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snergle · 10 months
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Goth Tinkerbell by RumblyF
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kryptonitejelly · 2 years
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Sundress | Aaron Hotchner x You (ft. Jack Hotchner) Criminal Minds - Aaron Hotchner x You Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x You (ft. Jack Hotchner) Genre: Fluff Warnings: Other men staring at reader; Jack’s friends commenting his Mom is hot; possessive Hotch. Length: Drabble
A/N: I feel like I’m spamming ya’ll with the posts, but I promise to slow down after this.
Where you wear a sundress to Jack’s soccer game for the first and last time.
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You could read this in the same universe as these fics: 1 / 2.
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“Say hi to Aaron and Jack for me.”
“Will do, thanks for the lift!” You shut the door of the passenger seat, blowing a kiss before waving your friend goodbye as she grins, waggling of her fingers at you in a farewell before driving away.
It was Saturday, and you had managed to squeeze in a brunch with a couple of old friends before Jack’s afternoon soccer game. You had left the house while Aaron was on his habitually long Saturday morning run, and opted to grab a cab to brunch instead, wanting to avoid the situation of you three having to head to Rossi’s for an early dinner soirée he was hosting after Jack’s game in two different cars. Luckily for you, your lack of a car for the day had resulted in one of your friends kindly offering to drop you off at the field for the 15 year old league on her way home.
Sliding your sunglasses off your nose, and anchoring them on the top of your head in a bid to see better, you raise a hand to shield your eyes from the sun, as you begin your walk towards the field, while squinting towards the crowd, your eyes attempting to pick out both your boys.
***
You wander into the crowd, smiling politely at the occasional fellow parent who meets your gaze, as you search for your boys. You feel a hand catch you around your waist, and you can’t help but smile as the breeze blows the familiar scent of soap and mint towards you. You allow yourself to be pulled into his side, to be tucked under his shoulder as you bring your hand around his back, your thumb looping itself onto one of the belt loops of his jeans.
“Hi.” You breathe, looking up to meet a pair of sunglass covered eyes before you tip toe, the straps of the sandals you are wearing straining slightly against your feet, to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“Missed you this morning.” He leans down slightly at the same time you reach up, accepting the kiss, before turning his head and brushing his lips across yours, the tip of his noise grazing yours ever so slightly.
“Didn’t want to wait for you to get back from your run.” You explain, as he raises a brow. “Otherwise you would have insisted on dropping me off.”
He squeezes your side gently in protest, but doesn’t comment on it because he knows you are right - he would have insisted on dropping you off.
“Well, if you would have waited, I wouldn’t have had to wait till now to see how good you look.” He mutters into your ear, thumb circling against your side, brushing across the fabric of the white strappy sundress that skimmed right above your knees. You feel yourself blush in response. Despite having been together for a good number of years and counting, you can’t help but feel like a goddamn schoolgirl with him. He notices the tinge of pink that colours your cheeks and chuckles, a smile turning the corners of his lips upwards.
“You look delicious.” He says, lips moving against the side of your head as he plants a kiss into your hair. “And by the looks of it, I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
He drops his voice and you hear disapproval in his last sentence (but not at you), as he turns his head, profiler instincts kicking in as he takes in the lingering glances which some of the fathers, uncles, and even teenage brothers that are present, have trained on you, your almost bare shoulders, your legs, the curve in your waist. (It is, he concurs, the damn sundress.) It causes him to pull you closer into his side, his hand dipping slightly lower on your waist, muscles in his arm flexing ever so slightly, signalling clearly to the onlookers that you were his. It causes some of them, those that know he is Jack Hotchner’s father and works somewhere in the FBI, to look away.
“You don’t like the sundress?” You tease, looking up at him through your lashes, as you place your free hand on the front of his stomach, feeling his abdominals tense momentarily as a response to the sudden contact.
“I like it too much.” He doesn’t look at you, his gaze trained forward, shielded by his glasses, as he makes to seek Jack out on the field, but the gruffness behind his response tells you more than you need to know.
