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Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

Third Movement (Presto agitato)

11K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: What do you do now that you realize you have feelings for the Barón?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Pining and Angst. Semi public kissing, groping and sex. Someone comes in his breeches 🤷🏻‍♀️. F!oral, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected PiV. Pet names (spanish), Pero catches reader and gives her a little twirl once.

A/N: I'm sorry for the word count 😅😅 I feel like the pacing of this final part is kind of like season 1 of Bridgerton where it was like 5 episodes of flirting and then SMUTSMUTSMUT 🤭🤭 Just wanted to give our Spaniard and his Dulce a HEA, that's all! Please please correct my Spanish!! Google won't be offended! Thank you for reading along and hope you're looking forward to Season 3 of Bridgerton next week!

Series Masterlist

The following morning you wake to your ladies’ maid gently shaking you and a massive headache. Barely able open your eyes, so puffy from crying, you’re sure you gave her a terrible fright. After asking for and drinking some water, you try using the cool glass to depuff your eyes and alleviate the pounding in your head, but no difference is made; you continue to feel positively awful. Daphne comes into your room at the behest of the maid and immediately sees you’re much too unwell to entertain visitors today; it’s an easy decision to send all your suitors away and have them come back when you’re better. When you start to apologize for causing a fuss, she immediately shushes you and insists you get rest - she will have the maids bring up some soothing tea. You lay back down, exhausted, and drift off in the middle of telling her how much you love her.

---

Pero steps into Bridgerton House just as several young men are leaving; as they brush past him, he spots Colin speaking with a maid in the main foyer.

“Tovar! It’s been ages – how have you been?” Colin beams when he sees his friend.

In truth, Pero is here to see you; he can’t quite get over the look of distress on your face when you left him last night. Not for the first time, Pero silently curses Lord Ridlington for having sent over women to his house unsolicited last night, his apparent idea of a prank. Leaving the women to themselves in a waiting room, Pero had been discussing with his butler the next course of action when you had surprised him beneath his window. After you left, he made the proper arrangements for the women to leave discreetly, and had gone to bed thinking of you as usual.

“I’ve been well, thank you. Hope things have been going well here? Have today’s suitors started their visits earlier than usual?” He gestures to another three men now descending the stairs and making towards the exit in an orderly line.

“No, my Lord,” the maid explains, “Miss is ill today. Her suitors have been sent away and asked to return when she has recovered and is ready to receive visitors again.”

“Ill?!” How could you have taken ill when he just saw you? Instantly Pero admonishes himself for having kept you standing outside last night - the night chill must have disagreed with you. “Please,” he begs, “take me to see her.”

The maid looks panic stricken. Surely this Spanish nobleman must understand the impropriety of a man being let in to the bed chambers of an unmarried woman.

Colin diverts her attention, “Marie, it will be okay. Barón Tovar is an old family friend of the Count’s. There is nothing improper afoot. The door will remain open and you and I shall both be but a step away.”

With Mr. Bridgerton’s assurance, Marie the maid leads the two men to your door and opens it wide before stepping back to wait outside with Colin. Pero walks into darkness, the curtains still drawn to help you sleep and ease the pain of your headache, but your magnetic pull leads him to you with no issue.

Kneeling by your bedside, Pero says your name softly, but you do not stir. He goes to push aside some hair that’s fallen across your forehead and is alarmed when it feels hot to the touch; using the back of his hand to check your forehead and cheeks, he finds you clammy and feverish. Shouting for Marie, both Colin and the maid rush in to Pero’s call, “Please find the Duchess! Her friend is running a fever and a doctor needs to be called. And please bring me a basin of cold water and a clean washcloth at once!”

Daphne rushes in minutes later to find Pero dabbing your forehead with the wet cloth that Marie procured, “Oh no! I saw her this morning and knew she was unwell, but I did not think to check for a temperature!”

Shaking his head softly, Pero entreats the Duchess, “Do not blame yourself, your Grace. Likely this morning she was not feverish when you saw her. Please, has a doctor been called?”

The Duchess nods tearfully, grateful for Pero’s kind words and feeling a kinship with this man who clearly shares her tremendous concern for your well being.

When the doctor arrives, Daphne stays in the room and gives Pero a nod of reassurance; he leaves begrudgingly though he knows you are in safe hands with the Duchess. Hovering impatiently never more than a step away from the door, Pero breathes a sigh of relief when he overhears the doctor say that your temperature is no longer increasing, and that if kept cool and comfortable, your fever should easily break over the next day or two. He vows to ensure both conditions are met to the best of his abilities until the moment you awake.

After the doctor leaves and Daphne has gone in search of a servant to fetch your father, Pero stays by your side, continuously stroking your hair gently and dabbing your hot skin with a cool cloth. Every time Daphne passes by the open door of your room, she looks in to find Pero watching over you, brows furrowed, eyes full of concern and worry. Sometimes the Duchess will see Pero’s lips moving, speaking gently to you - though she never hears the words he says, she can tell they’re heartfelt. It becomes crystal clear to her that two weeks ago she had simply asked the Barón the wrong question; instead of “Do you intend to court her?”, she should have asked Pero: “Do you love her?” The answer obvious.

Pero never leaves your side, not when the Bridgerton women visit, or even when your father comes. He just tucks himself into the corner of the room until their visits are over, as if afraid to leave you. When it’s just him and you alone, he tries his best to make sure you’re comfortable, arranging your blankets nicely and propping up your pillows so that your sleep is restful and serene. He requests that cool water and clean cloths are at his constant disposal, and makes sure to dab your face, neck, and decolletage at consistent intervals in order to keep your temperature down. And while he does so, Pero continuously talks to you, encouraging you to get better, coaxing you back to him.

He calls you carino, hermosa, princesa, mi reina, mi amor, and all the other endearments he doesn’t ever let himself call you save for in his head. He lavishes you with compliments and words of praise that he's never allowed to slip past his lips - how perfect you are, how sweet and smart, that he doesn’t know anyone else like you and that your cheerful demeanor and melodic voice are the only things that can ever make him smile. He tells you how he hasn’t smiled as much as he has since he reunited with you at the Danbury ball in years. He confesses that every time he holds you while you dance, he has trouble letting go when the music ends, and when he sees another man take your hand and spin you around the room, he has to hold himself back from physically stepping in and pulling you back into his arms. He tells you that he finds you beautiful and intoxicating, and describes every last inch of you that he can’t stop dreaming about, but lingers the longest in his description of your eyes and the richness of expressions they make that leave him breathless. He tells you all these things because if he doesn’t say them out loud, he thinks he will burst from having to hold his feelings in all the time. He tells you these things because he knows you will never hear them.

As the doctor predicted, the fever breaks late the following day and you start to stir shortly after. Blinking your eyes open slowly, they come into focus to your father’s worry lined face and you watch as it cracks with relief, “Welcome back, dearest. How do you feel?”

Not sure you can trust your voice right now, you give your father a small smile and nod when he says he needs to get the doctor. In the few minutes you have alone, you try to get your bearings; the last thing you remember is waking to a terrible headache and falling back asleep after Daphne told you she would be sending your suitors away. You swear you have vague memories of Pero’s voice and soft touch, but that couldn’t have been real. Pero. Oh. You remember now the reason for having woken up before feeling empty and sad, but you don’t have too long to linger on it because your father returns swiftly with the doctor.

After declaring you well on your way to a full recovery, the doctor leaves you with your father; the Count, looking like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders, hugs you tightly and clasps his hands tightly over yours, “I am so glad you are better, dearest. Now, will you please tell your suffering father what is troubling that heart of yours?”

You’re shocked. How could your father know about your feelings for Pero when you only realized them a few nights ago? Your surprise must be written all over your face because the Count gently explains, “My dear, in the entirety of your life, you have only ever had such a fever twice, both times due to crying yourself sick from heartbreak. The first time was when you were a young girl and I read you The Little Mermaid - the ending saddened you to tears. The other was when we were leaving Portugal and I didn’t let you keep the stray puppy you had been feeding for a month. This is how I know something ails your heart terribly. Please. Tell your father so he can help you.”

Your heart swells with affection for your father - he has always been the most loving and caring man, attentive to your feelings and understanding of your nature. There is no one on this earth who you trust so whole heartedly and with whom you feel so safe. Except for Pero, you suddenly realize.

You tell your father everything. You tell him about how Pero lets you be yourself without reservation, and that with him you don’t need to temper down your enthusiasm for your interests or make your experiences seem smaller than they are. How he encourages you in everything you do and makes you feel like you’re capable of anything and everything. He respects you and approaches you with kindness, always making you feel safe and taken care of. That he makes you laugh all the time. And that you’ve taken Pero and his wonderfulness for granted, not realizing just how rare and valuable all his amazing qualities are because if you had you would have figured out earlier that you’re completely in love with him. You cry softly and confess to your father that your heart is broken because you’re in love with a man who will never see you more than a childhood compatriot, and that you may never get over this sad truth.

The Count listens to you sympathetically, and when you’re finished, he simply tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, “How do you know he does not care for you in the same manner?”

You can hardly tell your father that you snuck out of Bridgerton House and interrupted Pero when he had company over, so you have to cite another reason you’re so certain of how Pero feels about you. But you find yourself struggling to come up with any concrete examples or reasoning that satisfy even yourself; all you can say is, “Because he wishes for me to find a husband. He encourages me to do so. I’m simply the daughter of his father’s friend.”

Something like bemusement dances over your father’s face, “It seems to a me that a man who thinks of you as simply the daughter of his father’s friend would not have purchased my shares in the fleet.”

You’re absolutely stunned. Pero purchased your father’s shares? But why? There was no inherent income from the investment, the dividends benefitted you and your future children only, “Why would Pero do that?”

“You will have to ask him yourself, dearest. It shouldn’t be too long before he visits himself now that he’s likely heard you’re awake. He had not left your bedside for nearly two days and it was only at my insistence that he let me sit vigil so he could go home and change his clothes.”

Again, you’re astonished; is it possible that your vague recollections of Pero’s voice and gentle touches while you were ill are real?

“I will say, when I asked him the same question of why, his answer was that he did not want the hard work you and I put into our happy venture to be squandered. He said he knew that would break your heart.”

It’s true, it would.

“With his experience, I know the fleet would be in good hands.”

Nodding, you have to agree.

“… and you would be in good hands.”

You look up to see your father looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place. You’re about to ask him about it when you hear a quiet knocking and you look over to see Pero standing in the open doorway, as if you had summoned him with your conversation.

“My apologies, I do not mean to interrupt. I thought I heard your voice and wanted to see if you were awake,” Pero looks tired, but hopeful.

The Count waves him in and gets up, whispering in your ear, “Be kind to him, dearest. The man has been in anguish and has not left your bedside for more than a few minutes these past two days.” Kissing you on the cheek, he tells you he will go and find the Duchess to give her the good news of your recovery if the doctor has not yet done so himself. After he pulls away, you notice for the first time that your room is filled with peonies, every flat surface covered with the most splendid displays in the prettiest pastel colours – your heart soars at the sight. When Pero takes your father’s place in the chair across from you, neither of you notice that the Count closes the door behind him.

“Dulce, how are you feeling,” asks Pero with as much feeling as you’ve ever heard from him.

You tell him you’re much better, and that although no one has said so explicitly, you suspect that much of your recovery is due to his diligent care and watch over you.

“It was nothing, Dulce. I was worried about you. I am glad you are okay now,” he says, relief evident in his voice.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I really don't know what I have done to deserve your kindness, Pero. And not only these past two days when I’ve taken ill, but over the entire course of this season – I do not think I have ever properly thanked you for being there for me, supporting and encouraging me, and bringing me such peace and joy so that I did not buckle under the pressure of my debut. Please allow me to do so right now. Thank you, Pero,” you look at him with adoration and admiration, pouring all your feelings out and disguising them as simple gratitude.

“It has been my absolute pleasure, truly. I am so very proud of the woman you have grown up to be: beautiful, smart, funny, and so, so very caring. You are one of kind, Dulce – and the lucky man who marries you needs to know just how special you are. There isn’t anyone else who has your vibrant spirit, your sweet disposition, your fun-loving heart. He needs to know and nurture all these wonderful qualities so that your light never goes out,” Pero espouses your virtues and merits with eyes fixed upon yours, wishing he could express just how deep his admiration truly runs.

To say you’re affected would be an understatement, and it makes you bold and brave.

“Pero, I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me. I have never known a man to be more genuine and earnest that you; when you say something, you mean it. I find you so very thoughtful this way. And in other ways as well – I know, for example, it must have been you who filled this room with my favourite flowers.” Pero nods indulgently and you carry on, “… and I know you purchased the shares in the fleet from my father. Thank you, Pero.”

Pero is surprised, although he had not asked the Count to keep the sale from you, he didn’t expect you to know already.

You’re looking at him with an expression he won’t let himself name, eyes soft, almost pleading, “Why would you do something so generous, Pero?”

Pero remains quiet, as if wrestling with how he wishes to answer and you wait patiently, not sure what to expect.

“The owner of the shares has custody of a great gift. The fleet is an impressive venture - it has potential to do considerable good in this world, and much of that is thanks to you and your father’s dedication and contributions – the holder of these shares cannot squander that opportunity; he needs to honour you and your father’s legacy by carrying on the good work you’ve started together. But that in and of itself is not the gift. The man who holds these shares is also given the gift of being able to take care of you, to have a small hand in ensuring a prosperous future for you and your children. I… could not take the risk that someone who did not understand the honour of this charge would hold these shares. I hope you can understand and not think it imprudent of me.”

You don’t know what to say. Pero is so generous and considerate – how could he ever think you would view his gesture as anything but deeply caring? Unsure of your silence, Pero attempts to lighten the mood, “This way, I can still be in your life. I can come to see you when I need to discuss matters of the fleet.”

“Pero, you’re my friend! You do not need to have a business pretense to see me.”

He shakes his head sadly, “You will be married, Dulce. Your husband would not like a man like me visiting his wife frequently.”

“A man like you?” you’re not sure what he means.

“A man who looks at you the way I look at you.”

You inhale sharply, hardly allowing yourself to breathe, “And how do you look at me, Pero?”

“Like you are the sun, Dulce. Like everything you touch is made brighter and better from the light of your smile and the warmth of your sweet laugh. As if under your care and attention, everything and everyone, including me, grows – stronger, brighter, better. I look at you like I dream about the graceful notes of your voice every night and wish to hear your melody of thoughts and opinions on all things. I look at you like I am hypnotized just by the sway of your hips and even the lilt of your fingers. Everyday, I’m ever more enchanted with the tilt of your head and curve of your mouth. I look at you like I could never get enough.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then I will stay away, mi reina. Anything you wish,” though crushed, Pero knows that he would do whatever you asked.

