and for a moment, you almost envy them, spending their lives in a place where the forest meets the sand. How strange and beautiful, you’d never seen anything quite like it. But even the beauty of such a place, could not distract from its location.  

How much time had passed since you’d left the party? Surely close to an hour by now, yet here you were, on a beach instead of your chambers. 

“This is not the Red Keep,” you say, anxiety quietly twisting in the pit of your stomach. 

But Aemond laughs, not nearly as concerned as you are on matters such as time or propriety.  

“You have a keen eye, Lady Baratheon,” he says, and his tone is flippant, teasing. 

"Need I remind his grace that he was supposed to be returning me home?”  

“All the way to Storms End? Now that would be quite a ride.” 

You turn to face him, “you're not funny.” 

But he was funny, at least in his opinion, and his cheek twitches with amusement, while his eye widens with feigned innocence, “I'm simply trying to clarify what my lady means by home .” 

“Is that so?” you begin, a little tartly, well, very tartly, “because I’d say you were being a fastidious arse who knows fine well what I mean by home.” 

Any ordinary man might have been aggrieved by such an accusation, but not Aemond. His grin is entirely guilty and fiendishly unapologetic.  

“Fastidious arse ?” he repeats, “that is what you call your prince when you want him to return you home?” 

Your eyes widen, but there’s not enough alarm in the world to douse the fire suddenly burning in your belly, “I will not beg you if that’s what you imagine.” 

“On the contrary, I'm quite content to know that my lady will have me grovelling at her feet for the duration of our marriage.” 

So cocky. Even if you actually wanted to marry him, you wouldn’t do it. 

“Oh?” you say, “and who is this lady that has agreed to be your wife?” 

He purses his lips, and there’s a wicked spark behind his eye, before his hand settles on his thigh, reminding you just how dangerously close you’re sitting to him. “I’m working on it,” he nods to the ropes on Vhagar’s neck, “now climb down so I may continue.” 

“And if I refuse?”  

Aemond’s head tilts, his hands suddenly grasping your hips with far too much enthusiasm, “then I might start believing that my lady would rather stay seated on my lap?”  

“I’m not your lady,” you insist, sliding your fingers around his wrists to pull him away. But he seems to have just as much enthusiasm for the way you're fighting him than he did for touching you. 

He struggles against your grip with a soft breathy chuckle, his efforts not enough to free himself, but enough to make you hold him tighter. Firm and steady, the illusion that you could ever truly hold power over him.  

“Vhagar needs to rest,” he says, as though it explains your stop at the beach, but it only forces you to glare at him. 

“You’re lying.”  

He doesn’t even try to deny it, he only grins wider, testing the strength of your grip again. 

“I’m not going to ask you to take a dip in the water, if that’s what you imagine... unless you want to, of course,” he teases, and why you let him crawl under your skin with such ease, you cannot say. But it seems that's all it takes, to get you to do exactly what he wants.  

Blowing out a breath of frustration, your leg swings over the pommel, and if you weren’t so irritated by him, you might have been more afraid. As it happens, you’re beginning to think you rather prefer Vhagar over her master. At least she doesn't speak, or look so dammed smug. 

This is what you think, as you climb all the way down her long neck with the kind of frenzied confidence only anger can provide, and before you know it, your feet have hit the ground and you don’t wait around. You storm down the beach, away from the tooth and fire end of the dragon, and more importantly, away from Aemond. 

"Will my lady be walking all the way back to Kings Landing?” he calls after you, and you do not slow.  

Maybe you will walk back. Maybe you’ll walk right into Alicent’s chambers and say that her precious son stole you away on dragonback- though she’d probably like that. She may have even been the one to suggest it! And the very thought makes you want to scream, so you do, feeling powerless as you kick up a big clump of sand.  

“If that is your wish, then you are heading in quite the wrong direction,” he calls again, the sound of his voice so much closer than before, and you stop, anger quickly turning into rage. 

“Just when I think that perhaps you might be somewhat tolerable, and that maybe we can actually be friends,” you snap, hair tangling wildly with the wind, as you turn to face him, “you prove yourself to be the most insufferable man that has ever lived!”  

“Are we not to be friends on a beach?” he says, as though your reaction was a surprise to him, though you can see he’s enjoying it either way, and why wouldn’t he? You’re completely at his mercy. 

“Were we friends, you would not trap me here!” you shout over the crash of a wave before crouching down to scoop up a ball of sand, which you promptly throw at him. 

He dodges it, arms spreading wide, “I see no shackles, no prison walls.” 

“Do not press me,” you throw another ball, which he dodges yet again, “or take me for more of a fool than I have already been!” And you were a fool, yet again you were the most foolish girl on the beach. 

It was hard to remember what exactly you had been thinking in agreeing to leave the party with him. Certainly nothing rational. But Aemond didn’t want you rational, he wanted you here, miles from home, with the sea lapping at the shore and the stars your only witness. 

He could keep you here all night, and even if he didn’t lay a single finger on your skin, you would be his, no questions asked. 

“I do not think you a fool,” his voice is soft, coaxing, “I think you’re...” 

“ What ?” 

His lips curl, “the most terrible aim imaginable.” 

You throw a third ball of sand, and as if to prove his point, it misses, and he proceeds to laugh. So, you throw a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth in quick succession. 

“If you actually manage to hit me with the next one, then you have my word that I will take you home this instant,” he baits, knowing you’re just as competitive as he, and you suppose that’s part of the fun, if you could call it fun. You'd rather call it attempted murder with the only weapon you had at hand. 

Crouching down to scoop up a fresh ball, you don’t waste it on a shot that might miss, you charge towards him, and Aemond runs away, clambering up a grouping of large rocks which form a sort of staircase towards the old ruins.

“Craven!” you shout, pursuing him as quickly as you can go, but finding your dress, and Aemond’s cloak, enough to hamper your every step.

You’re panting by the time you make it over the rocks and onto level ground. But you’re not giving up. You’d rather eat this ball of sand than let him win. 

So you edge closer to the thick of trees surrounding the old keep, hoping his hair might give him away in the dark, but he’s vanished, or to put it another way, he’s hiding. 

Returning to the beach and waiting him out would surely be a more sensible strategy. Yet, your patience has already worn too thin for strategy, and you can feel him watching. No doubt wearing that oh so familiar smirk he seems to acquire whenever you feel your blood begin to boil. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” you say, the words more demanding than playful, and the sound only met by the screech of an owl, and the rustle of leaves. 

Still, despite the rush of nerves which shiver along your spine, you keep moving. Creeping towards a watch tower covered in ivy, while the ground below your feet, changes from grass to checkerboard tiles in the places where nature has not quite reclaimed the earth. 

If it wasn’t so dark, you might have found it more enchanting. But with the tree cover filtering the moonlight, and another screech of the owl, your heart begins to thud. 

This was yet more madness. There could be wolves or boars or bears lurking in this place, and you have to dare yourself to keep going, deciding to never speak with Aemond again if he jumps out and startles you.  

But it's a whistle which catches your attention, and you spin around, looking up to see him standing on the second floor of the tower.   

“How did you get up there?” you demand, moving to where the stairs have caved in, leaving only two steps to bring you closer to him, and both of them slippery with moss. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he taunts, walking to the edge of the floor before crouching down. 

“Do your worst,” he dares, and if he stays still, you’re feeling quietly confident with your chances as you take the time to roll the sand between your hands, fashioning it into a perfect sphere. 

Then you arch your arm back, and launch the ball as hard as you can, before watching the way it soars through the air, fast and sure, but too heavy, too flimsy. Aemond doesn’t even bother to flinch as it collides with the floor, eliciting yet more laughter. 

“This is why I hate you, you know!” you say, wiping your sand coated hands onto the soft folds of his cloak, and finding at least some pleasure in that. 

Still laughing at you, Aemond scrambles down from the tower with relative ease, before stalking closer, slowly , as though it's you who’s the most dangerous creature in these woods.  

“You don’t hate me,” he decides, “you just hate losing.” 

“I can hate two things at once, and I only lost because you ,” you point your finger at him, “had the advantage.” 

“What advantage?”

“Well, for starters, you’re wearing boots, not these,” you hitch up your skirt and kick out your foot to show your shoes, dainty and made for dancing, “nor do you have to wear a gown. I should very much like to see how you’d fare if you had to scale a tower without any trousers on-” 

Just as the words leave your lips, you hear them, “I mean , you know what I mean.” 

With his laughter simmered to a soft chuckle, he lets your blunder stew in the air before inching closer. 

“Then perhaps I should remind my Lady Baratheon that she has two eyes, and the aim of a blind woman.” 

You scoff, taking full offence even if he is right, “and I suppose you're an authority on throwing balls of sand?” 

“I’d say that hardly matters anymore, and now you’re obliged to stay until I say we leave.” 

It was strange, but you’d somehow forgotten the reason you'd been chasing him in the first place, and anxiety quickly returns to the pit of your stomach. “And if someone notices I’m gone?” 

“It’s still early. They'll be drinking and dancing for quite some time I should imagine.” 

Deep down, you knew he was right, but there was always a chance, even if it was a small one, that one of your family would retire before the party was finished, then what? “That’s easy for you to say, you’re a prince, you can do as you please.” 

“Don’t worry,” Aemond promises, his voice serious even if his eye betrays him, “if my lady's virtue was to come into question, then you can be assured I would do the honourable thing and marry her.”  

“The honourable thing?” you repeat with a sharp laugh, “a punishment far worse than the accusation, I’m sure!”  

He moves closer, the toe of his boot grazing against the hem of your gown, “but not the crime?”  

You try to laugh, but really, it wasn’t hard to imagine such crimes as letting him kiss you, or the way you might fall together on the soft mossy ground. In fact, it was all too easy. 

“We are not speaking of this,” you whisper, though you hadn’t meant for your voice to lose all strength, or your body to lose all resistance, when his hands bunch into your cloak. No, his cloak. His smell.  

“Only thinking it,” he suggests, fingers curling tighter, reeling you in, “I must admit, I seem to think of little else.”    

You can’t look him in the eye, if you do, you might say something crazy like ‘so do I.’ Instead, you say, “then his grace needs better hobbies to occupy his time.” 

Aemond snorts, “perhaps you could teach me to embroider, that would certainly take up some time.” 

Trying to act more annoyed than you feel, you attempt to wrench the cloak from his grip, “perhaps lessons in manners would be better suited?” 

“Oh, I’d say it's far too late for that, wouldn’t you?”  

And he does let go of the cloak, but only so his hands can slide to cup your cheeks, and force you to look at him.  

“It’s never too late...” your words trail off, evaporating into the crisp night air. In fact, the whole forest seems to have fallen silent, perhaps the whole world, and you know you can pull away from him. But your heart is pounding, and there is something dangerous, something wanton, curling in your veins.   

Perhaps Aemond feels it too, perhaps he notices the way your breathing has slowed, just as you notice the way he’s looking at you, so tenderly- 

“Do you think Vhagar supposes where we have gotten to?” you blurt, and his eye brightens in surprise, as you tear yourself from his hands, before quickly turning towards the beach. 

Though your swift exit is certainly hampered by the rocks, which seem even more difficult to descend than they had been to climb. You almost fall down them, before Aemond overtakes you, his hands catching your waist to stop your escape. 

Or perhaps he’s just trying to stop you from breaking your neck. Either way, you can’t help but be reminded of the last time you’d been running away from him at the beach. 

The sound of the waves had been just the same, and your heart had been beating just as quickly, but your reasoning had been different. He'd been a stranger then, now he was the opposite, too familiar.  

“Perhaps it would be best to return to the party,” you say, as though returning to the party was not the least of what you wanted to do.  

“Why?” he almost laughs, “ so you can dance with Lucerys Velaryon?” 

You’d forgotten all about Luke and his half-hearted offer of a dance, but Aemond hadn’t, couldn’t , and even though his tone was light, there was quiet fury in his eye. Fury which could be abated so easily, except you didn’t want that, you wanted to turn the tide of conversation. Needing to shift it from a place where you might easily fall into his arms.  

“Why do you hate him so?” you say, even if you’re almost certain you know the answer. 

“You know why.”  

“I know rumours.” You’d heard a dozen since arriving in Kings Landing, but you’d often wondered at the truth, Aemond’s truth, even if it didn’t feel like your place to know.  

“Of the night I came to lose my eye?” he says, and hearing it said like that, you realise this was a stupid, awful , thing to bring up.  

“I shouldn’t have asked you that, I’m so sorry.” 

“Why ?” his head tilts, “you think me ashamed of the way I look?” 

“I...” you stutter, “didn't say that. I don’t-” 

He scoffs, “everyone pretends they cannot see my eye, when for most people, it’s the only thing they ever look at.”  

"It’s not the only thing I see,” you say, and you’re not sure why it's so important for him to know this. You were supposed to be hating him after all, but you can’t stand to think he’d ever imagine you don’t see him. All of him.   

He doesn’t say anything, and his attention turns towards the sea, his hands no longer interested in your company, and you can sense the old wound, still fresh and sore, as though it had happened only yesterday.  

Now it was you who felt like the most repugnant person in the world, and you hate yourself for the way his shoulders have stiffened, the breeze feeling so much cooler than before. Because no matter how you might have felt about Aemond Targaryen, you were sure you never wanted to hurt him. 

"Aemond ,” you reach for him, your hand finding purchase on his arm, and his muscles tense beneath the leather. Perhaps you shouldn’t notice such a thing at a time like this, but you can feel his strength, feel how he could break you apart if he really wanted to.  

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you say softly, wanting to bring him back from whatever dark place you’d sent him. But it's too late. 

He stares at the way your hand is touching him, before his eye slowly scrapes to meet with yours.   

“I was ten when I saw Vhagar on the beach,” he begins, his voice small, raw, and hearing him like this, somehow feels more intimate than any of the times he’d held you in his arms. 

“You were so young,” you say, picturing the white-haired boy, who’d dared to face the largest dragon in the world.  

“Not for a Targaryen,” he swallows, his words garnering more control, “you can’t imagine what it’s like to grow up in this family without a dragon, even the bastards had them. So, when I saw her, all alone, it was like she was waiting for me, while the rest of the world looked the other way.”   

You glance at her, sleeping peacefully on the brow of a hill, but still so fierce, so terrifying.  

“At the risk of giving you another compliment,” you say, trying to lighten the mood you have created. “I cannot believe you had the courage to tame her.”  

“You never tame a dragon.”  

You frown, uncertain, “but she is yours, is she not?”  

“It's a bond, one that will last a lifetime. And I don’t know if it was courage, so much as desire...” he steps up, so he’s standing on the same rock as you. Then his eye crinkles with the beginnings of a smile, or perhaps it's just pride for the boy he was that night. “The first few minutes of the flight almost killed me. But I clung to her so tightly, and then we were flying as one, and I knew she was mine.”  

