#what a massive waste of an afternoon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tobereadindiapers-again · 5 months

Text

The Nurse pt. 2

That night was one of the loneliest of your life. You spent most of it tossing and turning, and trying not to imagine all of the horrible ways your life had changed in an afternoon. How would you hide your diapers? How would you manage your changes? What would your friends and family think? What about women? What would they think of you. Wrapped in your smelly, wet diaper all day, every day. Would they think of you at all any more? You tried to keep that pitiful look Sarah had given you out of your mind, until you were nearly crazy with anxiety, fear, and exhaustion. Is that the only way women would look at you now? Sad, half masked pity.

Every time you felt your eyes close heavy with the promise of sleep, a small warm trickle snapped you back to waking. You spent the dark hours of the early morning straining with all of your might to stop the steady drip, drip, drip of urine into your diaper, but to no avail. It made you furious. You wanted nothing more than to stand up and rip the damn thing off and hurl it at the wall. This whole situation was infuriating! Unfair. Pathetic.

Finally you focused your mind on the muffled hustle and bustle of the hospital hallway outside your doors. The scurrying feet of hospital staff, the wherrs and beeps of the hospital machines, the hushed voices of night shift nurses outside your door. You wondered absently where Sarah was now.

You awoke abruptly to a clatter outside your room. People talked in hurried voices, and you heard scrapes and clanging as whatever fumbled hospital gear was quickly gathered back up.

You rolled over to face away from the door, and were immediately reminded of your new condition. The sagging, bulging diaper between your legs crinkled louder than the plastic hospital bedding. Its massive bulk felt foreign between your thighs, and your most intimate area felt slick, damp and clammy. Worst of all, you felt a horrid sticky, slippery mess between your cheeks as you rotated. It clung tight to your ass and shifted in the seat of your diaper as you rolled. Without thinking you reached down and grabbed at your ass in a panic. Your hands came into contact with the seat of your diaper far sooner than you expected and you felt the luke warm mass press into your ass, spreading into every little crevice it hadn't already occupied. The pressure from your hand emptied the diaper of air, pushing it out the back of the diaper waste-band to fill the tiny hospital room. You nearly gaged as the putrid smell of human excrement, mingled with the sweet aroma of baby powder, filled your nose. You wretched fully at the realization that your entire midsection was now smeared in your own shit. You began to pull desperately at the seat of your diaper, hoping to put some room between your ass and the sticky cake of mud you had produced in the night. But your diaper was too snug, or too full, and each attempt only kneaded the mass within the diaper producing a sickening squelchy feeling against your backside. You wrenched again.

"Knock knock." You heard a soft voice whisper as the door to your room slowly creaked opened.

Fast as you could manage, you rolled back onto your backside, stiff as a board, clutching at your bedding covers and pulling them tight up to your chin. You were almost in too much of a panic to fully register the sickening feeling of excrement reforming itself to your movement, filling the space between your legs and pressing itself tight to the back of your hairless balls. Almost.

You tucked the covers in under your legs hoping against hope that you could contain your stench beneath. You looked up to see Sarah, closing the door behind her, a small plastic tray held high in her hand, as if she were waiting tables, a bundle of clothes was tucked under her other arm.

"Hey Matt! How'd you sleep? Are you ready for breakfast?" She asked, with more cheer than you had anticipated from a nurse at the end of a double night shift.

"Ughhh yeah, sure thing. I slept great! Thank you... uh Sarah! You can umm. Just leave all that there, I'll get it in a bit." You stammered with more cheer than someone in your position ever aught to. Maybe, just maybe, you could get her to leave. Maybe you could avoid a humiliation ten times worse than you had suffered the previous night. Maybe you could save this poor, beautiful woman the indignity of scraping human shit out of your useless, weak, mess of an asshole. You had to try. For both your sakes.

"Well I'm glad you were able to catch some sleep in this noisy place. I'm jealous. I hate working nights. I'm so ridiculously tired." She said.

You could believe it. She looked beat, and it seemed her chipper air of professionalism had tarnished somewhat over the course of the night.

"So," she continued, "I'm happy to leave these here," she indicated a tray of breakfast foods, and the bundle you now recognized as the clothes you wore in when you were first admitted yesterday morning, "but... I can't leave without giving you your final examination to clear you for discharge."

"Oh. Yeah, I uh, I forgot." You were leaving. You had almost forgotten.

It hadn't even been 24 hours since you were put under for your 'routine procedure' yet it felt a lifetime. So much had changed in so little time. It all felt so... unceremonious. 'Sorry we fucked up your life, bye-bye now'. You felt a flash of hot rage cross your face at the thought.

"What? You'd rather stay another night?" Sarah said, raising an eyebrow in jest.

"Ha" you laughed reflexively. It was so hard to concentrate on anything other than the messy diaper between your legs. She seemed... blurry, far away in comparison. Like your mind was trying to block her out. "No, no. I just. You know, I feel fine. Other than... you know." You nod down to indicate the hidden shame you both know was there."

"Yeah. I guess that's definitely going to take some... getting used to, huh?" She said.

"I guess." You said, unable to meet her eyes.

"Well, would you like to have your breakfast first? Or should we get you out of here?"

The thought of eating breakfast while wearing a diaper full of your own shit nearly made you wretch for a third time. But you were still determined to get out of here with some tiny, imperceptible, shed of your dignity intact. She would NOT be changing your messy diaper, not if you could help it.

"You know, I'm actually not all that hungry. Let's get checked out."

"Ok! Would you mind sitting up for me? I just need to give you a final once over, then we can get you changed, and if everything looks good we can get you checked out!"

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat up to face Sarah. Big mistake. Your full weight was now perched atop your messy diaper, you could feel the mass inside spread to every remaining unsoiled bit of skin it could contact. You squirmed uncomfortably but the mess persisted.

"Changed? I um, I'm actually pretty good I think."

Sarah pulled a stool up in front of you and slid a blood pressure cuff over your arm.

"Matt, come on. You know it's hospital policy." She said as she began to pump up the sleeve.

"No, I know. It's just, I don't think I need one is all. It can wait until I get home." You said, glancing down at the surprisingly massive bulge of diaper protruding from between your legs. The thin hospital gown did practically nothing to conceal it, and you sheepishly tugged at the gown to better hide the obvious.

"Your blood pressure is a little high." She said absentmindedly.

"Might be I'm a bit nervous..." you said, trying to crack a half grin.

Sarah looked at you. Exhaustion in her eyes. "I'll tell you what." She said smiling up at you. "I just worked a brutal ten hour overnight, and I can't tell if I'm more hungry or tired. After I'm done here, you can change yourself...."

You couldn't believe how happy you were to hear you could change your own diaper. The thought both excited and depressed you.

"... under my observation." Sarah finished sternly.

You were about to protest this humiliating condition but she cut you off.

Sarah softened her tone, "Look, I'm going to level with you. I know this is embarrassing for you, but for me it's just another Tuesday. You're my last patient, and then I'm out of here. But I'll be honest, I'm not exactly thrilled at the thought of finishing this awful shift changing your messy brief. But i'm not going to finish it getting chewed out by my boss either. So, I'll stay here with you and guide you through it, or we can both suck it up and I can change you. What do you say?"

'Soiled brief' she had said. She knew you had messed yourself in the night. She knew you had pooped your diaper, and were wearing it right here in front of her. 'Of course she did' you thought, 'how could she not?'

"Okay." You said, wishing you could shrink into the floor.

"Deal." She said offering her hand. You shook it loosely, feeling a strange excitement at her touch. You were embarrassed that you could only bring yourself to meet her eyes for an instant before glancing away.

"Now just a few more things." She said pulling on some nitrile gloves.

She had you lean forward, and she examined your back, pressing on different areas and inquiring about the pain level. If she hadn't known you'd shit your diapers before, she definitely would now, with the whole backside on display. She repeated the tests on your front, even pressing in on the diaper under your gown, by your abdomen. She checked reflexes, the sensation in your feet, and a half dozen other things, scribbling in your chart between procedures. Finally she seemed satisfied.

"Alright Matt, that's it! You'll be happy to hear that for the most part your procedure was a success. You're in very good health. I've scheduled you for a follow up in 6 months, and other than that, let's get you changed and get you out of here!"

'The procedure was a success!?!' You thought. You nearly screamed it. For an instant you were FURIOUS at Sarah. How could she even say that with a straight face. You were practically an invalid. Wrapped in a diaper filled with your own piss and shit. And expected to go on living that way. How dare she!

"Hey Matt?" You looked up at her, practically seething, "I hate to ask this, but... are you really not going to eat that?" She asked pointing at the trey of eggs and toast.

Your anger faded. It wasn't her fault you were like this. She didn't fuck up the surgery, she didn't sign the dotted line below the list of possible surgical complications. She was just a tired young nurse, trying to do her job.

You glanced at the plate of runny eggs, and failed not to think of the consistency of the mess in your diaper.

"Go ahead." You said. Unsure of how ANYONE could eat at a time like this.

"Oh my god, thank you so much. I am starving. The supplies you need are all there under your bed there." She said sitting on the vacant bed in the room and helping her self to the tray. She really did seem to have checked out early you thought.

Slowly, you rose to your feet, feeling the weight of the mess in your diaper shift down between your legs. You felt the full weight of your diaper on your hips for the first time, pulling you down under its own gravity now. You bent down awkwardly to retrieve your supplies, trying not to turn your back to Sarah, and expose your shame.

Once you had gathered everything on your bed she spoke up.

"Ok, first things first." She said in between hurried mouth fulls of egg. "Feel the front of the brief there. See how soft and soggy it feels? I mean, this brief DEFINITELY needs a change, but just pretend, that softness is a pretty good way to tell it's time."

"Ok..." you said awkwardly prodding your diaper beneath your gown. "So do I just lay down?"

"Well, the incontinent parents I work with seem to prefer changing their soiled diapers standing... Opp... I'm sorry. I hope you don't mind me calling them diapers. I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.." she had almost finished her breakfast, you felt like you were about to loose yours.

"No... it's whatever. That's... what they are isn't it?"

"I know, I know. It's just, well we're trained to use the term 'brief' is all. I guess some people find it less..."

"Degrading?" You offered. Sarah blushed and made a sad face. "It's fine." You offered. "It's what they are."

A painfully awkward silence stilled the room for a moment.

Mercifully, Sarah broke it "Anyway, like I was saying. The incontinent people I work with, the ones who are capable of standing on their own anyway, often prefer to change their messy diapers, or briefs, or whatever you want to call them, from the standing position. I think it makes it easier to clean yourself up, but that's totally up to you."

"Ok." It occurred to you suddenly that you had absolutely no idea how to do this. "So just here then?" You asked standing across from her on the far side of the room.

"Yeah, wherever. Oh wait! Don't forget to prep your new diaper, remember?"

You could feel your face turning red as you waddled back to the bed and unfolded your next diaper in front of her. The damn thing was massive, and so so loud.

"And fluff it." She added.

"Like this?" You asked crumpling the diaper back and forth in your hands. You felt like a child, worse than a child. Children didn't wear diapers.

"Yep! That's right. Just break up that padding a bit."

You laid the diaper on the foot of the bed and turned to face Sarah, using your gown to shield your shame as best you could. You could feel your knees shaking as if they were about to give out.

"So now I just... take it off?" You asked.

"Yeah, whenever you're ready... oh wait.." she said, stuffing the last bit of toast in her mouth and placing the empty tray down beside her.

You still couldn't understand how someone could eat in a situation like this. Perhaps she really was just THAT numb to it all. You wondered when that would happen to you, now that this was your life.

"Now I know you don't want to hear this, but this whole thing is going to be way easier for you if you take that gown off."

"What? Why? I'd, rather not if that's ok." Was she trying to humiliate you.

"That's fine by me. I just think it's going to get in your way is all." She said matter-of-factly.

"I'll leave it on." You said, upset to feel the sting of tears on the back of your eyes return now that the moment of truth had come.

You were surprised to realize how much your hands were shaking as you fumbled at the tabs of your sodden diaper. Finally you found purchase and ripped. The sound felt deafening in that tiny room. One, two, three, humiliating rips, and with the final pull you felt the diaper come loose from your body. You caught it awkwardly before it could fall fully under its own weight, and were mortified to feel how much of your own mess still clung to your ass. Worse yet, the putrid smell in the room seemed to double maybe even triple. You felt the tears well in your eyes now, and were unsure if it was from the smell, or from your abject humiliation.

You knelt slowly to lower the horrid thing onto the ground between your feet. Gingerly you began to roll it up, eager to again trap as much of the smell within as you could.

"Wait, wait, no. Leave it open. You'll put your used wipes in there, then close it all up when you're done." Sarah said hastily.

In a state of panic at the sad state of affairs, you slowly righted yourself, and reached to the bed beside you for a wipe. In your haste you lost track of where your gown was, and felt it tug at your neck as it dragged across the open diaper of muck between your feet. You saw the bottom was immediately spoiled, and pulled the first wipe to try and clean it. It swung back as you moved and slapped your leg, marking it with brown. Fully panicking now, you stooped to wipe your ankle, fully draping the gown into the diaper mess.

"Woah, woah, hey." Her voice was gentle. "Take your time. Breathe. You don't have to do this all in under a minute."

Your first tear fell. It landed on the floor just beside your used diaper. Without looking up at Sarah, you took a deep breath, and removed the gown. Soiled as it was, you let it fall to your feet. You stood now before her, completely nude, caked in shit, with your used diaper between your feet and tears in your eyes.

"Just start cleaning up." She said gently. "The hard part is over."

You were afraid to speak, less you start crying. You looked down at the disgusting mess at your feet, and at your nudity. You had forgotten you were completely bare down there. Your own genitals looked foreign to you. Smooth, and glistening wet with piss. You raised your head, and saw her.

She sat patiently on the bed across from you, hands crossed neatly in her lap, her face an absolute study of the word pity. She nodded gently.

You reached for another wipe. You reached it back behind yourself and started to clean. The first wipe came away with nearly a full fist of excrement. You let it fall into the diaper below you. The second wipe was just as filthy. As was the third, and the fourth. You continued to wipe yourself for what felt to be ages. Each time some area seemed to be clean another area was found that seemed untouched. Your back began and thighs began to hurt with the strain as you squatted over the growing pile of dirty wipes. Pee dribbled from your penis as you continued to wipe, missing the diaper completely, and splattering on the ground around it.

"What the fuck." You whispered to yourself. "What the fuck." You repeated quietly in between wipes. What had you become? Just a day ago you were a strong independent man. Now you were this... this thing. Hairless, and helpless in all of the most vulnerable ways. More pee fell from your dick, you tried to reposition yourself over the spent diaper, but most still missed. You were crying now.

"Do you... want me to help?" Sarah asked quietly

"No. No, i can do it." You spat with more frustration than you had intended. You could do it. You could change your own messy diaper, and she would watch, with that same heart wrenching look of pity and disgust.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the wipes were coming back more clean than dirty. But you didn't feel clean. You had shit smeared across the back of your wiping hand, as you had forgotten your gloves, and you were still coming back with streaks of brown on rags as you struggled to clean your hairless balls. You wondered absently if you would ever feel clean again. Finally, at long last, you were 'satisfied' that you had gotten it all off of yourself. The dirty diaper beneath you was piled so high with dirty wet wipes you doubted you would be able to close it. You used the final wipe to clean off you hands and threw it in the pile. You stooped to roll up the diaper at last.

"How about we just get you in your fresh diaper first? Just in case you have anymore accidents on the floor." Sarah suggested mildly.

You wiped your eyes with your forearm, careful not to touch your face with your hands and examined the damage. You had made a terrible mess. The shit filled diaper, soiled gown, and wayward used wipes, laid in a small puddle of urine. It dawned on you Sarah would have to clean that up as her last act of the day.

"Yeah. Sorry Sarah." You sniffled as you walked over to the open diaper on the bed and played down on it.

Eager to end this humiliation and get the fuck out of there you reached for the powder, but were reminded promptly to complete all the steps.

Better late than never, you dawned a single purple glove and squeezed barrier cream onto your index finger. Trying your best to block out the beautiful nurse in the corner of your eye, you started fingering your asshole with the ointment. It was strange, to say the least, to have lost so much dignity so quickly. You could feel through your glove the tone of your asshole. It felt the same to your finger as you expected it to, you had never had to finger your ass hole much before, but you thought absently that your asshole felt differently, that it didn't feel your finger as you thought it should. Having adequately covered yourself in the sticky, slippery jell, you opened the baby oil and spritzed your cold naked pubic area. Sarah watched wordlessly. Finally the time had come. You were nearly there. You almost looked forward to it, as it signified the end of your ordeals. You opened the baby powder and poured it liberally over your pathetic member, which lulled listlessly in response, releasing another small stream of urine to trickle down your freshly cleaned ball sack and into your diaper. You lifted your legs over your head like a baby on a changing table and covered your ass. Then without bothering to close the bottle you pulled the diaper up over your privates. Were they even 'privates' any more? Were they even YOURS for that matter? You share as shit didn't have any control of them. They were now just filthy, leaky things to you now.

Finally hidden from the watchful eye of you observer you breathed a sigh of relief. It was sad to think that being wrapped in a fresh white diaper in front of a beautiful woman was a relief to you now. It was still humiliating, but it wasn't that.

Sarah stood and walked over beside your bed.

"Here, this parts tricky. Let me help." She held your hand as you held the diaper tapes and guided it into the correct position. Her touch felt nearly angelic. A caring, gentle touch in a time you had felt so unlovable. She didn't shy away, or make any indication that she had been disturbed by the whole pathetic disgusting act. She simply helped you tape on your diaper. Then she handed you your clothes

"Here. You get dressed. I'll clean this up."

"No, I can do that."

"It's my job Matt, I don't mind."

You couldn't watch as she pulled on her gloves and fell to her knees to began the work of cleaning up your shame. Instead you pulled on your boxers in a hurry, and found they did nothing to cover the diaper waste-band or conceal the bulge. Are you even supposed to wear boxers now? You didn't ask, but quickly pulled on your pants. Anything to cover this fucking thing. To your dismay, your pants felt about two sizes two small. You had to struggle and shift to pull the back over the puffy ass of your new underwear. Your quiet grunting was accompanied by loud obnoxious crinkles the entire time. Ones up around your waist, you then hade to fight the zipper, pushing down on the crotch of your diaper just to get it closed. The resulting look would have been comical if it weren't that YOU were the one wearing it. Your crotch bulged out unnaturally, and you could only guess what your ass looked like. A ring of blinding white plastic ringed your torso around your belt, making it perfectly clear to any and all that you were wearing a diaper. You threw on your t-shirt just as Sarah finished dumping the last of your mess in the bin by the door and tying the bag closed tight.

She turned around and took a long look at you.

"Feeling better?" She asked.

"Uhh." What could you say? "Yeah. Thank you."

"Good! You look better! You're a pretty handsome man Matt." She said with a smile.

"Oh, yeah. Thank you." You felt like you were being talked down to by an elder, rather than genuinely complemented by a beautiful woman.

"Well. Let's get out of here shall we? You'll want to meet up with reception. They're down the hall on the left. They'll get you sorted with your supplies and prescriptions." She said opening the door. "And Matt, you're going to be fine. The first diaper change is always the worst. Eventually it'll become second nature, and you won't even think about it. So stay positive, ok? Maybe I'll see you around sometime."

You shook hands in the hallway. You couldn't find the words to say goodbye. Just a single nod. And she was gone.