“No, Pero, you misunderstand. What if I don’t want a husband who does not want you looking at me like that? What if I want you to look at me like that? What if I do not want a husband who isn’t you?”

“Dulce…” Pero’s heart has leapt into his throat, he can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing, “… you do not know what you’re saying. You would not want me for a husband.”

You smile kindly, “And why not?”

Pero looks at you so sadly it breaks your heart, “You would not wish to separate from your friends and leave England to be mistress of a lowly Barón’s estate in a foreign land where you know no one and do not speak the language. Not when you have suitors with much grander fortunes, with estates nearer to your friends, and where you and your children would grow up in the style befitting the daughter of a British Count. You would not want a husband who is never home and spends more time on the seas and in far off lands than he does on home soil; one you never see and for whom you would worry all the time, not knowing where he is or what he is doing.”

“Would you not be willing to take me with you on your travels, Pero?”

“Of course, I would,” Pero never second guesses his answer.

Heart still aflutter at Pero’s romantic declarations, you press ahead, determined. “Well. It seems then that no one would be better suited to be my husband than you! You must know me well enough to know that I do not care for grand fortunes and estates, and my dear father and now you have made sure that I will never be financially dependent on any husband. What I care for is freedom and adventure! And exploration and not being kept from the joys this life has to offer because I am a woman, or just somebody’s wife. As for my friends, I can always visit! And I am fortunate enough that the strength of our bonds is not dependent on having to see each other constantly. Honestly! This would not be the first time in my life I have gone to live in a foreign country where I do not speak the native tongue – it’s practically second nature to me now! But I can see how it would be useful to be able to fluently converse with servants and locals - I suppose I would just have to commit myself to learning Spanish. That is,” you’re suddenly embarrassed upon realizing that Pero hasn’t actually asked you to be his wife, and instead, you’re espousing all the reasons you find the match to be agreeable when he himself hasn’t expressed any desire for it, “if you would wish to have me.”

“Dulce, all I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you at the Danbury Ball is wish to have you. Do you know how hard it was for me to see you entertaining all those suitors when I was certain none of them could ever appreciate you for even half the wonderful person you are? None of them had any idea what a smar-“

You crash your lips to his, and after the initial surprise, Pero kisses you back with the fervent need that’s been building in his soul the past few months. Throwing your arms around him, you open your mouth to his just as his hands pull you flush to his chest; it’s the warmest, hungriest first kiss to have ever been kissed. Your mind having only recently caught up to your heart, and Pero’s constrained feelings finally being set free, your tongues press together over and over, spilling all the unspoken words between the both of you. On instinct you fist Pero’s shirt and pull him down with you onto the bed, Pero’s eyes darkening as he climbs on top of you, placing one knee in between your legs while keeping the other on the ground. You finally run your hands through his soft curls and it feels as incredible as you had imagined two nights ago; you both moan softly at the sensation.

“Dulce, you make the prettiest noises…”

You purr softly at Pero’s praise, leading him to groan deeper into your mouth and you feel the hand that isn’t braced on the pillow next to your head start to skate up your side, landing near your breast and tentatively drawing circles on the underside of your plush curves with its thumb. You arch into Pero’s hand to encourage him to touch you, and he responds as he always promised he would if he had the chance which is to give in to your every desire. Groping your breast and finding your nipple between his fingers, Pero rolls and pinches so expertly that you can’t help but writhe beneath him. He shifts to kiss down your neck as he continues his attentions on your peak and when his knee brushes your throbbing centre, you gasp loudly before covering your mouth with your hands. Still breathing heavily, the two of you giggle and smile stupidly at each other in the tender moment. Pressing his forehead against yours, Pero whispers, “Mi reina, we should stop, I still need to ask your father for your hand. Tomorrow, I am sure he will come here for breakfast and I will ask to speak with him after.”

Looking deep into is eyes, you nod; you know Pero’s right, though there’s a warmth radiating from your very being that wishes to invite scandal and tell him to never stop touching you, knowing by the way he’s making you feel right now that it would be worth it.

Not without regret, Pero pulls himself off of you and stands; after he helps you sit up, Pero tips your chin with his finger so you look at him squarely. A seriousness takes over his face, an expression he usually reserves for others, “Are you sure you want me, mi amor? You have so many suitors, so many options.”

Your eyes shine with sincerity and so much softness for this man that does not seem to understand just how much you love him. You vow to spend the rest of your days showing him, “There are no options when there’s you, Pero.”

You can’t help but shriek a little in laughter as Pero falls on you and crushes his lips to yours, pinning your body to your bed with his large and solid frame. Kissing you over and over, Pero punctuates his affection with barely strung together words of love - So perfect. So perfect. Can’t believe it. How. How did I get so. Damn. Lucky. Beautiful. Perfect girl.

Right before your giggles can turn into moans, a knock on your door freezes you both. The noise is quickly followed by the Duchess’ slightly amused voice, “Is everything okay? We have brought up dinner. Please let me know when it is decent for us to come in.”

Giving you one last peck on your lips before chuckling lightly, Pero pulls you up and whispers, “Tomorrow,” before going to open the door for Daphne.

The next morning you find Pero waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down. Checking quickly to make sure there aren’t any lingering servants, you step off the third to last step and fling yourself into his arms. Pero catches you easily and gives you a twirl before placing you gently on your feet, then places a less gentle kiss to your lips. With a few hurried murmurings of devotion - I missed you. You look beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine - you break apart and head to breakfast.

When the two of you enter the dining room, you’re greeted exuberantly by your friends congratulating you on your recovery and expressing their delight that you’re well enough to rejoin them. Your father hugs you and you think you detect a knowing smile gracing his face, but you’re too soon seated with platters of food being offered and pushed towards you for you to be sure. It’s a happy occasion but also slightly awkward – you’re seated next to Pero, but you have to pretend that nothing has changed between the two of you. Trying to cheerfully chat with your father and friends, you find yourself unable to give the conversation your full attention because you trying with all your might to hold in the most wonderful news of your life, and with it, your overflowing happiness. It doesn’t help that Pero finds increasingly mischievous ways to secretly touch you throughout breakfast: foot reaching over to playfully nudge yours, gently squeezing your thigh under the table. When he purposefully brushes his hand down your arm and over yours in order to reach for the butter dish, you gasp in surprise - his touch out in the open sending a warm thrill through to your heart. In response to your friends’ concerns, you have to lie and say you may still be feeling fatigued, and Pero, ever the menace, pats your shoulder affectionately and reminds you not to overexert yourself before buttering his scone with a smirk.

After your father finishes his meal, you nervously watch Pero hastily shove his last piece of food into his mouth before asking the Viscount for use of his office, and entreats your father for a word. Finishing your own breakfast as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion, you find your way to the closed office doors and pace outside impatiently. Try as you may, you cannot make out any of what is being spoken in the office, even when you press your ear up to the door. After what feels like an eternity, the door opens and Pero exits; not the least bit surprise to find you outside, he whispers in your ear as he walks by, “Your father wishes to see you now, Dulce. Come find me afterwards. I will be upstairs writing a letter.”

The Count welcomes you into the office with open arms and you immediately fly into your father’s loving embrace. As he continues to envelope you in the warmth of his joy, he chuckles, “Well, dearest, I think your old father deserves some acknowledgement for being right.”

Pulling away from him, you look at the face that’s so much like your own, eyes crinkled in mirth and a smile big enough to rival yours, “I concede, Father - you were right. And I have never been so happy to have been wrong!”

Your father’s already expressive eyes shine with an extra brightness, “All I have ever hoped for is your happiness, my dear. Pero is a good man, like his father before him and he has given me every assurance that he will cherish and take care of you the way you deserve. I shall rest easily knowing that you will be in his capable hands… and he in yours.”

What did you ever do to deserve such a brilliant father who has given you the most wonderful life? You ponder this as you walk up the stairs after telling your father that you love him and saying goodbye for the day. You suspect you’ll never discover a satisfactory answer, but can only hope you can one day bestow the same unconditional love and support upon your own children.

You find Pero sitting at the corner desk in the drawing room where some of the Bridgertons are relaxing: Eloise and Colin reading, Francesca tinkering at the piano forte, Daphne looking over some correspondence of her own. Approaching him silently, you look over his shoulder and whisper, “Mi rey, to whom are you writing?”

Smiling at your Spanish endearment of choice, Pero responds without looking up from his task, “I am writing my king, Dulce, and asking him for his permission to marry.”

Ah right, you consider that the Count could very well be penning a similar letter to the queen at this same moment, “What happens if he refuses, Pero?”

“Then I abscond with my new bride and we live like pirates on the run,” smiles Pero, still not looking up.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you grin.

Pero finally sets his soft gaze upon you, “Nothing can be so bad if you are by my side, mi reina.”

He looks at you with such devotion and affection, you can’t help yourself - you cup his perfect face in your hands and bend down to kiss him. Pero returns your soft, gentle kisses with his own, nothing urgent, nothing hurried – just a moment of tenderness that couldn’t have been restrained.

You don’t break apart even when you hear the successive gasps of your friends or even when Colin cheers, unable to part from Pero’s lips even a moment sooner than you need to. When the two of your finally look up, it’s to the sight of the Duchess standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face, “Do you two have something to tell us?”

You and Pero attend all of the remaining season events as a happily engaged couple. Pero, no longer scowling all by his lonesome against the wall, but standing tall and proud next to you; his hand laced through yours or comforting and firm on your lower back as the two of you receive congratulations from the ton. He drinks in the jealous looks from your former suitors and inwardly chuckles a little at the conceding grumbles from the mamas who proclaim with surprise that they didn’t know he had been looking for a wife. His stoic countenance cracking just a little at their poorly concealed scandalized faces when he replies that he hadn’t been. For your part, you don’t notice any of this; you only have eyes and ears for Pero. Your face hurts from smiling so much – it’s all you can do to tear your eyes away from your handsome fiancé in order to respond politely to the questions you receive from curious members of the ton.

You still dance every dance, floating on air as you traverse the floor in the strong arms of your dashing Spaniard; now that there is no danger of some other man whisking you away from him for the next dance, Pero quite enjoys the dance floor. He holds you closer than he probably should, chests touching and faces so close that the gentle fan of your breath curls over his lips; his hands find themselves placed low on your back during the waltz, dipping scandalously close to where he really wants them to be, itching to squeeze the plush globes of your ass. If anyone was to make a comment to you about it, you would giggle and simply say that your fiancé is a passionate man.

And he is. A passionate man, that is. Under his grave and steely visage, Pero is a man who yearns for and craves the woman he loves, hungry for you at all times. Such a man is not made of infinite restraint - the limits of Pero’s self control having already been sorely tested for the past few months. As such, whenever an opportunity to escape the rigid formality of these events would arise, Pero wasted no time whisking you away for himself.

At the Grand Picnic, he steals you away to a secluded spot in the gardens where he proceeds to kiss you so fervently and passionately that you actually get dizzy. He presses you against the base of some winged sculpture and hungrily licks and sucks down your neck, all while you cover your mouth with your hands, hoping against hope to contain your moans and soft whimpers. The stone angel watches from its perch as Pero trails his mouth down past your collar towards the swell of your breasts, already rapidly rising and falling. Pressing feather light kisses to the tops of your breasts, Pero drinks in your breathy giggles when his scruff tickles you, before diving in devilishly, lapping at your ample curves and the valley in between. As you start to pant from arousal, Pero finds himself most ardently wishing that your tits would break free of their fine silk confines and spill into his mouth.

A la mierda, he thinks and glides his tongue into the sliver of space between your dress and skin, dragging it across your chest until he hits your hardened nipple; having found his prize, Pero dives in, straining with his tongue to stroke your peak harder and faster. When he leverages enough space with his chin to wedge in between your soft skin and the fabric of your dress, Pero takes your breast into his mouth and sucks while groping your other breast with his hand, finding the twin nipple already straining against your gown, aching to be played with. The combined sensation has you grabbing at Pero’s hair and pressing him closer to you; with your hands now otherwise occupied, your gasps and moans spill unfiltered from your open mouth. The obscene sounds Pero pulls from you must start to carry, because soon you hear voices getting nearer to where you and Pero have now frozen, his mouth buried in your chest; he places one last chaste kiss to tops of each of your breasts before the two of you giggle and run hand-in-hand out of the gardens.

At the Opera, Pero secures a box on the second mezzanine for the two of you. With most of the ton preferring the orchestra seats or boxes closer to the stage, you find yourselves alone in the secluded alcove nearer to the house balcony. Once the lights dim and the overture starts, Pero takes your hand in his and you lean on his shoulder, relaxing into his closeness. By the time the audience is enjoying the soprano’s heart-breaking aria in the third act, Pero has his left arm thrown around you and the knuckles of his right hand are ghosting over the front of your panties where he finds them already damp from want.

“Keep your eyes on the stage, Dulce,” he whispers in your ear as his thumb draws slow circles over your clit. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying with all your might not to let your whole body react to Pero’s teasing lest it draws the attention of the opera house attendees sitting on the balcony or in the boxes on the opposite side of the hall.

Pero is patient. And thorough. He takes an inordinate time exploring the shape of your pussy - running his thumb then fingers over the outline of your slit and the hardening form of your clit, eventually cupping your mound and letting you grind down on his palm to give you some of the friction you so desperately seek. He toys with you over the fabric of your underwear for the remainder of the 3rd act until your panties are completely soaked through. Only once the 4th act is underway does he slip his hand down the front of your underwear and start to run his forefinger through your folds.

“Pero…” you sigh, spreading your legs wider to allow him more freedom of movement.

“Doing so good for me, mi amor,” he whispers back, continuing his smooth, teasing strokes, dragging your sticky arousal through the valleys of your seam and trailing it up to your clit, spreading it over and around your bundle of nerves before returning his fingers to your wet core. He repeats this over and over, alternating the speed and pressure of his fingers, never letting you settle into a complacent state. Quite the opposite – you feel like your body is on fire.

Willing yourself to breathe through your nose as evenly as you can, you focus on the soprano’s finale song before the ensemble gathers for the finale; just as the singer hits the high notes of her solo with a warm vibrato, Pero pushes a finger straight into your heat and you whine in harmony with her. Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, nearly losing control with the way you clench as he drags along your warm warms; Pero feels you hum around him as pleasure you’ve never felt before radiates throughout your entire body. The squelching sound of Pero working your cunt are thankfully masked by the musical drama unfolding on the stage, and Pero uses the opportunity to ask you if you’re ready for another.