You both turn to her now, and she snorts as though she’s listening. Perhaps she is. Perhaps her eyes are closed but her ears are open. 

“When we landed,” he continues, and together you settle down on the edge of a rock, knee pressed against knee, “I was so excited and... perhaps a little too proud, I could hardly wait to tell everyone of my triumph. But my nephews were already waiting for me, with Rhaena and Baela, and they already knew what I had done.”  

“What you had done ? You make it sound as though bonding with her was a bad thing?”  

He tilts his head, looking at you strangely, quizzically , “Rhaena wanted Vhagar for herself.”  

“But ... she chose you .”  

“And so we fought.”  

“You fought all four of them?”  

When his eye narrows into a pointed look, you cannot help but laugh, “of course you did.” This was Aemond, a child who’d mounted the largest dragon in the world, he wasn’t about to run from anything or anyone.  

“Hand to hand at first, and naturally ,” he shrugs, “none of them were any match for the hours I’d spent in the training yard. But even so, I was only one boy against four, and they just kept coming.” 

“After a while, I picked up a rock, I just wanted to frighten them,” he holds out his hand, his fingers curling at the ends, as though he can remember the very shape and weight of it, “but Jace drew his sword, just a little thing, a needle really.”  

He looks at you, and your stomach tightens, afraid of what he’s going to say next. 

“He tried to swing at me, but I was taller and faster, so I knocked him down, and the sword fell away. I thought if I just kept hold of the rock, then surely they would run. It was already over, you see? Vhagar was already mine. And I’d bested them, they knew that.”  

Suddenly his hand tightens into a fist, and you imagine the rock crumbling into dust, before he wipes his palm along his thigh as though he cannot even stand to touch the memory of it. 

Then he laughs sadly, “but my nephews and I have never held any love for each other. So, when Jace saw an opportunity to throw dirt in my eyes, Luke picked up the sword, and -" 

His hand reaches towards your face so quickly you startle. But his touch is not pain or blood, it's a slow caress across your eye, sealing it shut. Yet only for a moment, instead of forever.  

“An eye for a dragon is a fair exchange,” he shrugs, but the words feel too well practiced; the hurt pushed away as though its nothing more than a speck of dust.  

Yet it was so much more, and you have to swallow the swell of tears which has caught at the back of your throat, as you think of that little boy, so proud, so excited, then broken .  

“No ,” you say, your voice strained, “what they did to you wasn’t right, and it certainly wasn’t fair.”  

The way he looks at you, almost surprised, makes your heart ache all over again. And if he was one of your sisters, you would wrap him in your arms, and hold him so tightly he'd have to fight to break free. But doing so, would cross a line you were trying desperately to avoid. 

“You know, the strange thing is, I don’t even hate them for taking my eye. We were children, and the fight was far out of hand, but they never apologised. Even now, they laugh about it, like it was a joke, like it meant nothing .” 

You hadn’t wanted to cry, but your eyes are too full, and a tear dares to break free, rolling lazily down your cheek, before its silvery trail is interrupted by the brush of Aemond’s thumb.  

“Lady Baratheon... don’t tell me you’re crying for the most repugnant man in the world?”  

Sniffling, you force a laugh before wiping the back of your hand across your eyes. “ I'm not .” 

“You know, now that I think of it,” his voice is lighter, his eye more playful, “it seems I have a habit of finding all the best things waiting for me on beaches.” 

You roll your eyes, before finding a length of cloak not sullied by the sand to pat your cheeks dry, "I’m not a dragon.”  

“Not yet .”  

The way he says that last word, so certain, you almost believe him, and force another laugh to hide any other emotion which might slip onto your face. Because sitting and talking with him like this was far too easy and far too comfortable.  

“Speaking of which,” he continues, “since my many charms have yet to convince you to stay in Kings Landing, does that mean I am to invite myself to suffer a winter in the Stormlands? Or will you be so kind as to bestow me an invitation yourself?” 

“Suffer?” you repeat with mock surprise, “I happen to like the stormy weather; I think it very beautiful.” And cosy, there was nothing better than a warm bed and a raging storm to pound against the walls.  

He brushes your hair from your shoulder, his eye tracing your face, “I’m growing rather a taste for storms myself.” 

“You should think me tame if you ever flew through a storm over Winter Solstice.” 

“That I refuse to believe,” he says, close enough that even a whisper is easily heard over the waves, and leaving you to wonder why every moment, seemed to shift into a moment which felt like he might just lean in and kiss you.  

“Well ,” you stand, pulling yourself from his gentle touches, “thanks to your mother, and this gown,” you gesture along the green silk beneath your cloak, “we are not leaving tomorrow after all.”   

Aemond’s eye widens, the blue so much brighter than before, “you’re staying?” 

“Only so we can entertain Tyland Lannister.” 

His jaw ticks, “Tyland Lannister?”  

“It's just tea ,” you add, thinking Tyland might not have been your favourite person, but he wasn’t bad, and you hardly wanted him to suffer over tea and cake.  

But Aemond doesn’t seem so convinced, and his laughter is almost a growl as he stands, and begins to climb back down the rocks, before turning to offer you his hand, “then we should leave at once, I wouldn’t want my lady to miss an afternoon in the company of another man.” 

“I’m not your lady,” you remind him, climbing down haphazardly without his assistance, “and if you must know, it was my mother who invited him.” 

“Your mother?” he ponders this information as you walk back towards Vhagar side by side, “then we shall have to remedy that .” 

Alarmed, you stare at him, trying to read his expression, but his face shows no tells. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” you say. 

His lips quirk and he has no intention of telling you. Instead, he mounts Vhagar with the same swiftness he’d used in the dragon pit, leaving you to wonder. 

Then again, you don’t wonder for too long, because all too quickly, you begin to remember that you weren’t supposed to be on a beach with Aemond in the first place.  