"Eventually you'll get used to it." She had said. It dawned on you this wasn't some horrible event that only happened to you that one time. This was your life now. THAT is how you go to the bathroom now. THAT is something you will do every single day. You piss and shit in your diapers now, and you always will.

You turned and headed down the hall. You didn't even try to hide your awkward diaper waddle. You couldn't if you tried.

"This is your life now". You thought, as warm urine flooded the puffy plastic padding between your legs. "And you'd better get used to it."

If you enjoyed this story, please consider submitting more photos of "the nurse". Anything will do. I have one or two more myself but nothing I can work with at the moment. So please help.

hope you enjoyed.

thank you.

#ab/dl relationship #ab/dl fiction #diapered #diaperhumiliation #incontinence #incontinent #diaper bulge #diaper captions #ab/dl #diaper dependent #ai art #ai girl

206 notes · View notes

show-your-fangs · 1 year

Text

Swimming Pool ✿ Aaron Hotchner

We Shouldn't (And Yet We Do) - Part One

Pairing: DBF!Hotch x f!Reader

Words: 12.6k

CW: 18+, NSFW, mdni, smut, a little angst and so much fluff.

Summary: You return home for the summer because of your parents’ drama but luckily for you, your father’s friend, Mr. Hotchner, is there to bring you some much needed comfort.

Tags/warnings: shitty family life, age gap relationship (reader is 20, Hotch is 40), teasing, groping, perv!hotch, inappropriate thoughts and behavior, grinding, daddy kink bc fuck you, fingering (f receiving), protected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it or at least make sure you talk it over with your partner and get tested!).

a/n: Thank you so much to @canuck-eh for writing Loose Morals and reigniting my passion to write this series, and to @xladyxdreamer for putting up with my Moments angst to the point where this series is now my penance for it. Finally, to whoever started the DBF!Hotch train, you are a god and I love you.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

Coming back home in the middle of summer was…a lot. You’d just finished your second year away at college and you weren’t supposed to come back home until Christmas six months later, a compromise you’d agreed to only for your mother. But then she’d called out of the blue, sobbing, hysterical, and you had booked a flight back home to Virginia before she’d even hung up.

When you did finally arrive the morning after, she was much calmer, but the edge in her voice remained and you knew something was wrong. The only problem was that she refused to tell you what it was. It wasn’t until your high school friend took you out to lunch later that she finally clued you in as to what was going on.

Your father had apparently been caught getting busy with another one of the professors at the college he taught at. Someone had taken a…suggestive picture and now everything was in shambles. Well, not everything, mostly just his own marriage. From the little bits of information you were able to string together from your mother, it was clear that he was gaslighting her into believing that the picture was taken out of context and he wasn’t actually having an affair.

It had all blown up in your face about twenty minutes ago. Your house was packed with people, mostly your father’s close friends, colleagues, and their wives. He had decided to host an end of term/start of summer cocktail party to quell whatever doubts lingered amongst his social circles that whatever had or had not been taken didn’t mean anything and his marriage was still going strong. What he hadn’t accounted for, however, was you coming back to make sure your mother was alright.

You’d been holding onto the anger all afternoon as you followed your mother around, yelling and complaining and just desperately trying to reason with her. You’d never been a huge fan of your father. Sure, he’d done the bare minimum to give you life and was now paying for the part of your tuition that wasn’t covered by all the scholarships you’d gotten so that you didn’t have to graduate with massive loans. But aside from the small kindnesses he awarded you every so often, your relationship was nonexistent.

It was almost as if he’d predicted your mood because he didn’t arrive at the house until the party was minutes from starting. You had thought about leaving, about going out and getting wasted with your high school friends, but before you could even tell your mother you were going out, you found her crying in the master bedroom. And just like that you were back to seeing red.

The door swung open and you practically stormed towards it like a woman possessed.

“We need to talk,” you started. “No, let me rephrase, I need to scream at you and you’re going to listen—”

“Honey,” your father said sternly, opening the door fully. “Do not be rude to Aaron, say hello.”

Shame hit you like a bus as Mr. Hotchner came into focus behind your father. Fuck, he was good. It was eerie how clever your father could be when he didn’t want to be told off, when he knew that he’d done something wrong and instead of owning up to it he’d do everything in his power to avoid talking about it.

“Hi, Mr. Hotchner,” you managed through gritted teeth as your father walked past you and into the kitchen.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he replied, an amused smile on his lips. “I didn’t know you were coming back for summer break.”

“I’m not,” you tried to keep your voice steady. He must’ve known why you were angry, why the sudden outburst, but he didn’t reply, he simply nodded, lips in a thin line, trying to look anywhere but you.

“Well,” he broke the short silence. “I better put this on ice.”

He held out a bottle of Scotch he’d presumably brought over from his own house next door and walked after your father. You stood alone at the open door, the freedom of the night away from the exhaustion of fighting against your parents alluring. And yet you couldn’t seem to walk out, couldn’t seem to will your legs to move you in the direction of the rational choice.

Your heart was beating unbearably fast, and it wasn’t because of whatever was happening between your parents. No, it had everything to do with the FBI agent that had just walked into your home and the way he had clearly glanced down at your exposed cleavage before he had to immediately shift his gaze to anything else.

Aaron didn’t want to leave you there but he truly didn’t have a choice. You were wearing a tight black dress, so tight in fact that he could’ve sworn he saw every curve of your body. What had made it even worse was the way your breasts were practically spilling out of the garment, the trim of your lacy bra peeking around the edges. He’d felt like a teenager all over again, his crotch tightening uncomfortably as he tried his hardest to listen to the words coming out of your mouth to make sure that he responded eloquently.

Your mother had already put out ice buckets and he practically slammed the bottle into an empty one. Was it stupid to chill Scotch? He honestly couldn’t even remember anymore as he desperately wished he could’ve dunk his already hardening erection on the ice as well. He needed to get a grip, needed to calm down, needed to pretend like he hadn’t already seen your body in the many pictures you had posted online in the two years that you’d been gone.

He served himself a double, watching as you left the door wide open and retreated back upstairs. He lingered by the table for a moment, finishing his drink and calming himself down. He’d known you for a little over two years, at least on a first name, dinner at your house every month, type of way. You had just graduated high school when he started teaching part time at the college where your father also taught. The two of them had become fast friends and in the months that followed while you waited out the summer to start classes you had babysat Jack while Aaron was away on cases.

It was wrong and he definitely knew it. But there was something so captivating about you, about your kindness and curiosity and interest in not only his work but in him as a person. You loved getting to know people, getting to share secrets and discuss the root of existence and emotion and life. It was easy to forget that you were this young, your eloquence far higher than most of the adults that had just started shuffling into your home.

He’d filled his glass up once more as your father’s friends and his colleagues arrived. He plastered on a polite smile and greeted everyone as they made their way through the house. The repetitive nature of small talk for the next twenty minutes allowed him to forget about you, calm his body down enough to appear normal, collected.

He had migrated to the backyard with the rest of his colleagues after a while, the men around him engaged in mindless conversation about the break ahead, their vacation plans, and anything that wasn’t about the elephant in the room, because he knew, they all knew, that your father had clearly been caught redhanded and if they didn’t get their wives to agree that he was nothing more than a victim, they could be taken down next.

You waited until the backyard was packed with people before you emerged from your room. If your father didn’t want his friends gossiping about his affair tonight then you’d give them something else to talk about. And what better thing to gossip about than your father’s college age daughter practically displaying her body for all of his married friends and their wives.

Wearing that skimpy thing that did nothing to cover you up could only mean one thing – you were trying to get back at your father. Aaron couldn’t help but almost choke on his drink as he watched you saunter back out of the house. His ears began ringing loudly as you swayed your hips, clearly asking for attention. You walked right up to the edge of the pool and dove in without so much as a single word, the stark contrast between the cocktail party and your rebellious, summer blowout attitude jarring.

He couldn’t help but notice your father’s absence back out in the courtyard, your mother also conveniently nowhere to be seen. He could only assume that she was either consoling his poor, broken ego or sucking him off inside. Either outcome made him feel incredibly bad for you, bad that you had to come back home to rumors of your father’s infidelity and your mother’s complete denial of it.

While she was working overtime trying to fix a one sided relationship, you were determined to lash out against it in the most childish way you could possibly think of, and that unfortunately meant parading around your backyard filled with middle aged men in practically nothing.

Well, fortunate for him because he got to see the way your nipples hardened against the sheer fabric the second you stepped out into the cold night air, got to marvel at way your waist dipped into your full hips, the plush muscle begging to be squeezed tightly, got to catch the faintest glance at the outline of your pussy against the red material. It was unfortunate because he knew he wasn’t the only one staring at you and he had to bite his tongue as he began to hear the men around him murmur about your body.

He wanted to step up and use his own frame to shield you from them, to hide you away from their practically salivating stares. But instead he simply took a sip of his drink and allowed himself to watch you like a hawk, to silently guard, determined to step in if any of them actually decided to turn their thoughts into action. Because even then he couldn’t help but feel protective of you.

Your father came barrelling out of the house mere minutes later, your mother practically running to catch up and stop him. He was about to blow up, about to make a scene, one that you were eagerly waiting for when her hand landed on his chest and he seemingly remembered where he was and who he was surrounded by. He instantly relaxed his face and Aaron couldn’t help but take a step forward, tense and ready to fight him.

“Honey,” your mother spoke instead, layering the guilt on thick. “Please get out of the pool, I don’t want you catching a cold.”

Aaron set his glass down and walked over to the little hamper by the grill, expertly fishing out a large towel. He could feel everyone else start to notice that he’d moved, that he was inserting himself into something that clearly had nothing to do with him. But it didn’t matter the second that your round, hurt, expressive eyes met his. His gaze softened, just for you, to let you know that you didn’t want to make this any worse than it already was. And for the first time ever, you listened to him.

Your mother thanked him as he walked around them, towel extended in his hands for you to simply curl yourself into it. He could tell your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and when he draped the fabric over your shivering body, he could smell the faint, lingering scent of alcohol on your breath. He sighed deeply, just for himself and you followed suit, taking the moment to compose yourself.

“Thank you,” you whispered, delicate fingers taking the towel from him and wrapping it around yourself, terrified of what your reaction would be if you’d let him do it for you. You were back inside the house in seconds, the party resuming quickly as your parents started their rounds of greetings and small talk. He lingered by the pool for a few minutes, not wanting to be incredibly obvious about following you inside.

He told himself that he only wanted to make sure you were alright, that there was nothing wrong with being concerned for you after what had just happened. And so when the waiters began to pass out hors d'oeuvres, he took advantage of the distraction and slipped back into the house.

“Sweetheart?” he whispered loudly as he willed the wood beneath his feet not to creak loudly against the final step of the staircase. “Are you alright?”

The second floor was deserted, terrifyingly quiet and dark. He noticed the light was on in your bathroom across the hall from your room and he approached. The second his shadow landed over the wood, the door swung wide open, greedy hands grabbing a hold of his shirt and pulling him into the small room.

“I need you,” you slurred, your hands sliding down towards his belt, trembling fingers struggling with the silver buckle. He couldn’t stop the groan that erupted from his throat, the sounds spurring you on.

He was so distracted by the thrill, the shock and surprise of your neediness, of your clear desire for him that his brain short circuited for a second, lost to the sensations he’d been craving from you for years.

You’d never done anything like this before, never even flirted with each other as far as he was concerned since he made sure to watch his words around you, only allowing himself one thing, to call you sweetheart. Which could only indicate that your sudden boldness meant that you’d thought about this just as much as he had, that you’d caught him staring at you with hunger in his eyes just like he’d caught you staring at him with danger in yours.

“Sweetheart,” he said bluntly, trying to use his words before he was forced to use his hands to stop you. “You’ve had a lot to drink,” you scoffed. “You’re upset,” your hand squeezed over the outline of his cock and it took everything in him to not let out a single sound. That seemed to do the trick as your confident demeanor slipped away and the terrified girl desperately trying to hide resurfaced.

Tears laced your eyes, your chest began to shake, your hands trembled, slowly slipping away from his body. He scooped them both up in his warm, large palms, bending your arms over your chest before pressing you tightly to his. You began to sob then and it broke Aaron’s heart. Your face landed over his frantically beating heart. If you noticed through your tears you made no effort to comment on it. He held you like that for a while, not caring at all that his clothes were definitely wet now.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, arms crossing over your chest in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up now that you were clearly not going to get what you’d wanted only seconds before. He crouched down and picked up the towel off the floor, this time making it a point to drape it over you and wrap you tightly in it. You felt like a child, a dumb, stupid child that had just thrown a tantrum and had been scolded. It was humiliating.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he assured you, allowing himself to talk down to you just a little. His heart was still racing, his mind even more so now as he realized that the barrier that he’d put up between the two of you all those years ago had just been shattered into a million pieces. “Why don’t you take a shower and get some sleep?”

You nodded, refusing to look him in the eyes. But he would not have it. He hooked a finger under your chin, gently yet forcefully, pulling your gaze up to meet his. His thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly without him doing anything to you.

“Good girl,” he hummed and you practically whimpered, your thighs pressing together. The side of his mouth curled into the tiniest of smirks before he removed his hand from your body completely and walked out the door, leaving you alone in your bathroom with a fire burning in your chest.

You were unsure when the decision had been made, but you’d awoken the next day to a letter from your mother on the kitchen counter, the house spotless as the cleaning crew she’d hired probably went through it the night before. Your parents were gone for the rest of the summer, apparently one of your father’s friends had a timeshare at some resort in Italy and they were able to squeeze your parents into their trip last minute.

You released a sigh you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The memories of the events of the night before had been washing over you in powerful, drowning waves ever since you opened your eyes fifteen minutes ago. You regretted at least ninety percent of your actions, having been so wrapped up in getting back at your father that you had completely forgotten that your actions would also affect your mother. The look of disappointment, of complete and utter shame and embarrassment that had taken over her face as she spoke to you haunting, especially now in the brightness of the day.

And then there was Mr. Hotchner. Fuck, you cringed every time you remembered what you’d done, how you’d come onto him so pathetically. You couldn’t deny the rejection didn’t hurt but he had been right. You were upset, unbelievably so, and it would’ve stung even more to think of your first time with him to have been because you were trying to make your father angry, not because you actually wanted to sleep with him.

And oh boy did you want to.

As much as Freud was an idiot, you were very aware after two years of your psychology degree that your attraction to older men had everything to do with your need to seek the approval your father denied you from your romantic partners.

You’d had a very childish crush on Mr. Hotchner for years. It was silly, something that kept your pussy wet at night and made your friends giggle whenever you told them about the hot neighbor that you used to babysit for. But you knew he was unattainable. You could never have him, and sadly, that only made you want him even more.

In an act of defiance you hadn’t done what he’d told you to do the night before. Instead you took off the remaining pieces of clothing you still had on and tossed them into your shower before you walked across the hall to your room, pulled out the shitty bullet vibrator you’d left behind two years ago, and desperately tried to get yourself off. To say you’d been unsuccessful, your fingers and the weak device never even coming close to what you truly desired, what you needed.

That had only made you angrier, angrier at yourself, angrier at him. By the time you had drank your first cup of coffee all of your embarrassment had washed away into cold, seething irritation. He clearly wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You definitely hadn’t imagined the way he responded to your touch, the way he’d groaned in response. And that was the problem. He’d been holding himself back, whatever friendly relationship the two of you had built, one that you regarded as honest and sincere nothing more than a facade he’d concocted to keep you at arm’s length.

You grabbed a pair of sunglasses that your mother must’ve left on the kitchen counter and placed them over your eyes before walking back out to your backward. You were aware that there was a specific spot in front of the sliding doors that he could see from his house next door. You’d noticed it when you were babysitting one time, the thrill that he could’ve seen you in your bikini at some point that summer driving you insane.

You didn’t want to be at arm’s length anymore. You refused to let whatever fears you were holding onto because of his relationship with your father to stop you from going after what you’d wanted for so long.

You dragged a lounge chair over to that exact spot, the blaring sun perfectly over it as the excuse you needed in case he brought up your pathetic ploy. Once you were satisfied with your placement you shrugged off the robe you’d been wearing, the fabric falling off your shoulders and pooling around your feet in an instant to reveal absolutely nothing covering your body.

You’d fallen asleep at some point, completely naked and aggravated. You made sure to take your time getting into a comfortable position over the chair, chest out, legs curled suggestively, putting all of your assets on display. With the bait set, it was now a matter of waiting for him to bite.

You heard him yell your name across your house about ten minutes later. It didn’t surprise you that he had his own set of keys, your stomach already twisting in anticipation and excitement at just how easy it had been to get him exactly where you wanted him.

“Are you decent?” he asked with a smirk in his voice. He knew you weren’t. “Jack is here with me.”

You practically leapt off the chair, frantically picking up the robe and putting it on as the two of them walked out onto the backyard. Jack said your name then, chipper and excited, immediately melting away any ice left behind. You turned around just in time for the boy to wrap himself around your legs, squeezing you into a tight hug which you reciprocated, pulling him up to sit on your hip.

“Hi, angel,” you greeted the boy. “How’s summer treating you?”

“Hot,” he replied, trying to push himself away from you. You couldn’t help but laugh, setting him back down in the shade. “Can we swim in your pool?”

“Of course you can!” you replied. “Do you mind if I join you?”

The boy’s eyes practically widened out of his head in joy, turning back to his dad with just an unbelievable amount of energy.

“Not at all,” Mr. Hotchner replied for him and you shot him a smile before you excused yourself to go change into something kid appropriate.

To say that he’d seen your little display was an understatement. He’d been sitting on his desk in his home office, finalizing his weekly schedule with Jessica when he saw you step out. He knew, after much trial and error, that you couldn’t see him from this angle, and so he made no effort to move to get a better look.

And then you took off your robe and he was abruptly presented with your naked body. His mouth went dry in an instant, his pupils dilated, his heart pounded against his chest. It took him a full minute to realize that Jessica was trying to get his attention before his brain reconnected with his body and he asked her to repeat herself.

Five minutes later he was hanging up the call and rushing down the hall to ask Jack if he wanted to go swimming. The boy practically leapt to his feet, running across his room to get himself ready. They didn’t have a pool at their house, so your mother had generously let them use theirs after you went away for college. She’d even gotten them key to the house and sent him the alarm code every time they changed it just in case.

Aaron changed into his swimsuit in record time, practically tripping as he ran back and forth, all over the house, looking for the many, many toys that Jack definitely needed to stay distracted for the next few hours. As much as he wanted to walk over alone, find you naked and eager for him, fuck you on the lounge chair and then probably inside the pool to cool off, he couldn’t leave Jack behind, he wouldn’t leave Jack behind because he didn’t want you to know just how much you had affected him.

This was a power move, one that he had fallen for instantly. What he needed to do was not give in, not give you what you wanted, continue to frustrate you, to tease you until you couldn’t take it anymore, all because he wanted to remind you that he held all the cards, that he was the one calling the shots, that he would be the one on top while you writhed in pleasure beneath him.

You returned a few minutes later in a plain black one piece. To say he was disappointed was an understatement, but he admired your decorum while you were around Jack. It was like a flip had switched, eyes clouded with lust and desire clearing away to joy and excitement to spend your day with a hyperactive kid instead of lazily sunbathing your troubles away.

You handed Mr. Hotchner a bottle of sunscreen, having specifically chosen the cream kind instead of the spray so that he’d be forced to touch you when you asked, “Would you mind getting my back?”