Seeing you nod as subtly as you can, Pero murmurs, “Good girl,” before adding a second finger to join the first. Oh. You’re so full. It’s a stretch, but the sting pairs perfectly with the devastating pleasure now coursing through your veins as Pero slowly drives his fingers into you. Staying with a slower pace until you start dripping down his wrist, Pero’s fingers now start to thrust faster, keeping tempo with the musical build that the ton in the orchestra is enjoying, clueless to your lascivious activities above them.

When Pero presses his thumb to your slippery clit, you surge forward and grab onto the balcony banister for stability, nearly in danger of drawing the attention of unwanted eyes. Refusing to ease up in his efforts on your cunt, Pero continues to push you closer and closer to your high, his fingers never faltering from their punishing pace until you come and cry out in tune with the finale’s final chorus. While the rest of the audience applauses when the curtain falls, Pero’s praise is only for you - purring that you did so good for him and kissing you gently as his slips his slick covered hand back into his glove.

At the Hastings Ball, you’re the one feeling bold. Having arrived at your friend’s estate a week prior to help the Duchess with preparations, you familiarize yourself with the grounds and all the intimate, secret corners perfect for intimate, secret things. Once all the guests have arrived and the festivities have begun in earnest, you sneak off with your fiancé, leading him down a hidden staircase into the Duke’s impressive wine cellar. With all of tonight’s refreshments having already been pulled from inventory, you know no one will be coming down here during the ball; you’re free to touch, feel and love on Pero in all the ways you desire. Once Pero realizes the amount of privacy you’ve been afforded, he’s like a dog unleashed, stalking and cornering you into a wall with a growl, sniping at your neck with his teeth and lips, pawing at your soft curves already on display for him in your pretty ballgown.

Here in the cellar, while you still cannot be loud, but you don’t have to be quiet – the cavernous room echos your quiet moans and Pero’s deep grunts like a soundtrack of pleasure that’s percussed by heavy breathing as the two of you drown in one another. Lips attached to yours, but eyes kept open to take in your lustful expression, Pero spies an unopened crate out of the corner of his eye and smiles against your mouth, “Come here, Dulce. Let me show you something.”

After letting him lead you to the crate, you allow Pero to help you on top before scooting you back so your legs no longer dangle over the edge. Grinning, you ask playfully, “What, pray tell, do you wish to show me, Barón?”

“Want to show you how I’m going to make my pretty wife feel good every day we are married,” Pero looks at you, eyes dark, as his starts to ruffle up the many layers of your dress. You giggle as his pushes through the yards of fabric with a feigned annoyance, bunching it up for you to hold against your chest like an overstuffed pillow. Once Pero is satisfied with his unfettered access, he gently pushes you to lean back on your elbows, hands still laid prettily on your pillow of dress skirts, eyes watching your handsome fiancé’s movements. Pero leans over the edge of the crate and rubs your silk stocking covered calves with his big firm hands as he starts kissing up your leg starting from where your stockings end mid thigh. Every kiss he leaves on your skin gives you a shiver as the cool cellar air hits the imprint his lips leaves behind; then, as he gets closer to your heat, he starts to open mouth kiss where you’re the most sensitive, dragging his tongue back and forth over these tender spot and leading you to throw you head back and close your eyes in heady desire. When he repeats this fog inducing pattern on the inside of your other thigh, you start begging, “Pero, please… please, my Lord, ple-pl-please!”

Nipping at your sensitive flesh with his teeth, Pero smirks against your leg, “What do you need, mi reina?”

Opening your eyes, you nearly buck into his face when you see Pero’s roguish expression peeking up at you from between your wide spread legs, “Touch me please, mi rey.”

“Here?” he asks, with pretend innocence before he dives in and starts devouring your pussy over the fabric of your underwear without waiting for your answer. This feels different. So much like his fingers but even more sensual, intimate, wild. Pero mouths and nuzzles your cunt with a precision only rivalled by that of his tongue; his tongue has a mind of his own, gently prodding, exploring, reaching where his lips can’t. Pero's hands reach up your legs and hook under the band of your soaked panties and you catch him look at you before he murmurs “May I?” directly into your cunt. The vibrations of his question run through to your chest and it’s all you can do to nod quickly before you watch him pull the frilly undergarment down your legs and have them drop to the ground. Already completely wrecked, Pero takes in your glistening folds, wet and primed, and growls, “Look at this perfect pussy. And she’s all mine.”

You run one hand through his soft curls and grip his hair so he’ll look at you, smiling lazily, already unbelievably blissed out, you promise, “All yours.”

“Mine,” Pero repeats, and then he buries his face into heaven.

The sensation is overwhelming in the very best way. Pero is eating you, no, devouring you like a man starved; every press of his lips to your pussy somehow deeper and hungrier than the last, as his tongue licks every crest and wave of your core and marks them for his own. Your slick pools from you, down your backside and dampens your gown beneath you; the wet noises from Pero’s mouth against your folds echo obscenely around you and your voice cannot help but try to add in its own harmony. All of this makes you feel like a worshiped goddess about to ascend her alter and simultaneously like a wanton whore who knows that true heaven lies in the bodily pleasures of this mortal realm. Then, as Pero’s mouth closes over your clit and he starts to flick your throbbing nub with his tongue, you realize in your daze that no, what you are is something better than either of those two things: you’re the woman who is marrying Barón Pero Tovar. That’s the thought that overflows from your thumping heart and pushes you over the edge, coming on Pero’s face as you chant his name in a grateful prayer.

After the Ball, you’re positively exhausted from purposefully overdoing the socializing after returning from the wine cellar so no one would recall your long absence. Yawning, you’re giving your hair a final brush when you hear a soft clink against your bedroom window, followed shortly by another, then another.

Confused, you approach your window with slight trepidation, and upon looking out, you think at first that your tired eyes must be deceiving you. Below your window, gazing up at you, is Pero. He looks devastatingly handsome; yet to undress – Pero is still in his formal breeches, but his white shirt has been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing his smooth, tanned skin to your admiring gaze. You might lick your lips at the sight. Giggling as you tiptoe down the stairs, you walk out onto the terrace that hangs off the sitting room directly below your bedroom, greeted by Pero’s blinding smile, “Barón, what are you doing here?”

It's an easy climb up the side of the wall to the terrace level for Pero and his long legs; once he’s standing directly in front of you, he answers, “I could not sleep without seeing you one last time, Dulce.”

Where did this man who adores you so openly and without reservation come from? You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a gleeful kiss; you adore him too, after all.

Still grinning, Pero jokes, “And as I recall, it is my turn to call upon you in the dead of night from beneath your window in order to rouse you from the comfort of your bed chamber.”

Although he has no such intent, Pero’s words immediately transport you back to the night you realized your feelings for him… and how you had left his house, devastated upon the discovery that he was not alone. Stilling in your movements, you shrink away from Pero a little; none of this goes without notice.

“Dulce, are you okay? I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply there was anything wrong with these late-night meetings, but if you prefer to go back inside, I understand.”

You shake your head to let him know you’re not upset by that, but still your expression remains slightly sad and hurt. Pero bends at the knee to meet your eye, “Mi amor?”

You’ve never lied or kept anything from Pero in all the time you’ve known him, and now that you’re his fiancé, you’re not about to start. Looking at the ground next to you, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I was just remembering the night you’re alluding to; when I interrupted you… with those two women.”

When Pero doesn’t answer, you wonder if he’s upset with you for having disturbed him that night, and you look up to meet his eye finally, trying to give him a brave smile, “Please do not be upset with me. I did not know you had company, which would have been entirely your private business, to which I know I am not entitled. But if I must be honest, I do not particularly enjoy imagining you with other women.”

Pero has to stifle a laugh; if only you understood the war that raged in his chest every time a suitor placed his hand on your waist for a dance or when you would laugh at their jokes with that twinkle in your eye he loves so much – then you would not feel as if you had to hide these feelings from him.

Stroking your jaw gently, Pero tips your face to his, “Dulce, I could never be upset with you. Firstly, you are entitled to all my business, private or not. Secondly, the women to which you refer were not there by my invitation – Lord Ridlington had sent them to my house that evening as some sort of prank. In his words, maybe if the Barón got laid, he would not be such a stick in the mud. Nothing happened with those women, I promise, mi amor. When you arrived, I was right in the middle of arranging for a carriage to take them home. And thirdly,” Pero walks you backward until your back hits the wall; he braces an arm above your head, and towering over you, grips firmly onto your waist with his other hand, “how could I ever even think of another woman when there is you? You with your pretty face, and your sweet smile, and your heavenly laugh. You with your witty quips, and your melodic voice that says the smartest things, and this gorgeous body…”

Pero’s voice trails off as he starts to kiss down your neck and his strong hands start to move up and down your sides in unison, then separating so one can reach up to massage your breast and the other down to grope your ass. Your head tips back to allow Pero more access as you melt into his touch - he’s everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses. Kissing down to your breasts, Pero finds them available to him in a way he has yet to experience, your thin night dress much flimsier than the gowns you wear during the day; he can already see your nipples poking up through the fabric, hard and inviting. Without warning, he ducks and takes one in his mouth, teasing and sucking in tandem with your loud gasps and moans.

“Oh Pero, right there, oh- nghhh, please that feels so good!” you cry out breathily. Spurned on by your praise, Pero frantically rucks up the skirts of your nightgown and slots his thigh between your legs, pulling you down to sit. The pressure and friction on your cunt sends a wave of pleasure through you, amplified and extended by Pero’s tongue and lips laving their attention on your breasts. He encourages you to rock against his thigh, using his grip on your waist to help you find an enjoyable rhythm, and once you’ve found one that catches your clit on the flex of his leg, his hands leave you to your work and travel up your body to pull down the front of your night dress, exposing your tits to the cool night air and Pero’s darkened gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, as he leans back to admire everything before him: your naked curves, your hardened peaks begging for his attention, and the sight of the woman he loves getting off by rubbing her pretty pussy all over his thigh. He thinks he’s minutes away from combusting.

Instead, he dives right into your chest, mouth and tongue licking, kissing and nibbling, hands groping, pinching and pulling all your delicious parts so that he can bring you to your second orgasm of the night. While tugging at your nipple with his teeth, he hisses low, “Were you jealous, Dulce?”

Half out of your mind from pleasure you gasp back, “Yes!”

Growling, “Good,” Pero sucks in a mouthful of your breast and kneads what he can’t fit into his mouth with his hands, panting out words when he should be taking in breaths of much needed air -

Now you know how I felt.

When some other man would touch you.

When you would smile at your suitors.

When you didn’t know I would burn the world for you.

You cry out at his confessions, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer to you still; increasing your rocking, you’re chasing your own high when your knee brushes up against something hard, something big. When it jumps at your touch, you use your knee to stroke Pero’s length with every pass of your pussy over his thigh.

Your breasts now wet from Pero’s mouth, the cool night air’s chill against your skin causes you to tighten in Pero’s arms as he continues to electrify you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his words -

Never need to be jealous ever again, Dulce.

There’s only you.

Never want anyone else.

Don’t need anyone else.

You’re my everything.

Mine.

You come to his loving and possessive declarations, singing back your own - Yours, yours, yours. Body violently seizing and shuddering, Pero holds you close as you ride out your high. As you continue to buck against him, he crests to your desperate whimpers and breathless panting – his eyes never leaving your face, mesmerized by the sweet blissed out expression that he pulled from you. Finally opening your eyes, you grin lazily at the sight of your lover smiling at you, calming down from his own summit; and when you feel the dampness of his trousers against your bare knee, you giggle in pride and pull Pero back to you lips for a flutter of happy kisses. As he walks you to the door to the waiting room, you hardly give him a moment without a light peck on his lips, cheeks, neck – not sure you’ll be able to stand being apart from Pero for even a few hours of sleep.

Before he leaves you, Pero cups your face in his large hands, whispering against your lips, “I’m yours,” and you smile back and press your mouth to his before returning, “Mine.”

You marry at the end of the season in late June with the blessing of the Spanish king to do so in England. The ceremony itself is wonderful and your gown is gorgeous, but you hardly remember anything save for how handsome Pero looks waiting for you at the end of the aisle and how he and the Count both had tears in their eyes for most of the wedding. What you remember much more vividly is the fun you and your friends had when preparing for the nuptials. Days and nights filled with laughter, play fighting over flower arrangements, tearful promises to never let distance impact your friendship – you thank the Bridgertons over and over for their love and support during this season and bringing you to Pero; you can never repay them. When you board the ship to your new home, it’s not without tears as you say goodbye to your friends and father; everyone sends you off with mirroring sentiments and promises to visit soon.

If the Tovar estate servants had any concerns or misgivings about having a foreigner as mistress of the house, you soon win them over with your kind and gentle nature; your cheerful and easy-going demeanor overriding any language barrier, which with their help and your dedication, you were overcoming more and more every day. And if there were any remaining whispers, be they among the members of the Spanish court, villagers, or any one else, they were quickly quieted once the concerned party bore witness to the ferocity of your love for your husband and his obvious and complete devotion to you. The older house staff observed quite readily that they hadn’t seen the Barón smile as much as he did since he was a boy. The newer servants declared that prior to his marriage, they had not seen him smile at all.

One morning, only two months after landing in Spain, you wake to find yourself alone in bed for the first time since you and Pero got married. Deciding it unnecessary to ring for your ladies’ maid (Lucia, a delightful woman whose English was improving as much as your Spanish), you throw on a dressing robe over your night dress and pad downstairs, sure you’ll find your husband in the dining room having breakfast.

As usual, you’re right; for a few minutes you remain standing in the doorway, admiring your handsome hulk of a husband as he shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth. You love the way he eats… everything - with voracity, unabashed hunger, like he can never get enough. Strolling in only when you see him push aside his empty plate in favour of a pile of letters and paperwork to begin reading, you thank the footman who had already seen you and plated you a warm breakfast, before you approach Pero’s chair. Dancing your fingers across his broad shoulders, you slide onto your husband’s lap before laying a soft morning kiss to his lips, “Buenos días, mi rey.”

“Buenos días, mi reina,” Pero kisses back, turning his full attention to you as he always does.

“Te echo de menos esta mañana (I missed you this morning),” you pout, although you’re not really upset with him in any way.

Pero smiles at you indulgently, “I thought you might like to get some extra sleep.” He nuzzles your ear and you can hear him smile, “Considered you might be tired after your activities last night, Baronesa.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss, your cheeks get hot just thinking about the multiple orgasms that Pero pulled from you with his talented fingers, mouth and cock; you purr back and pepper his scruff with kisses, “Very thoughtful of you, Barón.” Your eyes soften, “No me gusta despertar sin ti, Pero (I hate waking up without you, Pero).”

Pero kisses your temple, “My apologies, Dulce. How can I make it up to my pretty wife?”