Then you’re only wondering one thing; if it's late enough for you to be caught. 

~~~

Thank you for reading!

[loveinhawkins]

Steve doesn’t think anything of it when he says it.

He’s lying on Robin’s bed, squished between a diverse collection of childhood teddy bears. Robin’s sat opposite him up by the headboard, her feet knocking against his knees; she’s massaging Pond’s cream into her elbows, and the room smells of cocoa butter.

Steve breathes in leisurely.

He thinks back to just a few months ago, when he’d first gotten the job at Scoops Ahoy—when he’d found out that his only co-worker was going to be a Robin Buckley: who the hell is she? he’d thought with a familiar carelessness, an echo from his junior year. Before the monsters. Before…

“Hey, Robin,” Steve begins. The words come slowly, like he’s wandering through the thought. “Do you ever think that, like… that it’s kinda crazy, y’know, how we ended up here?”

Robin pauses in her massaging. She gives him a dry look. “This is a pretty standard Sunday evening for me.”

Steve snorts. “Not like that, dickhead.”

Although maybe it is like that actually.

Maybe it’s about how he now watches Murder, She Wrote in the Buckley’s living room without Robin’s parents batting an eye; how they said he could join them for dinner beforehand, and then he kept showing up earlier and earlier to the point where him and Robin just spend the whole day together, and it’s never awkward, there’s no quips or whatever from her dad about them secretly being together; and maybe it feels sorta like a fairytale in the best way; maybe he feels a little like Laurie except he doesn’t want to propose to Jo.

And maybe it’s that the whole thing is just insane: that the entire goddamn trajectory of his life somehow took this wild turn, has made him land here, of all places, and he doesn’t even mean it in an asshole kind of way.

He means…

“Guess I’m just… just thinking. Like, it all kinda worked out, y’know?” Even as he says it, he knows it’s a risk—because they’ve not talked about Starcourt, not really, they’ve just talked around it, but this hardly counts, right? It’s just a joke, it’s just… “Yeah, I, um, got my head knocked around, but, it, uh, it meant I ended up here, so.”

He wants Robin to laugh—or at least, he thinks he does.

She doesn’t. She just goes very still.

He feels something twist in his gut; she’s got this way of looking at him, like he’s accidentally said more than what he thought he did.

“Steve.”

Robin crawls forward, clumsy and urgent. She grabs hold of his wrist. He feels the grease of body lotion as her thumb moves in tiny circles against his skin.

“That didn’t need to happen,” she says so seriously, and for some reason that’s almost the thing that does it, the thing that almost gets him to break on a slow Sunday evening in October, because whenever his stupid brain brings him back to July, to blood and pain and a deep, unimagineable fear, he tries to remember how it felt: how he laughed through it with Robin in a bathroom stall, and it would almost be enough to soothe the sting, that he could endure it, could endure anything so long as he could have this, please just let me have—

“We could’ve had the most boring summer of our lives,” Robin says, with a smile that’s a little sad, a little wistful, but always kind. “And I still would’ve…”

He hears them again, those words he’s been clinging to.

Listen to me, Steve. It's shocked me to my core, but I like you. I really like you.

“It just would’ve taken longer,” Robin finishes. Her eyes dart all over his face, and he suspects that he knows part of what she’s seeing: the ghosts of bruises. “Okay?”

For a moment, Steve can’t speak. “Okay.”

Robin shuffles up next to him, sitting right on top of one of her bears—“You’re squishing him,” Steve points out, to which Robin just snorts—and then she’s hugging him, maybe tighter than he’s ever been hugged before.

He lets his head fall forward and breathes.

They break apart eventually. If there’s a wet patch on her shirt, Robin doesn’t point it out—just says there’s cake for dessert, and she doesn’t move back to her spot, so her elbows are practically always in danger of catching Steve in the ribs.

And God, Steve tries to believe it: that he could have all of this without… That he could’ve always had it.

He tries.

[cameronspecial]

Hello! It’s me again (the one who requested the You Are In Love fic). I absolutely loved it!

I’ve been wondering if you could do a reader x Rafe Cameron where they attend The Eras Tour because reader is a swiftie! (they ofc are in front row because Rafe spoils her)

You Are My Lover

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

A/N: I'm glad you liked the first request! Hopefully, I got all the tour stuff right.

Masterlist

Rafe spoils his princess like there is no tomorrow, so when Taylor Swift announced her Eras Tour, he knew the next thing he had to spend his money on for her. Of course, it is no problem getting her the tickets. He has connections and he isn’t above bribing people to get it for her. Y/N doesn’t have to worry about anything except what she wants to wear and buy. She is a little nervous about leaving it all to Rafe, but he assures her that he is going to get it no matter what it takes. And he did exactly that while looking at his favourite picture of Y/N on the desk. The one taken at the Christmas village. He refrains from texting her the good news, wanting to tell her in person. 

When she gets to his office that day, she has a worried look on her face. Rafe hasn’t texted her anything, so she assumes he has bad news for her. However, as she walks through the door, she can see the massive grin on Rafe’s face. “You got them?” she squeals with a smile. He can only get nod before she runs toward him to tackle him in a hug. Her lips find his as he laughs and she pulls back from him. “Where are we sitting? If it’s nosebleed tickets, that’s okay. I’m just happy that we can go,” she asks. Rafe scoffs, “Princess, I’m Rafe Cameron. I got us floor tickets.”

——

They stand at the front of the crowd. Rafe behind her to protect her from the pushing fans, who are trying to get closer. His light blue shirt matches her pink and yellow dress to form the colours of Taylor’s Lover album. The tiny red heart earrings made out of polymer clay dangle from her ears as she sings with everyone around her. When they get to “Delicate”, Rafe remembers to scream the chant with Y/N because of her constant schooling about the tour. He takes every opportunity he gets to photograph the happy look on Y/N’s face. During “All Too Well”, she feels a little tired and leans against Rafe’s chest. “Are you okay?” he whispers with his mouth pressed against her ear. She looks up at him with a smile and wraps his arms around her waist, “Yeah, I just can’t believe I’m actually here. Thank you, Rafe.” “No problem, Princess. Anything for you,” he kisses her cheek. 

When Taylor passes by their section and Y/N is able to touch the singer’s hand, she feels like she is about to pass out and is very glad that Rafe is filming the moment. He can’t help but chuckle at the way his girlfriend is freaking out. The couple continues to watch the concert, participating in the tour’s traditions and singing the songs. 

——

They are walking to his car when a girl about ten years old comes running up to Rafe. “Can we trade bracelets?” she asks, holding her arms out to him. He smiles down at her and displays her arms for him to pick, “Of course, which one do you want?” Y/N and Rafe had spent the afternoon yesterday making bracelets while listening to Taylor’s songs. The girl analyzes her options and picks a purple bracelet with Speak Now written on it. He hands it over to her, looking over his options on her arms. He spots the perfect one and she gives it to him. He walks over to Y/N, who is waiting for him by her car. He holds out his hand and she places hers in his. He slides the bracelet over her wrist, opening the passenger door for her. He shuts the door once she is in and makes his way to his side of the car.

As he drives out of the parking lot, Y/N looks down at the bracelet he gave her from the little girl. Her heart warms at the sight. Most of the bracelet has light pink beads, but the ones at the top of her wrists are white with black letters. On each side of the sentence, there are pink heart beads. She reads over the words, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. You are my lover.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[julianalvarez9]

CHANGE YOUR MIND / MASON MOUNT

SUMMARY: You never really liked Mason Mount, even before he came to your club. Turns out, he's a very persuasive man, who will do everything he can to change your mind.

PAIRING: mason mount x ten hag!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

WARNINGS: mason is a lovesick fool, use of ten hag as a plot device i'm so sorry

AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's been agesssss since i've posted something, so here's this! (something's that's been sitting in my drafts and i didn't dare finish for almost a month!). would reallyyyy love some feedback!

Your eyes go wide at the sight of him, resting calmly over the cap of his car, hands hiding inside his pockets. Mason looks straight out of a movie; one where the protagonist is waiting for his lover outside of their home. You try to not think about that, or about the warm feeling in your chest, as you angrily make your way towards him.

Once you reach him, you're ready to voice your concerns about his presence in your parents' home. "What are you doing here?".

The urgency in your voice only made the Englishman grin harder, if that was even possible.

He shrugs, clearly not preoccupied about the matter. "Came to see a friend, offer her a ride to work". You roll your eyes, annoyed, because obviously, this is Mason. This is the same insufferable guy you've got to know for months now, ever since he signed for Manchester United.

By looking at the watch on your wrist, and knowing your dad's entire routine, you know you two are running out of time.  "C'mon, Mount, you need to leave!", you urge, and he tilts his head in confusion. "What? Why?," as if his entire life, at least, sport related, wasn't threatened by the man about to walk out the door.

"Did you hit yourself on the way here? Did you happen to forget who I live with?".

He shrugs, again, claiming "I don't mind". A second after, "he actually likes me. More than you do, at least". It's not the first snarky remark he throws your way, but it's still too early for you to pretend he hasn't got a special capacity for getting under your skin.

"I'd like to see if he continues to like you when he sees you talking to his daughter in his front yard".

You're right about that.

Yeah, Mason is your dad's new shiny toy, awarding him with being a constant feature in the starting eleven in every United game, but you doubt he'd be alright with whatever he's trying to do. After all, he never liked any of your past boyfriends, or friends who he -somehow- recognized as undeserving of his little girl, his only daughter. "I think he will," Mason says confidently, "I'm actually a great son-in-law, you know?".

You swear it is too early in the morning to have rolled your eyes the number of times you have in his presence, during the past three minutes. You ask, hopeful that the sly remark works to get him off your back. "Has being this cocky actually helped you, in some way?".

When his smile falters, you grin. It's probably the first time he doesn't have something, anything, to hit back, and you consider it a win for your side. "It did," he answers truthfully a beat after, and now his smile is bigger than ever. "Look, you're smiling at me".

You try, hard, to stop your cheeks from going red, but the way you can't really hold his stare any longer is a win for him. He basks in this feeling, knowing himself to be able to make you nervous must be a good sign, right?

At least, he hopes so.

"Okay, stop fucking around or you'll be late," you warn, coming close enough to him to push him off the hood of his car, and towards the driver's door. You try to ignore the way your fingers burn after touching him, deciding not to acknowledge the warning signs that something had changed in the past few weeks. You don’t despise him nearly as much, but you’re not keen on the idea of him knowing about it. Yet.

Mason opens the door of his car, and gets in. You nervously watch back, to the entrance door, after seeing what time it is. 9:13 AM. Your father will be out the door, any second now.

You hope that, the next time you look to the street, the car will be gone, and any trace of the Englishman vanished, like a dream. But instead, when you turn again, the tinted window of his car is down, and he's looking mischievously at you. "Already caring for me? that's new, Ten Hag".

"Go away, Mount".

Hearing the door open, just a few seconds after seeing Mason's car disappear from your street, makes your blood turn cold. The piercing question from your father doesn't make things better. "What are you doing over there?". There’s nothing you could possibly say that will convince your father, and saying the truth isn’t a possibility right now; so, instead, you defuse the question. "Nothing, nothing. Are you ready to leave now?".

The way to Trafford Training Centre is quiet. Your father isn't one to talk much normally, but the silence squishes you until you feel like you're holding your breath. He knows, you're sure, and you’re gonna make Mason pay for it. 

That’s it, if you reach the training ground alive.

"You know, I think Mason is a good kid".

The affirmation is nowhere what you had expected your father to say, so you can’t hide the furrowed brows and defensive tone that comes along with it. "We're in first name base already? Wow, that's new".

The car stops in the red light, and your dad takes the time to turn his head in your direction. He sees your fixed gaze ahead, brows still furrowed, and his head tilts in confusion. "And he's trying really hard to get in your good graces".

"That's not true".

A beat.

"I saw him this morning".

After that, you're left waiting; either, for the disapproving voice in his tone, the yelling, or the pointing out reasons why you shouldn’t be this close to a player, much less someone like him. But instead, he’s silent. And somehow, the silence is scarier.

The air feels thick, and it’s scarily similar to how it feels when a storm is brewing. Hot, too heavy, and like the entire sky is about to fall apart. And a few minutes after, with the car finally parked, and the training center standing tall just a few meters ahead, Erik begins to talk.

“I don’t have a problem with it. Whatever it is”. In other circumstances, you’d laugh at the way he signaled with his hand when saying it, almost like dismissing the entire ordeal, as if he still, so many years after introducing other boyfriends in the past few years -not one that’s worth mentioning, though-, refused to acknowledge that his little girl is not so little anymore.

“I know I always said it’s not a good idea. And I still don’t think it is,” he remarks, but holds a finger up before you can’t argue against what he’s saying, “but, as I said, he’s a good kid. And, most importantly, he’s aware that if he breaks your heart, he won’t play anymore, so-”.

The horror in your eyes must be evident, because he starts laughing before you can tell him off because of his antics. “Dad!”.

“So, you can go out with him. Just don't break his heart, yeah?” You can’t even respond because he gets off the car then, taking his things with him before closing the car door. Yes, you come in together, but since you insist on keeping family business out of the club, Erik begins making his way in alone.  “Could really use my star player having a great season".

In the distance, you can see Mason; he’s smiling widely, with a coffee cup in his hand, and standing just by the door. He opens it, to let your dad in, and you shake your head in feign disapproval.  “Right, Mount?,” Erik calls, alluding to his previous statement; the one he can’t possibly have heard, given how far he was when he said the words. Between the three of you, you’re not the only one that knows that it’s a test, so Mason answers accordingly.

“Yes, sir, of course”.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Autumn Embers Verse

Omegaverse AU where people who are compatible have complementary scents.

Your friends assure you that the bar they’re dragging you to is nicer than it looks online. You highly doubt that, but you’re willing to go along until the three of them get bored and decide to get a car to the club district. And they will get bored, because you recognize the name and address that they’re trying to go to. You’ve never been, but some of your new coworkers on the base have invited you out for drinks and pool.

When Christie flounces out in a bright pink mini-dress, you can’t help but grin. “You look great. Super cute. But I don’t think that’s the vibe of the bar.”

Admittedly, you’re dressed a bit less conservatively than the bar might call for. But you feel cute in your black skater skirt and white top. Styled with floral lace stockings, boots, and silver jewelry, it’s more dressing up than you’ve been able to do in the last 6 months.

“I’m not dressing for the military bar,” Christie says, checking her makeup in the hall mirror before dropping on the couch next to you. She tosses her brown hair over one shoulder and pulls out her phone to order a car. “I’m dressing for when Mel and Jack decide they’re done shopping for alphas and want to go to the club.”

“Military packs are already cohesive,” Jack sniffs, emerging from the hall in cute jeans, a mesh top, and a sensible jacket. Behind him, Mel is dressed very similarly, though they’ve opted for cargo pants. “It’s not impossible that we might find a couple of someones who might be interesting.”

“If nothing else, they’ll buy you drinks,” you concede. “Pretty sure they have pool tables. If there’s one open, maybe we play a couple of rounds. Give Jack a chance to bend over and show off.”

The car, when it arrives, is a little small, but the four of you pile in gamely. You sit in the front, since your hips need the room. The driver gives a smile and a nod through his cloth mask and starts driving as soon as your seatbelt is secure. You reflexively drop the window a bit, though it’s already open. It makes sense - driving groups around all night definitely lends itself to a lot of conflicting scents.

In the back, Chrissy’s floral omega scent plays well with Jack and Mel’s sweet beta and omega mix. The very subtle floral notes of your own scent don’t clash too badly, but the base note of charcoal does sometimes leave people’s noses a bit confused. You catch the moment the driver catches a hint of your scent and darts a look at you, but he doesn’t say anything. You occupy yourself on your phone for the fifteen minute drive, tuning out Chrissie and Jack’s complaints about work.

When you arrive, the bar is just about what you expected. Run-down in a lived-in kind of way but clean. Dim and quiet. The exact opposite of Jack and Chrissie, but that doesn’t stop them from swanning in through the doors and making their way immediately to the bar. You and Mel follow behind. You make eye contact with a couple of people you kind of recognize, give a quirk of a smile as a greeting.

By the time you’ve decided what to drink, Chrissie and Jack have already charmed a trio of alphas into conversation and a promised game of pool. Mel leans into Jack’s back and introduces themself in their quiet way. You give your name with a wave before ordering a whiskey sour.

“Put their drinks on our tab,” one of the alphas says. He holds his hand out to you to shake. “Daniels. I’ve seen you on base before, yeah?”