He looked up at you with the same eyes from last night and you were surprised your knees didn’t buckle. He looked at Jack then to make sure the boy was adequately engrossed in his toys, clearly deciding which ones he was going to play with first, before he opened the bottle and squirted some of the cream into his palm.

“On my lap,” he ordered, low and just for you to hear. Your eyes immediately darkened and he smirked knowingly. You rolled your eyes then, reminding yourself that today was just playful after all.

You stepped forward towards his opened legs and prettily sat yourself down on his thigh, your back to him. You’d already put your hair up so he went right in. His warm, sticky palms landed on the sides of your neck first, slowly sliding down your shoulders before they returned to the center and then slid down your exposed back. While you couldn’t wear the skimpy, barely there suit you wanted, you’d still chosen something that gave him a subtle peek of your body.

He continued his movements, unapologetically taking his time, dragging his touches, lingering over your neck and putting pressure around it. You shivered under his hands, your ass unconsciously grinding down on his leg.

“Be a good girl and stay still,” he purred in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You stilled immediately, his fingers squeezing around your neck softly in reward. “All done.”

Your brain processed the words and yet you made no effort to stand up, and he made no effort to make you. His hands grazed down your arms, the backs of his fingers practically leaving feather light kisses on your skin until they landed on your hips. He gave your love handles a squeeze before he let his hands settle over your lap, leaning down to rest his chin on the crook of your neck.

The gesture itself had been so casual yet unbearably intimate that you didn’t notice you’d stopped breathing until your lungs started to burn. You inhaled sharply, your entire body shivering as you tried to keep the panting at bay.

“You say the word and I’ll stop, sweetheart,” he whispered against your neck, gentle and kind, his tone meant to reassure you that you still had power. You nodded and he pressed a kiss below your ear, making you shudder once more. “So responsive for me.”

A whine escaped your lips, making Jack turn back to face the two of you. His hands were off you before you could even register, your own body reacting instinctively as you shot up to your feet.

“Ready to get in the water?” you managed, flashing the boy a bright smile. He nodded enthusiastically, picking up a few of his diving toys in one hand before taking your outstretched hand with his other one. He diligently led you to the shallow end of the pool and Aaron watched as you both threw the little fishes into the deep end, giggling as Jack tried to toss them farther than you.

He took a moment to compose himself, a moment to shift the material of his swim suit to try and hide the evidence of his arousal. He hated how easy it was for him to come undone around you, how you had him wrapped around your finger and could get him hard by simply existing. It made him feel young again, his libido higher than it’d been in years, and it was all because of you.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard you and Jack splash against the water. Jack resurfaced first, already panting as he worked overtime to keep himself above water. You appeared then, like a beautiful mermaid coming above water to lure unsuspecting sailors to their deaths. And in that moment Aaron knew that he’d sink to the bottom of the ocean if it meant he could have even a taste of you.

“Daddy!” Jack yelled, getting his attention. “Come into the pool!”

“Yeah, daddy,” you teased. “What are you waiting for?”

All the playfulness drained from his face in a second, making you choke on your own saliva in response before it reappeared as if nothing had happened. Your thighs rubbed together, the knowledge of the effect your words had had on him thrilling.

“Coming buddy,” he replied to the boy, choosing to ignore you as he stood back up, kicking off his flip flops and cannonballing into the pool.

Jack’s laughter brought you back down to reality as the waves his dad had created crashed over you, cooling your overheating face. You watched him resurface at the other end of the pool, one of the fishes you’d thrown under between his fingers.

“One to zero,” he announced playfully and Jack gasped, immediately diving down to gather as many fishes as he could, giving Aaron the perfect pocket of privacy to glance back at you. His face fell into a stern look of warning, daring you to call him that again to see what you could find out.

You smirked back briefly before diving underwater, the mere mention of a challenge overshadowing whatever tension lingered between the two of you.

You grabbed three fishes, swimming across the pool towards him underwater. You made sure Jack was above water before you made your move, fingers wrapping around Mr. Hotchner’s trunks to pull yourself out of the water as you practically climbed him.

You felt him tense against your touch and that made your body flood with warmth once more. You made him feel like this, you made him react like this, you had the same effect on him that he had over you.

Your head pierced the surface and he wasted no time pulling you further out of the water, his arm hooking around your waist again and pressing your hip against his painfully hard erection.

You gasped loudly, nervously looking around and noticing that Jack had thankfully gone back underwater so at the very least he wouldn’t see the euphoric expression on your face.

“Fuck,” you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. “Mr. Hotchner,” you whined and his grip tightened.

For a second you forgot about where you were and the game you were still playing. Your eyes landed on his. They were hazy, glossed over and dangerously close to snapping.

“Address me properly,” he ordered, lifting his knee to slide between your legs and press you further into him. You swallowed a moan, your breathing ragged, your skin unbearably tight over your body.

You opened your mouth to speak but the word was screamed into existence by a voice that wasn’t yours. The two of you turned to face Jack who was eagerly swimming over to where the two of you were. You started to shift uncomfortably, trying to pull away from him, but he kept you in place as if you weren’t caught in a compromising position.

“Did you get tired of swimming?” Jack asked you like this was the most normal thing in the world and you managed a nod. “That’s okay! I get tired sometimes and daddy has to hold me too.”

Your cheeks heated up once more and you thanked every deity out there that the sun was so hot on your skin that the kid didn’t notice a change. Jack reached out and grabbed a hold of his father’s shoulder to keep himself above water before pulling out his other hand from under the water, a fistfull of the colorful fishes in his palm.

“I got six!” he told you and you finally snapped out of your daze, groaning dramatically as you showed him your own loot only being three.

“I demand a rematch!” you told the boy before tossing your fishes back into the pool. He followed your lead and held your stare, the two of you seizing the other up before he got tired of waiting and dove back into the water, his giggles getting swallowed by the water.

“Little cheater!” Aaron let you go then and you followed after the boy. You were so concerned with winning the silly game that you didn’t even notice the dopey smile across his face, one that he couldn’t hide from himself, one that almost made his heart burst with happiness.

You played with the fishies a few more times until Jack was complaining that he was starting to get hungry and the three of you got out of the pool to dry off while Mr. Hotchner ordered lunch.

You reapplied Jack’s sunscreen, placed a hat over his head and a towel over his body before you walked into the house to make a pitcher of lemonade and get some of the fruit your mother had bought a few days ago so that you could snack on it while you waited for the pizza to get there.

You’d cut the lemons and had started squeezing them into the pitcher when his hands wrapped around your waist again, his front pressing against your back forcefully. You ground your ass back into him, never once stopping your task.

“Hi,” he whispered in your ear.

“Hello,” you replied, squeezing a half of a lemon with your hand, too lazy to get something else dirty.

“Thank you for today,” he continued, his hands now slowly running up and down your sides, begging to elicit a reaction from you. “I know it’s not exactly what you planned but Jack is having a lot of fun.”

You hummed in agreement. “I’m having a lot of fun too.”

“Oh, yeah?” he stepped forward, locking you in place between the counter and his chest. “I’m having a lot of fun three.”

You snorted at the insinuation and the terrible joke, and he laughed in return, the two of you devolving into a fit of giggles like you’ve known each other intimately for years. And in a weird, almost strange way, you had. You’ve always had this rapport with him, this deep understanding of each other, mostly because you were both so into the other that you’d actually spent many nights asking questions, eager to know more.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked you once the laughter subsided and your heart started beating rapidly once more.

You immediately twisted around in his grip, holding your hands up and away from him as the juices from the lemons ran down your arms.

“Yes,” you heaved and he didn’t waste another second as he pressed his lips to yours. They were so soft and still warm from the sun still lingering over them, lulling you into a sense of safety. You opened your lips as his hands left your waist and cupped your jaw to press you further into him. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue entered, deepening the kiss into a hungry and desperate mess.

He pulled back so you could breathe after a few more laps and your eyes blinked open, the light reflecting against them and making them shine almost ethereally. He smiled, his thumbs rubbing over your cheeks. You returned the smile, somehow already feeling warm and fuzzy from just a kiss. He leaned in again, his nose playfully tickling your own, making you giggle sweetly. He truly wanted nothing more than to make you laugh all the time.

He was about to press his lips against yours again, already craving the feeling like a man that had been left to wander the desert for days, when his phone rang loudly, interrupting the tender moment. He sighed deeply, apologetically looking at you and you immediately shook your head, letting him know not to worry about it. He picked up the phone, determined to make the conversation quick so he could return to what he truly wanted to do.

In the meantime you finished the lemonade, washed your hands with soap, and brought the pitcher, some glasses, and the bowl of cubed watermelon to the table outside. You checked in on Jack, the boy having fallen asleep, making you chuckle softly. You sat yourself at the table and waited for him to come back, already missing his lips.

It was certainly an interesting turn of events, made even more interesting by how easy it was to fit into his life. Even with your parents you always felt like the odd one out, like they were their own thing and you just sort of existed around them. But with Mr. Hotchner and Jack…you felt like you just fit right in, like you’d always been a part of their family.

When he finally exited into the backyard he bore a very different expression on his face, one of remorse and stress. The playfulness from before had left his body and all that remained was the stoic FBI agent you’d sometimes get when he returned from cases or…got called into one.

You sighed deeply, knowing that was exactly what had happened and he had to stop himself from melting at the thought that you just knew what he needed before he could even ask it.

“Do you need me to look after Jack?” you asked as he sat down on the chair across from you.

“Please,” he replied, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently. “Jessica can pick him up at school Wednesday afternoon and take him to her place.”

You nodded, returning the squeeze and trying to alleviate his guilt with an understanding smile.

“When do you leave?” he asked you then, one of the many elephants in the room finally getting addressed.

“Friday morning,” you replied and it was his turn to sigh, defeated. As much as you understood his work and just how much he needed it, he also understood your own, your life being far away from D.C., far away from him. He just wanted you all to himself, here with him all the time, and it pained him that he couldn’t have it.

After allowing himself another moment of sitting in silence, of feeling his emotions and letting them tear his heart into pieces, he stood up, pulling you to your feet with him. He crushed his lips to yours and your hands finally tangled in his hair, his own greedily squeezing your hips.

“Pizza should be here any minute,” he mumbled against your lips.

“I got it, don’t worry,” you replied, pressing a closed kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Jack?”

He nodded, reluctantly letting you go as he knelt down beside the lounge chair and woke the boy up. You watched as they said their goodbyes, your fingers coming up to trace your lips where he’d just kissed you, all the conflicting things you were feeling crashing over you at once.

The first phone call came that same night. It was late, you were already asleep when your phone vibrated on the nightstand next to you. You were honestly surprised that you’d heard it, annoyed more so than surprised as your eyes blinked open painfully.

“Hello?” your voice was deep, hoarse and clearly exhausted.

“Hi, sweetheart,” his on the other hand was soft and awake.

“Hi,” you replied, settling back on the soft pillow and closing your eyes.

“Did I wake you?”

“Mhmm,” you whined and it broke his heart.

“I’m sorry,” to his credit, he did sound sorry.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled.

“I just wanted to say goodnight to Jack.” And to you.

“He fell asleep immediately…” You tried to stay awake, desperately, but sleep was pulling you down, the heat from spending the entire day under the sun had seeped deep into your bones, making them heavy. The current had sinked your boat and you were peacefully sinking under the waves with it. You didn’t even register him calling your name, realizing that you were probably out of it, and finally telling you that he’d call you another time.

You woke up bright and early the next morning, your senses overwhelmed by just how much his bed smelled like him.

It was honestly a stupid thought, that the things that were his carried him with them, but it didn’t matter how many times you’d slept here in the past, there was something so all consuming about them now.

Your three days with Jack went by quickly. You had forgotten how much of a perfect kid he was, how attentive and kind and easy it was to take care of him. Getting him ready for school was a breeze, breakfasts were filled with laughter and him rambling on about the dream he’d had the night before. Once you dropped him off at school, you found yourself missing him more than you ever had, and so you spent your days wandering aimlessly.

On Monday you cleaned the entire house, top to bottom. You put on one of Mr. Hotchner’s records on and drowned the house in music, your voice booming just as loudly as the singer’s, wanting nothing more than to distract yourself from the ache in your chest.

On Tuesday there was a lice outbreak and luckily, Jack was not affected. They still had to shut down the school for the day, so Jack had gotten a half day. You took him to the store to buy enough baking supplies to start your own bakery, and spent the rest of the afternoon making cookies and cupcakes.

It was around six that your phone rang. You were in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the two of you. Saucepan forgotten, you immediately crossed the room, fingers fumbling to answer the phone.

“Hey, give me one second,” you cut him off, putting him on speaker before you stepped out into the hall. “Jack! Your dad’s on the phone!”

“I don’t know if I should be touched or offended that you don’t want to speak with me,” he cracked and you couldn’t help but smile, making your way back to the device on his counter.

“I always want to talk to you,” you hummed. “But I also know you’re busy and—”

“Dad!” Jack ran into the kitchen, swiping the phone away from you and running right back down the hall. You laughed to yourself, returning to the stove before you burnt something.

You hadn’t been speaking, not really. Every so often you’d send him a picture of what you were up to and he’d do his best to reply, always short and sweet. He never sent any pictures of his own for obvious reasons, but it still made your heart constrict every time that you woke up the morning after to a missed call from him.

They were on the West Coast, in a small town somewhere in Oregon. At least that’s what you’d gathered from the messages here and there. By Wednesday you said goodbye to Jack at dropoff and told him you’d see him for Christmas. He was, understandably, very upset, since you’d just spent, what he kept calling, the best three days of his life with him. It broke your heart, shattered it into a million pieces, but you reminded him that you didn’t live there anymore and that you had other places to be. Obviously not cooler than spending time with him, but that it was still important.

Jessica called you that afternoon to let you know that she had Jack and you chatted for a bit. She was always so easy to talk to, her openness to their strange family dynamic almost overwhelmingly supportive. She always remembered your birthday, always sent you a card (one that you knew she’d been making Mr. Hotchner and Jack to sign every year), and always made sure to ask if you were coming back home for any major break.

She liked having you around, liked the extra support you had given them while Jack was out on his own break, liked that the boy clearly loved you and felt safe around you. And after the three days you had spent with him then, it only made sense to start thinking about actually coming back home next summer to help them out, to have an excuse to see him as often as you could.

You spent Wednesday and Thursday working on the tasks you'd been left with from your internship. They had graciously allowed you to go home after you informed them there was a family emergency, but you still had to meet the weekly quota, just like everyone else. Being in your house alone was...exhausting. It was too quiet, too empty, too devoid of Jack's infectious laugh and...and Mr. Hotchner's low and inviting voice.

You hadn't spoken to him since you let him know Jessica had picked his son up. You knew he was busy, knew that he probably didn't want to speak to you while his mind was not in the right place, while he was using most of his energy to do his job. He didn't text and so neither did you. And as much as you understood why, the silence had only made your heart clench in pain, your brain already overthinking all the possibilities.

He was supposed to arrive in a few hours, having received the only text he'd sent to tell you that they were about to take off and that he should be back home in a few hours.

You’d decided to get one last swim in before you returned to your concrete life that was Brooklyn. But if you were being honest with yourself, you just needed a distraction.

You’d been drowning, quite literally, as the finality of the distance that you were about to put between yourself and Mr. Hotchner loomed closer and closer. Sure, he traveled a lot for work, he was away at least sixty percent of the time…but you had moved away two years ago with the intention of cutting yourself loose of all the ties keeping you in D.C.

It had been easy to do so, the only one that truly hurt you every day being your mother. But now, after sitting with your overwhelming crush that has snowballed into catching actual feelings for him…was hell.

You needed to talk to him about it, needed to ask him to tell you that everything was going to be okay, that you could make this work, whatever this was. But you also didn’t want to pressure him, didn’t want to pressure yourself to get tied down to something that could very easily not work out.

You were floating on your back, simply allowing the water to gently rock you around the pool when you saw a pair of slacked legs walking towards the edge of the pool.

“There you are, sweetheart,” he hummed. “I’ve been calling for a whole minute and you didn’t answer.”

You stood yourself up, shooting him an apologetic smile as you walked towards him.

“'m sorry,” you murmured, the tightening on your heart only squeezing harder now that he was really here. He shot you a smile in response but he looked tired, defeated almost. You could only imagine what it must feel like to walk around with all of that weight, with the burden of the atrocious things they dealt with every day.

He squatted down next to the edge and you propped yourself up on the space between his legs to pull yourself high enough for his lips to reach yours. The kiss was short and soft, domestic almost, as if you did this every time he came back home from a long case.

You slid back into the water, unable to hold yourself up any longer as an excuse to put some distance between the two of you. You were certain that if he stared at you for even a second longer, he would definitely know there was something wrong, that somehow he’d be able to see into your body and realize just how contorted your heart was.

“Join me?” you asked, trying to change the subject before it was even brought up.

He sighed, conflicted. “I don’t think we should, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whined. “I promise I’ll behave.”

He chuckled at that, knowing fully well that you most definitely would not, because he would most certainly not. But he found himself standing back up, quickly shrugging off his button down, the white wife pleaser underneath, his shoes, socks, and pants. You watched him in awe, mouth hanging slightly open as you began to salivate, your desire quickly making you forget all about your painful feelings.

He smirked at you as he sat down on the edge of the pool and slowly lowered himself into it. You hadn’t realized until he stretched his hand out to you that you’d drifted away to the other side of the pool. You took a small, steadying breath, trying to appear as normal as possible before you walked back to him.

His hands wrapped around you instantly, bringing you into him tightly. It was almost as if he relaxed into you, his breathing deep and steady, a drastic contrast to your rapidly beating heart. You tried so hard to copy his rhythm, to blend into it in a feeble attempt to not raise suspicion, to show him that you were happy he was back.

And it worked...for almost a second.

“Thank you for taking care of Jack,” he said.

“It was my pleasure,” you replied almost too quickly.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” he pulled back, his gaze desperately trying to meet yours.

You hated him so much, hated how good he was at his job, hated how he could read you like it was the easiest thing in the world. Meanwhile, you were having to use all of your knowledge to just guess how he was feeling.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you lied, your fingers subconsciously fiddling with his hair. He sighed, shifting your core away from his as his hand snaked down to pull your swimsuit bottoms out of the way. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, finally snapping up to meet his but his attention was no longer on your face.

Before you could question the sudden advance, he plunged his middle finger into you, making you moan loudly, your walls clenching around him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered, his finger curling upwards to hook against the spot that he somehow knew instinctively would make you come undone.

You whined, holding onto him tighter. “I’m scared!”

“Of what?”

“This–” he curled his finger again, another moan erupting. “Us– fuck, I’m scared that I won’t be able to see you every day and it’ll mess up whatever this is,” you practically screamed.

His movements stilled and you decided to foolishly allow yourself to meet his eyes. He was staring at you with what you could only describe as relief?

You blinked, realizing that he was allowing you to read him like he could read you. You’d said exactly what he was thinking, what he was also holding in, what the heaviness that he carried had been about.

He pressed further into you. “Do you want to be mine?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “I want to be yours, all yours.”

“That’s good,” he groaned. “Because I want to be all yours too, sweetheart.”

You whined at his words, the tight grip fear had on your heart releasing just enough to let you breathe again.

“I thought…” you trailed off, afraid that if you said what you’d thought aloud that he’d hate you. Instead he just waited patiently for you to muster the courage to say what you’d been holding in. “I thought you might only want to fuck me and nothing else.”

He shoved another finger into you at that, as if you say how dare you think that. You moaned again, your body tensing up, your walls pulsing around his fingers, practically keeping them hostage inside of you.