You squirm in his lap; a thrill still runs through you when you hear him refer to you as his wife, and you start to plant breathy kisses to the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Already? Is my wife so insatiable?” chuckles Pero, though his voice his has dropped to that low baritone register that makes your stomach flip. You nod into his neck and start to run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging impatiently at the ones at the base of his neck.

“Déjanos por favor (leave us please),” Pero calls out politely. The servants in the dining room leave at once and close the doors, some smirking - all the servants having gotten used to their master and new mistress’ voracious appetite for one another. The younger servants were mainly amused and some even found it romantic; the older servants acting scandalized, but secretly pleased to see such a happy marriage on the estate after so long.

“Sit up here, mi amor,” Pero pulls you off his lap gently and directs you up onto the dining room table; you move his papers aside and push his flatware out of the way. Teasing him, you quip, “I thought you already had breakfast, my lord?”

“I’m ready for seconds,” growls Pero as he pulls up his chair and seats himself between your legs. Licking his lips greedily, he unties your robe and peels it open to reveal your lacey nightgown underneath. Lifting up the skirt to reveal your already wet and waiting naked cunt, he murmurs, "Delicious," before lowering himself to meet you where you already need him so desperately. Aware that you might still be sensitive from the previous night’s sex, Pero is careful with you – his licks and strokes to your folds are gentle and slow, he mouths and sucks your clit with tenderness and reverence, and when he presses two, then three fingers into your tight hole, he does so with restrained worship. It’s only when you cry out for more, more, more, that he quickens his pace and fully presses his mouth to you, tongue tangling with your sensitive bud before nibbling it between his teeth. Your moans and debauched sounds of rapture have never been restrained in this house, your house – and you come with a desperate and enchanting scream befitting the blinding pleasure now electrifying your body.

Kissing up your nightgown and planting loving open mouth kisses to your breasts before letting you taste yourself, Pero licks into your mouth and whispers, “Te amo, mi reina,” before standing back to unlace his pants.

Your mouth waters as you watch your husband free his cock; no matter how many times you’ve taken him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, you’re still in awe of its size and the things that Pero’s length can do to you. Whenever you feel the stretch of him entering you, you always recall the first time and how gentle he was as he pushed in. When you remember the tenderness in his voice and face as he made sure you were comfortable, putting your pleasure before his – your heart always blooms with overflowing love for this man. How did you get so lucky? Pero would of course always say that he’s the lucky one, and then show you just how deep his affection for you runs by thrusting with intensity, punching that spot inside that makes you see stars, over and over – the exact way he’s doing so now. “¡Cómo te amo, Pero!” you whimper again and again, and by the way he continues to drive into you, you know he believes you. Folding himself over you so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate spot at the base, Pero's pants and groans have you arching your back and fisting his hair just for something to hold on to lest you float away.

“I’m close, Dulce. Come with me,” Pero growls, snaking a hand between your bodies and finding your clit with ease. Drawing quick circles over your swollen nub, you feel the coil beneath your belly tighten and tighten until it snaps and you throw you head back chanting your husband’s name as you fall over the cliff. Not far behind, Pero’s pace falters before he spills into you with a long and low grunt in your ear that shoots straight to where you’re joined as one.

Weak, limp and perfectly satisfied, you let Pero pull you into a sitting position and kiss him deeply and sweetly as both of your breaths start to even, the heaving of your chests slowing in unison.

Forehead resting against yours, Pero catches your still dazed eyes and gives a small nod towards the papers that had been pushed aside and forgotten, “Dulce, I’ve been charged with accompanying His Majesty’s naval fleet to Naples, Italy. Would you join me?”

Smiling because you know he already knows the answer, you nod, “Of course, mi amor. I’ll start making the necessary arrangements today.”

Pero tilts his head, eyes soft and reassuring, “Are you okay with leaving? We will have only been home for a few short months.”

Cupping your husband’s face in your hands, you gaze adoringly into his eyes, “My home is where you are, Pero.”

Pero closes his eyes and pulls you flush against him, with him still softening inside you, you’re as close as two people can be. He tips your face to his and whispers, “You’re my home, Dulce,” and all you can do is sigh in unsurpassable happiness as he presses his lips to yours once again.

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em-prentiss · 20 hours

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Hello. Big fan of your writing. I was wondering if you could write Hotchniss from someone else’s perspective maybe the team watching them being cute and soft together and them seeing their new side?👀🤭

Heyy, thank you!! I really love this idea, so I hope you like my execution of it <3

you can see it with the lights out (you are in love)

----

“I think,” Penelope whispers, her smile evident in her voice, “this is the best thing to ever come out of the BAU.” Her eyes snag on the way Aaron buckles Emily’s seatbelt before he shuts her door. She’d been disbelieving at first, unable to imagine the two of them together. But now, looking at them, the gentleness of their love, she can’t imagine things being any different.

The car pulls away and JJ smiles at the sight of Emily’s head resting against the window. She’s already fast asleep.

“I think you’re right.”

Aaron and Emily, through different lenses.

Word count: 5.2k

Mild cw for some minor injuries, nothing graphic but a little blood mentioned

----

It starts slowly.

At first absolutely nothing changes, Aaron and Emily going about their work as Hotch and Prentiss—last names, the occasional (and still prevalent) disputes—as if the team hadn’t caught them making out in a storage closet.

It takes a few months for them to evolve further than the generously filled cup of coffee with a gentle hand to the shoulder and the secret holding of their fingertips beneath the table, a habit of theirs they still haven’t broken.

Their armor starts crumbling on a rowdy night out. One Aaron does not want to go to.

“Let’s just go home, Em.” It’s as close as he’s ever come to pleading in the nine months they’ve been together. It’s been a strangely quiet day and all he wants to do is go home and spend time with her and Jack, make them dinner and fall asleep on the couch to Cars with his head in Emily’s lap and her hand in his hair.

“And do what? Eat dinner and go to bed at 10 like old people?” Emily wrinkles her nose in distaste. “It’s our weekend, Aaron. The first one without a case in god knows how long.”

She’s restless, her body humming with unspent energy, and today is exactly the kind of day where a night out at a bar actually sounds good. She perches on the edge of his desk, lets her knee touch his. “Please?” She smiles, her eyes bright and her smile brighter still.

Aaron wilts. He has yet to find a way to say no to her when she flashes those brown eyes, dark and beautiful and like a knife straight through his heart.

He sighs. Emily’s smile widens; she knows she’s got him.

“It’ll be fun,” she assures, the open blinds of his office only barely holding her back from kissing his downturned lips.

“You’ll get to touch me,” she reminds him, reaching her hand out to soothe the furrow between his brows instead. “And dance with me.” Her thumb softens the creased skin, runs over it until it’s flat. Aaron feels his lips tip upward in a smile.

“And you’ll finally get to scare off any guy that tries to hit on me,” Emily grins, recalling the last time they went out with the team. She could see the tight line of Aaron’s jaw all the way from the bar, his forceful gaze searing onto her skin as he gripped his drink so hard she thought the glass would shatter in his hand.

“Okay,” he concedes.

Emily beams at him. She leans forward, her nimble fingers undoing his tie with ease. Aaron’s eyebrows shoot up. “Undressing me in the office already?” He asks mildly. “At least close the blinds.”

“Hush,” Emily laughs as she slips the tie from his neck. Tossing it carelessly on his lap, she pops his collar and undoes the first two buttons of his shirt, feeling her whole body heat under his gaze as he watches her closely. “I’m making you bar-ready.” She murmurs.

“I see.” Aaron hums. Emily looks up at him and smiles as she meets his eyes. She brings a hand up and runs it through his hair, thoroughly messing it up.

“Hey!” He laughs and grips her wrist lightly. “You said bar-ready, not…delinquent.” He protests.

Emily laughs and swats his hand away. It falls to her thigh as she continues messing up his hair, shaking up the leftover gel in it until it’s soft and wilting over his forehead.

“That’s better,” she murmurs, proud of her handiwork. Now he somewhat resembles the Aaron she sees at home, soft and relaxed. Only one thing left. “Take off your jacket.”

Aaron sighs and obliges. “Any other orders, Ma’am?” He looks up at her as he places his jacket on the desk, his softened gaze betraying his annoyed act.

Emily smiles coyly and takes his right hand into her lap. “Roll up your sleeves,” she says as she starts doing the task herself, popping open the button on his cuff and rolling his sleeve up to his elbow.

Through the open window, JJ, Morgan, and Reid watch with rapt attention as Emily perches on their boss’ desk and casually attacks his meticulous appearance, her fingers mussing his hair and undoing his buttons.

“Interesting,” JJ murmurs when Hotch simply shakes his head at her, his laugh visible even from the bullpen in the way his large shoulders shake. He does nothing to stop her, leaning back in his chair when she takes his hand into her lap, her head bent as she fusses with his sleeve.

“Weird is more like it,” Morgan mutters. He’s never seen Emily smile so wide at Hotch before, never seen him smile like that at all.

“He’s letting her sit on his desk,” Reid comments, mildly intrigued at their lack of interest in the open blinds.

“That, pretty boy, is one of the many advantages that come with dating the boss,” Morgan says, his voice dripping faux wisdom.

“You seem like you know all about that,” Reid retorts snarkily.

Morgan exclaims in surprise and JJ huffs out a laugh, “Behave, both of you,” she looks behind her to find Hotch and Emily walk out of his office. “Or else Mom and Dad will ground you both.” She winks at them, promptly shutting them up.

________

He’s tense against her, his eyes fixed on the table their friends are at. Reid ducks his head to avoid Aaron’s gaze but Rossi meets him head on, making him grimace.

Emily turns to glare at them, her icy expression forcing Rossi to turn away.

“Ignore them.” She loops her arms around Aaron’s neck and tilts his head down. He meets her warm eyes, feels the ruckus around them slow down to a buzz as she threads her fingers into his hair and smiles reassuringly at him. She presses closer to him and he relaxes, his shoulders slumping as she presses a lingering kiss to his jaw.

Until he hears the loud squealing and whooping of Penelope and Morgan back at their table. Aaron instinctively turns to them, his eyes leaving Emily’s. She feels him tense against her again and holds back a growl.

Emily tugs his head back to her, a little too forcefully. “Eyes on me, Aaron.”

His eyes immediately snap back to hers. Emily smiles at the darkened look in them, her words accidentally snapping into a command. He turns his back to the team and focuses solely on her. “Yes Ma’am,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a smile before he bends down and presses them against hers.

Emily grins into the kiss. She links their fingers together and tugs him deeper into the dance floor until they’re crammed between throngs of people, away from the eyes of the team.

She starts moving against him and he’s gone, so far gone, any inhibitions disappearing as Emily moves to the beat of the music in his arms. Aaron finds himself smiling as he matches her rhythm. He suddenly realizes that they’ve never danced together before, at least not like this, with pounding music in his ears instead of her soft sighs and bitten back moans.

He voices the thought out loud to her as his hands tightly grasp her hips and pull her closer. “We’ve never done this before,” he breathes in her ear, feeling her link her fingers together behind his neck.

“Fun, isn’t it?” She smiles brightly, her eyes glittering, and he can’t help but agree.

“Yeah,” Aaron murmurs, leaning down to kiss her. He slips a hand into her fluffed out hair, his other digging into her waist and feeling the smooth skin peeking out from the hem of her shirt.

Across the bar, two blonde women are clutching each others arms.

“Oh my god.” Penelope squeals, just barely holding in the urge to jump up and down in glee. “Look at them, Jayje. Hotch is smiling!”

“I see them, Pen,” JJ laughs, but she can’t help but feel her friend’s reaction is just a little bit understandable—just a tiny bit.

Aaron and Emily are deep into the dance floor, lost in their own universe as they dance together, laughing and smiling, their bodies moving against each others with practiced ease. It feels almost private to see, the way Aaron smiles at Emily, how she digs her hands into his hair so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Her shirt rises up her stomach, her jeans low enough on her hips that she sees something on her skin. Multiple somethings. Four circular marks, dark against her pale skin and peeking out from the hem of her jeans. JJ frowns, wondering if she got hurt, but she’s moving around carelessly, the bruises obviously not bothering her. She’s about to look away when Hotch’s hands trail lower, his fingers pressing directly on the bruises. They disappear beneath his fingertips, the perfect size, and—oh.

JJ flushes.

They watch as Emily turns around in his arms. She leans into him, cards her fingers through his unusually messy hair and pulls him down for a kiss. His palm slips up her shirt and JJ turns away, swallowing down her surprise.

Penelope grins next to her, officially losing her mind. “Oh my freaking god,” she slurs, throwing back her drink and gripping the glass tightly, “boss-man has moves?” She exclaims in disbelief, her eyes widening. “No wonder Em is all over him.”

JJ doesn’t like to intrude, but her eyes are drawn to them. Hotch seems so carefree, so relaxed, his body limp as if Emily had taken the weight of the world off his shoulders. She sees his face break out in another smile, a dimple dug deep in the cheek she can see—she’d bet money there’s another equally deep one carved into his other cheek—as he says something to Emily. She laughs back, her cheeks flushed, and Hotch brightens, his whole face glowing.

JJ smiles, her heart warming at the sight of them. At first she’d doubted Emily could fall for someone so serious and stoic, but she glows under his gaze, his touch. She doesn’t know how this happened, but she does know one thing; they’re in deep.

“Did you know he has a dimple?” She turns to Penelope, her eyes sparkling.

Emily turns her head slightly and laughs at the sight of JJ and Penelope gawking at them. She’s sure if she was in other situation, any less drunk, she’d have been annoyed. But right now she can’t really bring herself to care.

“They’re losing their shit,” she whispers to Aaron, her lips nipping at the warm skin of his jaw. He hums as she continues her lazy kisses and slips her hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Let them.” He looks down at her, breaking her contact from his skin. Aaron tenderly tucks her dark hair behind her ear, his knuckles lingering on her cheek. He shifts so his back is to their friends and leans down to kiss her, softly, gently, starkly different from the heated kisses they’ve been sharing all night.

“I’m glad we decided to come,” he squeezes her waist.

Emily’s eyes light up. “Really?”

Aaron smiles. “Really.”

****

Penelope startles when she catches sight of her boss standing in the doorway. It’s still weird to see him like this, as simply Aaron and not Hotch. He’s dressed in casual jeans and a t-shirt, his lips turning up in a soft smile as he looks at Emily. Her friend is sprawled next to her on the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest and laughing at JJ’s story, cheeks softly flushed pink from the multiple drinks she’d had. She doesn’t notice him yet, her attention on JJ sitting cross legged on the floor.