“I’ve been working admin for a couple of months,” you confirm as you shake his hand. He’s polite enough not to try to rub wrists on a first meeting, at least. His scent reminds you of the bakery near your house. “It’s not a bad job.”

Once everyone has their drinks and the group makes their way over to one of the open pool tables, you think you could have a pretty good night. Daniels and his friends, Bennet and Bakshi, are actually pretty fun. They’re obviously flirting with Chrissie and Jack (and Mel, by extension), but they’re not ignoring you. Daniels and Bakshi, at least, include you in the conversation and ask questions about your job, how you all know each other, where you’re from.

When Bakshi manages to pull Mel into a conversation about video games and cyber security, you and Chrissie excuse yourselves to the restroom.

“I should have worn jeans,” she sighs. “This is really fun, but kind of a waste of an outfit.”

You’re about to laugh when you pass by a table and make eye contact with a man you’ve only seen in passing before. You recognize Sergent MacTavish by his mohawk, and give him a little half smile. Then you notice Captain Price and Sergent Garrick. The blond in a skull themed cloth mask can only be Lieutenant Riley. You give all four of them a startled little nod of acknowledgment, and then Chrissie is tugging you into the bathroom.

You’ve never met anyone from Task Force 141 before. Any time you’ve heard of them, at least two have been sent off somewhere across the world. You don’t have the clearance to deal with any of their reports, but you know enough to understand that they’re practically rock stars.

“Five quid, Jack and Mel have all three of their numbers by the end of the night,” Chrissie interrupts your musing as she checks her makeup in the mirror. As usual, she’s perfect, and you hear her take a selfie.

“Ten quid, Bennet asks for yours,” you counter from the stall.

“No bet, he’s already asked.” Chrissie answers. “But he’s a tool.”

“You like tools.”

“That’s true. It’s the muscles.” she agrees. “If he asks me on a proper date, I won’t say no.”

“Not a waste of a dress, then,” you point out before flushing and making your way to wash your hands. “Is he wearing scent blockers? I can’t get a bead on him.”

“He’s a subtle bit of tobacco leaf. Bakshi is nutmeg and Daniels-”

“Daniels smells like fresh bread,” you finish.

“Oh, ho, ho,” Chrissie chuckles, leaning her hip on the counter as you wash your hands. “Took notice did you?”

“We shook hands.” You roll your eyes. “Kind of hard not to notice.” When you step out of the bathroom, you’re startled to see Sergent MacTavish leaning against the wall on his phone. His eyes snap up to yours and he stands up to his full height. He’s bigger than you expected, and you find yourself helpless to hold his stare. When he smiles, you feel yourself flush.

“Evenin’, bonnie lass,” he says, after a moment. “C’n I get a moment of your time?”

Chrissie practically skips the couple of steps away to stand at the entrance of the hall leading to the bathrooms. She doesn’t quite abandon you with a strange alpha, but she does turn her back and pull out her phone.

Before you can comment on her absence, or introduce yourself, or even think about what to say, MacTavish has stepped close. His scent, something warm and earthy and somehow also floral, floods your senses. At the same time, he leans down to hover his nose just short of touching your temple. You can’t help but blush harder at how bold he’s being. The way he takes your scent into his lungs is just this side of vulgar.

“So it has been you we’ve been scenting around base,” he chuckles, taking a deliberate step back and leaning back against the wall again. He crosses big arms across his chest and smiles. “Gaz’s been tying himself in knots trying to catch more than faded hints near the caf’.”

What are you supposed to say to that? “…Sorry? I’m new to the base.”

He grins. “Well, I’m glad you’re around. Sergent MacTavish.” He doesn’t offer his hand, but considering the how rude he was before, it’s not like he needs to.

You stammer an introduction and decide to make your retreat. “It was, um, nice to meet you, Sergent. I have to get back to my friends.” “Be seeing you around, hen,” he says, and doesn’t move as you make your retreat.

As soon as you’re clear of the hall, you make the mistake of looking that the 141’s table. All of their eyes snap to your face as soon as you’re visible. You almost freeze under their attention, but Chrissie rescues you. She takes your arm and practically marches you across the bar to rejoin Jack and Mel, who immediately pull you close to drag you into some debate about music.

You can’t contribute much to the conversation. Thank goodness for Chrissie, who gleefully carries the discussion. You’re too distracted to do much more than give vague agreements for a long time.

At the end of the night, when you and your friends leave the bar, you chance a glance toward the 141’s table. Four pairs of eyes stare back.

[maybege]

Can I request Hotch for 45, 138, and 266 for the prompts? ❤️

Thank you!! :)

Big Dick Energy: The Sequel's Sequel

Summary: Hotch grants the team an extra night in Vegas and as luck would have it, you have to share a room.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 10.3k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom!Hotch, sub!Reader, unprotected sex, dirty talk, choking, spitting, oral (m receiving), fingersucking, oral fixation, verbal degradation, cream pie, then some unexpected fluff

Prompts: #45 “I've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.” + #138 “Were you just masturbating?” + #266 “I dare you to fuck____.”

Thank you so much for requesting these wonderful prompts! I know it has taken me way too long (1,5 years) but hey better late than never. I am so happy with how it turned out. Please do reblog and comment and let me know what you think! Shoutout goes out to @galacticgraffiti for getting me back on my Criminal Minds shit.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Sometimes miracles happen.

Like when that last little bit of coffee beans was enough for Rossi’s espresso and subsequently saved the entire office from having to endure his grumpy demeanour for the afternoon.

Or that time Spencer managed to fly his paper plane all across the BAU’s desks, only stopped by Chief Strauss walking in the line of fire.

Or when a case took you to Las Vegas and SSA Agent Hotchner agreed for you all to just stay a night longer. Like, in Vegas. For free. For work.

You knew the suggestion had been meant as a joke by Derek but as soon as Hotch had actually agreed to it, no one protested and you made the unilateral silent decision to just run with it. Who were you to look a gifted horse in the mouth?

Still, you knew you were all thinking the same thing.

“Drugs!” Penelope exclaimed in her room, colourful bracelets dangling from her wrist, “There is no other way. He is taking drugs.”

“I doubt Hotch is taking drugs, Penelope,” JJ said calmly, though she did not look quite as certain as one would assume. The blonde woman was sitting cross-legged on the large bed, shoes thrown somewhere in the corner. “After all these hard cases, I am sure he just wants to give us a reprieve from everything.”

“Hotch never gives us a reprieve,” Garcia gasped, sounding like she had just run a marathon only to find out there we still a few miles to go, “What if this is all an elaborate plan to have me be workplace inappropriate on the record and Strauss can finally order that evaluation that she has been holding over my head since the coffee incident?”

You smiled, amused at her nervous antics, and – to be honest – to keep you from defending him. Hotch had found a very soft spot in your heart. A spot too soft for a man that was supposed to be your boss and nothing but your boss. Though it had been a long time since he had been only your boss. Ever since the plane, ever since the changing room, you could not deny that there was tension between you two. And not the kind of tension where he looked like he would fire you at any moment. No, the kind of tension where he looked like he was about to reach under your skirt and check if you wore that lingerie he had bought for you (and fucked you in).

You had had the hope that after your latest encounter, you would have more chances to … well, to have Aaron Hotchner fuck you. But there was always something and when days had turned into weeks had turned into months, doubt started to creep in whether he actually wanted anything from you. Maybe he had just been out for a quick fuck and that was it?

And all of that did not get any easier with the fact that you were working together. That he was your boss. That your colleagues were the best profilers in the country.

So, you had to take great care in remaining as neutral about him as possible and part of that involved focusing more on the sheer panic that Garcia exuded when she was outside of her office rather than your desire to protect him from any doubts just because he wanted to do something nice for the team.

A glance at the woman on your right, leaning against the doorway, showed you that Emily Prentiss was thinking the exact same thing. “Are you sure this has to do with Hotch’s unusual behaviour or the fact that you feel uneasy in the field?”

“Alright, alright, maybe I am,” she pressed a hand to her chest, “A little nervous at being here but you cannot deny that this feels like a trap! You know how I get around Morgan when I’ve had a few drinks.”

“You don’t need drinks to act that way around him,” JJ interjected, “And I think that is what you are so worried about.”

“What if I do something I can never take back?” Garcia asked, despair and

“Well that depends on if you would even want to take it back,” Emily shrugged, “Because from where I stand there is nothing Derek wouldn’t want you to do to him.”

A hot pink pillow flew in her direction. “Hey!”

A knock on the door snapped you out of your conversation and you turned around to find none other than the man that plagued your dreams day and night standing in the doorway. He looked serious, his brows furrowed – with a bright pink pillow in his hands.

“I am sorry to interrupt what I am sure is a very riveting discussion,” your boss said, looking directly at you, “But we have a problem with the rooms. Could you come down to reception with me?”

“Uh,” you said, “Sure.”

You stepped out of the room. Your heart felt like it was moving up your throat and you cursed yourself for not having changed since coming back from the station. (As if Hotch ever paid attention to your outfits.)

Walking down the corridor, neither one of you said anything but as you waited for the elevator, his hand landed on the low of your back. It was a light touch, nothing to lose your mind over. But your breath hitched anyway, thinking of all the other ways he had touched you before. You glanced up at him, noticing how the corner of his lips quirked up just the slightest bit.

He had noticed!

You were not sure what weighed more. Your exasperation or your embarrassment at having been caught. But Hotch did not leave you because his hand guided you in the elevator. For a second, you wondered if he would press the emergency button like in the shows and press you against the wall and kiss you breathless.

He did not.

“What, uh, what is the problem?” you asked, finally feeling sure enough to speak.

“Extending everyone’s rooms for another night did not go as smoothly as possible,” he explained, his voice flat, “A few of us need to room together.”

“Oh,” you said, the wheels in your head turning. Because –

“Everybody else is already rooming together,” he said what you were thinking, “They have one other room available but I need your approval,” he paused for a second, “your consent.”

The hotel you stayed in was right by the strip, the ground floor a vast labyrinth of poker tables, arcade games and anything one could ever imagine being in a Vegas casino. As you passed the crowds of run-down partygoers, the smell of marijuana in the air, you could hear the rattling of the, the cheers of the winners and the groans of the losers.

Hotch’s hand did not leave your back.

It was reassuring in a way.

“Ah there you are again,” the lady said, sounding awfully cheerful at seeing him again. You shifted, trying to ignore the unpleasant pang in your chest area. If Hotch noticed her obvious attempt at flirting, he did not show it.

“I brought the colleague I would have to share the room with,” he stated, “Could you explain again what kind of room it would be?”

Have to, he said, have to.

There was a bitter taste in your mouth and you pressed your lips together.

“Like I said before,” she explained, “We only have one free room tonight. It’s a little further than the other rooms in your booking but it is a king so it might be big enough to share.”

“It just might be,“ he replied, stoic as ever when he turned to you, his thumb brushing over the small of your back, “I doubt we will spend much time sleeping anyway. What do you think?“

You were convinced he knew what he was doing. He wouldn’t be saying these things and touching you like this if he didn’t. And yet, he looked at you so coolly, so very unbothered, that a small voice in your head wondered whether you were imagining it all.

Aaron Hotchner, divorced father of one, your boss and the last man to make you come, was driving you absolutely crazy.

“I’m game,” you said, sounding way too chipper and high-pitched for your own taste, “It won’t be too bad, I’m sure.”

You tried to ignore the way your stomach threw somersaults when he gave you that little half-smile that made his eyes crinkle. And yet when you saw that twinkle you knew that yes, he knew exactly what he was doing.

*

Act normal. Act normal. Act fucking normal.

The hotel room you landed in was indeed almost at the other end of the hotel than your previous one, and quite a few floors up and your first thought at that revelation was that it would allow you to be as loud as you want without fear of your teammate hearing you.

How appropriate.

 “Do you mind if I take the right side?”

You looked up, completely dumbfounded. Hotch stood by the bed already (and you tried your hardest not to think about what he would look like in that bed), his travel bag on the little armchair in the corner. It was kind of fitting, seeing how put together he looked even when he had the same 5 minutes to pack up his stuff as you did. But your travel bag was half-zipped closed, your clothes a wrinkled mess inside as you just threw everything inside in the hopes that it would survive the short journey until they could be unpacked again.

It was human, you knew, nothing out of the extraordinary. But next to Hotch who probably folded his underwear, you suddenly felt like you would never be able to reach him.

“Uh, no, not at all,” you murmured, walking to the side that was closer to the window. For a second you wondered if it hadn’t been about right or left but rather which side was closer to the door. But you shook that thought off as soon as it had appeared.

He didn’t say anything but started to unpack his things. Out of the corner of your eyes, you noted his neatly folded pyjamas (you could count the times you had seen him wear anything but a suit on one hand) and the little toiletry bag that was void of any water stains.

It was silent for a few moments as you sorted your own clothes, putting your crumpled-up pyjamas under your pillow, getting out your toiletries (one by one because that bag would look even more a mess next to his neatly organized one) and seeing what clothing items you had left that were not sweat- and/or blood-stained.

The selection was not the biggest.

In fact, it consisted of the clothes you were wearing now (only if you ) and a single pair of panties.

Great.

For a moment you contemplated enquiring about the hotel laundry service.

You knew the plan was to go out tonight and explore all the things the city had to offer (Reid mentioned a museum on the old gangsters of the city’s past but you had a sneaking suspicion that you would land in one bar or another). This was Vegas after all and you would be stupid not to take advantage of this unexpected vacation. But something about the thought of wearing your three-day-worn sweater in that heat made you hesitate.

Your phone dinged, finding a selfie with Garcia, JJ and Prentiss, all excitedly grinning into the camera.

Greatest Garcia: Let’s go shopping in Vegas! <3

And that is how your problem solved itself before it could really turn into a problem.

*

Dress shopping in Vegas made you feel like you were a different person altogether. Everything was full of glitter and soft fabrics and ideas of a life so different from your own. It gave you that little desire in the back of your head of wanting to play dress up, wanting to pretend to be a woman who was confident and sexy and could show up in bars and have heads turn towards her. You wanted

And so, it came that you put on the most revealing dress you had ever worn. It was incredibly short and incredibly glittery making you feel like you were “cosplaying a mirror ball” (Emily’s words, not yours). But not in a bad way.

On the contrary, when you had half of the BAU standing outside your changing room, whistling and cheering you on when you stepped outside, how could you not buy the dress that just barely covered your ass and was so very tight-fitting?

“You look stunning,” Garcia snapped her fingers, “You have to buy it! I don’t make the rules.”

Deep down you were not sure if the decision to buy the dress had been driven by your friends’ support or the few cocktails you had slurped during pre-game or perhaps the wishful thinking that a certain BAU chief would see you in this dress and decide to keep you in his bed all night long. Probably a little bit of everything.

You had been the first to find your dress which meant that you could spend the rest of the afternoon with your friends and watch them choose their outfits. JJ got a dark blue something that made her look absolutely gorgeous (Prentiss seemed to think so too if her appreciative over her (girl)friend’s figure was anything to go by) and Garcia found something that was even more colourful – something you had seriously doubted if it could be achieved.

By the end of the day, you were all sitting in the hotel lounge, shopping bags at your feet and cocktail glasses in your hands. You were the epitome of relaxation, the stress of the last few days finally wearing off you and you found yourself enjoying Garcia’s stories and Prentiss’ and JJ’s banter.

“Hey!”

You looked up, finding Reid standing at the edge of your little circle, looking as happy as ever to see you. Only he was not alone …

“Officer Greggs,” Prentiss was the first to speak, “What a surprise to you here. I thought for sure you were going to spend the day at the office today.”

Officer Greggs was on the police force you had assisted in your last case. He had led the case before your arrival and despite his age, had several people under his command. Rossi had described him as “surprisingly competent for a man his age” and Reid had bonded with him over his childhood in a city that was never really seen for its residential aspects. He was a nice man. Good-looking. Certainly your type if you had not been hopelessly in love with your boss.

“Yeah, we thought it might be a good idea to just let loose for the weekend,” the tall man explained, his hands in the pocket of his pants. He wore jeans and a green shirt, showing off the muscles in his arms. The way he said we let you know that it really hadn’t been his idea but that his colleagues had dragged him along.

Your lips quirked up. That reminded you of someone.

His dark eyes met yours in a light smile. “Who knows,” he said, smiling at you and no one else, “Maybe we see each other around.”

*

Seeing Aaron Hotchner step freshly out of the shower, wearing only his slacks and a white undershirt had your pussy clamping around nothing. You had not been prepared for this sight and it felt like an attack. It had to be.