“So tight,” he mumbled, clearly needing a moment to regain his composure before he spoke again. “I’ve wanted you– to be with you for a while, sweetheart. I was just…afraid of how it could destroy your relationship with your parents.”

The second elephant in the room reappeared and you couldn’t help but get another one of your fears off your chest.

“Did you know he was…” you trail off before you can finish your sentence but Aaron knew exactly what you wanted to ask him.

“No, I didn’t,” he shook his head, intensely observing your reaction. When you tensed under his touch he wasted no time to press a soft kiss to your temple. If you didn’t know but now you do then why are you still hanging around with him? That was the second part of your question, of your uneasiness, of your tensing body.

“To see you,” he murmured against your skin and you pulled back from his touch, far enough to look him in the eyes. “I kept coming back to see you.”

The confession made your stomach flip. You didn’t know how to respond, how to tell him that you’d felt the same way in a way that didn’t make you come across as insane or clingy or immature. So instead you smiled softly, leaning forward to press your lips to his once more. His grip on your body tightened, his lips on yours opened, pulling you further into him. You may not have tomorrow, but you definitely had tonight.

“I am more than happy and willing to take this slow, to just see where it goes,” he makes it crystal clear, no way to misinterpret his words, no way for you to twist them until you’ve convinced yourself that you’re crazy. Instead you just let your mind free.

“Please fuck me,” you begged and a groan loudly erupted from his throat. His fingers resumed their fast pace but you whined in response, trying to stop him. “No, I need your cock in me, please.”

He shushed you then, kissing your temple gently as he only doubled down in his forcefulness.

“Let me make you cum first,” he replied. “I gotta stretch you out, you’re so tight.”

You whimpered then, a symphony of breathy moans as you remembered just how big he’d felt through his pants. If he was telling you he needed to work you up before he could slide inside of you then you would obey. Fuck, the anticipation alone was going to be the death of you.

The water began to splash over the edge, the constant crashing of waves somehow in perfect synchronicity to the pace he’d set. It quickly became overwhelming, as if your pleasure was so intense it was actually transcending your body and manipulating the world around you.

You moaned into his ear, your hands desperately digging into his back, trying to anchor yourself to him, afraid that you could slip away at any moment. He began peppering kisses along your jaw, each one lower and lower until he was physically unable to reach any more of your skin due to the water level.

You were so close, so, so, close and he could feel it. Your body had tensed, your toes curled against his lower back, pulling him closer to you. And with one final thrust against the spot inside of you that made you see stars, the band snapped and you were screaming, not caring if the neighbors could hear you.

He worked you through your orgasm, his fingers slowing down to a bearable pace as you rested your forehead against his chest.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, clearly concerned that you hadn’t said something for a couple of minutes. You nodded against his body, slowly pushing against his chest to face him.

“Never better,” you replied and his eyebrows shot up in provocation.

“Do you want to make them a little better?” he teased and you couldn’t help the smile that took over.

“Yes.”

He pulled his hand out of you and you whined at the loss of contact.

“Such a greedy girl,” he mocked. “You’re about to be stuffed with my cock and you’re whining about missing my fingers.”

You shivered, eyes darkening as he grabbed a hold of your hand and led you back to the shallow end of the pool. He helped you out of the water, his hands attentive, possessive, never once letting you take a step without being on you.

Once you were out of the water he pulled you into him swiftly, lips back on yours with abandon. You practically melted into his touch, into his embrace, into him. Every thought in your brain was about him, about how soft his lips were, about how he smelled like a warm fire in a forest, about how his rough hands felt on your body, about how desperate he was for you.

You didn’t even register as he undid the knots of your bathing suit, only felt the cold air against your nipples, making them immediately perk up. The back of his hands accidentally brushed one as he shuffled to discard your top and you moaned into his mouth. The noise that reverberated from him in response was addictive. His eyes snapped open and he pulled back, your own lips chasing his in protest.

But he didn’t give you a second to figure him out as he arched your back with his hands, his mouth latching onto the nipple he’d just touched. It was your turn to mewl, eyes glossy and hands hungry to dig into him.

“Aaron,” you whimpered and he froze, ice cold, fully stopping his movements. His mouth softly unlatched from your breast, a thin string of saliva connecting him to you. Your face heated up immediately, the mere thought that you did something to upset him filled your eyes with tears.

“What did you say?” he asked, softly, as if he knew you were feeling like a small little animal and he needed to be careful not to spook you.

“A-Aaron?” you mumble, not even once fully comprehending what you had just done.

“You’ve never called me Aaron before,” he explained, taking pity on how much your brain was clearly not working at the moment.

You blinked in confusion, a tear accidentally falling down your cheek. He immediately wiped it away, looking down at you with eyes filled with nothing but adoration.

“I’m sorry—” you started, unsure exactly what you’re apologizing for. And he shuts you up with a kiss immediately.

“Say it again,” he groaned against your lips.

“Aaron,” you repeated, his name finally feeling heavy and important on your tongue.

He places a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Again.”

“Aaron.”

Another kiss, this one on your neck. “Again.”

“Aaron,” he licked down to the base of your neck, his teeth greedily sinking into your soft skin as his lips suck. “Fuck, Aaron, please.”

You whined again, the sting of his mouth marking your body absolutely making you lose it. Whatever wits remained evaporated in an instant. When he pulled back, eyes practically raven, face flushed, lips plump and swollen, you couldn’t help the need to reward him.

Your hands landed on the pronounced outline of his cock against his still wet, black boxers. He wasn’t quick enough to stop you as you wasted no time pulling the fabric off him. Your eyes widened, your breathing hitched in your throat, your hand trembled slightly as you abandoned your efforts to get his boxers down his thighs and instead tentatively returned your hand to hover over his length.

He was so hard, the vein running along the underside practically pulsating. You tentatively traced it with your nail and he hissed. You smiled to yourself, your full palm replacing your finger as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly pumping him.

His own hand curled around your wrist, demanding you to stop. Your eyes shot up to finally see him, to see just how clenched his jaw was, just how deep his breathing had become.

“No, sweetheart,” he huffed. “I need you.”

As if you could both finally read each other’s minds, you untangled yourselves from each other, discarding the clothing that remained on your bodies and tossed it away before his eyes landed on you, on your naked frame, now right in front of him and not far away, separated from him by the haziness of glass.

His eyes raked lower to your pussy and his brows knitted in surprise.

“You have a tattoo,” the question blended into a statement as his hand gripped your hip, pulling you forward so that he could see it better. You bit your lip, amused by just how mesmerized he looked.

“A friend of mine gave it to me first semester,” you explained, omitting the many health code violations, how you’d been high and couldn’t remember actually getting it, or the fact that you had been sleeping with your friend when he did.

He traced his thumb over it, the placement was lower than your hip, easily hidden by your underwear and small enough that he’d never been able to make it out at a distance. His thumb dug into the center of the shitty heart then, anchoring his grip as he pulled you back to him. You moaned at the sting and it only spurred him on, the realization that you liked it when he hurt you igniting a fire in him.

His other arm hooked under your ass, lifting you over his shoulder. You gasped loudly, your confusion quickly turning into a fit of giggles as he moved you both towards the lounge chair that you had rearranged earlier that week to face his house.

He made sure to hook his foot around the pants he’d discarded earlier, kicking them forward with his foot, making sure that they landed right against the chair. He then unlatched the backrest and quickly set you down on it, your entire body over the comfortable foam cushion your mother had bought last year just for the Hotchners.

He knelt between your legs, hands running down your body to pry them open for him. It didn’t take much as you opened yourself up to him eagerly. He grinned, the smile that graced you one that you’d never seen from him before, one that even he couldn’t remember when he’d smiled like that last.

Before he forgot, he reached over to where he’d thrown his pants, growing impatient as he struggled to pull out his wallet and procure a single silver wrapper from it. You’d been so consumed by the moment that you hadn’t even thought about protection.

You thought about telling him not to, that you were on birth control and that as far as you were concerned you were clean. But you had no idea where he’d been, not that talking about his sexual partners bothered you, but bringing it up now did not seem like the right time.

“Someone was sure of himself,” you teased, watching him roll on the sheer latex over himself with more concentration than you’d ever seen from him before, and that was saying a lot.

He retaliated by slamming his tip into you without warning. Your head fell back, a moan rocking through you and down to your core, the waves reverberating against him, causing him to take a sharp, steadying breath.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he panted, a little condescending and you swallowed the urge to fight back, to resume the game you’d started when you called him daddy. He didn’t know just how deep you were willing to go, how much fun the two of you would have.

But tonight wasn’t the night for it. You needed him, craved him, desperately demanded that he fill the ache between your legs. You nodded, your hands gripping the cushion below you.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your need to anchor yourself, his ego boosted so high he had no idea how he was supposed to come back down. But he didn’t care, he couldn’t care, not when you were laid out in front of him like a buffet, what he’d been starving for the only thing on the menu now.

His left hand wrapped around your thigh, opening you further. You propped your other leg over the armrest, and he pushed forward. He had not been lying, fortunately for you. He stretched you painfully, practically stuffing you full.

He made it halfway into you when you hissed, one of your hands shooting up to wrap around his bicep, urging him to stop. He stilled immediately, slowly rocking his hips back to slide out of you before slowly pushing himself back in.

That’s when you fell, your arms giving out under you. An accomplished grin lit up his features. He sat himself back up on his heels to tower over you. Your hand sliding down to the one he’d wrapped around your leg, your fingers lacing with his, almost like a pinky promise as he continued his slow rhythm, never giving you too much, never forcing your body to take anything it wasn’t ready for.

You could practically feel the wetness dripping out of you, coating him more and more with every thrust. He could clearly feel it too, the slick making it easier for him to slide in and out of you each time.

He took it as an indication to keep going. He thrust back into you, pushing himself just an inch further than before. You were a mess of whines and whimpers, your back arching in response, needing him fully in you.

“Please, Aaron,” you slurred. “More.”

He pulled out of you completely, the desire to see himself slam back into you fully overwhelming. His hips pushed forward, easily sliding himself inside to the hilt, your ass slapping against his hips beautifully. He moaned then, his hands flying to your hips, locking you in place. You whimpered, your head craning up enough to see there was no space left between the two of you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, your walls clenching around him unconsciously.

His eyes shut close in pleasure at your movement, jaw clenching, fingers digging into your skin deeper. You took him in, on the verge of coming undone, on the verge of cumming in seconds like a teenage boy that didn’t know how to stop himself.

You giggled, your warm laughter bringing him back to you as he realized what you were laughing about. He scoffed, blush creeping over his cheeks in the most adorable way. You clenched around him again, deliberate and mean. He almost screamed then, the moan that left his lips guttural and raw.

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me,” he huffed. “I don’t want to cum yet, give me a second, alright?”

You sighed, feigning annoyance, but respected his request, unclenching your muscles to give him a moment of respite. Your hands began to draw circles over his own, nails slowly dragging up his arms and towards his chest, gentle, curious, exploring.

You took your time, diligently running your fingers over every ridge, every dip, every single one of the scars that littered his abdomen. They were smaller now and faded from what they had been when he was first attacked, but you knew they were there.

He hadn’t told you the full story, hadn’t really mentioned it aside from briefly alluding to it when he was forced to explain a comment Jack had made in passing one time, a comment about his mother. But you’d noticed them years ago, and as much as he could act like he was over it, like he was comfortable being shirtless around you, you needed him to know that he was safe, that he could trust you.

He didn’t flinch under your touch, instead he hummed, his own hands shifting their grip on you to show you how much he appreciated your touch.

“Did you catch the bad guy?” you asked suddenly. He turned to face you with a scolding expression, this is clearly not the time for this. It only made you laugh again, embarrassed. “What? Thinking about gross things helps!”

“I don’t want to ever think about that when I’m with you, got it?” he commanded.

“Yes, sir,” you replied and his eyes darkened once more, whatever fear of bursting immediately leaving his body as lustful greed flooded back in, emboldening him.

“What you called me the other day,” he started, somehow both confident in what he wanted to ask and yet boyishly shy about it. “Are you okay with that?”

“What did I call you?” you acted dumb, so dumb indeed that it got you another powerful, forceful jam of his cock. You squealed, his tip now uncomfortably pressing deeply into you. “No, daddy, ’s too much,” you whined, your voice hitching into a sweet, high pitch that made his cock twitch inside of you. “It hurts.”

“Too deep?” he asked in his normal voice, making sure to check in with you. You nodded, desperate for him to pull back, and he immediately returned to the comfortable pain. You let out a deep breath, air filling your lungs again. He was concerned, but more than anything he was turned on, the desire to ruin you too strong. “I’m going to start moving, alright?”

“Yes, daddy,” you mumbled and he groaned loudly, his cock practically taking on a life of its own and making him react in a way he’d never experienced before.

Aaron understood what desire was, he knew what it felt like, knew what to do with it, but this? This wasn’t desire. This was debilitating, allconsuming, painful almost. His brain disconnected from his body, it was as though he was floating next to his body as well as feeling everything that was happening around him, to him, because of him.

He wanted to consume you, wanted to lose himself to the perfect sounds coming out of you, wanted to feel your tightness around him all the time, wanted to drown and stay at the bottom of your waters forever.

His moans danced with yours in a delicate choir ensemble, the slapping of your bodies coming together becoming the bass keeping the pace, the rattling of the lounge chair against the concrete floor the percussion, the scrapping of the mattress against the plastic the strings – it was all too much, too good, too perfect.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” he whined. “Rub your clit for me.”

Whatever coherent thoughts were left in you forced your body to obey immediately, your shaky hand landing in between your bodies. Your fingers were met with a lewd amount of slick, your clit puffy and screaming out to be touched. You rolled your fingers over it and the sensitivity sent you into overdrive, a snap of electricity running all the way down to your opening.

He moaned in response, your core starting to tighten with each thrust, with each touch. The pressure was tight, tighter, desperately trying to force your dam to burst.

“Daddy,” you whimpered. “Daddy, please, please, please, please–”

“Cum, sweetheart, cum all over me,” he demanded and you let it break. Waves of pleasure crashed against you, your entire body shaking, thrashing, slamming against his. Your moans turned into whines, you dug into his forearms, your legs hooked around his waist, pulling him further into you, locking him in place.

The second he felt you clench against him, the second he felt your core tighten, your slick warm his entirety, your nails digging into his arms so hard he wouldn’t be surprised you drew blood – he lost it. He managed to thrust into you two more times before he slammed himself as far as he could inside of you, not caring if it was uncomfortable for you.

He came hot and hard into the condom, his own pleasure blurring his vision, making his own body shake against yours, making his heart feel like it had skipped a beat. He stopped breathing for a few seconds, the sensations too overwhelming for his body to remember that it needed to breathe to survive.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling as if you’d just ran a marathon. Your nails had stopped digging into his skin but he barely registered the lack of pain. It wasn’t until you ran your fingers over the indents in his arms that he opened his eyes, seeking yours immediately.

You waited until his gaze met yours as if it was about time it did. You smiled lazily at him, completely spent, content, satisfied. He returned the smile, allowing himself to lower his body down over yours. His chest pressed against your own, softly caging you, holding you captive as his aching lips found yours.

This kiss was unlike any of the ones you’d shared, unlike any of the ones you had shared with anyone before. It was definitive, possessive, claiming you as his, and yet it was unbearably gentle, playful, wholesome.

He was the first to pull back for air, but he didn’t move away, instead he pressed his forehead to yours, his gaze unflinching, trying to communicate so much with no words at all. It was like he was making sure to savor every last drop, committing the sight and feeling of you to memory.

Aaron took much of his life for granted, the routine of it all having numbed him to most things that other people would deem as exciting or fulfilling. The only area of his life where that wasn’t the case was his son. That little boy made everything worthwhile, every battle worth fighting, every day worth living. And now, looking at you, feeling how good he’d made you feel, he knew had found something else, someone else, that made him feel excited for what the next day could bring. That made him feel fulfilled in more ways than he could yet comprehend.

Whatever doubts you’d had, whatever walls you had started to put up to protect yourself now laid crumbled all around you. He was right from the start, you were his, whatever that happened would happen, the best that you could do was ride the waves and see where they would lead you. All that did matter was that he was there and that you knew that he was also yours.

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! This chapter was a blast to write after all the angst that Moments has killed me with.

My requests are open! I have a few chapter ideas for Mr. Hotchner but I would love to hear what y’all would like to see. Even if it doesn’t make it into the actual series, I will try to write some cute lil blurbs.

And also, because I’m a writer that needs validation, please leave me comments or love letters if you’d like to remain anon. I need the praise and love, thank you 🩷

Ps. The next chapter is titled Guest Lecturer so you can imagine what kind of debauchery I’m about to write.

Pss. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

#dbf!hotch #dbf!hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner #dbf!aaron hotchner #professor!Hotch #perv!hotch #we shouldn’t (and yet we do)

712 notes · View notes

vonev · 1 year

Text

Zombie apocalypse with Simon Riley

Sum: You finally meet your hot neighbor; albeit all it took was an apocalyptic disaster.

Oh my God, what the fuck?

“—reports states that an infectious zombie-like virus has begun to spread amongst multiple areas in the city—”

“—Please seek the nearest hazard shelter in your local area—”

A fucking zombie virus breakout is happening, in front of your lunch.

You'd never thought the national emergency alarms would ever blare during your lifespan, but you're here, a spoon full of egg drop soup in hand sitting across your TV and your mouth hung open as all your devices deafens the entire living room.

The telenovela you were watching was just getting so good too.

Immediately shooting your hand out to fetch your phone, scrambling for the national notification, horror dawns on you.

The fucking breakout is in my city.

Isn't it so lovely? On a random Tuesday afternoon in the middle of an approaching autumn.

What is it that they do in those zombie shows again...? Oh yeah, run.

Wait—no, no. Pack your shit then run.

So you did. Your feet working the fastest they've ever been scattering toward your bedroom to dig out the ancient duffel bag you've not touched in eons. Shoving essentials in there: tampons, pads, your Kindle (because God forbid an apocalypse stops you from finishing a book) and a couple of other things you think you'd need...a thong is one of them, right?

The loud alarms never stops, it only adds to your increasing anxiety threatening to bubble over and spill all over the floor; you didn't think they'd go on for so long, but they do, and honestly they sound fucking terrifying.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Think—

Wallet, passport (in case you wanted to fly over to Milan, you know.), all the money you had was stored inside the bank; speaking of, you wonder if anyone had started robbing stores yet after the alarms sounded.

Nope, can't think about that right now, because the more time you waste, the higher of a chance you'd end up having your face bitten off by some freaks—zombie or not. So you scramble once again, head full of doubts and worry; good thing you kept refraining yourself from ever getting a pet because holy shit having to sprint with a massive fluff ball in your arm would be the last thing you'd want to do.

Just then, screams started filling your ears; an indication that you spent too much time dwindling.

Looking down you scoff at your casual wear: a tank top that exposed too much and sweatpants. Making your way out along your bedroom you snatched a jacket you promised yourself you'd wash last week.

Good thing you didn't, I guess.

Stepping foot into the living room once more, your eyes dart around in a hurry, practically running into the kitchenette to grab canned foods and your leftovers from yesterday. It's just a sandwich, but it'll hopefully last until whenever you can finally eat again. You repeated the same conundrum with your bathroom, frantically pushing things aside with more things to make space for other things.

Alright, you think, that should be everything...

You even got that first-aid kit you bought from Amazon months ago, thinking that someday you'll need it.

Always trust your instincts.