“Sir Hotch!” Penelope may or may not yell, and Emily’s gaze slides from JJ to Aaron. Her face transforms as she beams at him, her smile spreading impossibly wider as he awkwardly scratches his hair.

“You don’t have to call me sir outside of work, Garcia.” He insists yet again as he crosses the living room, his eyes already locked on Emily’s.

“Feels weird not to,” she says cheerfully, yelping at JJ’s pinch to her socked foot. What? She mouths at her friend. JJ mimes zipping her lips shut, her eyes wide and curious.

Her comment goes unanswered as Aaron crouches down in front of Emily. “Hi, Em.” He says softly.

Emily smiles lazily. “Hi,” she slurs. She drops the pillow and lurches forward to wrap her arms around his neck. His arms band around her back as she almost slips off the couch and halfway into his lap, her movements unsteady and clumsy. Her knees knock into his chest but he doesn’t seem to mind. She whispers something to him, her dark hair nestled beneath his chin, and he smiles.

Penelope feels something in her melt at the still unusual sight of his dimples, his smile so soft her heart aches.

The room is too quiet to mask his reply. “I missed you too,” his voice is quiet, low as Emily leans back and gives him a sloppy kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Aaron flushes. His eyes dart to Penelope and JJ, who hurriedly look away as Emily mumbles, “Let’s go home,” into his skin, her inhibitions lowered as she slips her fingers into his hair and nuzzles her face away from her friends, into his neck.

Penelope bites her thumb between her teeth, trying to hide a smile as Aaron clears his throat and awkwardly stands up, juggling Emily in his arms as he unsteadily gets to his feet. She feels a grin spreading wide on her face despite her best efforts, a look at JJ telling her she’s struggling, too. They hadn’t seen more of Aaron and Emily since their initial night out, case after case steering them clear of bars and dinners.

At least the alcohol is a good excuse for their unabashed interest.

Hotch—Aaron’s—cheeks are dusted pink as Emily stumbles into him, her arms wrapping around his waist. She lays her head on his shoulder and turns back to her friends.

“Sorry guys, I hav’ta go,” she tells them, her eyes almost comically wide. “My pretty boyfriend gets lonely when I go out for too long,” she whispers loudly, breaking out into giggles as Aaron bites back a sigh.

“Right, Aaron?” Emily turns to him, her lip bitten between her teeth. Her hand slips off his hip and slides into his front pocket, the movement thoughtless, instinctual.

Through her drunken haze, Penelope watches Aaron’s cheeks flush bright red, as if he’d been drinking along with them. Another giddy thrill goes through her at this new side of him, another chip of his armor removed and thrown to their feet. The reason for it is still moving impossibly closer to him, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

He swallows but doesn’t refuse her touch as she leans into him. “Sure, Emily,” he mutters, clearing his throat and turning to JJ. “Can we have a bottle of water for the ride?” Aaron asks, firmly wrapping his arm around Emily’s waist as she sways against him.

“Uh huh,” JJ nods and pushes herself to her feet, unsteady as she heads to the kitchen. Penelope scrambles up to follow her, socks slipping on the hardwood floors.

“Oh, Jayje, aren’t they the cutest?” She whispers as JJ opens the fridge and takes out a water bottle. “Hotch is blushing,” she sighs dreamily. “I didn’t know he could do that.” Her eyes drift to the living room wall separating them from Aaron and Emily, briefly wishing it were transparent as Emily’s voice faintly drifts toward them.

JJ giggles, “He’s like a tomato,” she agrees, promptly taking out another bottle and pressing it to Penelope’s flushed cheek. Her friend yelps as JJ takes out another bottle for herself along with Emily’s. “Now we know he’s kinda human.” She wiggles her brows.

Penelope gasps loudly. “That’s mean,” she slaps JJ’s arm. “Hotch has always been fully human with me,” she insists firmly, even as her words slur together.

“Em is just helping him show it more. Isn’t that cute?” She sighs as they walk back to the living room again. She stumbles and JJ loops their arms together, though she’s hardly any more steady.

“’s cute,” she mumbles, resting her head against Penelope’s as they walk into the living room again.

Emily’s face is firmly tucked into Aaron’s neck, her hands in his back pockets and his arms around her back. He abruptly stops whatever he was saying, his soft voice tailing off into a hesitant smile as he takes the bottle from JJ.

“Thank you, JJ,” he says. His cheeks are decidedly less pink than they were before, but he still doesn’t hold their gazes for long.

“Sure,” she hums in reply.

Emily untangles herself from Aaron’s arms and gives her friends a joint hug, JJ’s arm still looped through Penelope’s.

“Night, mes amours.” She gives them quick kisses and bounces back as suddenly as she came, her arms barely wrapping around them before she goes back to Aaron’s side.

“Next time at my place, yeah?” Emily grabs his hand and pulls it around her shoulders as JJ and Penelope hum in affirmation.

“Good night.” Aaron tells them over his shoulder as Emily pushes him toward the door.

“Night,” the women grin back. JJ smiles at the way he submits to Emily’s will, lets her push him around even with his arm steady around her waist. Who would’ve thought, she sighs as they disappear from view, her heart unbearably warm at the sudden, unexpected happiness her friends had found.

“Pen’s bangs are nice.” Emily’s voice floats to them from the foyer, wistful and slurry, a couple octaves louder than it usually is. “I should get some too. D’you think I’d look pretty with bangs?”

The door creaks open. Aaron’s voice is low as they walk out into the night. “You’d look pretty in anything.” He says, affection seeping through the words. “Just not tonight, hon.”

The door slams shut behind them and the two blondes wilt against each other, sighs and giggles escaping their parted lips as they see Aaron guide Emily into his car, his hands gentle on her even through the living room window.

The car pulls away and JJ smiles at the sight of Emily’s head resting against the window. She’s already fast asleep.

“I think you’re right.”

****

Dave can count on his fingers the amount of times Aaron Hotchner ever lost his shit. Even when he was a quiet, overly confident agent fresh out of the academy, he barely lost his cool, always staying frustratingly in control.

That is, of course, until Emily walks into the conference room leaning heavily on an officer, blood slowly leaking from a gash in her forehead and her left eye quickly turning sickening shades of purple.

“Emily.” Aaron jumps up from his seat at the table. She lets go of the officer supporting her and sways on her feet, but Aaron is in front of her in an instant.

“Woah,” she says quietly as she grips his forearms, her knuckles white and her face bloodless. Dave feels a pang in his heart as she stumbles headfirst into Aaron, her legs shaky and weak.

“What the hell happened?” Morgan demands as Aaron helps Emily into a chair, his brows tightly drawn and his jaw clenched. His hands are soft, though, his voice softer still as he quietly whispers sit down, honey, frowning when Emily slumps into the chair with a low groan.

Dave turns away from them and looks at the officer that accompanied Emily, his brows raising as he waits for an explanation. They were only supposed to interview the victim’s boyfriend.

The officer pales when Aaron turns to him as well.

“We saw him outside his apartment, he was already looking like he was ready to bolt. We just introduced ourselves then he kinda…slammed her into a lamppost.” He ends lamely, swallowing as Aaron’s gaze turns vaguely murderous.

Dave doesn’t blame him.

A weak scoff breaks the tense silence. “He wasn’ too happy we wen’ to visit him,” Emily mumbles. She raises her hand to block the lights, her face twisting in a grimace as she leans back into the chair.

Aaron grips the back of her seat, standing guard over her even though the damage is already done. His tone is low when he speaks, buzzing with barely controlled anger. “JJ,” he grits out, “put an APB for that asshole’s car and tell the detective we need to be on the lookout for him. Morgan, call Garcia and have her track his phone. Reid, get me a first aid kit. Now.” He barks, and they all snap into action.

“Than’ god, I really didn’ wanna go to the hospital,” Emily slurs as everyone clears out of the room. She squints at Aaron as he crouches down in front of her. “Y’re all blurry, though.”

Dave reaches for one of the cold water bottles on the table and holds it to Emily’s forehead. “Hold that there, bella,” he says quietly as Aaron works on unlocking his tight jaw.

Emily holds the bottle without complaint. “Than’s Rossi. Tha’ bastard got me good,” she winces.

“If it’s too bad, we will go to the hospital, Emily.” Aaron says firmly. His eyes don’t leave her as he blows out a breath and gently tilts her face under the lights to see the extent of the damage. Dave can almost hear his teeth grind together as he examines her eye, nearly swollen shut.

“No, ’ron, I don’ need it.” She mumbles. Aaron ignores her as he carefully runs his finger around her eye, prodding along her cheek. He presses on the bruised skin of her nose and she flinches.

“Ah, fuck, why’d ya do that?” Emily hisses.

He blanches and pulls away as if he’d been burnt, “Sorry, sorry,” he rushes out, dropping his hands from her face. “Just wanted to check if anything’s broken.”

“Is it?” She scowls, holding the bottle with her other hand.

Aaron shakes his head and steadies the bottle himself. Emily lets go and closes her eyes, her throat bobbing as she swallows. She curls her fingers in the fabric of her pants, her knuckles turning white from her grip.

The sudden silence makes Dave hyper aware of his own presence.

“Anything you need me to do?” he asks, suddenly feeling like he’s intruding on something unbearably vulnerable; Aaron crouched in front of Emily, her knees pressed against his chest as he holds the bottle to the split skin on her forehead.

“Have Garcia dig into his life,” Aaron says tightly. “We need to work him into the profile, re-interview the parents and their friends and see what their relationship was like.”

Emily opens her eyes and flinches back a little, her knuckles sharpening under her skin. “The lights hurt,” she mumbles.

Aaron’s pained look doesn’t surprise Dave so much as Emily’s admission, quiet and slurred, clearly meant only for one person. Reid finally comes back with the medical kit and Aaron sets down the bottle, popping the kit open and grabbing a pair of alcohol wipes.

“I know, honey, just close your eyes.” He whispers, gently swiping the wipe over her skin. It grows red in seconds, and he quickly discards it to tear open another one. “You definitely have a concussion.”

“Doesn’t look like it needs stitches,” Reid murmurs, leaning forward to examine the gash as Dave leaves in search of the detective. He explains the turn of events and is halfway through re-arranging the interviews when his phone buzzes with a message from Aaron.

Taking Emily back to the hotel. I’ll coordinate with you once she’s settled.

We’ll handle it, Dave sends back, unsurprised by the message. These past few months Aaron has slowly been loosening his tight grip on work, instead shifting his focus to prioritize his son and a certain brunette whenever they needed him.

He sees them walking out of the precinct, Emily leaning heavily against Aaron with her arm around his neck, trying her best not to sway. Aaron’s grip is tight around her back, his steps small as he matches her pace.

Dave is half surprised he doesn’t carry her outright.

****

Spencer stands next to the sliding door leading to the backyard, trying to leech warmth from the living room. He stuffs his cold hands into his pockets and wonders who encouraged Dave to plan a barbecue in the midst of winter.

“Here,” JJ walks over and hands him a mug of coffee.

“Oh, perfect, thanks,” he sighs as he wraps his freezing fingers around the mug, tipping it back and feeling the hot coffee scorch his throat as it goes down. JJ hums in response and takes it from him to steal a sip, the cold seeping into her skin despite the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“This really was a terrible idea, wasn’t it?” She laughs as she looks around at the backyard, Emily hissing and spitting as she rubs her arms, Penelope huddling next to the grill and effectively Morgan, her gloved hands wrapped around his bicep.

Dave seems to be the only one enjoying himself, watching over Morgan and Aaron like a hawk, making sure they don’t burn the steaks as he leisurely sips his scotch.

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees, shivering as a gust of wind cuts through his clothes.

JJ smiles. “Here,” she opens up the blanket so he can join her. He doesn’t hesitate, eagerly wrapping it around himself and huddling into her for warmth.

“Thanks.” He hums as the cold starts to leave his body. She hands the mug back and Spencer tries not to fuss too much over the idea of her lips touching the same area of the rim as his. He lets it warm his hands instead, his eyes catching on Aaron and Emily next to the grill.

She’s frowning, rubbing her arms as her mouth moves quickly—no doubt in complaint, Spencer thinks with some amusement; he always appreciated Emily’s bluntness. The tip of her nose is red, the sleeves of her sweater stretched over her knuckles as she rubs her palms together, her lips turned down in annoyance.

Aaron smiles at her and passes the tongs in his hands to Dave, who mildly protests as he takes them. Aaron ignores him as he steps away from the grill and in front of Emily.

JJ’s arm presses into Spencer’s as she reaches for his coffee mug again. He hands it to her absentmindedly, his eyes on Aaron as he opens up the sides of his jacket.

“That’s weird,” he murmurs as Emily’s frown disappears. “Why’s he—oh.”

She walks into Aaron’s arms and promptly stuffs herself inside his jacket.

He hears her laugh as Aaron tucks the sides of his jacket closed around her body, fitting her snugly against him and pressing his lips to her hair as she snuggles closer. Emily’s scowl is nowhere to be seen as she looks up at him, her lips twisting in a smile as she says something, too far away for Spencer to hear.

He feels his heart grow warm suddenly, as if he were the one tucked into someone’s jacket. Spencer smiles a little, his mind clocking the difference between this Aaron and Emily and the ones he’d known a year ago. They used to be tense and stiff, hesitant to show outward affection as if someone would scold them for it. But they’re both fully relaxed now, soft dimples in each of their cheeks as they ignore everyone else, brown eyes locked on brown.

“Wish I had that,” Spencer mumbles to himself, acutely feeling the cold sink into his bones.

JJ turns to him in surprise, an excited sparkle in her eyes. “A relationship, you mean?” Her brows raise into her hairline.

She looks far too excited at that prospect. Spencer shudders, “God, no. The warmth,” he clarifies, looking down at JJ and giving her a wry smile. “They look awfully comfortable, don’t you think?”

JJ laughs as she looks back at Aaron and Emily, the two of them huddled close together. Her head is tucked under his chin and his lips are pressed to her hair, his hands holding the sides of the jacket closed over her back. There’s not an inch of space between them.

“They do,” she agrees.

However, not everyone enjoys the domesticity.

“Hey lovebirds!” Morgan calls out, pretending to twist his mouth into an irritated frown. “How about you make yourselves useful?”

Penelope slaps his arm and he bites back a grin.

Emily rolls her eyes and puts her lips to Aaron’s ear, mouthing something that looks an awful lot like flip him off.

Spencer is proven right when Aaron hesitates, his hands tightening on her back. “That’s childish,” he hears him say.

Emily heaves a huge sigh and turns her head back to meet Morgan’s gaze. “Fuck off, Morgan,” she grumbles and huddles close to Aaron, fitting her head under his chin. “You wish you were as warm as me right now.”