You can’t help but laugh, stepping out of his grip, but entwining his hand in yours in a quick follow up, as you pull him closer towards the front of the crowd, closer to the field, attempting to seek out a better view of Jack.
***
Jack Hotchner takes a swig of his water, gaze darting through the crowd of onlookers. He lowers his bottle as he spots you dragging his father out towards the front. Raising a hand to wave as he catches your eye, he smiles as you and his father wave back (you with a smile, and his father with a more neutral, schooled expression), giving him a thumbs up.
“Dude, your mom is hot.”
“She is like hot hot.”
“Hey guys, Jack’s mom is hot.”
The chorus of voices that erupt from behind him causes him to frown deeply, his nose wrinkling in annoyance and obvious displeasure as he pushes the spout of his bottle back in with a bit more force than necessary.
“Shut up.” He glowers, turning to glare at the boys that had gathered behind him (the spitting image of his father in that moment), looking up across the field as you.
Luckily for him, or them, he is saved by the sounding of a whistle which causes the group of boys to drop their belongings and fall in around their coach.
***
The game, is uneventful, with Jack’s team winning easily as anticipated, much to both yours and Aaron’s delight (he had gotten so excited the day Jack’s soccer team graduated from peewee soccer to keeping score).
He trudges over to you both, after the cheer erupting from his team across the field signals the end of the debrief, and drops his duffle in front of you, before yanking his sweaty jersey over his head and pulling the fresh t-shirt he had pulled out from his bag over his head.
“Mom, please don’t wear the dress for the next game.” You hear his voice, slightly muffled by the t-shirt he is pulling over his head, and it makes you glance towards Aaron, brow raised.
“Bud?” Aaron speaks first, questioning, asking on behalf of the both of you as the blonde head of the younger Hotchner emerges from the collar of his t-shirt, his gaze meeting yours at eye-level. He is as tall as you now, and soon you are sure he will be taller than you are.
“My friends won’t stop going on about how ‘My Mom is so hot’.” He grumbles, fingers making air quotes during his reenactment, his eyes rolling, lips pressing themselves into a line as he stuffs his arms into the armholes of his t-shirt before pulling it down and smoothing it across his body.
“I don’t want to hear it, its weird.” He pleads, as he bends to cram his used jersey into the mesh pocket on the outside of his duffle, before slinging the bag across his shoulder. It was weird, because you were his Mom, and because he didn’t want his friends thinking of you like that. “Please just wear jeans the next time.”
You hear a rich baritone of laughter spill from your husband’s lips at Jack’s exasperated tone, and you glower at the older Hotchner, your elbow digging gently into his side (which frankly does nothing).
“Your are too pleased about this.” You threaten, glancing from him to Jack, watching as the younger boy cards a hand through his hair, looking almost pitifully at you, awaiting confirmation.
“Fine.” You sigh, throwing your hands up in defeat.
“Thanks Mom.” It earns you a thankful, quick kiss on the cheek from Jack before Aaron’s arms find their way around your shoulder. He drops his arm, hand coming to rest on the small of your back as he pulls you towards him all while placing two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your face up gently. He bends, pressing his lips against yours, allowing, in a somewhat uncharacteristic display of affection given the place and crowd around him, his tongue to sweep gently across your bottom lip. It causes you to part your lips, involuntarily as you kiss him back for two seconds longer than appropriate.
He pulls away, earning an exasperated “ugh, c’mon guys, gross.” from Jack, who shakes his head, turns on his heel and walks off towards the carpark, pretending that he doesn’t know the both of you. Unbeknownst to you, but fully to Aaron, it also earns you both envious glances from both the men and women among the dissipating crowd on the field.
“What was that for?” You breathe out, as he drops his hand from your back, reaching out instead to interlace his fingers with yours as you both begin a slower paced walk towards the carpark after Jack.
“Consolation,” he pauses, allowing his gaze to travel across your shoulders and collarbone, “about the sundresses.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were marking your territory.” You respond, with a questioning hum.
It causes him to grin at you boyishly and squeeze your hand tightly. His eyes are hidden by his shades, but you could have sworn you saw him wink.