With that, you waste no time scurrying to the front door, fitting yourself into a comfortable pair of shoes then fetching your keys from the bowl above the accent table you probably spent too much money on (they looked really cute) and inserting it into the lock, cursing yourself when you kept missing the keyhole. Eventually, you got it, and with too much brute force, you threw the door open and stepped out into the hall.

You wince from the loud banging sound of the door you pushed; to your right, your neighbor's door opens as you walk out.

Tilting your head, you see the neighbor casually fixing his shoes with absolutely no care regarding the current situation, a bag slung over his broad shoulder in contrast to you desperately holding onto your heavy duffel bag.

What the fuck is his deal? How is he so...calm?

You didn't realize it 'till now, but said neighbor turns his head toward you, and it's as if a lightbulb flare up in your head.

Oh.

He stares at you, unmoving with his hand still on the doorknob.

It's the hot neighbor.

What was his name again? Sam...Samuel...no, Semen...wait, definitely not.

Whatever. You'll call him Semen in your head, because you can't be bothered standing there to recall his name. Not while he's staring at you so intently, either—like you owed him something.

God, is he a sight to look at; full brows with lips looking so kissable with a cute pout, blonde strands covers his front as though he'd just woken up from the best nap of his life, the faint yet noticeable scars littered across his face so perfectly. Tall, mysterious and muscles that threatened the seams of the too-tight shirt he wore. Is he even aware?

And his eyes.

You can't even begin to mention the amount of times you'd shamefully indulged yourself with those eyes of his in your mind—sometimes, you dream of them too. Who could blame you though? Yeah, you definitely feel normal about him. You barely interacted with him, only ever seeing him the rare times he'd come home. You assumed he's ex-military or a military personnel on leave since he's been back home more than usual in the recent months. You wouldn't know, though, considering the most words you said to him was "hi" when he moved into his flat a year ago. That, and you're generally kinda afraid of strangers.

"D'ya have a staring problem?"

Right. You can't just stare at someone and not say anything, that's creepy.

"No," you shuffle on your feet a little. "Do you?"

He scoffs with a small shake of his head and closes the door behind him before walking away to the lift. Your brows furrowed, lips pursed, slung your duffel bag over your shoulder and chased after him. You both stood in front of the lift for a good (incredibly awkward) minute before the familiar ding sounded. Once inside the lift, you can't help but feel the unspoken tension rise as the two of you stood close to each other.

You swear he had his eyes on you for a moment, but you don't dare to call him out.

"...you come ‘round often?"

He snaps his gaze to you instantly.

Great. Your mouth has no filter whatsoever. Mentally slapping yourself, you open your mouth to whisper an apology; he beats you to it, though, a soft chuckle from him and it strikes into your heart like a stake.

"I live—lived here," crossing his arms, his eyes softened a little. "Just got discharged from the military a couple of months ago."

Bingo.

Silently patting your back in your head as you nod at his response and humming. "That's cool, what did you do for the military?" it may have been too much to pry, but it doesn't hurt; plus, it's pretty much the end of the world as you speak.

He stood there, completely rigid from top to bottom. The silence was deafening this time around, so much so that when the lift sounded once more with a loud ding, it made you flinch.

"What didn't I do for the military?"

That's...

"...is that rhetorical?" None of you walked out of the lift, just standing there in each other’s company. Oddly, you don’t mind it.

He shrugs, getting out of the tiny space—and you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in your breath when you finally exhaled through your teeth.

I guess I have my answer.

It doesn’t take long for you to catch up, nor for the two of you to realize what an utter mess the outside world had become when he opens the door.

People roamed about, running ‘round and tripping over each other and on top of each other, cooperating on wreaking absolute havoc on the streets. Lots of screaming, too much of it, in fact. Jogging down the stairs, someone almost bumps into your side, but not before he pulls them back with a frown on his face that had the poor guy screeching and scrambling away from his grip.

Oh, now come to think of it—

—“Hey what’s your n—“

A hoard of groans catches your attention, cutting your words short; you turn toward the source, squinting at the scene from afar. A group of people started dashing toward your way, their faces an evident blur of confusion, surprise and horror. It would make sense, because as they slowly get closer and closer, a giant figure gradually appears in your vision—and it looks fucking disfigured—like the textbook embodiment of an eldritch creature. Sure enough, it breaks out into a sprint, chasing down its next victim; pulling the back of an unfortunate businessman’s suit and it flung the man over its head. You can hear the poor man’s scream echo in your mind as you watch his body fall right into the creature’s mouth; next thing you know, his head snaps off in its jaw.

Your blood runs cold, the shock from seeing such a sight sends an unnerving terror through every nerve; your breathing gets heavier, beads of sweat breaking out from your skin—yet you can’t take your eyes off of it. Ever watched a car crash? Yeah, exactly that.

“Uh oh.”

You don’t know what to do; years and years of medical training in school hadn’t exactly prepared you for this situation, even if some of the things you’ve seen are horror beyond comprehension. Your body doesn’t cooperate with your commands no matter how hard you try; they’re stuck to the ground like glue, and as the horrid looking creature slowly bolts toward your way, the way you’ve become a mere spectator to your body should concern you, but your eyes are transfixed on that thing—

—it wasn’t until someone roughly tug your forearm that you realized you almost fucking killed yourself by standing still too long.

“Fuck, come on, let’s go.”

You should’ve probably questioned why he’s remained so calm despite the calamity surrounding him. It’s an admirable trait, really, a part of you wants to thank him profusely for not leaving you behind; in the span of time you spaced out, he could’ve easily gotten away in a fleet—like a gust of the wind, and you wouldn’t have noticed nor would you have blamed him. So much for being medically trained.

He ran, and you trailed right behind him. Even during such a dire moment of your life, you have to try your hardest to not get distracted with the way his muscles contract as he swiftly moves along with the breeze. No time for thirsting, you stare at his arms, how they effortlessly flex with each step, Okay, maybe a little bit of thirsting.

You’ve no idea how long you both ran; doing your best to dodge every obstacle lunged into your face, but with the soreness slowly creeping up your soles, you wonder if you could keep up—Semen, on the other hand, is doing just fine. Just keep pushing, after all, how hard is it to run forever? Super fucking hard apparently; unfortunate for you, the conveniently placed fallen pipe on the ground became your nemesis as you missed a jump and fall on your fucking face. Your duffel bag cushioning only your left arm, body absorbing all the impact from the fall.

Ouch! wouldn’t even describe the pain you were feeling. You might have a broken nose because it sure fucking feels like it.

Semen immediately halts, his head snaps back as if his gut instinct told him you stumbled and fell. He’d be correct; attempting to get on your elbows can only get you so far, your adrenaline runs out too quickly—and suddenly it feels as though your body has been lit on fire. Well, you’re being dramatic, but your ankle sure doesn’t feel fine like it did a minute ago. You try to stand up, and Semen crouches down in front of you with his hands extending out to help you up; but the harder he pulls the worse you cry out. When you try to move your right ankle it just fucking hurts like a bitch.

This is it, you think; your breath coming out haggard and harsh, I’m gonna fucking die.

“Just—go, just go, I think I sprained my ankle,” holding back furious tears, you sniffle. “Leave me and run, it’s okay.” God, was it ever this hard to let someone go? Even if the selfish part of you wants him to stay. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, people and vehicles running by your bodies and their cries fill the void in your head—not their fault they prioritize their lives over yours—but it still stings your eyes to think about. People really do show their true colors in the most desperate times.

He reaches over, and you almost swatted his arms away—his stern gaze told you to stop, and you did.

Flipping you over in an instant, his arms hook under your back and knees, hoisting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. In a feat of panic, you push against his chest; you can’t stress how much you’d rather not be the reason he’s held back and be killed for it. He sends you a final warning look; a stare so chilling it had you reeling back your arms into your chest and obediently lay against his.

Impressively, he maneuvers around everyone else with ease, dodging and zig-zagging, only bumping a few shoulders here and there. Worry clouds your head; what if he trips? Or better yet, what if he realized you’re not much of use and dumped you on the streets? It’s absurd you’d even have the luxury to overthink while he’s busting his ass to save both of your lifes—how the fuck are you supposed to make up to that? You can’t bake him your infamous croissants (you’ve mastered the craft), you doubt appliances are as convenient in the wild as it is in homes—you hope he’ll find a place to hide soon; he can’t run infinitely.

Maybe you should stop thinking too much useless shit and start strategizing instead.

Okay, it should be easy; your eyes frantically search the surrounding area: the alleyway? No, way too risky. Run into one of the homes? Still risky, and those nasty creatures were breaking into them from what you saw last. Fuck, you wish you’d bought that expensive ass car few weeks ago when it was on sale, then again, who knew you would require it so soon? Wait, did he have a car? You don’t think so, his designated parking slot has been empty since forever.

As he kept sprinting on, you noticed more and more of those zombies started pouring in from multiple angles—it would be harder and harder to avoid their attacks; you try not to dwell on the gruesome sights of people being mauled down the streets. Out of nowhere, a mangled arm lunged at you, though he swerved just in time to avoid; you didn’t even have time to register what occurred until you blinked again.

“Was that—holy fuck,” your body involuntarily shivers at how close you were to dying right then; all his efforts would’ve gone to waste. It served as a reminder that death is now only a mere hand reach; one wrong breath and say bye-bye to your life.

Mortality is such a fragile thing.

At least you don’t have a family making you worry to death about, just good ol’ you—always been you.

Does he? Eyes drifting over to his face, you trace the scars on his neck with an invisible hand. You’d have to play 21 questions with him later, if there’s a later. Seeing how things are moving, you’re slowly coming to terms with the concept of death; for some odd reason, you just know he’d keep you alive as long as he can—you will too, with him. God, you grunt, this feels so sappy. You have to constantly remind yourself that you’ve known your neighbor properly for less than an hour; don’t get too attached. It only ever comes back to bite your ass.

In your peripheral you notice a sluggish zombie digging into the driver’s side of a sizable car through the broken window—blood splatters the inside of the car’s windshield as the zombie dives further in. The car is alive, tugging at his shirt, you hastily gesture toward the spot with a shaky finger. Peering up, you don’t miss the way his brows knit together and how his lips are pulled into a thin line—he understood soon afterward; and switched his path to match the direction of the vehicle.

He’d have to fight with the obscene thing for it, but it’s worth a try, even with you in his arms.

Approaching it, he doesn’t hesitate to kick a leg up to hook it under the weighted zombie and throw him down to the biting asphalt; just as it was about to spring up—he stomps a leg over its head without a hitch. Oh my fucking God, excuse your blasphemy, that’s the brain matter. You would know how a human’s brain looked; with countless hours spent plastering your head onto your textbook about How To Surgically Remove a Brain for Dummies the image practically tattooed itself on your mind. It’s never a good view, the textbooks can’t accurately reinvent the feeling of disgusting sliminess into their pages after all.

Your knight in shining armor doesn’t prolong his luck; throwing the driver’s door open, he ducked his head into the driver’s seat (not before chucking the dead body laid in the seat out), sliding you into the passenger side; you have to awkwardly make fit for yourself in the seat as he rushed into his side and pressed down on the brake, slamming his door closed. There was no time to relax, though, upon seeing him toy with the car, people started piling over the trunk, clawing at the metal slate with their bloodied nails as more zombies lurked closer—few unlucky numbers were dragged away from the car, leaving a myriad of gory handprints behind on the trunk.

He grits his teeth, he holds an arm out in front of you; confused, you turned to him as he slammed down on the acceleration.

“Oof—” That’ll knock the wind out of you.

It’s proven to be challenging for him to drive down a road filled with civilians; but soon enough, people started parting ways for him and a few other vehicles to pass through, afraid of being hit by a car.

“Buckle up, love.”

Huh? Love?

On the outside, you’re as calm and cool as you can be: you know, in a zombie apocalypse with your handsome neighbor driving you to (hopefully) safety; the inside…it feels as though your heart soared into the sky—you know it wasn’t meant to be flirtatious, but damn it, a girl can dream. Scrambling your hands to reach for the seatbelt, you grimaced at the sight of gooey matter dotting its material, you buckled up anyway; better safe than sorry. And because he asked so nicely, your heart flutters once more.

He drove on for quite a while, managing to duck and swerve others on the road (albeit with a lot of trouble) and eventually reaching the highways—not that it was far, but you’ve never exactly drove, or been outside your little area. Why would you need to? Everything you’d ever need was there: a delicious shawarma shop across from your flat, embroidery store…in case you needed some embroidering done, a family-owned Indian restaurant that served the best naan and dal—point is, you’ve pretty much got everything covered in your small area.

But why do you feel like you’re missing something…

…your fucking duffel bag.

Everything was in there—your ID’s, necessities, your fucking family photo back when you were a baby; it all holds importance to you one way or another—

—and they’re gone.

Slumped against your seat, you hadn’t even realized your shoulders started convulsing until teardrops fell on your curled fists in your lap. How could you be so fucking careless? Tilting your head down, your hands fly up to rub away stray tears that can’t seem to stop falling from your eyes regardless of your effort; you hope he hasn’t noticed (he did, eyes squinting in worry and unsure) because you seem pretty fucking pathetic right now.

(He doesn’t mind, he’s more worried your tears will drown the both of you before getting to the motel)

“We’re,” for some reason, words get caught in his throat—congealed, like an immovable lump—watching you silently sob to yourself from the side. "We're going to a motel."

He shouldn’t care; he doesn’t know why he does, especially since you’re still a stranger (that he saved, again, he’s not sure why) he coincidentally shared a hallway with for about a year; he barely knew you, either, only knowing you by name because he had seen it stamped on a few mails that fell from your mailbox. He also knows that you bake, a lot, often times the smell would traverse through the small cracks underneath his door and reach his senses—he’d debate knocking on your door each time, he wouldn’t know what to say though: “I smelled your baking, they smell amazing, can I take the whole thing?” or “‘Aye you’re actually kinda fuckin’ cute.”

Yeah, he’s not too good at conversing with strangers either, especially a cute one like you.

And now that you’re sitting right next to him, shoulders no longer heaving as he keeps driving down the vast highway, he’s not so sure what the next move should be. A couple of quick glances let him know that somewhere along the way, you had fallen asleep, head lolled against the window, your chest rising and falling with a silent rhythm. The sun is setting, the warm glow casts down on your figure—you look like an angel.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, of course—but deep down, he knows he’ll keep that image of you and engrave it into the back of his head.

And he knows just the place to take you to.

#angst #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mwii #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost x you #apocalypse #zombie apocalypse #im having a brainrot yet again #they should kiss kiss fall in love #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty

733 notes · View notes

skullvgirl · 5 months

Text

GENDER : girlboss | barou

incl. the bad boy, barou

warnings. fem reader, fluff, crack, school!au, established relationship

an's. this one is for @chxxrybxxmb ≽ܫ≼, this was fun to write, tysm for the idea.

it was hard to talk to barou, he knew it was—he said it himself.

he wasn't friendly or cheerful like the rest if the team, he didnt have the social energy or demeanor they possessed.

people were scared of him to say the least ( not that he minded so much ) so scared in fact the only ones who would ever even talk to him besides the team was his teachers.

and you of course.

it was late afternoon and barou was just finishing up practice. you were here today ( on rare occasion ) to pick him up for dinner.

it didn't take you long to find the massive soccer field along with the massive team your boyfriend was on, he was loud as ever as he made the last goal, sealing the victory for the varsity team that seemed to playing the JV team.

"poor them, didn't even stand a chance" you shook your head. the score board read 5-0

you felt more comfortable making your way over to barou now as everybody was picking up equipment and packing up. it was a good time to snag his attention and let him know you'd be waiting in the car when he was ready.

"hey watch where you're fucking going dipshit"

it came from a JV player, whos name you didn't know, he purposely had bumped into your boyfriend as he was carrying equipment back, making sure it was hard enough to leave a bruise.

oh no

"excuse me?"

oh no this isnt good

barou didn't waste another second, immediately strutting towards the younger boy and yanking his shoulder back so now they were face to face.

"do we have a fucking problem?" barou stated agrily, cracking his knuckles together in preparation for what he was about to do.

the boy was shaking but didn't seem to want to back down, the whole fields eyes were on him now.

" i-I don't know, do we?" his voice came out cracked and shaky but he pressed on further, pumping his chest out in hopes of seeming intimidating.

it wasn't working.

no, no, no! shouei you stupid stupid man ! you could get kicked off the team for this !

you didn't waste any time, sprinting over and making your presence known to both your boyfriend and the bitter teamate.

"hit him and i will rip your balls off", barou acted shocked to see you here. he knew you were coming he just didn't think so soon.

barou's shoulders immediately untensed and he glanced over at the other players who watched in awe at how easily you were able to calm him down.

"thats what i thought, now get your stuff and get im the car, before someone really gets hurt" you said, not bothering to pay attention to the shocked faces of the team.

barou didn't say another word, but took one last glance at the other player at another last glance at you.

to the player he mouthed 'you are so lucky she's the boss of me, or you would be dead !'

and to you he said quitely "sorry love, won't happen again"

you only rolled your eyes and tracked his moving figure as he went back to the building, the other players however didn't move a muscle.

what the fuck just happened? they all thought.

you made your way to leave.

" wait a minute..."

you turned back, tilting your head to signal you were listening.

" you two are dating ??!"

from then on out it was public news that the two id you were together , although you'd been in a relationship for months now it seems more people were aware now that the egoistic and selfish soccer player had a super cool sweet girl girlfriend who he treated like everyday was her last.

like in the cafeteria

he sits alone with you and eventually people realized he makes your lunch—everyday, because you're always asking what he is making for you tomorrow.

can you believe that? barou, king barou making breakfast everyday without fail.

unimaginable

or the library

people dont spy nessacarliy but this one time, you got caught brushing his very long and lushess hair while he practicallypurred like a kitten on your lap. he regrets it with his whole heart. he ended up on the BLLK HIGH Almost Friday Page.

and on the soccer field of course

the score it 1-1, no overtime and sudden death. barou has the ball, and although he practically 10 feet out of his shooting range, he decides to take a chance.

he shoots

he scores

the crowd goes wild.

it's not long after he's crowded by the many other players that he makes his way to you, picking you up and twirling you around in his arms, kissing your face softly while everyone was there.

pda wasn't really his thing, but he didn't really care. your support was more than deserving of his affection and he wasn't shy if the whole world could see.

168 notes · View notes

gtsdreamer2 · 7 months

Text

Beach Gate

April 12th. The day they told everyone to stay out of the water. It was all over the news for weeks. They were releasing a small amount of radiation waste into the ocean. Scientists ran hundreds of simulations about how the water would be safe just one day after the release. Something about dispersement and currents. What they hadn't calculated were the hungry organisms in the water that would feed on the radiation and mutate.

Sebast was relaxing in his chair on the beach. He was on holiday and figured a lazy afternoon at the beach would be the best use for the beautiful day that it was. The beach was moderately crowded, but it was a school day, so it was mostly adults relaxing and enjoyimg the water. Sebast was reading the daily paper, but couldn't help but steal glances at all of the beautiful bikini-clad women that he was fortunate to be surrounded by on this clear, sunny day. He started to dose off while reading the article about a strange algal bloom that scientists were only just starting to study. As he slept, the water all along the shore suddenly began to glow a dark purple as the irradiated algae began to flood in. Woman and men alike were quickly covered in the bloom. As the beach goers exited the shimmering sea, two things became apparent. Firstly, the algae seemed to slip and slide off the men and children before receding back into the ocean. Secondly, the purple globs seemed to congregate and cover only the women, sticking to them and binding to their skin. At first they tried their best to remove the unwelcome algae, but as the masses of purple microfauna began to completely coat the women, their demeanor quickly changed from panic to pleasure.