His hair was a little damp still and you noticed he had shaved; his jaw was void of any stubble and it made you want to run your fingers along his jawline. He was looking down at something, a little furrow between his brows from concentration. You followed his gaze and regretted it instantly. His belt, you realized a little belatedly, he was fixing his belt. His veiny hands working with the buckles made you want to drop to your knees and beg him to take that belt off entirely.

He didn’t need it anyway. Not unless he wanted to tie you up.

You gulped.

When he looked up, his brows were furrowed still and you froze, afraid that if you moved it would betray how much you had been staring at him.

“What are you wearing?”

You could see his mouth move but you were not quite prepared to hear what he was actually saying. “What?”

“What are you wearing?” he asked, sounding like he was about to berate you in his office. You could not hide your frown.

You had literally just gotten ready, hurrying into your dress while he was safe inside the shower. And now he came out, looking like the half-god he was, and was criticizing your outfit?

The tinge of insecurity was overshadowed by a wave of frustration.

Was he really that displeased? Did he really have the audacity to talk to you like that? Had you been that wrong in your impression of him?

Your mouth was open, stinging words already on your tongue, but then he looked up again and you realized … you realized he was turned on. His eyes were dark and unmistakably roaming over the bare skin of your legs and cleavage and there was that tightness in his jaw that you knew showed his self-control.

Your words of protest died on your tongue and in a split second he was standing right in front of you. He smelled of hotel shower gel and his cologne. Your hand landed on his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the thin fabric. You realized you had never seen him undressed and the sudden desire to run your hands over his chest and under the hem of his shirt filled you.

“We are going out tonight,” you stated in a whisper, “And we, uh, we went out to get something fun.”

He hummed, an amused glint in his eyes you were once again struck by how much happier he looked when he smiled. “So, this is,” his hands landed on your hips, “fun?”

It would certainly be fun if he took that dress off you.

He seemed to think the same because his fingertips skimmed over the hem of your dress until they slipped under it, rough skin brushing over where your thighs met your ass. “It’s a shame I couldn’t buy you some more lingerie,” he noted, his voice deep and warm as his nose brushed against yours, “You would look stunning on this bed in nothing but the prettiest lace.”

“Or without it,” you added cheekily, rising onto your tiptoes so you could brush your lips over his.

He made a low sound in his agreement, the way his hands tightened on your ass letting you know just how much he liked that idea.

His lips touched yours, just briefly, just a peck as if to test the waters. But all it managed to do was break the dam of all the desire you had held back these past few weeks. You opened your mouth instantly and Hotch took over control, his mouth moving against yours, making you shiver.

“It’s been way too long,” you whined, tilting your head back when he kissed you. The tall man hummed, pulling you against him. Your hands wandered up to the back of his neck, feeling the softness of his hair there.

“Wanted to have you in my bed at least once between Idaho and now,” he confessed, his breath hot against your skin.

Your bodies were flush against each other. You could feel every single inch of him and it still was not enough. If you could just – and if he would just – fuck, you didn’t want to leave this room all night.

His belt buckle dug into your belly and you could feel his prominent erection through his slacks. You gasped, your fingers tightening on his hair and he growled, his hips snapping forward. The motion had you taking a step back and he followed immediately, not even the edge of the bed stopping him from urging closer to you.

And you did not want him to stop.

A knock on your door snapped you out of it. Hotch growled, his hands squeezing your ass and his teeth closing on your bottom lip. “Hotch,” you murmured, “Someone’s there.”

“If you’re quiet enough, they’ll leave,” he whispered hotly against you. His fingertips swiped over your panties and there was no mistaking how wet you already were. Hotch seemed to think so, too because when another knock came, his fingers hooked your panties to the side.

“Aaron,” you gasped, gently pulling away from him. That seemed to get to him because he took one long step away from you, your body instantly missing him. He looked just as affected as you felt. His hair was a mess, his lips looked so fucking kissable and there was the outline of his cock. The mere sight of it made you want to get on your knees.

But this was not the time and both of you knew it.

Another insistent knock at the door had you move as fast as lightning.

“Bathroom,” you brought out and Hotch nodded, looking like he was back to his no-nonsense self.

In a hurry, you pulled your dress down, rubbing your palm over your mouth and trying your best to look like you weren’t just the most turned-on you had been for weeks.

You opened the door with a flourish only to be faced with an impatient Penelope who took you in with wide eyes.

“Honey you are flowing!” she said, way too loudly, way too happy and way too –

“How many drinks have you had?” you asked, eyeing the half-empty cocktail glass in her hand. It had not one, not two but three colourful umbrellas in there.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter now when they’re so tasty,” she waved off, “What is more important is how you managed to look this good. It's unfair, really, here I am trying on dress after dress and do you know how many hairclips I went through to find the right one and then here you are, looking like,“ she gasped as if she had just had one of her genius ideas. Leaning forward conspiratorially, she stage-whispered, “Were you just masturbating?”

“Oh my god no,” you protested instantly, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks, “Why – why would you say something like that?”

“Cause you look like you just had the best time,” she wriggled her eyebrows, “And I speak from experience.”

“Garcia,” Hotch warned from somewhere behind you and you wondered how he had gotten himself in control on such short notice, “I don’t think that line of thought is appropriate.”

“Of course, sir, I apologize,” she didn’t miss a beat, her voice as happy as always. At least three drinks, you thought, this is no-inhibitions-Penelope. “Now are you two ready or not? I have got a hunk of a man waiting for me in the lobby and I won’t forgive either of you if we miss the first round.”

*

Vegas was everything everyone had always made it out to be.

Just much louder.

Much brighter.

Much more crowded.

The bright lights made the entire street seem like a theme park and you stared in wonder at all the hotels, casinos and bars and their very colourful neon advertisements. Reid was next to you, not paying attention to any of it, and you wondered how he, with all his peculiarities, experienced childhood in the city of sin.

“You would be surprised how much quieter it is if you just never go here.”

Your confusion must have translated onto your face because the young man grinned. “Everybody asks the same thing when they realize where I grew up,” he shrugged, “Figured I’d save you the trouble.”

Derek called him from up front. You noted with a smile that his arm was already around Penelope who gazed up at him with the love-dovey look she got around him. Reid followed his call, picking up his step to catch up with them and you smiled, watching as they laughed and bantered.

Hotch was next to you now, wearing slacks and a dark grey dress shirt. You didn’t even know he owned one. But now he was wearing it, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and it did things to you. Things you tried not to make too obvious because the night was young still and if you were already this wet you didn’t want to think of the state of your panties in a few hours.

“Have you ever been to Vegas?” you asked him instead, trying to sound as casual as possible.

His eyes reflected the colourful lights. “There were a few cases that took us here,” he confirmed, “Though we did not make it a habit to stay here longer.”

“Why now?” you pried.

His face turned towards you, the shining lights of the strip making his profile seem even sharper. Dark eyes met yours.

“I don’t know,” he said softly, his hand brushing against yours as you crossed the street, “It felt like we, like the team, needed some time to recharge.”

*

“Truth or dare?”

A glance around the group let you know that, much like in high school, there was really only one answer that would be accepted.  

“Dare,” you decided, your heart pounding in your chest. Emily’s broad grin did not ease your discomfort.

“I dare you to fuck Officer Greggs over there,” she revealed, nodding to the man who stood at the bar, “He has been eyeing you all night.”

“Fuck him?” Morgan echoed, his arm still thrown around a very giddy Penelope, “Now that’s a lot to ask, isn’t it?”

“What? He’s a good-looking man,” Emily defended her choice, “And it’s obviously not about actually fucking him. It’s about seeing if she could.”

“If she wanted to,” JJ added with a determined nod, her faked sobriety betrayed by the way her eyes were already half-lidded and how her hands did most of the talking for her.

Rossi looked totally unimpressed if amused, and Hotch … Hotch looked just unimpressed.

A flash of excitement coursed through you at the possibility that he was maybe jealous.

“Alright,” you heard yourself say, taking a last sip from your glass, “Wish me luck.”

“In that dress, you don’t need luck,” Morgan joked and you laughed, feeling more and more confident. You turned sideways, trying to make your way out between Hotch’s and Garcia’s chairs. It was a tight fit and, sure, you could have taken the easier route. But you were buzzed enough to want to have Hotch close. And to see how he eyed you up close.

Which he did.

He was sitting in his chair, legs spread wider than normal and your eyes fell to his hand, laying on his thigh. Your knee bumped into his thigh and you could see his fingers twitch, the Rolex on his wrist glinting in the light.

You bit the inside of your cheek trying to get yourself to move. After all, you had a dare to fulfil. Or at least attempt to fulfil.

“Have fun!” JJ sing-songed behind you and you threw her a look that had everyone laughing. Except for Hotch.

The music was loud and the place was crowded. Much like the rest of the city on a Friday night. Yet, it did not take long for you to spot Officer Greggs. Probably because he wanted to be spotted.

He was standing at the bar with a few of his colleagues you recognized from work over the last few days. It was a direct line of sight from you to him and when he raised his glass to you, you knew he had been waiting for this moment for a while. This was your chance.

Walking towards him, you made sure your dress did not ride up too much and that your hips could sway from side to side without stumbling in your heels. Despite this dress making you feel different, you were still not the self-assured, flirty woman of your wishful thinking.

But you also did not need to be.

“I was wonderin’ how long it’d take you to come and chat me up,” Greggs teased you with a grin, his colleagues subtly moving away. Interesting, you noted, that his interest really did not seem to be a secret at all in his team.

“Are you telling me I am late?” you laughed, leaning onto the bar next to him.

The tall man looked you over, his eyes lingering on the hem of your dress and your cleavage. (Much like Hotch earlier, but you tried to ignore that thought.) “I would never,” he drawled, taking a big swallow from his beer, “You are right on time, of course. Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He shifted on his feet, closer to you, and you noted how his arm fell down, his hand landing on your hip. His touch was soft and warm and not necessarily unwelcome. Here was an attractive, kind-hearted man that was clearly interested in you. And yet all you could think about was Hotch.

As if on their own accord, your eyes shifted back to the group. There wasn’t a direct line of sight, too many people waking to and from, but in the rare moments where you could, you caught glimpses of Hotch.

And he was looking directly at you.

“You okay?”

Gregg’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Yeah,” you said, forcing yourself to look at him and giving him a smile, “Sorry, just got distracted there for a second.”

Your words – as fake as they sounded to your ears – seemed to seem genuine for him. His lips pulled up in a broad smile and his hand got a little heavier on your hip. “I – I was actually hoping we would get a few moments alone today,” he said, getting even closer to you, “You’re quite intriguing if I do say so myself.”

His nose was almost touching yours which meant his mouth was almost touching yours and suddenly you had the question pop up in your head what the fuck you were doing here. You were not about to fuck Officer Greggs. Hell, you didn’t even want to. You wanted one man and one man only and if that did not work out then you at least wanted to spend the night with your colleagues having fun.

“I, uh, I’m gonna be right back,” you excused yourself, vaguely motioning to the direction of the bathroom, “Too many margaritas.”

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on your lips and you took a few steps backwards before turning around and hurrying through the crowd. Okay, here was the plan: Make your way to the bathroom, catch your breath for a few minutes, then return to the team and casually convince them to switch to another bar and enjoy the evening and not make your desire for Hotch too obvious.

You were almost by the bathroom when someone stepped right in front of you. For the first split second, you thought it was a mistake. Someone crossing your path and simply not seeing you. But when they did not move, their chest right against yours, you looked up, ready to be offended.

But the words died on your tongue because it was not just anyone. It was Hotch.

He was looming over you, brows pulled together, lips in a straight line, and he did not look happy in the slightest. His fists were clenched, the veins stood out and you shifted much like Greggs earlier. Only now you were turned on.

“You are not going to fuck Officer Greggs.”

You hadn’t planned on it.

But there was something in his eyes that was just too tempting to play with.

“I’m not?” you asked instead, playing innocent.

“No,” he took a step closer, “You’re not.”

Your chest heaved and his eyes landed on your chest. For just the briefest of seconds, you could see his tongue dart out, smoothing over his lower lip and you wished he would just kiss you. You gulped. Shit, why didn’t he just kiss you?

Instead, he leaned ever closer, his breath washing over your face just as the scent of his cologne.  

“If you land in anyone’s bed tonight, it’s mine,” he murmured, his lips brushing over your ear and goosebumps erupting all over your skin. You knew he noticed when he ran a single finger down the back of your neck, his face lowering so his nose brushed over your neck. “If any man is going to fuck you, it is going to be me. Isn’t that right?”

You gasped, your heart racing in your chest.

“I asked you something,” he reminded you, his hand brushing over your ass, “Don’t you want to answer me?”

“Yes, sir,” the words tasted on your tongue like honey, “I – you’re right.”

“What am I right about?” he asked, “Be a good girl and use your words.”

Your eyes fluttered and you found yourself reaching out, your hand landing loosely on his hip. His belt. Before you knew what you were doing, one of your fingers hooked into his belt loops, tugging him closer.

“You’re the only one who gets to fuck me,” you breathed out.

“Good girl,” he said. And hearing him say it, his voice deep and satisfied, did things to you you would never ever admit when asked about. You squeezed your legs together, shuffling closer to him so your body was flush against his.

His hand cupped the back of your neck, his mouth brushing over your jaw. The dimmed light and the massive crowd kept you relatively sheltered but you were more than aware that your teammate – or Officer Greggs – could spot you at any moment.

And so, apparently, was Hotch.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your skin, “You are going outside. I will go to the team and say I saw you leaving with Greggs,” his voice dripped with venom at the other mas name, “And then I will excuse myself for the night. We will take a car back to the hotel and then I will fuck you so good the only word you can say is my name.”

Fuck, was this really happening?

“Understood?”

You nodded, swallowing heavily as you looked at him with wide eyes. He looked at you, dark eyes on yours and then he leant forward and kissed you. Hard.

His teeth clashed against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth and you felt hot and cold at the same time. Everything was tingling from your head to your tiptoes everything was screaming for him.

“I've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly,” you admitted, completely out of breath, “Please, Hotch –“

“It’s Sir,” he corrected you sternly, “After I saw you flirting with that boy, it’s Sir.”  

“Yes, Sir,” the words slipped off your tongue too easily, “Please, I –“

“Patience,” he warned you, dropping a small kiss to the spot under your ear. It was a gesture that filled you with affection but there was something about the way his eyes did not meet yours when he pulled away that let you know that kiss was not only for you. You turned your head, following his gaze, and found Officer Greggs staring at you. There was a shadow of disappointment on his face before he turned away, acting like he had not seen you at all.

Hotch’s hand on your neck slipped down to your back, sitting low enough that his fingers could fan out over your butt.

“Alright,” he muttered, “Let’s go.”

*

If anyone had ever told you, that you would be sitting on a bed in a hotel room in Las Vegas, wearing the shortest dress you ever owned and waiting for Hotch to join you, you would have declared them insane. But that was exactly what you were doing now. You had slipped off your heels, sitting cross-legged against the giant pillows as he had paced through the room, switching his phone off, locking the door and putting out the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the handle. It might have been mundane acts by themselves but there was something about how he did it all with such precision, like he was taking care of everything before he could take care of you and it turned you on more than it should.

Your encounters in the past had all been very spontaneous, announcing themselves minutes before something happened between you two. This was different. You had had a whole car and elevator ride before you reached the bed and even now there were things to take care of. You had been scared that maybe it would be awkward, that you did not have anything to talk about.

But you were proven wrong because while there was silence between the two of you, it was not the uncomfortable kind. He had always touched you, subtle but reassuring. Hotch had had his hand on your bare knee for the entire ride, his fingers steadily brushing circles into your skin while he made small talk with the driver like it was the most natural thing in the world. In the elevator his hand had found its place on your upper back, not as but seeing as your skin was not covered by the dress there, it felt much more intimate.