“Like I want to be that close to your boyfriend,” he scoffs, setting down his tongs. “Besides, I got my own babygi—”

“He’s my fiancé, I’ll have you know.” She retorts, the way her eyes widen telling Spencer the words slipped past her lips without much thought.

It’s quiet for a few stunned seconds before Aaron breaks the silence.

“Emily.” He laughs, the sound breaking them all from their reverie. “It hasn’t been two days,” he shakes his head, but he’s smiling at her, amused and utterly infatuated.

“Sorry,” she grins up at him, not looking sorry in the least as Penelope grabs her shoulders and pulls her out of his jacket.

Emily yelps and stumbles backward, but the blanket flaps against Spencer’s side and suddenly JJ’s there to steady her, hands tight on her shoulders.

They squabble around her and Spencer smiles as she takes out the chain tucked beneath her sweater, the one he’d seen the outline of earlier today and asked her about. Spencer tunes out the squeals as her ring glints in the weak winter sun and raises his brows in mock surprise as he approaches Aaron along with the other guys.

“Congratulations, Hotch,” he grins, his words drowned out by Morgan’s enthusiasm and Dave’s I knew it.

And when Aaron smiles, the curve of his dimple is no longer unusual, but familiar.

#hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron x emily #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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writerpetals · 3 hours

Text

just like the movies | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

// it's here it's here! the first thing i've written in SO long so I hope it brings you some entertainment hehe i decided to go with a sweet, silly fluffy single parent au smut for this one to get me back in the swing of things! i'm also going to try to queue some stuff for the week until i get to write more this weekend (i have a 4 day weekend this week so yay! writing time! this is why i love my job, i only work 3 12 hr days, then 4, then 3, switching every week haha) thank you for all the support! <333

Settling down into the scratchy polyester seat of the concert venue, you look over at the excitement on your daughter’s face. Ava can’t contain the wide smile and bubbling anticipation of seeing her very first concert, with her favorite band in the world. She twists one of her braids around her little finger before pushing her glasses up a little farther on her nose.

“I swear if Asher looks at me I’ll die!” she exclaims, bouncing in her seat just a few minutes before the show is scheduled to begin.

Your ten-year-old daughter might be getting way ahead of herself for her age considering her favorite boy band, including her favorite member, is years older than her, but who are you to dim her excitement? You were a fangirl once, too. Even if boy bands aren’t your thing anymore since you’ve grown up, one thing you do love is seeing Ava happy, as well as spending a fun night in town doing whatever you can to spend time with her.

“I hope so,” you say to her, smiling. She giggles and pulls out your cell phone she borrowed for the night to take a few pictures of the two of you.

As you’re smiling and posing in your selfies, the seat next to you shifts a little with the weight of someone sitting down. Within the view of the phone screen as Ava snaps away, you notice the man now sitting on the other side of you, whispering something to his just as excited daughter.

Or, you assume it’s his daughter at first, and the assumption is confirmed when she squeaks her thank you to him for bringing her to see her favorite band, and calling him the best dad ever!

Your smile widens a little at that. You’re not the only parent tagging along just so your daughter can have a fun, memorable night. Your heart melts a little, guessing the last place he wants to be is seeing a group of teen boys singing and dancing, but he’s here for her.

You only wish Ava’s father could be so attentive to her. You don’t want to cloud the night with bad thoughts and memories, but you can’t help to have flashbacks of all the ways her mostly absent father failed her when you see another showing up for their daughter. Envy, guilt, and the what-if’s hit you hard, wondering what you could have done differently to make a difference with your own family before it fell apart.

The bad thoughts quickly fade once the speakers start blasting the band’s latest hit while showing pictures of the boys on a huge screen ahead. Ava jumps up and screams. So does the girl sitting two seats to your left, as well as most of the attendees around you. You decide to stay seated, knowing you’re taller than most of the little girls around you, not wanting to block anyone’s view.

The grinning dad next to you does the same, remaining seated as he watches his daughter’s excitement.

“First Dreamwave Boys concert?” you ask him with a grin, leaning over a little so he can hear you over the singing. He turns to you, looking a little surprised that another parent is sitting next to him for the night. He smiles wide, and you can’t help but to finally notice how handsome the man is. His smile is charming and his eyes are warm and inviting.

“First timer, here,” he jokes with a chuckle, and his voice is smooth like honey, earning a little heated flush to your cheeks. “How about you?”

“First time here, too.” He smiles wider at your answer. “Ava just loves Asher, so I had to splurge on tickets.”

“My little Jayda here loves Noah so much that I love Noah by association. Never knew I’d know everything about some teenage boy band member down to their birthday and zodiac sign, but here we are.” A genuine laugh loudly escapes your lips, so he continues with a big smile. “Noah is a pisces, by the way. Highly creative and compassionate.”

You can’t stop your giggles as the arena full of singing girls drowns out around you. At least you would enjoy the company tonight while your daughter got lost in her own little world. As your laughter settles, you tell your concert buddy for the night your name, as he does the same. Butterflies flood your stomach when he takes your hand in a gentle, friendly shake of introductions.

Then you tell yourself to snap out of it. This is someone’s father, probably married, and you know you shouldn’t be getting butterflies over a handsome stranger. Maybe it’s because you haven’t talked much to other men since your ex left the two of you. Maybe it’s the way he’s so invested in his daughter’s interests, you wonder, but it shouldn’t matter either way. You’re here for Ava. Not to flirt with probably-married-dads.

“Your husband didn’t want to come?” he suddenly asks as the countdown for the concert begins. Your heart nearly stops. That was forward… way more forward than you were expecting.

“No husband,” you reply with a shrug after giving your heart a few seconds to calm down. “Just me and my girl.” You look over at Ava anxiously counting down the seconds, a big grin on her face and an even bigger one on yours. When you look back to him, he’s sporting a small smile and an understanding in his eyes.

He says nothing, however, as the beat to Dreamwave Boys’ debut single blasts through the venue and the screaming intensifies. The boys pop out from a lift in the stage floor and the crowd immediately starts singing along. Even you can’t help but to nod your head and mumble some of the lyrics to the parts you know.

Neither of you can hear much to say anything else to one another for a while, only silently bobbing heads and tapping feet along while both of your daughters’ scream all the lyrics beside the two of you. It’s not until he’s suddenly moving out of his seat does he lean closer to whisper and ask watching Jayda and that he’ll be right back.

You nod and give him a smile, and he’s off down the aisle. His daughter Jayda looks over at you with a big grin, then notices Ava at the same time. The two girls wave at each other, with Ava being the more forward one out of the two as she steps closer to introduce herself.

“Asher looks so good tonight!” she squeaks to Jayda, and you can’t help but to giggle.

“Okay, but Noah’s outfit during “Summer Crush”?! Hello?!”

At this point, an interlude video plays on the big screens so the girls can chat for a moment about the show. Your heart thrums away in your chest at the sight. You love nothing more than seeing your little girl happy and in her element, enjoying herself and making new friends. How did she become such a social butterfly?

You wish you could say the same as Jayda’s dad finally makes his way back to his seat, but realizes it’s now being occupied by your own daughter. With a chuckle, he happily sits in Ava’s seat on the opposite side of you, a few waters and snacks in his arms.

“I see our girls are bonding over boys that are too old for them,” he comments, making you laugh and shake your head.

“Ava’s going to make friends wherever she goes,” you tell him, glancing over to see the two girls huddled together and giggling over a silly video of the boys playing on the screen that shows some backstage access footage.

“Wish my Jayda was the same, but she’s a little shy. I’m always grateful for girls like Ava that bring her out of her shell.” With that, he’s handing over the waters to you to pass along. “Got you girls something to drink. Need to stay hydrated.”

Your heart practically bursts as he hands over three waters, two to pass along, and one for you to keep. “Oh gosh, thank you!” You say, getting Ava’s attention so the two girls can receive their bottles. She happily accepts them with a thank you to him, then turns to Jayda and starts giggling. Jayda looks at you, then at her dad, then at Ava before she returns the same laughter, and suddenly they’re whispering something you can’t hear.

“The snacks are for us,” he then says, earning your attention to see a pack of chocolate candies in his lap. “Figured it would help pass the time.”

A warmth settles over you as you watch him open the pack, then offer you some before himself. With a thankful smile, you take a few pieces and pop them in your mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, cheeks heated as his smile widens. “That’s really kind of you. I’m surprised your wife isn’t here at the concert, too.” Now you’re the one to be forward, but it’s been bothering you since the two of you started talking. Not that there’s anything wrong with a father taking his daughter to a concert, it’s only unusual.

“Jayda’s mom and I aren’t together,” he tells you honestly. “It’s my weekend to have her, and it was her birthday, so we’re celebrating together by being here.”

The two of you look at your girls at the same time, completely in their own little world as the intermission video begins to end and the show resumes.

“Well, she’s celebrating by spending time with her little boy band boyfriends and I’m just tagging along,” he corrects. You laugh louder than you have the whole night, and the satisfied smile on his face says he’s proud of it.

The show carries on without either of you being able to say much from all the noises and screaming, but you drink your water you’re now grateful to have, and snack on some of his candy with him. Jayda and Ava have instantly become best friends in the span of an hour as they dance and sing while holding on to one another.

The power of boy bands, you think.

The show lasts another forty-five minutes, with a fifteen minute encore and about five more minutes of saying bye to their fans, then everyone is hustling out of their seats.

“Mommy!” Ava begins bouncing toward you, still completely full of energy and excitement. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for such a fun night! I got to see Asher and I met my new best friend, Jayda! Oh, give your number to her dad so we can hang out again! Please, please, please, pretty please?!”

She’s almost too much for you to handle. Sitting through the screaming and the loud music has you on the precipice of a migraine, but for her, you’d do anything. As you make your way out of the venue crowd, you look behind to see the father and daughter walking close.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, looking down at Jayda to see her bounce with her own excitement. How could you say no to that? Plus, he seems like a genuine, sweet guy. Ava’s own father wouldn’t be caught dead at a place like this. Most of the time he doesn’t even care about her birthday, only getting a card in the mail you can tell was filled out and sent by Ava’s grandmother from the both of them.

Before the thought has you burning with rage, you smile and accept the offer to give him your number. You hand him your phone so he can put his own contact information in, then the girls say their goodbyes, you tell him thanks once again, and you’re off your separate ways.

***

Turns out, the two don’t live that far away from Ava and you. If it weren’t for the girl’s school and after school activities, as well as both of your work schedules, you would have a hang out date set for your daughters. The two of you text back and forth, trying to make time for the girls to meet up and do something fun, but even a week after the concert there are still no concrete plans made, yet.

Still, you don’t mind texting him that much. He surprised you the day after the concert when he sent a simple text to you.

Did you know Noah’s favorite movie growing up was Spy Kids?

You read the text at work and nearly busted out laughing during a meeting. You don’t think someone has made you laugh so much in such a short period of time in so long. You can’t even remember the last time you texted a man so casually. Since Ava’s father left, your life has been her and only her, so when he keeps texting just to say something silly, you can’t help but to give in.

I like knowing you’re laughing and smiling. Makes me happy.

A few weeks after the concert, with a few failed attempts to plan a fun activity for your daughters and a few more fun and pointless texts in between, his message takes you by surprise. You aren’t sure how to take it. He is a saint, so it appears. Maybe he’s only being nice. Maybe he understands the struggles of being a single parent and trying to do your best.

It might be coming from a place of sympathy, not flirting, you think. You shake the thoughts away as you sit at your desk. It’s a quarter to three, your work is done for the day, and you need to leave to pick Ava up from school soon. You have nothing to do but overthink about his messages.

What if he is flirting? Your mind wonders and then wanders. He’s incredibly attractive. Your heart begins to race thinking of him the night of the concert, a tight t-shirt on and jeans. So casual, yet it’s making your skin hot when you picture it now.

I like when you make me laugh.

Your text is quick and short. You press send before you can back out. There’s nothing wrong with getting to know the person your daughter will be hanging around, right? You reason with yourself that you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re both single. You have a common interest: Ava and Jayda. He seems sweet and he is incredibly charming as well as funny. It’s completely fine.

Then maybe we need to speed up these plans of getting together… for our daughters, of course. How about a movie night next week?

Your heart nearly stops. He has been up front and direct since you met him. Maybe that’s another thing you like about him, as well. It’s clear he isn’t shy about putting himself out there, which only makes your message back to him easy.

How about next Friday?

***

Ava is thrilled to get the news she will be seeing her new bestie soon. Having a friend she doesn’t get to see at school made you finally crack and get her the cell phone she’s been wanting so she can message Jayda whenever she likes (within reason, of course).

The two of them aren’t the only ones that have been talking back and forth for a little over a month. He texts you nearly every day at this point. Sometimes it’s not even about Jayda or Ava. Sometimes, he’s just asking about your day. One afternoon, you even spilled to him the troubles you were having at work, and he let you vent. There was another time he sent you pictures of the car he was fixing up after informing you he was a mechanic, and has been so for about thirteen years.

The sight of his veiny arms in the shot with grease streaks did nothing to settle the attraction you’ve been feeling for this man. With every text, your feelings only grow stronger. You wonder how that can be when you’ve only been around him once, but each day with your messages back and forth, you get to know him a little better.

You walk into the movie theater on a Friday evening with Ava at your side and butterflies filling your stomach. It’s silly, really, to be so nervous when it’s only a movie night for your daughters, but you would be lying if you weren’t a little excited as well.

Okay, a lot excited, and it doesn’t help that when you see him in the arcade with Jayda playing against each other in a racing game, your heart swells. The pair are laughing while clutching their fake steering wheels, until he swerves into a fence post near the racing track and Jayda comes in first. For a moment, you watch the two, until Ava pulls you into the arcade.

“How are you so bad at driving, daddy? Someone needs to take your license!” Jayda throws her head back and laughs. Meanwhile, he can only shake his head until he spots the two of you.

“Hey, you made it!” There’s smiles on everyone’s faces as you say your hello’s. He reaches out his hand a moment later to drop a stack of coins in Ava’s palm. “You girls go have some fun. Movie starts in thirty.”

Then the girls are off, leaving you alone with him for just a bit. The two of you step away from the arcade to get away from all the music and flashing lights, finding a quiet corner near the concession counter to talk while still keeping an eye on the girls.

For a moment, he only looks at you, one side of his mouth raised in a smirk. The worries of maybe having something on your face arise, until you notice his eyes rake down your body adorning a faded band tee and skirt, then back up to take in your lips, and finally he meets your gaze.

“What?” Your body burns beneath his stare. Weeks of texting with him couldn’t prepare you for seeing him face to face again. The tension builds so thick between the two of you so suddenly, it nearly becomes hard to breathe. You take in his tight t-shirt once again, casual jeans, and hair so messily styles it looks perfect. His gorgeous grin widens before he finally replies to you.