Sebast awoke, startled as the screams turned to moans around him. Looking to the woman closest to him, he could only watch in fascination as she spasmed on the ground. Mashing her hands over her body, she forcefully massaged the purple goop against her skin. Slowly the algae was being absorbed into her and the irradiated creatures caused her body to swell and grow, which only seemed to fuel her pleasure.

"Fuck, this feels amazing!" She cried out, quickly breaking free of her inadequate clothing. All around him similar situations were playing out. The women began to surge in size at varying paces depending on how much algae they had been in contact with. Some women quickly realized this and ran back into the ocean, scooping up massive handfuls of the creatures and lathering them onto themselves. As the women on the beach began to only break the ten foot mark, those in the sea were quickly doubling and tripling that as their increased volume gave the algae more space to bind to.

Sebast watched as a hierarchy quickly formed. The massive women in the ocean were now big enough to block the much smaller women from growing any larger. This led to the woman that was closest to him coming up to him with a children's pail. She towered above him while she batted her long lashes. "Um, could you take this into the water and bring me more of that purple stuff? I want to be bigger and I promise I'll give you a big reward!" She pressed her chest together as she stuck out both her arms to hand Sebast the pail. He eagerly took it and waited for an opportunity. As one of the monstrously large women in the water started fighting over resources with another one, he made a dash for the shoreline, quickly scooping up a bucket's worth of algae. One of the titanesses watched playfully as Sebast delivered the pail. The woman eagerly dumped it over herself and rubbed it into her skin, quickly gaining a meager two feet in height. "I'll never catch up to those goddesses at this rate. Thanks anyway sweetie." She said, kissing him on the cheek.

The biggest of the sea queens laughed at the mini-giantess's attempt to gain some size. "That was pathetic." She taunted. "Watch and learn." The tide was forced outward as the kaiju sized woman lowered herself into the sea, leaving only her nose above the waterline. Suddenly she opened her mouth and sucked in hundreds of gallons of seawater and all the algae with it. Great volumes of purple water filled her cheeks as she gained another hundred feet in only a few moments. She moaned through her closed mouth, careful not to lose any growth fuel until it had all been absorbed into her. When her growth finally slowed, she sprayed clear water at all the onlookers that were now even further dwarfed by her.

"What a rush!" She boomed, her voice resonating for miles against the tiny eardrums it came across. At her new size, she had no trouble throwing the closest women to her size out onto the beach. "This is all mine!" She roared, throwing her arms out and scooping miles of purple onto her skin, which rose above the water higher and higher. She groped her massive chest and rubbed herself all over in a display of pure carnal dominance. Sebast just watched in awe as the women that were still much larger than him cowered before this ascending goddess. He turned to the one who he had helped grow and grabbed her hand. "Let's get out of here before she crushes us all!" He said, showing her another pail full of algae. She giggled before lifting him up and scurrying off somewhere safer.

#gts #giantess #size kink #sizetumblr #macro #size difference #minigiantess #mega giantess #growth #g/t writing #follower request

240 notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

Text

No Pain, No Gain | Part 1 | PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: The personal trainer your roommate Baela recommended to you is rude, condescending but also hot as hell. Series Masterlist.

A/N: shoutout to my personal trainer Alex for rotting my brain. This is my first modern!Aemond fic, so any feedback is genuinely appreciated, I hope you enjoy this, it was an absolute ball to write (and there will be more!)

Also I could not post this without tagging some absolute modern!Aemond QUEENS who inspired me to write this. @valeskafics @oneeyedvisenya @sapphire-writes you’re the real ones! Also massive hug to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for hyping me up and being a parent to this child she didn't choose to create.

warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

To say you were broken-hearted would be a bit of an understatement.

You were angry, annoyed, frustrated, wound up tight and pissed off to the highest degree.

And it showed in how you acted these days as you polished off the salty family-size bag of crisps on your own in 10 minutes flat.

You look over at your phone and sigh when you see it’s already 6 o’clock in the afternoon. Another day sat on the sofa, wallowing in self-pity, eating yourself into oblivion and fairly soon pouring a glass of Baela’s finest white wine (now that it was officially almost evening anyway and it was justified).

Scrolling through instagram was like twisting the dagger that was already in your chest. All that stupid fucking app could show you was ‘ex in the bar with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex in the drive-thru with his new girlfriend’, ‘ex on the beach with his new girlfriend’.

It made you want to throw your phone directly at the wall. But you settled for squeezing the life out of it, imagining it was your ex’s stupid face instead.

The absolute waste of space had broken up with you over text on the night you were supposed to go out on a date. And as if that was not bad enough, not even two weeks had gone by before he’d managed to stick his dick into someone else with a pulse. At the time, you were so angry that you didn’t accuse him of anything, he’d already broken up with you. But you did suspect that this ‘sudden’ relationship he’d gotten into wasn’t as recent as first thought.

It’s been a month since you found out about the other woman.

And clearly you were coping really well.

Indulging wasn’t something you usually did, but now you feel you deserved it.

“Hello~” the soft, ringing voice of your roommate Baela was at the door. You half-considered hiding all the packets of various foods you’d managed to stuff down your gob, but Baela had seen worse of you. She’d seen you while you were throwing your guts up after freshers week at university. Nothing was worse than that and you shuddered at the memory.

She walks in, looking more put together than you by a long way, having been hanging out with her sister all day. That’s what you like about Baela, she’s not judgemental, and so when she sees you’ve barely moved an inch she just flashes her usual smile.

“Good day then?” she says with a smirk. You raise your eyebrows in return.

“Apart from seeing him plastered all over instagram I’m great”

“Got any left?” she asks, extending a greedy hand for a crisp. You offer her the bag with a sigh as she slumps on the sofa next to you. She watches boredly whatever you have on the TV,

"Why don't you just block him?" She asks. And to be fair, she has a point.

But you huff and shove another crisp in your mouth, whining, "Cos I'm a nosy bitch with no boundaries"

Baela sighs, pulling out her own phone and scrolling through her notifications, "As much as I love you y/n, this is pathetic, even for you"

You'd be offended if she wasn't completely right. And you know she's only half joking so you just shrug.

"How was Rhaena?" You ask.

"Yeah fine, usual shit with Dad. Oh I didn't tell you-" she starts.

She has that glint in her eye which spells trouble. She's got gossip and you raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

"Hold that thought, wine first?"

"Obviously"

After giggling and waltzing over to the counter to pour two glasses of the finest box wine you could get for under seven English pounds, you hand her one and wait almost too excitedly for her to spill whatever sweet gossip she has.

She sips it, almost like she needs the liquid courage to begin, and she hisses at the sweet, acidic taste.

"God that's foul"

"It was 2 for 1!" You retort with a laugh, but she is right, it does taste foul, "Stop stalling, tell me tell me tell me"

She looks at you as if to say bitch, you are not fucking ready.

“Dad’s married Rhaenyra”

The force of which your jaw drops open is almost comical. You’d guessed for a while that they were at least fucking, but to just elope?!

“I need money, cos I betted on this shit happening!”

“Oh my gosh, Rhaena was fucking hysterical. Jace and Luke aren’t surprised at all, but Alicent is beside herself in the family group chat, it should honestly be a reality TV show” Baela says scrolling through said group chat. From what you can see without being too nosy, is that there’s a lot of long paragraphs and angry emojis.

“What about Viserys, surely he’s…” you ask, trailing off to sip the pissy wine in your hands.

“Oh no, he’s thrilled. Which pisses Alicent off even more if that’s possible”

“Baela I think your Uncle’s gone insane” you bite your lip to stifle a laugh.

“No fucking kidding”

You slump back onto the sofa, “Holy shit, I am a genius. I knew the whole time” you say, smirking in victory.

“And so humble too” Baela gives a sarcastic grin which you return.

“How do you feel about it?”

Baela shucks her phone onto the coffee table, sighing, “Not bothered, we’re all adults now, so it hardly makes a difference to me. Suppose it’ll get Dad to stop bringing back random women now” she says exasperated, “but Rhaenyra gets the impression we’re all really bothered so she’s invited us all to a retreat for a week. Think she just wants to butter us up for marrying our Dad”

“Oh? Anywhere nice?”

Baela looks over, giving you a wearied look.

“What?”

“Well that brings me to you”

“Oh god, what” you ask, dropping the tone to emphasise the seriousness of the talk all of a sudden.

Baela fiddles with the remote, in an attempt to appear cute, “Well~ There’s a spare ticket going and you’re my bestest friend. And I would hate to endure a week of watching my Dad eat Rhaenyra’s face off, so come with me please?” she begs.

You sigh, “Baela usually I would love to sponge off you like that but-”

“Pleasepleaseplease~” she begs, “Rhaena’s bringing her boyfriend and we’re basically together!”

You fake a gagging sound.

“Oh come on, a week on a beach in bikinis,sweltering weather with as many cocktails as you can hold isn’t exactly torture”

You give her an incredulous look, opening your arms to emphasise all the bags of junk food around you, “Do I look beach body ready to you?!”

“Oh fuck off, you’re hot and have an ass that can keep the world fed”

“I know I am hot, I just don’t feel hot” you stare blankly at the TV, trying to ignore her and stuff another crisp into your mouth.

Baela sighs, “I was just thinking it would be a nice distraction, that’s all”

“I want to it’s just…” you start, trying to think of the right words, “...I don’t feel my best”

Baela gives you a playful slap on your arm, “Look, forget your ex, he’s dumb as fuck and it’s not solving anything by staying inside with the curtains drawn all day. If you want to feel better, might be worth taking care of yourself a bit, hm?”

Fuck her, you think, rolling your eyes, she’s right.

You hate how often she’s right. Because she gets that look on her face when she is. Always has done.

“How about that gym membership you’ve not used since February?” she asks,

“Okay firstly, ouch. Secondly, I realised I don’t know the first thing about how to work out in a gym, besides the guys there were…weird”

You shudder at the thought. It was January and so all the new year’s resolution guys were at it in full swing, using the gym as a means to try and pick up girls. And since graduating you find that more often than not the guys who hit on you were students. Maybe it was different now?

Baela pokes her cheek with her tongue, racking her brain.

“One of my cousins is a personal trainer? I could text him to see if he’s happy to take you on. Mates rates” she smiles.

You side-eye her hard. You’ve heard briefly about her cousins. Some of the stories are a bit more…eccentric than others. And even though you’ve never met them, you’ve heard enough stories to satisfy your curiosity.

“This isn’t the manwhore cousin, right? Because if it is then no”

She scoffs, “No. Aegon hasn’t set food in a gym since graduating and he only went cos it was free. The personal trainer one is Aemond. He’s a bit…anti-social?” she pulls a face when she says it.

“He’s anti-social and he’s a personal trainer?” you ask, eyebrow raised, “makes so much sense”

Baela scrolls through her contacts, “Yeahhh. Don’t worry though, he’s just grumpy” she explains, “want me to text him?”

Your head falls to the edge of the sofa in a huff. You want to go and on top of that, it might be nice to finally have a break. That and you’d love to shove it in your exes face when he sees you’re on holiday looking your hottest.

“How long ‘til the holiday?”

Baela grins victoriously, “A month and a bit. He does a month course for stuff like this, I can ask him about it”

What the fuck am I getting myself into, you think briefly.

Fuck it.

“Fine”

The force at which Baela’s nails tap against the screen is almost desperate.

Baela snorts a laugh at the message and turns her phone to show you the messages.

“He seems lovely” you roll your eyes sarcastically.

“Like I said, he’s just grumpy. He’ll be professional though” she says.

You sigh, crushing the empty bag of crisps in your hands.

“Can’t wait”

After following him on instagram, you did a bit of shameless stalking. You’d heard a little bit about Aemond from Baela talking about her family, but he seemed the most mysterious out of all of them (save for the youngest whose name she struggled to even remember).

He had very little photos of himself, mainly progress pictures of other clients he’s helped. And he seems to be pretty successful so far. A girl with a similar body to you managed to get toned on his one-month program and looked hot afterwards, so you had some high hopes that it was possible for you as well. But you did wonder what he looked like. There were only two photos where he was in frame, and he’d been tagged by another person, looking away from the camera.

From what you could see, he was very tall, lithe and slim but built, with silver hair that had been pulled up into a bun. Ah, so he’s a man-bun type of guy. Yikes.

Unfortunately, the photo showed very little of his face, so you couldn’t be too nosy.

You sent a very brief message, introducing yourself, trying not to cringe at the idea that he might be doing the exact same stalking to your instagram right at this moment. A shiver went up your spine at the thought.

It’s only when you’re in TKMaxx with Baela, shopping for gym gear the next day, that you finally get a reply from him.

“What do you think of just wearing a sports bra?” Baela says, eyeing up a black shirt.

You’re too busy staring at the message, “Hm? Oh, I’d just go in gym leggings and a bra yeah. Just got a reply from your mysterious cousin”

Baela hops over, “What’s he said? Nothing bad I hope” she grins.

You show her the screen.

Baela raises her eyebrows, “Very formal. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised” she says, seeming surprised that he’s at least cordial.

“It’s very ‘serial-killer-esque’ of him not to have a profile picture” you joke, locking your phone again.

Baela picks out a black gym set. Black leggings with a mesh pocket on the side for your phone and a black sports bra. You nod, “Yeah looks good to me”

“Oh please you’re gonna look hot in this” she smirks, leading you over to the counter to pay.

She rewards you for your efforts by driving you to McDonald's drive-thru. A send off to junk-food so to speak.

And when Monday rolls around, you nod in the mirror. She was right, it does look hot on you. At least in the safety of your flat where there’s nobody to look at you. In a gym, surrounded by other fit people and a personal trainer you’ve never met? It might feel slightly different.

There’s a faint swirl of anxiety in your gut but you pull your trainers on, grab a hair tie from your nightstand and drive to the gym you’ve agreed to meet at. Luckily it’s your local gym, large and packed to the brim with some good equipment at least. And you briefly wonder what kind of workouts you’ll be doing before pulling into the car park.

You see him as soon as you enter the gym. He’s very tall, slender but muscular and fucking gorgeous. What the fuck, is all you can think when you shamelessly scan him from head to toe. Like the pictures, he has his long silver hair in a bun, with a few pieces having come free and falling around his face. His legs are miles long in the black sweats he’s wearing, as well as the black top that sticks a bit too snugly to his front and shoulders, making your mouth water a bit.

And you can’t help but admire his side profile, how his jaw just so naturally and sharply juts into his chin. How his cheekbones sit so prominently and high on his face, framing his features. His sharp, defined nose. And you can’t see from here because he’s looking down at his phone, but his eyelashes are unnaturally long for a man. It’s just unfair, frankly.

Shaking yourself briefly from the trance you were in, you right yourself and approach him.

He looks up to see you before you even have a chance to open your mouth. Now that he's looking at you face on, you can see the shocking blue of his right eye and the paler, soft hue of the other. Not only that but the angry scar that ran down the side of his face, extending from his forehead to the mid part of his cheek, straight through the eye.

You look at it for a split second, surmising that perhaps he's partially sighted or blind in that eye. But you choose not to say anything and instead smile with an awkward wave.

"Hey, you must be Aemond"

He openly drags his eyes over you, from head to toe, just like you did a moment ago without his knowledge. But now that you're standing right in front of him, in the gym gear that you totally don't feel a bit self conscious in, it feels a bit weird.

He doesn't reply for a moment.

"I'm y/n" you say, forcing a smile to your nervous face.

"Hm" he responds lowly, "Baela's friend"

You pull an awkward face and nod.

You feel so stupidly small against this absolute giraffe of a man and you daren't step forward any more, for fear of looking even smaller under his judgemental and indifferent gaze.

He sighs and gestures for you to follow him, seeming disinterested as he looks down at his phone. For a brief second you wonder how this guy keeps his clients if he's this rude, but you shake the thought away, not wanting to judge too quickly.

He leads you into one of the consultation rooms, separate from the rest of the gym. He sits on one of the seats, sighing as if he's had the hardest day in the world and taking a swig of water from his bottle.

Sat across from him, you feel a bit small under his gaze. He's quite intimidating, you now find.

"Have you ever worked out before" he asks flatly.

You shrug, "I've tried I guess, but never super seriously" you laugh awkwardly, but he doesn't return it.

He runs his eyes over you again, as if to say yeah I can see that.

"Stand up. Shoes off. We're going to take your weight and measurements" he orders, going to his bag to grab some things.

It's beyond awkward and quiet in the room with him as he idly takes down your weight, height and current eating habits, which you've had to be more honest about than you'd cared to admit.

Standing in the middle of the room, he twirls his measuring tape on his fingers. He measures your upper body first, which isn't too bad until he gets to your bust. You try and look anywhere else in the room while he measures across it, his fingers landing softly at either arm, taking a note of the measurement. You internally scold yourself, he is so much taller and surely must be able to see right down the sports bra. It only serves to make your face heat up with embarrassment.

If that wasn't enough, he gets to your lower body, measuring your hips and then thighs. He gets to his knees to do it and you resist the urge to pull your hands into fists at the proximity of him to your intimate area, separated only by a thin pair of gym leggings and underwear.

He doesn't seem to bother himself with the awkwardness. And every time you look at his face, he seems indifferent, bored even. Even then, his face is unnaturally beautiful, even with the scar.

He must really not like people.

Aemond sighs having taken all his notes.

"We'll do one training session and see how much weight we can do" he instructs. You nod.

"I expect you to be in the gym four times a week, three in the week and once at the weekend. We'll do one session together a week so I can check your progress"

His tone is so flat, all you can do is nod. He looks at you,

"Got it?"

Your cheeks heat up, "Um, yeah"

"Good"

He leads you outside to the actual gym floor which luckily isn't too busy, side-eyeing you massively when you pull your hair up into a ponytail to get it off your neck.

His large form leads you over to where the mats are kept, haphazardly throwing two to the floor.

He doesn't say anything past one or two word commands and it's incredibly difficult to not look in the mirror in front of you to watch him as he stretches. The way he stretches his arms over his head and it lifts the hem of his shirt a little, showing his happy trail, biceps rippling.

And when he does leg stretches, instructing you to do the same, you can't help but stare at how his thighs are basically bulging out from his sweats. It takes all of your strength and will to not look any higher than that towards his hips.

He watches your form as you try and copy him stretching. And your heart almost leaps into your chest when he uses his hand to move your ankle slightly, so that you put pressure on a certain muscle. But he focuses completely, professional.

Fuck, be professional.

All caution is thrown completely to the wind when he gets you on machines. He demonstrates some of them first, starting with the so-called 'easier' ones, like the inner and outer thigh machines that look way too…suggestive.

Of course, he's got it on a ridiculous weight to demonstrate which makes you scoff a bit. And when you get on the inner thigh machine, it locks into place with your legs spread. You thank every god there is that there's no mirror in front of you on this machine.

"You have to start with your legs spread as much as possible" he states simply, pushing the pads against your legs even further. It makes your eyes widen, sinful thoughts pop up in your head. But before they take root you shake them away.

It's ridiculously hard the first few times and he raises an eyebrow.

"Really?" He mocks a bit, the tiniest of smirks on his face "you're only on 14kg"

"Fuck off" you mutter under your breath. He tuts and changes it to 9kg, bruising your ego a bit. But you finish the set nonetheless.