Current @taglist: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @ssamorganhotchner @katieslotherford
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femondoetus · 6 months
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Muffet 🕷️ by ZdeCielo🔞
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safetycar-restart · 6 months
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I don’t know if you write for him, but something about Liam Lawson just screams that he’d enjoy feminisation…
maybe a pretty dress in pink as a reward for driving well…
ANON YOU ARE SO RIGHT ABOUT THIS!!! I'm not sure if I've written for Liam before, but I adore this. You are so correct.
So firstly, I don't think that he enjoys feminisation with degradation and humiliation? He doesn't want to be made fun of he just.. he wants to feel pretty? That's it. That's all he really wants.
And he ADORES skirts. Skirts are quite possibly his favourite clothing item ever. He loves short tennis skirts, flared ones that he can twirl around in. He also loves longer skirts, those always make him feel so pretty and he loves just existing in them, wondering around the house in them, cuddling with you, even doing some work.
But oddly enough, dresses always felt unattainable to him? He wears skirts all the time, but he almost feels like he's not pretty enough to wear dresses?
You notice this of course. You see the way his hands always trail along dresses when you go shopping, or how he always looks at dresses when online shopping but he never actually buys himself one.
So obviously, you have to fix this.
When you see how well he was driving, you decide to buy him the prettiest pink dress you can find. It's quit simple, just a nice light pink dress with a flared skirt.
You give it to him after his second race for alpha tauri, in a nice wrapped box. He has no idea what to expect when he sees the box, and he blushes bright red when he sees the dress.
He looks up at you, asking if this is really for him and of course you say yes, that this is for him for driving so well. He cradles the dress in his hands, looking at it in awe like he thinks it might disappear.
You have to coax him into trying the dress on, helping him undress and put the dress on.
He goes to look in the bathroom mirror by himself, and when he comes out there are tears in his eyes because he just loves it so much?
Maybe you don't even do anything sexual that night, just cuddle and watch a movie.
He starts to wear dresses more after that, and he loves them all so so much. He buys himself some more dresses, always trying them on for you and blushing when you complement him.
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purpleminte · 2 months
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the unprecedented amount of serotonin felt when seeing the 👗 emoji…
The softness,, the color,, augh 🥺
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ciccerone · 8 months
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pillnus · 8 months
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loudlyhappycupcake · 1 year
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I found a dress here, they told me it was marco's dress. 👗👸 @rainbow-quartz-31 @cartoonfan21 @wispsshadow @adriennbanai-09 @adriennsposts @torkmadox20 @shironezuninja @186-3 @wisefestivalloverpatrol @traegger @bitter-yet-civilized @dumb-ass-biatch @wordgirl-reboot-eva @banaiadrienn2 @tinyfirepizza @jj-the-hamster @clairaquos
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dstsuit · 1 year
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POSE STYLING ⭐ Dream Lullaby / Verse of Daytime
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safetycar-restart · 4 months
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charles the typa guy to dig being called babygirl / a girlfriend
Oh god you're so right. In fact, I think it's been a while since we've discussed feminine nicknames with Charles, so let's so that now! Perfect way to kick off soft night. I also added mommy kink, because come on it's Charles.
So firstly, he ADORES being called babygirl.
Babyboy is for after scenes when he's all fucked out and vulnerable ad just needs to be looked after. But babygirl? That gets him so blushy and turned on instantly. It just makes him melt into your arms, hiding his head in your neck, giggling, kicking is feet. Cause babygirl!! He's baby girl!!!!
He also loves being called princess?? However, princess is reserved for two occasions only.
Cause firstly, he is a certified passenger princess. Yes he drives cars for a living, no he will not drive you around you MUST drive him. If it's anyone else he will insist to drive but you? Then he's gonna curl up in the passenger seat. He gets control of the aircon and radio and ideally also gets your hoodie (he likes to make the air conditioning a little too cold and then pout until you sigh and tell him one of your hoodies is on the back seat, he thinks you haven't caught onto this genius plan).