“No way you could have gotten more gorgeous since the last time I saw you.” Heat washes over your body at the words. You weren’t expected such a forward compliment right from the beginning, but you assume he’s not one to beat around the bush. You realize you like that about him even more so, though your heart is racing. It’s been so long since you’ve paid any man’s advances attention. Insecurities arise at the thought of dating again since it’s something you haven’t considered in so long.

“Oh, um,” you begin, brushing loose hair behind your ear, “thank you.”

“Sorry,” he immediately replies, catching you off guard. “Sorry, that might have been too much. It’s just I haven’t really connected with someone like this in so long and—”

He’s cut off by a familiar voice calling your name, snapping you out of the moment. Dread instantly replaces any and all butterflies. Your racing heart falls to the pit of your stomach. You know there’s only one man that could ever do that to you.

“Bryce?” The frown is evident on your face as you stare at your ex, Ava’s father, the man that walked out on the two of you and would rather come to the movies with whatever new chick he found than his own daughter. If you’re honest, he makes you sick, but he also has a way to make you feel so small, you could never stand up to him. Maybe that’s why he left. You couldn’t fight for him to stay in the way he wanted or needed. At least, that’s what his mother had said about you.

“What are you doing here?” Bryce looks at the two of you, sizing him up and down before turning back to you. There’s a woman next to him that you’ve never seen, but she appears uninterested as she taps away on her phone.

“Well, I don’t know what you typically do at places like this, but we’re here to watch a movie.” He clearly has no problem sizing Bryce up as well, and from his tone you realize he doesn’t like much of what he sees.

“What? A date?” Bryce’s tone is more than mocking. As if he wants to make it clear he’s surprised by the fact that someone else would be into you. Another way to make you feel small. You aren’t even together anymore, but he still wants you to be that insecure girl he met when you were a teenager.

“Yeah,” he replies to Bryce, wrapping an arm around your shoulders after stepping closer to you, “a date. Is there a problem with a guy taking his girl and her daughter to the movies?”

Now Bryce’s eyes go wide. Your heart hammers away in your chest. You don’t like this situation. Not at all. You only wanted a relaxing, fun night for the girls and to hang out with a possible new friend.

“Ava is here? Where is she?” Bryce looks around, but you assume he hasn’t noticed the girls playing DDR in the arcade since their backs are to you all. You’re thankful for that. It’s never good when Ava sees her father. It only drills in the fact that she hardly ever does, and it gets her down for a while. If you can protect her from that sadness, you would do anything.

“The movie should be starting soon,” you turn to him to ignore Bryce and his question, forcing a smile. “Should we get some drinks and popcorn?”

“Alright, then,” Bryce says before anyone can get another word in, because of course he has to be the last one to get his word in. “See you around. Tell Ava I said Hi.”

You won’t be doing that, you decide, as Bryce and the woman thankfully go to the opposite side of the theater. You watch as he wraps an arm around her to pull her close before leaning in and placing a kiss against the side of her head. She remains glued to her phone, but you can finally sigh in relief.

“Thanks.” You turn back to him, too embarrassed and insecure to meet his gaze. “You didn’t have to do that for me.” His arm falls from your shoulders, but he suddenly takes your hand in his, caressing your skin with his thumb in such a gentle motion you nearly melt. It’s been so long since you’ve had even the tiniest bit of intimacy, it's evident in the way your cheeks flood with warmth.

“First, you don’t need to thank me. No one is going to disrespect you in front of me.” He says it so matter-of-factly you nearly want to cry. You can’t remember the last time someone has stuck up for you so boldly with so much certainty. “And second, I kind of like the idea of you being my girl. One day, I mean. Like I was trying to tell you before, I haven’t connected with anyone like this in so long. I honestly thought I forgot how to even flirt, so that’s why I might have come on too strong. Believe me when I say this isn’t usual for me, or something I always do. I just feel like everything is right when I talk to you and the past few weeks getting to know you have been the best parts of my day recently.”

His confession leaves you speechless. It’s all the things you have been feeling but have been too afraid to even admit to yourself, let alone say out loud. This man really does wear his heart on his sleeve, you realize, but you know as you get older, there’s no point in playing games or leaving people guessing. Another green flag in endless green flags you’ve noticed since you first laid eyes on him. You wonder when the ball will drop when it’s too good to be true, but in the moment you decide you don’t care. If he’s willing to be so open with you, you’re willing to take a chance on something new.

“I feel the same way,” you tell him with a shy grin, earning a wide, satisfied smile in return. His shoulders relax a little in relief, you assume. Maybe he wasn’t as confident as you thought, but it’s only another thing you have in common. “This is so unlike me to even do something like this, but to be honest, when I saw you with Jayda that first night, I just felt something right inside of me.”

Before either of you can explore the feeling that’s bubbling in the moment, the girls come running over with a big, purple stuffed teddy bear.

“Look what we won at the ring toss game!” Jayda excitedly shows the two of you as she holds the teddy bear up.

Ava stands next to her grinning. “We named him Starlight!”

“That’s Dreamwave Boys’ first song they ever came out with!”

“Jayda’s going to keep him first! Then I will next!”

“We’ll switch back and forth every time we get to see each other!”

They’re speaking so fast you can barely keep up. He can only laugh next to you with a nod of approval.

“Sounds good, girls.”

In between all the excitement, you didn’t realize he was still holding on to your hand. It doesn’t take the girls long to notice. They each look at your hands, to your faces, then to each other. The sly grins that come across their features next don't go unnoticed, so you try to slowly pull your hand away with a nervous chuckle.

“Let’s go get some popcorn, okay?”

They both nod in agreement, but as you’re walking up to the concession counter, Ava leans over to Jayda, thinking you can’t hear her. “Oh my gosh, if our parents get married that would make us sisters!”

He nearly chokes on his laugh while walking next to you, but you can only focus on the way your face swells with warm embarrassment.

***

Lately, you've felt so unlike yourself. When you think about it, you know before you met him you would have never been so open to a new friendship so quickly with a stranger, let alone text back and forth for over a month and go on a movie date.

So it shocks you weeks after your movie date as you get ready for him to come to your house, not being able to hold back your nervous, yet excited grin as you powder your cheeks with blush and do final touch ups to your hair. Since Ava is at her grandmother’s house for the weekend, you decided to put yourself out there and invite him for dinner. You told yourself it wouldn’t hurt since the girls would be seeing more of each other eventually and most likely hanging out, but you can’t lie to yourself. You want to see him again.

It’s only a little after seven when he shows up on your doorstep, bottle of wine in one hand, flowers in the other.

“Evening, gorgeous.” Your heart soars with the compliment, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. The way this man can make your heart flutter from a few simple words…

“You shouldn’t have,” you say, grabbing the flowers from him, roses in different hues of deep red and soft blush arranged in the center, and smelling their scent softly. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” He beams with pride at your own delight before following you into your house and toward the kitchen.

“Smells delicious in here.” You quickly grab a vase for the flowers to set them in water while he takes a seat in a bar stool at the island counter. “What’s on the menu, sweetheart?”

His compliments and nicknames come so naturally to him, it seems. Butterflies flood your insides once again, not being so used to such attention from someone you’re attracted to, but with each one you fall into something new and exciting with him. No longer wanting to ignore what this is between the two of you, you decide to accept it all from him, whatever he wants to give.

You describe to him the creamy chicken alfredo dish you prepared, hoping it’s something he will enjoy since it’s so simple, yet tasty. He assures you it sounds amazing, and together you prepare to eat. He makes himself at home in your kitchen by grabbing plates and silverware, and you finish up cooking before you both sit at the dining room table in the next room.

Immediately when the pasta hits his tongue he’s groaning in delight. You love to cook, but sometimes Ava can be a picky eater, so it’s nice to have someone else eat your food for once.

“Delicious, sweetheart,” he says in a deeper, lower tone you aren’t sure if he’s actually talking about the food. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. It’s been years since you’ve been interested in anyone else. Clearly you’re a little rusty when it comes to all of this stuff. “A beautiful woman that can cook like this? That cooks like this for me? Have I died and gone to heaven?”

“Oh gosh,” you say giggling before covering your face with your hands. “You’re making me blush.” When you finally look at him, there’s a devious glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

“Good.” Heat swells in your lower belly from the simple word. What is this man doing to you?

Once the moment of risky, heated flirtation dies down, you carry on eating your meal and getting to know each other. He tells you a silly story of his childhood and you tell him an embarrassing one from your high school years. He explains how he got started working on cars from his father and you talk a bit about the books you like to read. From one topic to the next, conversation with him flows so easily you almost think you’re dreaming. Before you know it, your plates are empty, the wine is gone, and hours have passed.

“It’s almost like a movie,” you tell him, feeling light from the bit of alcohol you shared. Not enough to affect your judgment in any way, but enough to make the words come out easier. Or maybe it’s just because he makes you feel so comfortable.

“What is?” he asks, crossing his arms before resting them against the table to lean closer.

“This. Us.” You chuckle, shaking your head. “It feels too good to be true. How do we meet like we did and get along so well and our girls get along so well and… it’s like a movie. But it’s not…”

“No, it’s not,” he says, reaching to take your hand in his. “It could be, though. It could be better.”

“How? Things never end up like the movies. Normally, there’s no happy ending. At least not for me.”

“You’ll never know unless you try, sweetheart.” His thumb grazes your skin, melting your bones and muscles away until you turn to putty in his hands. His touch calms you and feels so right. “And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather try than lose something that is becoming so precious to me.”

His words hit you hard. You know he’s right. Even if it doesn’t play out perfectly like a movie, you know he’s worth trying for.

So are you.

You’ve been stuck so long in the role of being the wife to a neglectful, hurtful man, even after your divorce. It’s time you finish that chapter of your life and begin a new one.

With your heart racing, you lean closer across the table, giving his hand a squeeze as the worries escape and a new kind of boldness takes hold. For a second, you meet his eyes, then your gaze lowers to his lips. Neither of you say anything as the seconds pass. Tension fills the air, the tone of the night shifting to something filled with desire and anticipation.

“I’d really like to kiss you, sweetheart.” The deepness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Would you let me?”

All you can do is nod and watch as he inches closer. Seconds feel like minutes in the moment of eager breaths and tension. Your insides shake with anticipation, suddenly dying to feel his lips on yours, skin on skin, heat swimming in the pit of your stomach before it races between your thighs.

Then his lips are on yours. Breaths slow as you feel the softness of his skin, the heat, the desire, all wrapped up in a simple yet already explosive gesture. He leans a little farther in, pressing himself against your mouth while you suck in a deep breath, chest heaving and a moan spilling out before you can stop yourself. He deepens the kiss, opening his mouth while his tongue slips against your bottom lip just as his hand rises to the back of your neck.

Melting him into, you allow him to take control. You drop all defenses to let him guide you close as you kiss. Closer and closer until the kiss that was once just exploring now unleashes in passion. Your body follows his lead until you’re suddenly in his lap, wrapping hands around his neck as his palms fall to your waist.

His kisses stray from your mouth down your jaw to end up against your neck. Without your mouth full of the taste of his skin, your mind begins to spin as you start mumbling the first thing that comes up.

“I don’t… I don’t want to rush this…” He groans against your neck as he sucks right beneath your ear. Chills race down your spine and heat floods your body to every limb. Heart racing, breath quickening, body nearly trembling and you know this is so unlike you, but you know it feels so good to be this free and trust someone again. Even if for a moment.

“Want me to stop, sweetheart, say the word.” His voice is a mumble of words against your heated flesh, speaking between kisses and sucking the tender spots that have you shaking.

“No,” you whisper and he freezes in place, all kisses halted, all touches stalled, “don’t stop.”

The groan of satisfaction from his chest travels directly between your thighs. He pulls your body closer by the hips, guiding you to press yourself against him, panties rubbing against his jeans thanks to the dress you’re wearing. As he continues kissing your neck and you begin rolling your hips against him in desperation, his hands travel from your waist to your breasts, running careful palms over the highly sensitive peaks until he’s driving you wild.

Fire ignites in your body and you can hardly handle waiting any longer. Boldly, you take the straps of your dress to slip them down your shoulders, exposing a black lace bra before him. He halts his kisses for a moment to take you in. You’re nearly breathless from anticipation and yearning, watching his eyes glide down your body and back up again.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he groans, each syllable dripping with a desire you can feel between your thighs as you straddle his lap. The words give you the courage to reach behind you and unhook the bra, letting it fall from your body to leave you exposed and vulnerable. He takes in a deep breath, his hands resuming their caressing of your body, thumbs rolling over pert nipples to send your back arching, pushing yourself more into his grasp.

“Please,” you cry out, grinding yourself harder against his thickness between your thighs. Pleasure jolts through your body at the steady contact, lace panties rubbing about your swollen, aching clit as you ride his cock stiff against his jeans. Feeling good, too good, you’re sure you could come from this alone, but quickly enough his hands stall your motions at your hips.

“Not yet,” he growls against your neck, “I need to taste you first”

Taking you by surprise, he guides your body toward the dining table, settling you on top before falling to his knees. Your dress remains bunched around your waist as his hands slip beneath the skirt, up your thighs, gripping the sides of your panties and tugging them off in one swift motion. A gasp fills the air as he parts your thighs, getting a complete view of your pussy dripping with need before him.

He begins by kissing a trembling knee, working his way up your inner thigh all while keeping his eyes on your own. You don’t break contact, even though your eyelids begin to flutter as he inches closer to where you need him most. A sharp breath, a heavy exhale, and he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your slit, then he moves lower. His tongue flicks out to slip down toward your clit, brushing skin against skin as a wave of heated need surges through you.

“Oh God…” Your head falls back, finally breaking the gaze he held you in, hand reaching to run fingers through his hair.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he groans between your thighs. You have no choice but to obey him. He has you right on the edge of losing your sanity. Your head dips and you meet his eyes just in time to watch him press a kiss against your clit before licking from your entrance and back to the swollen bud. “Watch me as I eat this pretty pussy and make it mine.”

Shivering at the words, you can only grip the strands of his hair tighter. The move causes a deep groan to build in his chest just before he buries his face between your thighs. His tongue reaches your clit in desperation, massaging the sensitive skin and swallowing all of your juices that he’s caused to drip out of you. Strong hands grip you at your thighs, holding you in place as you begin to tremble around his head. He devours you between your legs, sucking on your clit before diving down to your entrance to fuck you with his tongue. Then he travels back up, swirling his tongue around and around until you’re rolling your hips against his face.