You think he's a bit of a psycho, because after that little remark he has you on every leg machine available. Making fun every time you have to be on the lowest weight.

After the session, you're aching in places you didn't even know existed and you haven't even rested yet. Knowing full well you'll be achy as fuck tomorrow and even wlrse than right now. The faintest sheen of sweet is visible on your pinkened chest.

"You're weaker than I thought"

He runs his long fingers through his hair and you want to slap that stupid fucking self-indulgent look off his smug face seeing you all out of puff like this.

"Thanks, means a lot" you say sarcastically, drinking from a water bottle. He raises an eyebrow at the attitude.

"I'll send you your workout plan. If you have any issues do me a favour and don't bother me with them" he retorts.

"Charming" you mutter under your breath once he's gone past you. You watch as he walks away, briefly appreciating his broad shoulders, until the sour taste of his poor behaviour settles in. And you huff, texting Baela immediately.

You curse every god there is that you drive a manual car, because right now the thought of having your aching leg pressing on the clutch pedal might actually drive you to mass-murder.

This is going to be a long month.

Taglist: @mrsgrwy @lovelykhaleesiii

845 notes · View notes

alastor-simp · 1 month

Text

Fly With Me!🌹 - Riddle Rosehearts Bloom Birthday x Fem Reader

❥Summary: It's August 24th! Which means its the adorable red headed dorm leaders birthday today. What will your gift be?

❥Tags: Bloom birthday, riddle rosehearts birthday, riddle roseheart x female reader, riddle roseheart is such a kawaii tsundere, twst x reader, riddle and reader are a couple.

❥Notes: I had to make a riddle x fem reader birthday fic for him, I couldn't resist! Enjoy!!

*Afternoon-Heartslabyul Dorm*

"RIDDDLLEEEEEEEE!" Yelling out his name, you ran towards the birthday venue of Heartslabyul dorm. Riddle had turned around quickly, as widen as he saw you barreling towards him, arms wide open. "Y/N! What are you-oopmh" Riddle's words were cut off as your arms engulfed him in a hug. Riddle remained frozen at the sudden hug, especially with how fast you came at him, it sent his mind spiraling. Once he was able to get his thoughts in order, he arched his head to look at you, eyes a bit strict. "How many times have I told you, no running in the halls. Are you so eager to earn a collar on your neck?" You gave a laugh and slowly loosened the hug, moving your hands to his shoulder. "Hey hey, I was running to give my boyfriend a birthday hug. Unless you didn't like it?" Your eyes turned sad, causing Riddle to panic. "N-no I didn't disapprove of the hug. J-Just warn me next time. I'm not very accustom to it." A smile returned to your face, and you pulled Riddle back into a hug, rocking him a bit, causing him to chuckle. "Okay okay. Oh, by the way, Happy birthday!" You sang it out, earning another chuckle from Riddle. "Thank you!"

Removing yourself from the hug, your eyes scanned Riddles outfit, amazed by the design. "Wow, that looks really good on you. Reminds me of something I saw in a book once." Riddle stepped back a bit, and motion his eyes down to look at his mage robe, before turning back to you with a soft smile. "It was traditionally worn in the past by well known mages. I remember seeing them in history books in Treins class. I recall in the past I wish to wear something like this." Riddle kept smoothing over certain parts of the robe, wanting to make sure it was pristine. Giving a chuckle, you moved closer and fixed the wizard hat on his head, making sure it was straight. "Well you are finally wearing it now, and it really suits you." Riddles face had turned a reddish color, but it wasn't due to anger, he was embarrassed. "S-stop with the teasing remarks please." His eyes continued to gaze down at the floor, clearly shy. "I'm not teasing you Riddle, I meant it." His eyes went back to look at you, observing for any mischief in them, and he found none. Calming down, his face adorned a smile once again, "I see, then I thank you for the compliment." You responded with a nod of your head.

"Ahem, now then, as per Heartslabyul tradition, it is required that a gift be presented to the Queen. Have you prepared your gift for me?" He postured his body like he always did, one hand placed on his hip, lips moved up into his signature smirk. Oh yeah! His Present! Remembering your gift, you left the room for a bit and came back, with a large gift box, covered in red gift wrapping and white ribbons. "Here is your present Riddle. I hope you like it." Placing the box in his hand, Riddle's eyes widen at the massiveness of the gift. He was fine with anything you gave him honestly, he just hoped you didn't waste a lot of money on it, as he knew you weren't given many funds from Crowley. Opening the box, Riddle let out a small gasp at what he saw. Inside the box was a well crafted tea cup set, shaped as strawberries.

The other item inside the box, was a rectangular shaped wrapped gift, it was covered in stickers as well as certain stationary items.

"Um, what is this?" Riddle lifted the object up, eyes filled with curiosity. You let out a chuckle, pointing to the object with your finger. "That is a common trend from my world called "Blind date with a book" where a person takes a random book and covers it up preventing the person who got it to see what it is, making it a surprise for the reader. Basically like a blind date by with a book. Some are done simple, and others are placed with more items. I made this one special for you and I added stickers, bookmarks, and a tea bag for you to enjoy when you read." Riddle listened to your explanation, eyes sparkling with excitement even more. He examined the item closely, admiring how well made it was. He could tell you had put a lot of time and effort into setting this up.

Setting the box down somewhere, Riddle turned back to you, eyes closed, giving you his sweet kind smile. "Thank you for the present, my rose. I can't wait to see what book you have chosen for me to read, and also use that cup set for the next Unbirthday party." Blushing, you looked down, rubbing your neck with your hand. "I hope you liked what I picked. I have only seen you read the school books, so I wasn't sure what your preferred genre was, but I think you will enjoy it." As your eyes turned back towards Riddle, you noticed the large broom that was decorated with a multitude of red flowers behind him, "Oh what is that?" Motioning his head to where you were looking, Riddle walked over and picked up the broom, holding it in front of you. "Oh this is the broomquet that was given to me by Vil-sempai. I had just flown it around the school a little while ago" Walking over, you touch the little flowers on the broom, admiring the soft petals. "As always, Vil has good taste. Sucks that I missed you flying around though."

Riddle's eyes continued to gaze at you, heart aching at your disappointed face. An idea came into his mind, and he gave you a soft smile. "Wanna fly with me?" Surprised at what he said, you stared at Riddle, not expecting him to say that to you. "On the broom? B-both me and you?" Smirking at your reaction, Riddle leaned in closer towards you, "Oya, your cheeks are very red, my rose." Glaring at riddle, you pushed him back a bit, telling him to stop teasing you, earning a small chuckle from him. "Well, do you want to?" Riddle eyes were serious, indicating that he really wanted an answer. You gave him a nod to his question, face still red. Riddle smiled, grabbing your hand with one while holding the broomquet with the other.

*Outside Night Raven College*

The both of you had ventured out of Heartslabyul and exited out of Night Raven College, towards the sports field, where the flight lessons took place. Riddle had positioned the broom, in between his legs, sliding to the front. Once he was settle, he turned around facing you, handing extending out for you to grab. Nervous, you slowly grabbed his hand, as you flung your leg on the other side, positioning yourself the same as Riddle. "If you are frighten, you may wrap your arms around me." The minute Riddle said that, your hands had wrapped around his middle torso, face pushed into his back, excited yet scared at the same time. His body stiffened a bit, but he quickly relaxed, getting comfortable with your arms around him. Hearing him take a breath, you felt his magic swirling around the broom, levitating the both of you off the ground. Pretty soon the both of you were high up, the ground becoming further and further away.

Your head still remained in Riddles back, but you slowly began to peak every once in a while to see. The view was spectacular, the sky was painted a sky blue changing into a peach orange, and the clouds were a mix of yellow and pink. "Wow!" You couldn't look away from the sight, placing your cheek against Riddle. "It truly is a beautiful view." Riddle turned a bit to look at you, kind smile on his face as he turned back to continue flying the broom. "So why did you want to go flying with me so badly?" Tilting your head in curosity, you waited for Riddle to respond to you. He remained silent for a minute, before turning back saying there was no reason for suggesting it. "Come on Riddle. Spill." Hearing him give a sigh, he stopped flying for a second, turning his head to face you. "In my hometown, there is well known ranch that is quite popular. They are known for their amazing looking desserts. Cater was kind enough to bring it to my attention about the new tarts they are selling and I wanted to go and try them." His cheeks were pinkish the more he explained it to you, causing your heart to soar. "You, Riddle Roseheart, want to leave school, fly all the way to your hometown to go eat some amazing desserts, with me? Who are you and what have you done with my Riddle?" You place one of your hands on Riddle's cheek, giving it a little pinch.

A bit annoyed, Riddle moved his head, causing your hands to leave his cheek. "I am still myself. Besides, it is still my birthday, and according to the Queen of Hearts Rules, you can eat whatever you like on your birthday, so I'm not breaking any rules, technically." You laughed at him, ahh he was still your Riddle, rule follower to the max as always. Hugging him closer to you, you place a kiss on his cheek, before setting your head on his shoulder. "Well? What are we waiting for? Lets go!" Riddle turned soft at your little show of affection, giving you a soft smile, before turning back to continue flying. "With pleasure!" The broom started to move again, going up in over in a little loop de loop, then continuing to fly towards your destination.

-FIN-

P.S

YESSSSSSSSS I GOT HIS BIRTHDAY BLOOM CARD AFTER I FINISHED WRITING THIS!!! LETS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Night Raven Students:

@sadnessiscoldtea , @madam-strawberryrose , @aria-tempest ,

@crazed-flower , @darischerry , @inkslayer,

@91062854-ka

@lillyisfreakyy , @batmanmonstarr @coffee-or-hot-cocoa

104 notes · View notes

vicsnook · 3 months

Text

Good Luck, Babe! | Jake Seresin x Reader

word count: 6,560

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+, Unprotected PinV

notes: Hey friends! I know I've kind of dropped off the face of the Earth since the new year. I've had massive writer's block due to some personal stuff but I think I am finally out of the funk. Please forgive me for any errors, I wrote this on and off the past few months so I hope it doesn't come off terrible. I plan to make this a 2 possible 3 parter so leave some feedback and let me know if you want more. Hope you like it & please don't forget to like and reblog! 🫶🏼

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I agreed to come on a date to the famous Hard Deck but thankfully I’m not disappointed yet. The jukebox is playing old country songs and some couples are dancing on the makeshift dance floor, "this is definitely my kind of place," I think.

I approach the bar and look for my date Mickey, who waves me over from a corner booth. He kisses my cheek and slides his arm around me as we slide into the cozy booth. “So m’lady what can I get you to drink?” he asks, his eyes scanning my face but before I can answer a blonde man slides into the seat across from us.

Mickey’s face turns red immediately as the blonde grabs his beer and takes a swig. “My apologies, am I interrupting anything, Fanboy?” asks the blonde with a southern drawl, flashing me what I could only describe as a million-dollar smile. “Yes, Hangman, so I'd appreciate it if you could make yourself scarce,” growls Mickey, beginning to stand up and holding his hand out for me to follow.

“And leave this lovely lady alone with you? Not a chance,” responds the blonde, now standing in front of Mickey and in our way. “This lovely lady would also like you to make yourself scarce and stop bothering her date,” I said to the blonde, who just like Mickey turned to me with a look of shock.

Before “Hangman” could respond, I grabbed hold of Mickey’s hand and led us out the side door and down the ramp onto the beach. When we came to a halt, Mickey was still looking at me slack-jawed. “That was awesome! No one’s ever put Hangman in his place,” he raves, as I giggle in amusement. “Yeah, well he sure seemed like he needed it. Anywho, I don’t take it, he's a friend?” I ask. He shook his head and then explained all about how Hangman was just his insufferable coworker who thought that because he had the only confirmed air kill of this generation he was above anyone.

“And that’s the story of Hangman, anyway, fancy getting some ice cream mademoiselle?” asked Mickey while extending his arm for me to hold. “Of course,” I reply and chuckle as we make our way to the ice cream parlor by the boardwalk.

The rest of the afternoon went by without a hitch as I learned more about my date whose call sign was “Fanboy” due to his adorable obsession with Star Trek. That night I didn’t waste any time texting him that I had a great time and looked forward to seeing him again.

Maybe my mom was right when she suggested I needed to get back to the dating scene. As I lay there waiting on sleep to come, an image of Hangman flashes through my head and I can't help the feeling in my stomach. Shaking my head, I bury it deep down with memories from my date with Mickey.

I won't let anything ruin my happiness at this moment. That was until I woke up this morning and saw that my blue text had turned green and was unanswered.

Just my absolute luck to get blocked after what I thought was a good first date.

I went on with the rest of the week trying to feel unbothered about being blocked but it still crept into my mind every once in while. And that’s how I ended up parked in front of the Hard Deck on what seems like a very busy night.

I sigh and put the car in reverse, this is pathetic. But before I go any further, a blonde Ken doll look-alike catches my eye and I realize it’s Hangman walking in, which I hope means Mickey is probably inside.

Putting the car back in park, I take one last look in the rearview mirror and reapply my red lipstick. Time to show that WSO what he missed out on.

I’m immediately surrounded by a sea of aviators in their dress whites when I step inside, and a couple of them shoot me hungry looks. I take a deep breath and plunge through the crowd to make my way toward the back where I think catch sight of Mickey and his friends but I soon collide with a very very hard chest before I can reach him.

“So we meet again, lovely lady?” I hear as I tilt my head up and make eye contact with the owner of the hard chest whose hands are holding my waist steadying me. And wouldn't you know it, it’s none other than Hangman who is once again sporting that blinding smile. Up close I can see how green his eyes are and good lord all I can think is how this man is way too damn perfect.

I clear my throat and back away as his hands fall off my waist but I don’t get very far because his hand firmly grasps mine and I’m spun back into his chest once again. “What the hell are you-” I try to ask but my words die when I see the hungry look in his eye. “Not so chatty now, are you?” He smirks at me and I feel my cheeks burn. “What do you want?” I manage to croak, feeling now even more embarrassed to have come here tonight.

“Well for starters, I want to lead you out the door to my truck, then I want take you somewhere nice to dinner, and what I want most is to have those pretty red lips of yours around my cock by the end of the night, darlin’" He whispers in my ear, his breath on my neck making my head spin.

Usually, I would slap any man who spoke to me that way but my brain was currently short-circuiting tonight so I just nodded and followed him out the door into the parking lot to take part in what will probably be a very big mistake tomorrow.

His hand sits on my lower back as he leads me to his truck that is conveniently parked at the very end of the parking lot and before I can convince myself to back out of this we have reached the passenger door. He opens the door for me and helps me into the seat before rounding the truck and getting in too. His scent fills my nostrils, sage and sandalwood.

“I’m not sure I ever properly introduced myself, my name’s Jake Seresin.” He tells me as he pulls into the highway and I pull myself together long enough to mutter mine back. I take him in as he drives and notice the scar above his eyebrow and how rosy his lips look, and I can’t help but think of how good they would feel on mine.

I doubt any of my friends would be supportive of me throwing caution to the wind but something about Jake makes saying no, impossible. A spark goes through me when his hand comes to rest on my thigh just below the hem of my dress, and I sure hope I haven’t soaked the seat.

We pull up to a restaurant downtown that I only ever heard of because of because of it being expensive but before I can protest he is getting out of the truck and coming to open my door. “Jake, this is too much. I -” his fingers come to rest on my lips effectively shushing my protests. “Baby, I’m going to lavish you tonight and I mean that in more ways than one.”

His eyes are locked into mine as I nod. No man has ever managed to render me speechless, much less make me so agreeable but I guess that changes tonight.

The food and wine are exquisite and the conversation flows smoothly between us and I can’t help but want more of this man. My once disdain for him now vanished.

He tells me of growing up in Texas on his family’s ranch and of his rodeo days that ended too quickly when his father passed. He talks of how he joined the Navy to be able to support his family. I notice his eyes darken as he talks of missing home and how lonely his job can be because he acts like an asshole to keep people away, and I feel myself reaching for his hand to comfort him. He smiles gratefully, then casually turns the conversation back to me.

So I tell him of my sister, Meredith, who died a few years back because of a drunk driver which led me to pursue a career in law seeing as the man who killed her is free and she didn’t get justice. He squeezes my hand in comfort and I tell him that I moved to Miramar to get away from my hometown because everything reminds me of Mer and I wanted a fresh start and how I’ve been here a year now and hardly know anyone because I’ve thrown myself into my work instead of dealing with my grief.

I shudder when I’m done when I realize I’ve bared my soul to someone who I hardly know but I don’t overthink for long because Jake’s hand reaches out and caresses my face. He settles the bill and ignores my pleas to let me pay for at least half and once we’re back in the truck I realize that it’s nearly midnight and he asks for directions back to my place which I give without a second thought.

He follows me in and I curse at myself when I see the mess of paperwork on the living room table. “Sorry, I don’t usually have guests over,” I tell him, and he shrugs it off and helps me straighten the papers up. We settle in the small couch and I can feel the heat radiating off his body and the nerves finally kick in. “Um, can I get you something to drink?” I ask, looking over at the TV that is not even on. “No, thank you, Angel. Look, I know what I said at the bar but we don't have to do anything you don't want to do.” He assures me, my eyes finally making contact with his. But I don’t want him to go and I feel an urgent need to feel his skin against mine so I do the only thing I can think of and kiss him.

He kisses me slowly and carefully like I might pull away and dismiss him any second so I move closer to him and then climb onto his lap. He groans as I straddle him and I take the chance to slip my tongue into his mouth, savoring the taste of him. His fingers dip into my waist as I bite his lip and pull back. His eyes are blown with lust and I know then there is no going back.

His mouth kisses along my jaw and down to my neck and I moan loudly as he finds that spot just below my ear that drives me crazy. “Are you sure about this?” He asks, leaving kisses just above the neckline of my dress. “Yes, I need you, Jake, please,” I beg as he slides the straps of my dress down and his mouth trails down kisses, latching onto my perky nippe.

I arch my back and the dress pools at my hips, the cold air on my skin making me shiver for a moment until his warm chest presses against mine and I realize he’s ditched his shirt. I run my hands through his chiseled chest and think to myself that this is the kind of body that Greek statues are made of.

“Where’s your room?” he asks, between kisses and I feel another current surge through me. “At the end of the hall,” I manage to croak and he moves forward so I can wrap my legs around him and then he leads us to my room. The very short hallway feels infinite as he holds me against the wall and his hands run all over my body and I’m now shaking with desire.

“Jake, please,” I beg and I feel him grin against my neck and I blush in the dark as he nibbles on my neck leaving what I know tomorrow will be a very noticeable hickey. He finally takes us into my room and places me on the bed and as he towers over me it sinks in what I’m about to do and a shiver of excitement runs through me.

He pulls down the rest of my dress and I am left in my very small thong, he places his hand over my core and I quiver against it. “Eager aren’t we?” He whispers as he cups the thin fabric of my thong and slowly slides it down, pressing kisses onto my leg as he finally gets it off and stuffs it into his back pocket.

I raise an eyebrow at him in response, but he ignores it as he slides off the bed and pulls me to the edge of the bed where he kneels on the floor. I blush as I feel his warm breath on my thigh as he kisses his way to my core pausing just before reaching it, our eyes lock and I see that he is looking for reassurance. I nod, not trusting my words and within seconds he is eating me out like he is starving and my pussy is a full-course meal.

I moan his name loudly and tug at his hair but he doesn’t slow down and I feel myself getting close when he eases a finger in and he must sense that I’m close to reaching an orgasm because he pulls my thighs even further apart and adds another finger. My moans turn to whimpers as he keeps edging me. I shake against him while he uses his fingers to coax me through my orgasm. “Good girl,” he mumbles as he slowly raises himself and placing a kiss on my lips and I want more.