And now he had prepared everything so you would remain undisturbed for the entire night which excited you more than words could describe. But it also terrified you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. Hotch stood at the end of the bed, his eyes mustering you up and down. You were so nervous, you did not dare to move a muscle.

This was happening, this was really happening.

“Come here,” he said softly. It was not an instruction but you followed it as one, crawling to the end of the bed until you were kneeling up. Your heart was racing in your chest, the slick between your legs too prominent to ignore. And Hotch was right in front of you, mustering you with serious eyes.

“Do you remember what I told you in the car?” he checked in, his finger holding your chin, “If you want to stop –“

“Tap your thigh three times,” you finished his sentence.

“And the safe word?”

“Iceberg.”

His lips quirked up in a pleased smile as he tilted your chin up.

“Good girl,” he leant forwards, his lips meeting yours and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to lean completely into him.

His other hand cupped your cheek, keeping you in place as his teeth tugged on your bottom lip and you hasped, feeling a shudder run through your entire body.

You could not stop the whine that escaped you when he pulled away from you but a stern look from him had you silent again. Silent and very very horny.

“There are so many things I want to do to you,” he said, almost conversationally as he unbuttoned his shirt. Your eyes fixated on his hands and how big they looked on the tiny buttons. Aaron Hotchner was not a small man. He was broad in an unexpected kind of way, solid. Not as defined muscles as Morgan was or as lithe as Reid, no. Aaron Hotchner was a category of his own.  

“Suck my cock under the desk, fuck you in that elevator, have you hump the corner of my desk till you come, the list goes on,” he continued while shrugging out of his dress shirt, leaving him only in the white undershirt, “haven’t really decided on one yet.”

You only noticed you were holding your breath when he approached you again. He tilted your head to the side, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, “Maybe we should try them all out. What do you say? Want to be a little whore for me?”

“God please yes,” you gasped, your lips brushing over the pad of his thumb. He hummed, his finger pressing further into your mouth and he did not even need to say anything for your lips to close around his digit, swirling your tongue around his thumb and sucking.

He hummed, pressing his thumb down on your tongue and you opened your mouth for him, trying to stick out your tongue so he could give you more. But he didn’t, instead pulling his thumb away, leaving a wet trail down to your chin where he gripped it.

“Not so fast,” he chuckled, his hands pulling you in again for a kiss. His mouth opened against yours and you opened yours for him, his tongue tangling with yours. He tasted of whiskey and that mint that Morgan had passed around. “We can go slow,” he said, his nose bumping against yours, “We have time.”

Something, some teeny tiny voice in your brain, piped up in doubt. You only have tonight to impress him, that voice squeaked, If you fail tonight, you will never have the chance again. Which was a ridiculous thought to have when he was towering over you, looking like he was about to devour you. And fuck, did you want to be devoured.

“First, I am going to have you suck my cock, I think,” he mused, “I feel like your mouth always needs something to suck on, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir,” you replied, shuffling off the bed. His hand left your chin slowly, his knuckles brushing down your cleavage and belly before his arm fell to his side.

You watched as he sat on the side of the bed and he did not even have to say anything for you to sink to your knees. The carpet was soft on your skin. Still, he held up his jacket in a silent offering, his eyes warm and soft. He was taking care of you.

When you shook your head, the soft look disappeared again as he nodded in understanding. The jacket landed on the end of the bed and when he looked at you again, his eyes were dark, staring directly into your soul.

Being looked at like that made your breath come quicker and your pussy wetter. Especially, when he spread his legs so all you could see, all you could focus on, was the bulge right in front of your face.  

Like you said, Hotch wasn’t a small man by any means and there was something so sexy about him acting like he knew it. He knew he was big, he knew he was in charge and he knew what it did to you when he unzipped his pants and freed his cock.

“Patient,” he noted, clearly pleased, “Good girl.”

You smiled, his praise doing something with you. Something you were not ready to admit yet, even though it was already the running joke in the BAU that you wanted to impress him. (Not as your boss though, as most people presumed, but as the man that made you cry on his cock.)

“Here you go,” he said, his hand wrapped around his shaft and pumped it a few times. Drops of precome beaded at the tip, looking ready for you to lick them right off. If you focussed enough, you could already taste him. “Open wide.”

You did, opening your mouth as wide as you could, and sticking out your tongue. Hotch hummed, a deep sound from his chest. His tip landed on your tongue and you waited, frowning when he did not move. But then he did it again. And again.

He slapped his cock on your tongue a few times and you could feel the drool collecting on the tip of your tongue, threatening to trail down your chin. But you did not lose his gaze, did not move from your spot. Which was exactly what he wanted.

“Fuck, you’re good for me,” he breathed, “So fucking good for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded eagerly, his cock landing on your cheek instead. But Hotch didn’t seem to mind. His other hand found the back of your head, pulling you closer. You leaned forward as he wanted, closing your eyes when he lifted his cock onto your face. Heat rose into your cheeks when you realized what he was doing, his shaft measuring against your face. It made you feel filthy and a little embarrassed but also so incredibly turned on.

Your mouth was still open, your tongue and he was heavy against your face. You resisted the temptation to run your tongue along the underside. You wanted to be good for him.

“Go on,” he said, “Drool for me.”

With your mouth open and tongue out, it was impossible to make a sound and yet, you managed to produce the tiniest whimper. You could feel the drop forming before it landed on your chin trailing down before you could feel it between your tits.

You froze, wondering if it was enough for him, if you should wait a little longer, if you could wait a little longer before you were getting too desperate. His cock disappeared before finally pushing on your tongue and inside your mouth.

You took a deep breath then, noting how he already pushed himself to the back of your throat. His thrusts were slow and measured but also testing clearly your limits. There was nothing careful or shallow about his movements, like he knew exactly how much you could take, how much he wanted you to take. And you knew you would take however much he wanted from you.

He was heavy on your tongue and tasted salty. You managed to swallow around him once, your throat already protesting. You gagged around him, your eyes stinging with tears as you tried to regain your composure because damn you if you weren’t going to try your best.

Hotch paused his movements, his cock halfway down your throat. His brows were pulled together and he looked at you, clearly trying to see whether you wanted to take the chance to tap his thighs.

You relaxed your throat, making it a point to meet his gaze.

 “Are those pretty tears for me?” he asked softly, his free hand brushing over your cheeks, “And I haven’t even fucked you properly yet.”

Fuck.

“You good?”

“Hngh,” you tried to nod, forcing yourself to swallow around him. He tilted his head back, a groan leaving his throat and you could see his jugular move. You swallowed around him again in a desperate attempt to see him lose composure like that again. His hips twitched, moving even farther inside you and you gagged. Hotch paused but did not pull away.

“You can take it,” he said sternly, “I know you can.”

You remained silent, trying to convey that you knew with your eyes. Your jaw was aching already and your pussy wept. His hips began to move more and more, his large hand on the back of your head pushing and pulling you this and that way. You relaxed, letting him use you like a toy (and why did that turn you on as much as it did?), occasionally running your tongue over the underside of his cock.

He was silent, not saying much but you could feel his eyes on you. You glanced upwards, finding him looking down at you, almost as if he was assessing you. Like he was determining whether you did a good job or not and that, embarrassing as it was, made you even wetter.

There was that furrow between his brows again and his lips were pressed tightly together. If you did not know any better, you would have suspected him to be displeased, but you did know better. Because his cock was twitching on your tongue and his chest rumbled.

You leant forward again, your nose almost touching his belly. Almost.

Frustration grew in you and you pulled away.

But before you could pull off completely, his hand on your head stopped you. “You can take me deeper,” he stated. It wasn’t a question but you knew he gave the pause to give the option to say no.

You did not say anything.

His hand pushed you down on his crotch, his cock reaching impossibly deep and you gagged. You did not pull away this time and he did not let you. Rather, you made an effort to breathe through your nose, to focus on the weight of him on your tongue.

Your hands twitched with the knowledge that you could tap his thigh anytime. Yet you chose not to. Your nose touched his belly, his cock too large to let you smile in triumph.

Then, his other hand reached around your front and he leant forward. At first, you thought he was cupping your jaw or something to try and get you to open wider. But his hand went lower. To your throat.

Your eyes widened in shock when his big hand closed around your throat, not cutting off any air but still tight enough to feel his pressure. And enough to feel the bulge he formed in your throat.

He groaned.

“I could jerk myself off just like that,” he commented, sounding way too unaffected for your liking, “And you would let me, wouldn’t you?”

You made a sound at the back of your throat, feeling the movement protest against the grip his hand had on you.

The power he held over you had you squeezing your thighs.

“I am not coming down your throat,” he said, his thumb rubbing over the tip of him, “Not this time.”

With that, he pulled away from you, his hand on the back of your head gently pulling you back. Immediately, you gasped for breath, trying to even your breathing while not taking your eyes off him.

Hotch stood up, a twinkle in his eyes when he undid the first few buttons of his shirt. “Get up on the bed,” he instructed, “Lose the clothes.”

At record speed, you slipped out of the dress and out of your underwear. Catching a glimpse of the wet patch on your panties, you forced yourself not to be ashamed of it. By now, it was a safe bet to assume that he knew the kind of effect he had on you.

The sheets felt cool and soft under your skin and you sat down and scooted back. Hotch eyed you like prey, your heart skipping a beat when you watched as he wrapped his hand around himself again, pumping while you got comfortable.

When your back settled against the pillows, he moved too.

“Good girl,” he murmured before leaning forward and climbing onto the bed.

You laid back, allowing him to come to rest above you. His breath fanned over your crotch and your belly, his lips ghosting over the valley between your breasts and up your throat until they met yours.

You hummed, trying to get up on your elbows to get closer to him. His lips were soft but dominant, his hand brushing over your cheek before settling right under your jaw.

The man above you sat up, straddling your hips. His hand was around your throat, loosely wrapped around and you smiled, already knowing what. You opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue and being rewarded by the dark smile on his lips.

“Such a good little whore,” he groaned before he spit right into your mouth, “Such a good little cocksleeve.”

Swallowing greedily, you opened your mouth again, showing him that nothing was left.

The feeling of his cock against your folds was what made your composure break. Pleasure was flowing through your every vein and you could feel your pussy pulse, feeling way too empty with him rubbing his tip over your clit.

“Sir, please,” you whined, trying to thrust your hips up, wanting to get just that little bit of friction more, “I – I need it.”

“Oh, I know exactly what it is that you need,” he stated when he slowly pushed forward, his cock splitting your walls, “You need me to work my cock in that tight pussy of yours and then fill you up until you are nothing but dripping in my come.”

You took a deep breath, relishing in the stretch he caused and the feelings of your walls opening up for him. And his words did the rest. You were so wet,

Angling up your knees, you wrapped your legs around his broad hips. It allowed him to push even deeper and you both moaned. Your thighs were already aching but your pussy fluttered around how full you were.

He began to move, slow at first before he found his bearings. His forearms caged in your head and he was right above you, surrounding you so completely while his cock pushed deeper and deeper. All you could see, all you could smell, all you could feel, was him.

“Yes, Sir,” you breathed, your fingertips running over his jaw, “Please come in me.”

“Good girl,” he chuckled, a little out of breath, his lips pressing against your temple, “Making such smart choices today.”

Not having the time to think about what he could possibly mean, you tilted your head back, allowing him to press a slow kiss to your neck. It was warm and wet and made your entire body shiver.

“Anytime you make a smart choice, I reward you, how does that sound?”

You could not answer, his cock hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars.

“Already too cockdumb for me, I see,” he murmured, his teeth scratching over your skin, “But that’s okay because this? This is a reward. You were such a smart girl today, not letting Greggs fuck you. Because you know only I can fuck you right, right?”

You whimpered, your hardened nipples brushing against the fabric of his shirt and you arched your back, trying to get him to be closer, deeper, faster.

His hips snapped against you, pinning yours to the mattress and you gasped at how deep he went. The weight of his body on yours meant you could not move, entirely at his mercy. Your walls clamped around him, the knot in your abdomen getting tighter and tighter with the feeling of his cock moving and his quiet groans in your ear.

“Next time you’re being a good girl for me, I will fill you up on the jet,” he hissed, “I will have you sit on my cock before we’re even in the air and you only get to come once we’re back on land. I don’t care what the others will think,” his fingers snuck to your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves just how you needed it, “Let’s hope it won’t be Alaska or I will have an overstimulated mess sobbing on my cock.”

You gasped, hands flexing on his shoulders. Images filled your head. Of you, wearing one of your cutest office dresses that had the perfect length to conceal how he was buried inside you. Or how he would just so casually reach over to your seat, between your thighs, working your clit until you left a wet mess on the leather seat. The thought turned you on more than it should, the urge to keep quiet so you would not get caught being fucked by your boss.

And Hotch could sense what you were thinking. “Looks like someone likes that idea,” he mocked you, “Your pussy practically choked me. Are you that desperate for the cock of an old man? Of your boss? You really just want to be filled up every chance you have, hm?”

You nodded, eyes tearing up at the sheer pleasure of it all.

“Yes, Sir,” you gasped out, trying to move your hips against him, though you knew it was an impossible feat, “Wanna – wanna be your whore so bad.”

“You already are,” he cooed, kissing you swiftly while his hips moved against yours again and again, “And you can be my good girl too if you come on my cock right now.”

Aaron Hotchner had to be a magician because there was no other explanation for how your body just listened to him. Every single muscle you were aware of tensed as the knot in your abdomen grew tighter and tighter before it felt like it was pulled apart, pleasure erupting everywhere. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your moan and breathing in his familiar scent.

Hotch did not slow his pace. His cock kept working in and out of you, driving you to the edge of madness. With you coming around him, you became even more aware of how big he was inside you. It was like he was pushing the air out of your lungs and you gasped, trying to gather your bearings when all you could feel was

He panted, his movements picking up in speed and you wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him inside you until he stilled. The deep groan he let out rumbled in his chest and you could feel it, feel it in the way he was pressed right up against you, feel it in the way his head sunk into the crook of your neck, feel it in the way, his entire body rested on yours.

There was something about feeling his come pump inside of you, feeling his cock twitch and feeling so full of him, that struck you with the sudden realization that you would really let this man do anything to you. The trust you had in him, in the way he would take care of you, would not be so easily broken.

Which meant your heart was that much more breakable.

Your body calmed down, feeling completely weightless even with him on top of you. Your eyes fluttered closed when you felt him shift, rolling you both around until you were on top of him. His cock was still inside you plugging you up and you smiled when you felt him draw lined over your back.

“That okay?” he asked, his voice deep and rumbly, “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head before resting your cheek on his chest. “Just this,” you murmured, “Just this please.”

“Good girl,” he praised you with a gentle smile, kissing the top of your head, “Rest, sweetheart. You deserve it.”

*

“What is it?” you shot up in bed, panic and adrenaline pumping through your blood. It took you a moment to remember that you were not supposed to be alone in this room and that the figure moving next to you was none other than Aaron. He was safe. He was supposed to be here.

Ears ringing, you threw a look on your side of the bed, trying to find if your phone was lit up because there was another case.

Please not, ran through our brain, Please let me have him this close just for a little longer.

But it was not your phone that was ringing.

“Shit, sorry,” you could hear Hotch rise in the dark, his body twisting the blanket this and that way as he leaned over to his night table. Something clattered and you could see a brightly lit display before it disappeared behind Hotch’s profile.

“Hey, buddy!”

You blinked.

“Yeah, we got the bad guy,” his voice was oddly soft, “Did Aunt Jess take to the – she did? That is awesome, you will have to tell me all about it.”