You started by jokingly calling him princess him when he did that, but then to your surprise he just BEAMED at you?? He was so happy with that!! Yes he's mommy's princess!!!
And then secondly, whenever he's wearing his 'pretty clothes'? Which is what he calls his feminine clothes. This does not include slutty lingerie, that's when you call him your little slut. But the pretty clothes?? The dresses and skirts and baby pink cotton panties that barely hold his cock? Then he's princess.
(Anyway, can you tell I've missed writing sub!Charles?)
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lilbabykoe · 8 months
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Okay so, I had to go clothes shopping yesterday an I got this really cute dress. I just HAVE to show someone. So that someone is gonna be anyone that see's this post :D
Also. THE DRESS HAS POCKETSSSSS eeeeeeeee!!!
(⬇️Pic is below ⬇️)
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"Look," I say, ready to defend my actions, "you brought it up first, okay, you said something about a sundress and you're like, you have nice legs, so," I proceed to make a series of noises that might have been words at some point. I'm doing all of this as you're opening the flat package I had admittedly wrapped in haste. I don't know if you're paying attention to my babbling. You push back the tissue paper.
I don't know what I expect your reaction to be so I keep talking. "I can totally return it, if you hate it, I mean, I don't know anything about dresses or style but this looked like it's be nice, I'm-" My words die when I see you grin. You stand up and pull the dress out and hold it against your body. It's a powder blue sundress with thin- not spaghetti- straps and a gently curved neckline. The way you're holding it and swaying a little, the dress ends at your knees.
"I love it," you say, barely above a whisper. Then, louder, you laugh. "Christ, that's a true sign of aging, isn't it? Being happy to receive clothes as a gift?" You bend to kiss my forehead. "I love it, and I love you, and I'm going to try it on at once."
I turn my attention to the plate of cookies on the coffee table as you practically bound to your bedroom and change. You come back almost giddy, eyes shining. The upper part of the dress hugs you where it's supposed to and the skirt part flows down you and ends just above your knees. The colour really does compliment those eyes and I'm proud I picked well. You twirl and sit on the couch beside me and turn. "Mind zipping me up?"
I do, but I take my time, just admiring and appreciating. I plant a kiss on the bare skin between your shoulder blades before I finish the zip up. You turn to face me again and there are tears rolling down your cheeks. You chuckle and scrub at your face with your hands. "Sorry, I just- it's been a long time since anyone gave me clothes. Clothes I like, even! Not clothes I'm *supposed* to like..." 
I place a kiss on your bare shoulder. "I know that feeling, honey." I run my fingers through your always-soft hair. "We should go out, y'know, let me show you off. I have the prettiest boyfriend and I need to make sure everyone knows." 
You smile and and push my purple hair away from my face. "And I have the loveliest sweetheart, and I need to make sure everyone knows."
I feel quite brave, walking down the street hand in hand with you. Brave as in "feel the fear and do it anyway" brave. My shoes don't exactly match the style, and I feel I don't walk as a lady should. I'm not used to the attention, but the response from the few passerbys we meet is overwhelmingly positive: "Hell, if I had your legs, I'd wear a dress too. It's too hot out here." "What a lovely color! It looks great on you!" I'm blushing. If there is sarcasm, we choose not to notice it. We walk to our neighborhood's little park, and you pull out your camera. I strike a pretty pose, but when we check how it turned out, there's only static on the screen. We make a few more attempts with the same result. Oh bother. When the sun sets we wander back home.
"Well, how did it feel? I must know your impressions. For science."
What sweetheart wants, sweetheart gets, to the best of my ability in any case.
"It was fun. The extra ventilation felt amazing. I probably won't make it a regular thing, but I'll keep it for special occasions."
You seem a smidgen disappointed, but you love me in any clothes. This I know.
I keep the dress on for what's left of the evening, and even walk you to the bus station in it. Walking back in the dark, alone, in my powder blue dress, I imagine I look like a ghost. I miss you already.
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ciccerone · 9 months
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Muffet by Z.O.B
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hordebreaker · 1 year
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they were so reluctant to make a red and black dress that they had to photoshop it 🤣
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