“Fuck me, Jake,” I whimper as he settles beside me in the bed but I get a response that I was not expecting. “Not yet angel,” he whispers as he caresses my arm that fills with goosebumps as he gets further up and he turns my head to look at him. His green eyes are staring into mine so deeply I think he can read my needy thoughts. I run my hand down his chest and stop at his belt buckle, his eyes following my every move, and I decide to give him what he asked for at the beginning of the night.

Pulling him off the bed with me I take notice of my shaky legs but still, I kneel in front of him and undo his belt. I can feel his eyes on me as I ease his pants down and palm him through his boxers. A groan escapes him as I slide his cock free of the boxers and suck on his swollen tip. “Fuck,” he moans as I take him in my mouth and I feel myself getting wetter as he starts to fuck my face.

But he’s careful yet again so I grab onto his hips and increase the pace, eliciting various groans from him and when I meet his eyes he slowly stills me. “I want to come inside you,” he says, his voice husky with lust. His arms reach to pull me up and I’m back on the bed before I can protest.

“I’m not going to be as slow and careful, honey. I’m going to fuck you so hard that you can’t walk tomorrow, so stop me now if that’s not what you want,” he whispers in my ear and I shiver with excitement. I reply by pulling him down to me and kissing him as hard as I possibly can. Without warning he’s stretching me open, and before I can even catch a breath, he’s thrusting hard into me again.

His fingers are digging into my waist as I scream in pleasure, “Taking me so good, baby,” he groans while leaving more hickeys on my neck. He continues to thrust hard and fast and I’m shaking with pleasure.

My moans get louder as his finger finds my clit and I worry the neighbors will call the cops. But he seems unfazed as he continues to fuck me through it. I whimper loudly, my legs sliding off his sides as I reach my orgasm. “I’m almost there, honey,” he whispers in my ear but I barely acknowledge him, still lost in my high.

He fills me with his sweet release as I come down from my own. His green eyes boring into mine as he slowly pulls out and I feel his cum slipping out of me. “Look at you, baby. I made a mess out of you,” he grins, laying at my side and pulling me to him.

I lay my head on his chest as exhaustion takes over and any thought of getting myself sorted out flies out the window. He kisses my hairline and the last thing I hear is him saying “good girl” as sleep envelops me in his arms.

I wake up to my body aching as memories from last night flood back in and I smile, turning over, only to find the bed empty. Only my dress is in the corner of my bedroom floor, no sign of Jake or my thong. I curse to myself as I get up and feel even more sore if that’s even possible. He sure meant that he would fuck me til I couldn't walk.

The apartment is deadly quiet and I head to the bathroom which I find empty as well. Pulling on my robe, I check the living room which to no one’s surprise is also empty, and as I look out the window, I notice Jake’s truck is gone and then it hits me that my car is still parked at the Hard Deck.

Fuck me.

I check around the rest of the apartment and find no note anywhere. Disappointment creeps in as I decide to finally go shower and get him off my skin. When I catch sight of myself in the bathroom mirror, I see the damage he left on my neck and chest is extensive. Angry reddish marks stare back at me and I doubt all the concealer in the world can help cover what he did.

The next few weeks are a blur as I throw myself into my work and vow to never return to the Hard Deck. Long nights working keep me occupied so much so that I don’t realize my period is late for a week, and that’s when it dawns on me that we didnt use protection and of course, I hadn’t been on the pill.

The pharmacy is crowded as I buy a pregnancy test, and I glare at the cashier who very loudly yells “Good luck!” as I walk out. Traffic is awful too on the way home and I feel myself getting more anxious by the second.

I practically run to the bathroom as soon as I’m home and finally pee on the stupid stick. 5 minutes feel like an eternity when your future rests on the other side. The timer goes off and as I flip the test over, I grab hold of the vanity to steady myself as I stare back at the two pink lines that signify my worst fear.

I’m pregnant.

click here for part 2!

taglist: @harperdoodle , @weirdothatwritess , @rosiahills22 (y’all let me know if you dont want me to tag anymore)

#top gun maverick #top gun fandom #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin smut #jake seresin

79 notes · View notes

five-and-dimes · 2 months

Text

Sunbeam

Part 3 of 4

Using the Dreaming Bingo prompt: Accidental Voyeurism

Rating: Explicit

Ship: Dreamling

Warnings: Past abuse (not explicit, just implied past warprize things)

Additional Tags: Cat!Dream, Cow!Hob, King/warprize, hurt/comfort, masturbation, sexual fantasies

Summary: We have reached the spicy chapter 👀

Read on AO3

~~~

When Dream awakens from yet another post-meal nap, Hob is not in the room.

Sitting up, he allows himself the indulgence of a wide yawn in this moment of privacy. He shivers slightly, and his ears droop sadly when he glances out the window to see that while the sun has not fallen quite yet, it had crossed the sky in his sleep and no longer shines its warmth through the windows on this side of the palace. The lavish room that has been his dwelling for the past three weeks has become cold and dim.

Tucking his knees beneath his chin, Dream wraps his tail around his legs, feeling lost. He has felt lost ever since he was given to King Robert- Hob, as he insisted on being called. Each time he has been passed from one owner to another, they never wasted any time trying out their new toy. The royals he has lived under always seemed thrilled at the opportunity to punish him for rules he hadn’t been taught yet, and to make him repay even the slightest mercies.

Hob has done none of that.

He would have thought, if the king was truly so disgusted with his weak and damaged prize, that he would simply be given to another member of the court. But Hob had asked him his name, given him clothing, carried him upstairs when his body failed him, and when he’d felt the bones pressing through Dream’s skin, he had fed him.

Dream still flushes just thinking about it, even after all the time that’s passed. It had been terrifying at first, to see the king disrobe, revealing just how much bigger and stronger he was than Dream even beneath his royal garb. But he had been so gentle. And in the end, all he had done was feed him, even when Dream could feel that he wanted more.

Now, several times a day, the king of the bovine kingdom presses Dream’s face to his plentiful chest, and Dream is given the privilege of what must be the sweetest milk in the land. Part of him is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. He still expects that one day Hob will deem him healthy enough to be put to use. But for now, at least….

For now, it’s nice.

He shivers again, his body always so cold, and even more so without the sunlight. He has gotten braver about laying on the bedroom rug in the sun when Hob is not in the room, though he still sprints back to his place on the bed when he returns. For a moment he wishes he could go outside, to sit beneath the late afternoon sun. And then he notices it.

A thin, golden beam of light spilling from a door across the room. It is not the door to the hallway, or the bathroom Dream has been given permission to use. The king’s room has several doors that Dream has seen Hob go into but not seen inside himself. His ears twitch longingly as he realizes that whatever is behind this door, there is sunlight. There is warmth.

Cautiously, he slips from the bed, arms wrapped around himself to hold his robe closed as he tiptoes towards the light. As he gets closer his ears flick forward as he catches the sound of what sounds like the gentle lapping of water. Glancing over his shoulders, always preparing to get in trouble in some way, his curiosity and the chill in his bones spurs him on. The door is only open a crack, and Dream presses himself against the wall as he leans forward to peek into the room.

It is a bathroom, though there is no toilet in sight, and it is far more extravagant than the one Dream has been using. The entire room is gleaming white and gray marble, golden accents on the lights and knobs. There is a large shower in the back corner, a massive vanity overflowing with jars and bottles, a wardrobe made of polished wood. Two of the walls seem to be mostly windows, perhaps not the best for privacy, but allowing a stunning view of the rolling fields outside the palace. The sunlight streams in to land on a thick rug in the center of the room. It looks soft, and warm, and Dream wants to rub his entire body on it.

And then his eyes finally land on the bath.

The bath where Hob is currently touching himself.

The tub is practically a pool, set into the floor with a few steps leading into it. Dream thinks that even taking into account the larger stature of those in the bovine kingdom you could easily fit multiple people in it. But right now, Hob is alone, is stretched out with his head thrown back as he rolls a nipple between his fingers. The same one Dream had suckled on not long ago.

His other hand is beneath the water and between his thighs. From his current position, Dream can’t see anything beneath the lip of the tub. But he sees the way Hob’s arm moves steadily, the way he sighs and groans softly as he pinches his own nipple harshly, the way his flesh folds at his sides as he arches his back.

Dream has never seen any of his owners touch themselves like this. Why would they? Why would they bother masturbating with their hands when they could use the toy that is Dream’s body?

It is… captivating.

He is so enraptured in the scene that he has no idea how long he has been standing there when Hob casually turns his head and looks him dead in the eye.

“Would you like to come in?”

Dream freezes, eyes wide, not even daring to breathe, let alone run away. Was this a test? A taunt? An order? Had he just brought his own downfall upon himself?

“It’s alright, Love,” Hob calls out to him softly, his gentle voice easing some of Dream’s panic. His hand leaves his breast to beckon him inside. His other hand remains beneath the water. “You can come in if you’d like,” he continues, “You don’t have to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I know you like the sunshine and there’s plenty of it to share.”

It’s true, the entire room is bathed in light, everything shining and gleaming. Dream shivers. The rug looks so comfortable.

Swallowing thickly, he slowly creeps through the door, opening it just enough to slip through and no more. He keeps his hands clasped in front of him, head bowed, and he shivers again when the pads of his feet step onto sun-warmed marble. Hob has continued to rub oil into his fur every other day, and Dream continues to tremble through most of it, mind and body warring over the sense memory of hands on him in the past versus the gentle softness of the here and now. But whenever he reaches his hands or feet the shaking worsens, and Hob always quietly lets go to allow Dream to huddle with his fragile claws curled against his body. The result is that even as his skin and fur improve, the pads on his hands and feet are still dry and cracked. The warmth and hardness of the marble is almost painful, and he quickens his steps as much as he dares to reach the rug.

He folds himself down to kneel, stiff and proper. Hands in his lap, back straight and head bowed, and it is still worth it to feel the lush rug beneath his bony knees, and the sun’s warmth on his body.

“You…” Dream starts hesitantly. It still feels strange, feels dangerous, to speak without being given explicit permission, “You look. Comfortable?” It’s pitched as a question, but in truth there is no doubt.

Hob’s body is flushed gently, lounging bonelessly in the tub. Steam is rising gently around him, the scent of lavender drifting through the room, and Dream has to lower his gaze again quickly when he realizes that, now that he is closer, there are no bubbles in the water to conceal the king’s body.

“I am,” Hob answers casually, one hand draped across the floor beside him. The other…

“I realized that when I offered you a bath, I was very vague about it, which must have been frightening for you. I’m sorry.”

Dream startles, eyes darting up before darting back down just as fast, “Y-you have done nothing wrong, sire.”

It is true though. When Hob had brought up giving Dream a bath he had wanted to weep, had wanted to plead with Hob to tell him what he did wrong so he could fix it. Normally when Dream was thrust into a cold tub by callous hands and scrubbed harshly, it was to rid him of the dried come and other fluids coating his body. But he had been washed before he was given away, and Hob hadn’t done anything to him, so he didn’t understand. Was it a punishment? Did Hob think he was still dirty?

Dream certainly still felt dirty.

He never did get a cleaning, though. Hob had dropped it and not brought it up again. Until now. Hob hums, his eyes half-lidded as his hand continues to stroke himself lazily in the water. No rush or urgency. Simply pleasuring himself languorously even as he continues speaking to Dream.

“Allow me to be more specific now,” he smiles, a lazy, welcoming thing, “If you would like- and only if you would like- I would offer you a warm bath in this very tub, with milk and rose oil to soothe your skin. I would make sure the water stays warm as long as you desire so you can soak in peace until you are content, until even the spaces between the pads of your feet are soft. Until you are so relaxed you are nearly asleep. And then-” his breath hitches, almost imperceptibly. Dream might have missed it had he not been staring with such rapt attention, hanging on to Hob’s every word.

“And then I would lay you out someplace soft, in the sunlight,” his hand moves just a little more noticeably, “and I would apply your salve again.” Dream’s breath catches in surprise. That was not what he had expected Hob to say he would do with Dream’s lax body, “But this time, I would make sure to coat it onto every part of you, from your ears to the tip of your tail. I would massage all the way to your hands and feet, softly and slowly because I know you are so delicate right now, and rub lotion into the pads until they are soft again. Until all of your aches and discomforts have been banished. Until not a single part of you hurts anymore.”

It is a long forgotten fantasy of Dream’s, the idea of not being in pain. He had long stopped imagining the possibility of any such thing, settling into the reality of resignation.

And now, here it is again, but not as Dream’s fantasy. As Hob’s. This powerful king is stroking his cock, mouth open as he pants and moans at the thought of taking care of Dream. The water ripples around him as he writhes against his own hands, fantasizing out loud about being allowed to touch Dream in a way that doesn’t hurt. In a way that takes away hurt. Dream thinks about how Hob’s prick always inevitably hardened beneath him whenever he drank Hob’s milk. Is this what he has been thinking about as he held Dream in his arms?

Dream’s entire body is tense, but not in fear. In something else long forgotten.

“...What would you do next?”

His voice cracks on the words. He thinks Hob must be paying as much attention to him as he is to Hob, otherwise he might not have heard it at all. His words are soft and uncertain, afraid of what the answer might be, afraid of how this impossible fantasy might end. Hob opens his eyes, looking over to Dream and biting his lip.

“I would sit back, and offer you my body for your pleasure.”

Now Dream is properly gaping, eyes wide, and before he can even think about how he is supposed to respond to that, Hob is arching his back, breasts fully emerging from the bathwater. The fur on his chest sticks to his skin and sends rivulets of water down over the slope of his breasts and stomach, and Dream is struck by the desire to follow them with his tongue.

When he drank from Hob, he was always so hesitant and timid. A part of him wonders now what it would feel like to press his face firmly and fully into his chest, to rub his cheek against him, to bury himself between the soft flesh and knead with his paws until milk trickled down Hob’s body as freely as the bath water did now.

“You could do whatever you want to me,” Hob continues with a moan, “I would lay on the bed, and you could touch me anywhere, any way, I would do whatever you asked of me.” His knees breach the water, allowing Dream to watch them spread as far as they’ll go, opening himself up for this fantasy he is weaving as he continues breathlessly, “I know it was not your choice to show me, but you have a beautiful cock.”

Dream sucked in a breath, eyes wide with surprise, but Hob didn’t look like he was joking, or lying. He had his head tilted back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed as though he was envisioning it as he spoke, “All those lovely little barbs. I would be so honored to feel you even simply rut against me, against my stomach or between my tits,” he clutches at his breast, his blunt nails digging in, and his face scrunches with something like disappointment. Like it is not quite the sensation he wants.

In his lap, Dream flexes his claws almost without noticing.

“I would be more than satisfied just to have you come on me, cover my tits in your seed so you taste yourself when you drink,” Dream has to bite his lip even before Hob continues, “but oh, what I would give to feel that cock inside me.” Hob’s hand releases his prick, instead venturing back to the space behind his balls.

One of Dream’s hands tightens around his robe to hold it closed, while the other presses against his cock. He pushes at it with the heel of his palm, his thighs pressing together, trying to will the beginnings of an erection away. He has never-... and the idea of being inside, of being allowed-...

Hob’s hand is moving slow and firm as he stretches himself open, water splashing over the edge of the tub as his chest heaves, his free hand still massaging at his breasts and Dream imagines being permitted to knead at that flesh. Hob is so soft, he has to stifle a whine at the thought of pressing his fingers into his breasts, his stomach, his arse. It is hard for him to picture, hard to imagine himself allowed such liberties no matter what Hob said. But he can see the blurred outlines of it. In his mind, the silhouettes of two figures, so very different in size and shape, move against each other into a single shape and Dream cannot hold back a whimper.

That one small sound is somehow all it takes to send Hob over the edge. The fingers in his arse press as deep as he can manage, and his other hand drops to his cock to stroke himself through his orgasm. Ropes and ropes of cum stream from Hob’s cock, swirling through the water in mesmerizing patterns as it dissipates.

Now, more than any moment before, Dream feels the urge to join him in the water.

For an indeterminable amount of time, the only sound in the room is Hob’s panting breaths and the occasional ripple of water from his movements. Dream is still frozen on the rug, suddenly feeling too warm, his face burning as he forces himself to breathe deeply. He holds his position kneeling stiffly, knees pressed together so firmly it almost hurts and hands covering the vulnerable space between as though he could somehow protect himself from the feelings inside him. As though he could protect himself at all.

“You can touch yourself, sweet one,” Hob coos, startling Dream from his thoughts. Dream’s head snaps up, ears pressing back even as he watches Hob’s head loll against his shoulder languidly, his breath still evening out from his orgasm, “You don’t have to,” he assures, “but you can. I’ll stay way over here,” he grins, and turns his head towards the ceiling, closing his eyes again, “I won’t even look if you don’t want me too.”

Ever since his arrival, Hob has been phrasing things as questions, as offers, as requests. Here in his luxurious bathroom, the scent of sweet oils and steam around them, Dream truly believes for the first time that he is being sincere. That Hob’s invitation is exactly that- an invitation. Something Dream is free to accept or decline without consequence. Not a test or a torment. Just an offer.

Glancing down at his lap, where his hands are still pressed against himself, he allows himself to consider the offer. Tears begin to well in his eyes, and he realizes that it is too much. He has not felt this way in so long. Has not felt safe, has not felt arousal, and certainly has not felt like it was safe to be aroused. To feel the fragile beginnings of such feelings is thrilling. And also so very terrifying. What he feels now is a joyous and hopeful thing, but if the feeling grows anymore, if this feeling climaxes, he is certain he will shatter.

Someday, he allows himself to hope, maybe.

Inhaling deeply, Dream keeps his hands where they are, unmoving, “I…” he clears his throat, if only to buy himself a moment to gather his confidence, “I think…. I think that I would like a bath. The- the one you described.”

He cannot help but curl into himself, waiting to find out if his answer was right or wrong and what the cost would be either way.

Hob only cracks one eye open to smile at him, and Dream is not as surprised as he used to be, “Excellent,” Hob responds easily. Then he closes his eye again, humming as he settles deeper into the bath, “I will ask you again tomorrow to be sure, and if you still say yes, then I will make sure you get everything you want,” he promises with a voice that is closer to a purr than Dream thought anyone other than a cat could make.

Swallowing, Dream simply nods, even though Hob cannot see him. It occurs to him that if tomorrow he says no, Hob might not be mad at him, might not punish him in any way at all. It makes him want to say yes even more.

“I think I will stay here until we lose our sunshine,” Hob says with a sigh, “If you would like to stay with me?”

Dream looks out the windows. The sun is beginning to dip in the sky, but there is probably another hour or two before it finally dips below the horizon. It doesn’t take him as long as he expects to make his decision.

Despite Hob’s closed eyes, Dream still moves hesitantly, giving Hob plenty of opportunity to scold him or tell him to stop. When he remains silent, Dream lays himself down to press his cheek against the thick, soft fibers of the rug. His spine curves as he curls into himself, tail wrapped around his body as he makes himself small, and safe, and… comfortable. He feels so warm, laying in the sun with Hob on the other side of the room with him. His body relaxes and calms, his eyes drifting shut.

“Yes,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, “I think I would like to stay.”

#the sandman #dreamling #my writing #my art #nsft #cw hybrids #catboys #cat!Dream #cow!Hob #cw warprize #cw lactation

66 notes · View notes