When you realized he was talking to his son (you tried to blame the very late/early time for this), your heart melted. The way his voice was deep and groggy but you could hear the love in it, the affection. There were only a handful of times you had heard him talk like that and they had all been when he was talking to or about Jack.

Before you knew it, he had hung up, his phone screen going dark and your body instantly yearning back for that deep slumber you had just been in.

“Sorry, I usually have it on loud to make sure I wake up. “ To make sure I don’t miss his calls.

“No worries, it’s … it's actually quite sweet,” you mumbled, glad for the darkness so he could not see just how affected you were.

“Sweet?” he echoed and you didn’t need to see him to know he was grinning, “I was expecting a lot of adjectives but not sweet.”

“It’s the dichotomy of man,” you replied groggily, very aware of the heat of his body right next to you, “Stern Hotch and Sweet Hotch.”

His hand found yours in the dark and your heart skipped a beat when he pulled it up to his lips. It felt way too intimate but it felt right. Maybe because it was dark it felt like you could allow yourself to enjoy the closeness. Like you could pretend you were living in some alternate universe where he was

“You’ve only seen stern Hotch, then, I presume,” he joked.

“Sexy Hotchner and stern Hotchner,” you added, pulling your hand back to your chest and thus his arm around you as you settled on your side, “Work Hotchner and Bed Hotchner.”

“Then maybe it is time you get to see Sweet Hotchner,” he murmured in your ear, his lips brushing over your shoulder. Your hand tightened around his and you snuggled back into him, thinking that any embarrassment that might ensue from this intimate embrace could be a problem for future you.

“How do I get to meet Sweet Hotchner?” you yawned, barely awake, “Do I have to ask Jack for some tips?”

“That or you could go on a date with me,” he said, his voice just as groggy, “I heard I am supposed to be my most charming self when on a date.”

Yup, definitely a problem for future you.

[formosusiniquis]

I'm in chainmail, baby I'm impressed

Squeaking in under the wire for @stevieweek day 4: Special Outfit with bonus prompts: lingerie and DnD/Fantasy. Plus I'm counting this as my @steddie-week Day Seven Free Space

Stevie Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 3217 | M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tags/Themes: Transfem!Steve Harrington; Transmasc!Eddie Munson; Fade to Black

AO3

It starts with a blouse.

No, that’s not right. It actually started when Stevie asked how earring a suit of armor didn’t chafe, and if a pair of keys could stab through a beer can how were arrows not sending stabby metal pieces into people.

Which actually probably means it really started with layers. Like the extra layer of leather, done up to Eddie’s chin when he called her back. “Make ‘em pay” wasn’t the send off she’d expected after the big boy and other flirting. Flirting that had made her stomach twist and her heart flutter and her brain flinch with the close but not quite of it. But maybe that’s why she’d sent her own return volley. Why she’d grabbed hold of that half done zipper and left Eddie with a pat to the chest and a promise to do just that.

She totally saved his life with that move. Her, the leather jacket, and some extra breast tissue Eddie wasn’t really using, all working together to keep razor sharp fangs from tearing flesh and puncturing any important organs.

That breast tissue maybe saved her too, when she learned just what having it made Eddie and what it meant about options she hadn’t known were there. They had a lot of time to talk in their shared bat bite isolation chamber.

Talk about layers that go under chain and metal to protect knights of the realm and their devoted squires that help them.

That started in the Upside Down, finished in the hospital. And this started in the thrift store.

The blouse was white. Pure white, basically neon, white as the virgin snow. Totally not Stevie’s color, the fresh wedding white brings out the undertones in her skin in a way that leaves her looking sallow and liver failure-y. But something about the sleeve catches her eye. The way  it balloons before gathering at the wrist. 

It’s a 70’s throwback for sure. Reminds her of the cover from the album Eddie brought over a few weeks ago, Little Queen. Robin has her face screwed up before Stevie even has it all the way off the rack. Hating it but trying to be supportive the way she has been throughout all of Stevie’s transition from Steve to who she is now.

“That is… wow!”

“It’s super ugly, and not even in a cool way.”

Robin slumps against the rack, sending a hanger cascading to the floor. She scrambles down to pick it up but Stevie doesn't miss her, “Oh thank god.”

“The best thing to happen to you was my sense of style not changing.”

“I know. You’d look good in anything, but my wardrobe offerings would have shrunk.” Seeming to remember the source of the freak out. She snaggs the shirt. “So what’s with this thing? I think even you’d struggle to make this look good.”

She takes it back from Robin’s disapproving grip. Holds it up to herself just to see the way Robin’s face contorts. The neckline is going to do nothing for her, not low cut enough to show off the way her boobs are coming in. The poof in the arms will accent her shoulders . And it’s so, so white.

“It made me think of Eddie,” she says, fingering the loose tie that’s hanging down the front of the blouse.

“It is very vampire lord,” Robin admits. “Might even make him look tan.”

Layers, knights would wear padded shirts under their armor and under those drapey shirts in cotton and linen. He’d been excited when he’d talked about it. Passionate. The way he got when he talked about Lord of the Rings or DnD. She holds the shirt even tighter against her, turns this way and that even though she can only kind of make out her reflection in the mirror at the end of the row. It’s an ugly shirt. But it makes her think of knights and Éowyn and paladins and Eddie.

Eddie flushed pink and beautiful, squirming in his seat in a different way than he usually does, talking about devotion and pledges. Duty and honor.

“I’m gonna buy it.”

“For Eddie?” Robin asks on a sigh. She already knows the answer.

“He’ll certainly get to enjoy it.”

The problem with being the one to come up with a plan is she has to be the one to follow through with it. 

Part of her knows the blouse would be enough. She could dress it up just right, flirt a little, and have Eddie eating out of the palm of her hand.

But the part of her that had a flair for the dramatic that rivaled her boyfriend’s wasn’t going to let her skimp unless she took every possible step to fully achieve her vision.

So she goes to the only person she knows who might be able to put the final and most crucial piece of the scene together.

Flopped across the Henderson couch, she’s making herself comfortable for her and Caludia’s date with Dallas. She’s too cozy to get up, decides it's easier to flop her head over the arm of the sofa to shout at Dustin while he rummages through the kitchen.

“So if I was trying to get my hands on some of that chain link armor stuff, would you know a drama club nerd who might have some?”

“Yeah, I have some.”

“You have some?” she can feel her eyebrows raised up into the middle of her forehead. She went to him for a reason, but surely she would have known if he was capable of affording something like that. Was that why she was footing the bill at the arcade every week, so he could have suit of armor money?

“Well it's not like it grew in the backyard, I made some.”

“Made some?” she flips around on the couch, this has become the kind of conversation she has to look at her brother and have him be rightside up.

He’s got his hand on his hip which isn't as commanding when he’s also holding a glass of milk in the other. It’s cute though, like he’s trying to channel her.

“What are you an echo? It's not like it was hard. You need some wire and pliers and patience.”

“And you?”

“Har har. Yes. Do you want to borrow it or not.” The threat is there even if she doesn’t think it’s that sincere. It’s fucking armor she doubts he could hide it that well if she wanted to just come in and take it.

But she makes nice anyway cause she’s a good sister. “Yes! Sorry.”

“Ma's got all that jewelry making stuff and you know I like to work with my hands when I'm talking with Suzie.”

“Disgusting.”

It was a joke. But it’s a joke that sends his drink sloshing over the sides of his glass as he startles. A good friend, even if she doubts he’ll ever acknowledge it, she stifles her laugh in the palm of her hand as he turns a shade of red that is medically concerning. 

“Ew, don't be crass, Stevie,” he stutters out.

“Is this even going to fit me,” she takes pity on him, dragging the topic back to her, “you made it for yourself half-pint.” The insult barely works, a summer growth spurt has left sophomore Dustin towering over her shoulder. Well, not towering, but he can see over her shoulder now.

“I made it for Mike, actually, so he could be his paladin at that convention in September. But he wouldn't let me measure him cause I ‘know what he looks like’ and it came out too big.”

“Oh so it'll be perfect for me.” She tries to make it a joke, but hearing that it was made for human stringbean Michael Wheeler has her nervous in the place where all of her ugliest body issues live. At least if Dustin had made it for himself it would have just looked like a crop top.

“Well, it still might not fit because of your,” he gestures vaguely at her front.

“Boobs, Henderson, they're boobs. You can call them-”

“Alright!” He shrieks, “I was trying to be respectful.”

“When have you ever been respectful? And don't say it's because I'm a girl, I'll push you into Lover’s Lake.”

“I wouldn't talk about El’s or Max’s is all I'm saying.” He says into the glass in his hand.

“But I can borrow it?”

“If it fits over your boobs,” he says the word like it's in a foreign language he's neither spoken nor heard, “you can keep it. I know it's for some weird sex thing with Eddie and I don't want it in my closet knowing what it's seen.”

Honestly it's for the best, because if this goes the way she thinks it's going to she really doesn't want to have to figure out how to get stains out of aluminum. But it's hard to resist the siren song of torturing Dustin. “I can't believe you're calling my sex life weird, are you saying there's something wrong with us? That we aren't a normal couple like everyone else? I thought you were a friend.”

“Nothing about Eddie is normal and he'd be offended you tried to suggest he was so I'd feel bad.”

“Yeah, good point loser.” She snuggles back down into the couch, she never really gives the episodes of Beauty and the Beast that much attention but this one should be wrapping up soon. “If it doesn't fit over my tits and it sees zero action do you want it back then?”

“After this conversation, I'm not sure I ever want to see you again. So just keep it. I'm sure Eddie will find some kind of use for it.”

There’s another quip at the tip of her tongue that she knows will send Dustin into fits, whether they would have been of rage or denial she’ll never know. The front door is slamming open bringing with it Claudia at the end of her swing shift.

“Stevie, dear,” she always bustles into the house like she’s carrying an armload of groceries even when it’s just her coming home in her uniform, “never go into nursing. Doctors are some of the dumbest fuckers on the face of the planet.”

It occurs to her, the attitude might be a family trait. Maybe that’s why they adopted her so easily. If only she could pull off the tiny hat the way Claudia can.

All of the pieces of her plan stay hidden for weeks. Folded up carefully in an oversized hatbox in the back of her Mom’s extended closet. The hat, a monstrosity purchased for a Derby she doesn’t think they’d even gone to left to gather dust or whatever it is hatboxes are meant to prevent.

The chainmail had fit. The weight of it as surprising as the cool feeling of it against her fingers.

She has the clothes, the accessories, even bought something silky and golden yellow to go underneath. Like the armor wasn’t going to be sexy enough for Eddie. Lingerie under lingerie like a hat on a hat, but she has to feel sexy or else she’s going to feel like a complete idiot.

She kind of already feels like an idiot. Something in the knowing that the top and the chain and the yellow bra with the flowers embroidered on it are all upstairs makes her anxious in a way she hasn’t ever been with Eddie before.

Hands haven’t been wandering during their movie nights. She keeps her feet kicked back behind her, crossed at the ankle, when they’re sharing a booth at dinner. There’s always a fifteen-going-on-sixteen year old chaperone in the car with them, sometimes even in the front seat as she pretends she’s just making sure they’re getting pre-prepared for their upcoming drivers tests.

And sitting next to him on the sofa, a whole cushion between them for the first time since ever, she watches the careful way he makes each line as he sketches and cross hatches what she can just make out to be a flowing haired knight. Her resolve breaks.

Stevie craves him the way she used to want ice cream on a hot day. The taste and feel of it an almost physical feeling, she would want it so bad. That’s what horny feels like now, she’s slowly realizing.

Before she can overthink it too much more, “I wanna try something.”

Normally she thinks of Eddie as having a kind of feline grace, he slinks and when he does fall off of something he isn’t supposed to be on he grins like it was always the plan to reacquaint himself violently with the floor. But the hint of suggestion in her voice has him perked up on the couch like a dog that just heard his leash come off the hook.

It's embarrassing how badly she wants him.

“What were you thinking, baby?”

He’s better at this than she is, at the lead up. The introduction. It’s a different skill to slowly introduce the concept of the strange, a change. Different than foreplay. She feels like she’s propositioning her proposition. The thing about slow, missionary in a room with the lights dimmed, no bandaids need to be ripped off before.

“You’ve roleplayed.”

“Not the kind I think you’re suggesting.” He’s impossibly more perked. Notebook and pencil still and poised like he’s about to start taking notes. “But I’ll try anything you want to do, however you want to do it.”

Maybe it isn't healthy, but she likes that about Eddie. That he’s all in on her, obsessed maybe. Willing to push himself out of his comfort zone for the sake of letting her have what she wants or try what she thinks she wants.

She likes how a few right words will turn him into putty she can squish and meld between her fingers.

“I’m gonna go get changed.”

Now that Eddie is waiting downstairs for something spectacular, it isn't so hard to pull that box down from its hideaway and slide each layer on. She already knew it wasn’t that hard to get the chain on and off by herself, she had tried it on. Maybe squires were for the heavy metal suits like on Scooby-doo. Or maybe it was about the intimacy and the ritual even back then, sliding on pieces and parts meant to keep the other person safe from harm knowing later if there was a chance to undress again you could see just how you helped save them.

Next time, she thinks, they should do this the other way around. She can get Eddie off a couple times, clean him up, and slowly dress him in each new layer. Until he’s lying in her bed armored in metal and cocooned by her cotton sheets. Safe from anything the world might want to do to him. Under her panties, and the sports leggings she’d decided where the sexier choice of pants, she can start to see the evidence of her arousal in the full length mirror.

It’s a good thing Dustin doesn’t want his stuff back.

Her finishing touches go on next. The gold ring with the small green stone that Robin had given her slides on to her index finger. Then around her neck her holy symbol, the guitar pick from Eddie’s first post-almost dying show. Tossed at her from the stage in an act of Bon Jovi badassery. She had gently poked a hole through it and now she slides it on its dainty, gold chain around her neck.

She tugs at her hair in the mirror, the one part that isn’t quite right. In her vision it’s finally grown out, beautiful waves that would fall out of the ugly helmet she doesn’t have when she pulled it off. Waves like Brooke Shields or the girl from One Day at a Time who married the guy from the band Eddie liked have instead of the bob she’s growing out now.

But it would grow and in the meantime she looked hot.

Stevie looked really hot. Swallowing around the saliva pooling in her mouth, she remembers she has a boyfriend to show that to.

Her first reward is the sight of Eddie's jaw dropped against the floor.

“You remember the other day, you were talking about how paladins could get leveled up so high they basically became gods too?”

Stevie knew that wasn't right, but she liked watching the nerd part of him war with the boyfriend part of him. One itching to correct the mistake and the other looking for a way for her to be correct in a roundabout way. Usually, it leaves him flushed and wide eyed, like his brain is overtaxed and with just a little more stress steam will start to burst from his ears to keep his brain from melting. Last week she had him arguing with the Party that humanoid didn't mean hobbits couldn't also be little rabbits.

She decides to take pity on him now, his wheels skidding blankly on wet road.

“I want you to worship me.”

He's agreeing, she thinks, before he's even sure what he's agreeing to. Dropping to his knees in front of her just like the worshiper she imagined: awe struck and devoted. Her divine intervention on his unfinished prayer kept him alive. Eddie Munson would let her kill him if she wanted to, if it suited her whims.

Good thing she wants to keep him for forever.

His hands slide up the back of her legs. She can feel the hot trail of them from the calf up to the thigh.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Presses a kiss to her knee, her thigh, the chain that covers her hip. “My hero, my knight.”

In the end, she didn’t need the blouse or the bra and panty set. She still has her chainmail on when she eases them both down onto the couch. Running her fingers through Eddie’s hair from his sweat damp temples to the tangling ends she’s careful to keep it from getting wrapped in the links while he rests on top of her.

“I don’t know where you came up with that, my lady, but I think that was the hottest thing to ever happen to me.”

She tugs at the end of his hair just to watch the way the lingering arousal dances across his face. “I got that from the way you creamed your jeans while you were playing with my clit.”

“I am but a man, my golden sun. When a paladin of Apollo is before me what can I do but show my utter devotion.”

“You liked it? It was good for you?”

Maybe it’s a testament to how good it was that Eddie isn’t immediately off the couch. He only shifts enough to rest his chin on her stomach. Looking her in the eyes or maybe at the bottom swell of her breasts.

“Steph, that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re a vision in everything you put on,” he assures, “but where did you even get this?”

“That’s the bad news, if you’re hoping for a better fitting part two I think I’m gonna have to give Dustin my measurements.”

[a-menagerie]

If requests are open and your comfortable with this ask, could you give your headcanons on how Fearne, Dorian, Ashton, Molly, Beau and Fjord would kiss reader please? Thanks 💖

ehehehehe

Fearne

Fearne, first of all, has no qualms about PDA or anything like that, so she’s very likely to just swoop you into a hug and kiss whenever she gets the urge

I also think she’s the type to lift you off your feet and press a million kisses to your face (you can protest all you like, she wants to sweep you off your feet)

Her favorite way to kiss you: scooping you up in her arms and then depositing you on a nearby surface, one hand cradling the back of your head while her other hand stays on your hip

Dorian

A romantic and a little shy, he almost Always asks for permission to kiss you

He does however easily kiss your hand throughout the day, whether that be a light brush of his lips across your knuckles or a kiss to the center of your palm, all while maintaining eye contact

His favorite way to kiss you: when you’re cuddling in bed and he can lean in and just enjoy some soft slow kisses, all while his arms are around you

Ashton

I’m not saying they’re shy but I think when it comes to you, who he has real full feelings for, that makes them a bit more nervous

I think Ashton would most often give you a kiss on the temple or cheek, especially around the others, and reserve actual smooching for a more private occasion

But! I think if the Bells Hells tease him about being shy or anything, he’d grab you, yanking you too him via an arm around your neck and kissing you in front of everyone (he’s flipping them off behind your head)

Their favorite way to kiss you: Ashton likes to pin you between him and anything (a wall, the couch, the bed) and just take his time kissing you, like dammit he’s gonna enjoy this as long as he wants! He likes resting a hand on your neck so he can feel your pulse with his fingers

Molly

Molly is all about enjoying what he has in life and the best thing he has is you, how is he supposed to keep his hands or his lips to himself?

Molly is the most likely to just stop and kiss you during the day, no matter what you’re doing, camp chores, shopping, fighting. If Molly gets the whim to kiss you, he will

His favorite way to kiss you: when you’ve been teasing and taunting each other and he finally caves, using his tail to catch one of your wrists, one hand catching your other hand and his other hand holding your chin, so he can kiss you

Beau

Beau honestly lets a lot be determined by her partner. If you’re cool with a lot of PDA, you can expect smooches a Lot through the day. If not? Shell reserve that kind of affection for more solitary moments

If she gets excited about something though, she won’t really be able to hold back. Finishing a tough fight or putting together an answer to whatever mystery she’s trying to solve, she’ll run up to you with a wide grin, grab your face in her hands, and kiss the fuck out of you

Her favorite way to kiss you: she loves coming home from work and greeting you with a big smooch, throwing her stuff to the floor in order to wrap her arms around you

Fjord

Gods bless this man, who tries so hard to be suave and collected but blushes hard anytime there’s a ~moment~ between you too

He can generally hold himself together if he’s just kissing the back of your hand but anymore than that and he’s obviously a little flustered

His favorite way to kiss you: when you’ve said or done something to fluster him and he’s trying to sputter out a response and you lean in and give him a quick kiss - but he grabs you by the front of your shirt and pulls you back to him

[ruiniel]

HIIIII! i've been reading a bit through your blog and i've liked it a lot, the way you write for alucard is very sweet and i haven't seen much of him x male reader so could i make a request?

in my mind reader helped alucard along with trevor and sypha, but reader is a magical creature that lives within the forest and takes care of alucard from afar after sypha and trevor left so it was only just the two of them even after the events with taka and sumi. this is just for little context.

so, reader is pretty much very in love with alucard and is always to his disposition, but when greta arrives and starts to notice how happy he looks with her, reader starts to question if he's even good enough for alucard so even if he's at alucard's disposition he starts to drift away thinking that alucard may be better off with greta. that until alucard finds him again and formalize ofc 🥰

thanks for reading allat and if you're not interested feel free to ignore it, bye bye!

Thank you for the prompt, here's a little scene. I took a pre-poly relationship approach here...

For each other

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021) | Pairing: Alucard x male reader | Rating: T Count: 2K | Tags: self-deprecation, pining, angst, feels

A late, sunny afternoon. There is no one but the two of them in the large kitchen: Alucard has her pinned against a counter, his gaze dropping from her warm brown eyes to her lips, leaning close enough to taste—

They break apart at the sound of something thudding onto a hard surface. Alucard turns his head, eyes still glazed and heartbeat soaring from their kiss. He blinks owlishly at the sight of you unleashing a hoard of crab apples on the table.

You’d been gone for some time, and now meticulously catch the escaped apples and gather them back into the large wicker basket, all the while doing a great job of not looking at Greta or Alucard, staring at you. “Don’t stop on my account,” you murmur, leaning over to catch an apple about to roll off the table.

“...?” Greta untangles herself from Alucard’s arms, half-turning.

“Found plenty of these in a glade not far from here,” you say as you arrange the fruit. “Fallen from the trees, just there to rot if nobody uses them. Who would have thought?” You turn away, taking an apple and avoiding their eyes as you make to leave.

Greta calls your name. “Wait,” she tries again, taking a step forward, but Alucard’s hold is tight on her wrist.

As the door shuts behind you, Greta moves to go after you, anyway; Alucard holds her fast. “Perhaps…” he says, turning her gently to face him, “Let me speak to him, this time.”

Greta nods. There are many things to speak of indeed, things long overdue. Knowing what happened and all you’ve been through together until this point, it might be best for Alucard to reach you first. Her fingers graze the side of his face. “Bring him back.”

When the door is closed, you stare at the stone walls of the corridor, your gaze traveling up, up, up, to the high ceiling. Your ears are ringing. There comes a need to be anywhere but here. 

Your body takes initiative before your mind does and then you’re pacing through castle halls, away, away, through tall grass, through dust and dirt until you find yourself…

“I’ll never escape this, will I?” you speak, gazing up absently at the remains of the Belmont Manor. You’re not even sure how you got here but take a deep breath, head tipping up to the sky.

So what? This is a good thing, right? Alucard being less miserable is a good thing. Greta having him is a good thing, and they need more Good Things in their lives. You want their happiness, would kill to see either of them pleased and living out their best days, such as they are. It’s all win-win here.

Then why the moping?

They don’t owe you anything. She doesn’t, Alucard doesn’t. Could you be such a supremely conceited dumbass that you actually thought needing them and being there meant you deserved to be a part of…

They’re your friends, your companions, the only people who ever cared. They’re your only friends, comes that voice within. So what, you love them no less.

You open your eyes, frowning at the clouds as though seeing daylight for the first time in your life.

You... love them.

Both.

You walk the broken grounds, through what used to be antechambers, through what used to be a dining room.

Breathe. Breathe, you idiot.

Fact is, one doesn’t always get what one wants — in your case almost never, which is just the bare truth and not you feeling sorry for yourself.

Well, you are, but that doesn’t make it less true.

Again, so what? So what, so what—the two words churn in your mind, an endless storm stealing your breaths without remorse. You drag both hands over your face. You’ve been out of it for too long, until you’ve stumbled upon Alucard, never lingered on what it entails, but now you know, now you see.

So, then, this must be jealousy. Feels great. Not only does God hate you, God placed a price on your head and sent their rabid revenge hounds with devotion and tenderness and lust crushed between their teeth, smashing inadequacy and resentment together in merciless jaws before biting into your face.

Someone calls your name.

You start, the breaths freezing in your chest. Great. You sigh. “You really have to stop creeping up on people like that.” Can you do this now?

“I’m sorry,” Alucard says, then just. Stands there.

Oh, no. You can’t do this now. You kick the dirt. “What is it, Alucard?” If you felt miserable before, now guilt and shame joined in and are having a day of it.

“It’s Alucard, now?” he asks softly, and you shake your head, avoiding his eyes. You’d slipped into calling him ‘Adrian’ not long ago. “Either way, I was hoping you could tell me,” he continues.

“Look, I’m just out here... for some time to think...”

“... which was so urgent a need, you had to rush out without looking back, despite Greta calling your name.”

You discover: when you’re hurting after someone, it only hurts more if they ridicule you. “Your point?” you pinch your brows, trying very hard not to lash out, not to be an asshole, because Alucard... Adrian doesn’t deserve it.

Alucard tilts his head to one side, takes another few steps, then sits down on the ruins—and doesn’t catch fire, a childish part of you thinks. “I know things between us have always been,” he looks you in the eye, “complicated.”

“Understatement of the century,” you stare up at the broken clock tower. “We’re going back to me asking about your point.” Your heart beats faster, and you know he can sense it.

Alucard watches you closely, kindly. His lips part. “You were there for me when I needed you. When I didn’t even know… what I needed.”

“... we did that for each other,” you mutter. “Alucard, really, you can stop this. I’m not a total idiot. You two are together, that’s great. You’ve been through so much, you deserve some peace of mind,” you say, even as Alucard rises and nears you. “And hell knows Greta deserves it, now would you please, please, leave it?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you’re begging. You never begged in your life, not even when you were held down at knife point, helpless and with your powers snuffed by magic. But now you’re compelled to because, because…

“I only want to remind you,” Alucard follows, looking at you, “that you once told me I wasn’t alone.”

Your eyes widen for a moment. You look away, unable to keep the misery from your voice. “Why are you going back there?” 

“Why are you running away?” He is close enough that you’re unable to move. “I am also at fault. I’ve been absorbed by my loss that I failed to see you.”

“You still mourn your family, which is a grand pass in my book. Look,” you stare at Alucard’s genuinely curious expression. “I… you need the time. Take it.”

“You care so much about what I need?” His face is honest as he meets your eyes. 

“Does that surprise you?” you ask, crawling beneath your facade, which you get the feeling falls short before Alucard now, anyway.

“I need you.”

You’ve never been the violent sort, unless someone threatened what you cherished. But now you want to punch him, because this… the implication is a joke beyond your wildest dreams, the ones that wake you up in a sweat with your pulse in a rush, where golden eyes turn red, with hot breaths in your ear and you can still taste—“Don’t.”

“I do,” Alucard looks up at the broken tower, then back at you. “And I nearly waited too long.”

He comes closer, a hand on your shoulder. You stare at it, then at Alucard, and you absolutely loathe your body in this moment, for all it wants is closer. “You’re with Greta.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Alucard’s eyes narrow. “Yes, you remembered Greta, gods willing.” His face becomes colder, but his eyes are pleading something you can’t understand. “I love her.”

“I’m … glad for you,” you say, falling apart.

Alucard shakes his head. “I love her, and she worried herself sick over you, stood by you for days and nights, tending to you when you were wounded. She can’t bear the thought of you leaving here, wanted to run after you just now and ask what happened because she can’t stand to always see you unhappy. Do you see a pattern?”

“I just… I care about her very much, as you likely have guessed,” you mumble, “all I want is for her to be happy. For… for you to be… .”

“Then don’t run,” Alucard says. “Not from her, not from me.”

“I never run.”

“Then don’t.”

“I just said—nevermind,” you mutter with a smile, spent and needy and you would just…

“Come back inside,” Alucard urges softly, running those long, nervous fingers along your scalp, forehead pressed to yours.

You shudder, would purr like a shameless cat if scraps of your dignity weren’t in the way. “... fine,” you murmur, lips curving upward against your will, fears dispersing like shadows chased by the coming dawn. 

Alucard’s hand cups your head again, but now it’s different; there’s hunger in the touch. You lean forward, helpless. Defeated. Aching.

You’re caught in an embrace, like the Inevitable wrapping itself around you and heaven or hell help you. There’s no escape, for you lack the will to fight this, then wonder why you would—isn’t this what… what you wanted? Didn’t you gut yourself over precisely this, wasting nights away, mind on Alucard and what you share and what you feel, what it would be like, to be close to him… to them? 

“You make everything so difficult for me all the time, you know that?” you say with Alucard… Adrian’s breath on your lips.

“I believe I’m actually making it easy.” He’s smiling, pointedly.

You draw back a little and Alucard follows, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. “Are you sure—”

“Are you really going to question me kissing you now?” he admonishes fondly and noses at your cheek, upper lip curling like it does when he’s annoyed.

“Fair,” you admit defeat, and with that, tilt your head just enough; feel Alucard’s soft lips between your teeth, Alucard’s tongue curling around yours, his taste and you’re grabbing onto the collar of his coat with both hands—more to keep yourself upright, in all honesty—remembering everything: the tingling, slow, hard pressure of Alucard’s mouth, the weakness in your knees and the flare burning low in your body. It’s just as… no, it’s even better than you thought, not as desperate but closer, softer, deeper. You can only liken it to drowning on air, on want, on taste and the sweet-heady scent of skin.

When you tug with abandon at his lip, Alucard brings you to his chest, a foot wedged between yours, hands ordering your hips flush together. All you can think of is how you shouldn’t be enjoying the manhandling as much but you desperately do, and would like more but this is too good a dream to switch for gratification now, too eager to feel him and your unspoken needs weaved together like bonds.

You release the collar of Alucard’s coat, thumbs drifting along his jaw, the determined, hard lines and smooth skin, the way his nose bumps into your cheek as you kiss, the way your own body runs hot and melds with his rising heat.

“Am I dead?” you ask, breathless when you slowly break apart. You stare at Alucard with a self-deprecating smile, the longing bare on your face, panting once, twice, only for Alucard to kiss you again.

You give up and hug him tighter, hands roaming and clutching at him, drifting down to his waist as Alucard twists with you and presses forward until your back meets the nearest wall.

“Wait... weren’t we... going inside?” you pant, looking beyond his shoulder. People are still walking to and fro, though for now you’ve been reasonably sheltered from any curious eyes.

“Right... yes... of course,” Alucard answers in much the same way. He wastes not a moment in dragging you after him, his arm tight around your waist.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

What are you headcanons about Senju in the relationships with new toman

Like toman in the good timeline? That's what I went with since that's the newest version of toman, tried to include everyone in it and I think I got everyone at least mentioned once? (South is also here).

She enjoys teasing Baji (this includes telling Chifuyu and Kazutora childhood stories about him)

Senju still challenges Mikey sometimes and will try to beat him in lots of little contests like arm wrestling.

Likes Mucho a lot, sometimes he brings her cake (she's unsure as to why Sanzu frowns about this though)

Likes hanging out with Taiju because she finds his fighting style to be strong and interesting.

Draken is thankful for her presence since she handles the division whenever Sanzu gets into trouble and disbanded.

Once playfully threatened to break Hanma's wrist after he teased her over her height and patted her on the head. Hanma of course was very amused by the whole interaction (though he didn't do it again).

Switches schools to either Takemichi's or another group in toman's school so she isn't so alone anymore.

Has a bit of beef with some of the members who think guys shouldn't fight girls. It's not uncommon for them to step into her fights and take her opponents as a way of trying to keep her safer. (As time goes on this becomes less common)

Tries very hard to make friends with Hakkai even after she's told he won't talk to her. She brings him drinks a lot and tries to be friendly towards him.

She tries to convert them all into being mint chocolate chip fans, but struggles to actually win anyone over.

The first time she meets Angry, she assumes she's done something wrong so tries to make him laugh/ smile.

Gets along well with Rindou and sometimes works out with him

She also sometimes works out with Kakucho too (she heard about the yakuza thing from Rindou and immediately wanted in. But unfortunately Kakucho just took her to beat up some random thugs)

Her and Inui hold a lot of respect for each other

Occasionally goes on shopping trips with Koko

If she needs help with her uniform or dressing then she has no problem asking Mitsuya for it, he acts completely natural about it which makes her feel more relaxed when she needs help with adjustments. (Emma is also sometimes around to lend a hand)

Although her and Smiley are on good terms, he'll sometimes blush if she gets too close or hugs him. Angry thinks this is funny

She once complimented Shion's tattoo, he thinks this makes them close friends.

Likes reading manga with Chifuyu

Becomes very close with South (even though he seems to appear after toman) they play fight a lot.

Ran has offered to take her to his hair salon many times, she's always refused.

When she first joined toman, a few of the background guys weren't happy with this so she beat them up then asked if anyone else had a problem with her being here. No one stepped forward.

She likes the mizo mid members and thinks they're pretty funny (they were acting strangely when they first met her, mainly because they were holding their breaths and hoping Makoto wouldn't say anything weird. Especially since Sanzu was watching them the whole time).

Izana cheers for Senju anytime she challenges Mikey

If Pah needs someone to walk Pochi, he knows Senju is always willing to help out (she loves dogs)

One time when Peh wanted to talk to Mitsuya during handcrafts club time, he took Senju with him and told her to distract Yasuda with "girl stuff". It backfired pretty badly though when they started talking about embarrassing things Peh had done.

Senju is amazed at how much corn Mochi can eat, she thinks it's cool

Senju once found Kisaki asleep at a meeting so she snuck his glasses away, put them on and then did her best kisaki impression. Kisaki was not impressed.