“God… please…” you begin to mutter a stream of nothing because you can’t even think of what you need to tell him. You just want more. You want release. “Please…”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your flesh, dropping a hand from your thigh to bring fingers up to your dripping entrance. He pushes two digits inside, causing you to squeeze your walls around them as your legs tighten on each side of his head. “Tastes so sweet. So perfect. I want to feel you coming against me.”

He continues sucking on your clit as your moans and whimpers fill the room. He drives his fingers deeper to earn a sudden gasp falling from your lips, calling his name as you do as he says. Pressing harder against his face, rolling your hips to ride his fingers, you feel the bliss coiling at the pit of your stomach. The red hot pleasure swirls inside of you, building and building as he eats you out, until you can take no more.

The pleasure bursts through your body, taking hold as you tremble and cry his name. Walls squeezing around him, fingers gripping his hair tight, riding out the bliss against his face. He never slows his motions, continuing to massage your clit with his tongue, continuing to fuck you with his fingers, until you grow too sensitive between your legs all too quickly.

With a final lick of your juices, he finally pulls away as your body slumps, completely boneless from the orgasm he’s given you. There’s a sheen of your arousal against his lips and his fingers are coated just the same. The sight of him kneeling down, looking up, the remnants of your pleasure on his body as well as his wild hair thanks to your fingers do nothing but bolster your confidence in the moment. It’s like this man was made for you, not only for your pleasure but for your taking. You can’t deny what either of you want any longer.

He rises quickly to pull his t-shirt over his head and toss aside. Your eyes rake down his body, taking in his bare, broad chest, every line of every muscle, before settling on the defined bulge in his jeans.

“Do you have a condom?” He nearly pants, beginning to unbutton his jeans with one hand as he takes a step closer.

The question barely registers, then it sinks in. No. No you don’t have any protection. You haven’t needed it in so long, it’s not something you even thought of having in your house.

“I-I don’t…” Disappointment settles inside of you, but the urgency remains as well.

“I hope you don’t think any less of me, sweetheart…” He reaches in his back pocket, pulling out a foil wrapper from within. Relief washes over you, not even caring about why he would bring it in the first place. “I didn’t have any expectations for tonight, but I did have a few hopes.”

You can’t help but to giggle at this perfect, perfect man. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to press your lips against his own, tasting your pleasure on your tongue. He grips your waist, tight, pulling you closer to the edge of the table before pushing his jeans and boxer-briefs down his hips. He pulls away only to rip the condom wrapper open, and you watch as he rolls it down his thick, hard and aching length. Your pussy pulses in need once again, dying to feel him inside of you, filling you up.

“Hurry,” you gasp, pulling him closer to line the tip of his cock to your soaked and waiting entrance. “Please, I need you.”

“Fuck,” he growls, beginning to push himself inside of you, “a woman like you can absolutely ruin a man like me.” He glides inside of you with ease. Your pussy squeezes around him, feeling so full in seconds, so overwhelmed and so perfect. He fills you up completely, giving you a few seconds to accommodate his size with a few gasps and pants and heavy breaths until you can take it no longer.

With a roll of your hips against him, he begins to thrust his hips, shaking as if he’s trying to hold back. With his fingers tightening against the dress still around your hips, a deep groan builds in his chest the moment he slides back into your tightening pussy.

“God, you feel so good.” His mouth comes crashing down onto yours moments later. Hips work himself in and out of you between your thighs, tongues tangling together and hands desperately gripping to hold on to something. “So perfect, sweetheart.”

Heat begins to build once again, pleasure swirling throughout your body as you let go of all your worries, insecurities, and cares. Right now it’s just the two of you. A man between your legs giving you something you haven’t felt in so long. The trust and assurance that follows wraps itself around your heart, leaving you breathless as you succumb to all the things he’s offering.

“More,” you gasp, legs trembling around him, so close to the edge once again from the overwhelming lust and pleasure and freedom. Before you know it, a hand reaches between the two of you, finding your clit and rubbing circles mercilessly to reach your end. “Yes, please,” you cry out in a strained whisper, moans of his name filling the space as his cock hits the spot to fill your body with red hot tension that feels so good you would swear you’re dreaming.

“Come for me,” he orders with a deep, raspy groan in your ear. “That’s my good girl, come on my cock, baby.”

You’re shaking around him, body tightening with the need for release until the threat finally snaps, breaking all control as the heated bliss surges through your body for the second time. Your head falls back in cries of passion, so lost in him you don’t even know who you are anymore. He drops his hands to grip your hips tight, thrusting harder into you as you ride out the pleasure against him.

His motions become quick, breaths even more so, until his release inside of you. His own head falls back, eyes screwing shut while groaning, panting, coming undone within your walls and you feel his cock pulsing. Together you’ve made a mess of absolute pleasure, limbs tangling in limbs as your mouths crash. Heavy breaths and sticky skin colliding are all that can be heard for a few moments, until he finally becomes too sensitive to remain inside of you.

He pulls away with another satisfied groan. Your body grows limp once again. Tired eyes find one another, until giggling and breathy chuckles are shared between the two of you.

“One hundred percent,” he suddenly says, causing your brows to furrow.

“What?”

“Oh, I thought you asked what are the chances I’ve died and gone to heaven. One hundred percent.” You’re giggling again at him before he’s pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss. Then two of you make your way to get cleaned up, dressed again, and to clean up the table you’ve just made a mess of. He stops to press a kiss to your cheeks, forehead, anywhere and anytime he can in the process, and you realize you haven’t felt so genuinely cared for in so long. You could get used to this.

When it’s all done, you end up on his chest as he lays across your couch in the living room. His hand on your back, yours beneath his shirt on his stomach. Your eyes flutter closed as the night, including the pleasure, takes its toll on you.

“Just like the movies,” you mutter, halfway to sleep.

“Ready for your happy ending, sweetheart?” You can’t even laugh at the question. No giggles or smirks or chuckles.

Because you are, and you know it’s with him and your two girls now. “So ready.”

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swallowerofdharma · 1 month

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Yashiro’s Cruel God part four

There are probably brilliant analyses out there about the first part of this manga and what I say might as well be just an uninteresting repetition. But we analyze things for ourselves first, to understand them better, to make sense of a story for ourselves, so I’ll give it a try anyway.

Continuing my thoughts on Doumeki and another digression: You’ll be fine. I’m a man and you’re different from your father, right?

If there hasn’t already been a tension within Yashiro between his nihilistic tendencies and his yearning for change, the story wouldn’t be possible. If Don’t Stay Gold is the original one-shot where Yashiro appeared as a background character, when Saezuru begins that some story is repurposed masterfully as a critical starting point for a Yashiro that is now a main character: This setup would become nothing more than a knife that gets thrown right back at me. You can already see this is going to be brilliant writing. When Doumeki was introduced, Yashiro had to be at a point where he was ready to let go of Kageyama, but - at same time - the fact that he had wished for them to be more than friends, that this was something he had remained open to, despite his past and despite his failures, was essential to show a believable story of him falling in love with someone else. What about Doumeki then? I have been asking myself, what are Doumeki’s motivations for being so persistent?

Yashiro is captivated immediately by Doumeki’s eyes, he makes a comment about it and later, in chapter 4, Yoneda captivates the readers too with a beautiful page with no words that isolates Doumeki’s eyes in the rear view mirror of the car, while his gaze is focused on a melancholic Yashiro. The previous sequence, at Kageyama’s clinic, was in large part framed coherently with Doumeki’s point of view as he witnessed for the first time Yashiro interacting with his doctor friend. In chapter 23 Yashiro realizes something unexpected about Doumeki. The English translations of this dialogue varied, I’ll reference here the official translation: The truth is, we’re not similar, at all. From the beginning you were always different. That’s why you look at me like that. With different eyes than his. Yashiro’s expression here is fearful and lost, because he only had those few points of reference, and those he cared for most were his parents who had abandoned him and Kageyama who had rejected him.

After Yashiro was injured on Doumeki’s watch, Nanahara orders him to cut his finger off. Needing medical attention, he goes to Kageyama and tells him about what happened. The doctor’s reaction here is so cold and heartless that if at this point you care for Yashiro at all you can’t help feeling really hurt hearing his words.

The source of Kageyama’s cruelty is his ignorance. He doesn’t know Yashiro well or rather he has built a static image of him and he can’t shake it; he constantly shows how shortsighted he is when it comes to his supposed best friend. And I remember reading people’s thoughts about the symbolism of the contact lens that Yashiro stole, so I think that was sufficiently discussed. I’ll add my two cents to this topic, because I find it interesting the detail of Kageyama being the son of a doctor and becoming one as well, not a very good one he said himself. When his classmate Yashiro told him - in that awkward and nonchalant way of his, another product of the distorted reality that his parents left him with - about the abuse he had endured from his stepfather, Kageyama stops touching him, doesn’t get closer anymore. I think that in his mind, because he had already internalized attitudes that come from medical practice just from his father, in that moment Yashiro stopped being someone he could touch because he became a “case of child abuse”, someone he needed to emotionally distance himself from. I wonder if there are readers doing the same. When Yashiro goes to his father’s wake, Kageyama is happy to see him there, that his classmate cared, but later Yashiro, so unaccustomed to his new delicate feelings, fumbles badly for the right words and any potential connection falls flat. Yashiro didn’t really need confirmation that Kageyama wasn’t straight, he had understood that much, or that the reason he was rejected had to be a different story. Kageyama’s shortcomings now and later are tied to his inability to perceive Yashiro as a full person, capable of yearning, of changing, of suffering from something else rather than the obvious. Yashiro becomes a “mental case” and the good doctor can’t do anything much about it, since it isn’t his specialty. He’ll stay as a friend, but unkind. And when Doumeki discovers that the only person Yashiro is attached to could be so unsympathetic to him, he is angry. Doumeki doesn’t confront Kageyama, for Yashiro’s sake, mostly, for reasons of hierarchy and responsibility, he needs to treat respectfully someone who is on equal standing with his boss. The ones who confront Kageyama are Kuga and Nanahara and it works: when Yashiro brings Ryuuzaki’s girlfriend to the clinic, Kageyama’s perception of him has changed and readjusted.

Doumeki could see glimpses of Yashiro’s yearning, of Yashiro’s love, and he is still determined to see it through now as he was before. He won’t let go or accept lies from Yashiro and about Yashiro. Doumeki isn’t just foolishly in love and enduring everything that comes with it, he wants to know. His motives are layered with the stubbornness that comes with detective work, after what happened between them in chapter 25, he wants to confirm that Yashiro reciprocated his feelings, because he also needs to prove himself that he isn’t a rapist, he isn’t just like his father. He fully committed to it. Only if we acknowledge our selfish reasons, we can really be honest about our feelings, about how we open ourselves to others, how we want them, and all the things we want from them. Yashiro and Doumeki aren’t letting go of their feelings in part because they need a confirmation that they are good enough. And that’s why this story surpasses the romantic premises about love and makes sense from a very down to earth, realistic perspective of how grown men behave, too.

We established that Doumeki is someone who was looking closely at Yashiro since the beginning and won’t stop looking for the truth until he is satisfied. The root causes of his conviction and commitment are various but ultimately go back to his sense of failure regarding Aoi. He aimed to be and became a policeman and failed to see something that was right under his eyes. To be continued…

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #saezuru analysis #yashiro #doumeki chikara #yashiro x doumeki #yoneda kou #eri reads saezuru #is Doumeki cute? I can’t tell #I am generally not attracted to manly men with lots of masculine energy even in their gentle giant form #Nanahara calling out Kageyama is another big big point in his favor #but I still want someone near Yashiro who would not pursue him romantically #Kageyama’s notorious shortsightedness #not a fan of him #look at how the glasses make it so you can’t see his eyes when he looks at someone else #but you see them when he looks down: two sides of what he is saying #he doesn’t want to admit he cares for someone like Yashiro but he really cares #and Kuga knows that Yashiro was a formidable competitor

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that-house · 4 months

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Potion Vendor FAQs:

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.

Do you sell love potions? No.

Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.

Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.

Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.

Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.

So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.

Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.

Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.

Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.

Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.

Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.

Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.

So can you make poison potions? No.

Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.

Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.

How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.

You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.

Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.

Road trip? He lives in Seattle.

Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.

For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.

And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.

Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

#neon-grey-writing #potion vendor faq #my writing #very very very long post lol #click the read more you know you wanna it's worth it trust me #i wrote the original draft of this at like. 3 am back in early 2023 #that's right it's catherine that-house the squares comic gal back at it again with yet another meta exploration of a storytelling format

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tojisun · 5 months

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!! smut - minors dni; this is fuckin nastyy so look away or smthn; breeding kink :’3

mmm but simon not realizing he has breeding kink until someone brings it up

they’re out in a bar, chatting quietly even amidst the sheer volume of the weekend crowd, before johnny snorts and bumps his shoulders to simon’s in a teasing manner.

“especially LT,” johnny says, scottish accent even thicker now that he’s intoxicated. “he probably can’t wait to see his bonnie lass swollen with his kids. would probably retire jus’ for the very reason of makin’ her a momma.”

john snorts at johnny’s slurred words while kyle chokes on his drink, coughing quietly, almost politely, until john takes pity on the kid and smacks his back with measured thumps. johnny laughs, loud guffaws blending well with the buzz in the bar, but it’s not like simon noticed.

how could he focus when his mind’s feeding him images of the way you’d look heavy with a babe? or how he’d make it so that you are?

the way he’d fuck you until it takes; your pussy leaking and gaping and full of his cum. the way he’d keep you on his bed for hours, make a routine out of it until he’s repeating it for many days because he wouldn’t risk the chances. then, he can’t stop thinking about the way your body would change, building fat to cushion your belly, your sharp edges turning into soft and pudgy corners. the way you’d be so sensitive, so dependent on him.

fuck.

simon gets yanked back into the reality when he hears john chuckle, low rumbles of disbelief spilling from the puffs of his laughter. simon’s eyes flick up towards his captain and all john does is give him a pointed stare, his eyes crinkled in a surprised delight, before the older man tips his drink into his lips and finishes his bourbon.

simon’s fist closes around his glass of whiskey, and he tries his best to ignore the growing tightness of his jeans.

he can’t wait to file for a vacation leave.

#edited #suns.hc #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #female reader #yk that prev post when i said i was ovulating and i said i want his kids? …yea #suns

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fairy-angel222 · 28 days

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𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒

—how risky they’re willing to get in public, from least to most

₊ ⊹ ft. gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

₊ ⊹ cw: smut, public sex, fingering, public vibrator, bathroom sex, hair pulling, choking, face fucking, cock warming, handjobs, degradation, praise, things that i’d be scared of irl

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓: 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

He loves small acts of affection like holding your hand as you walk through the mall. Keeping you close by his side when he notices how people are eyeing you.

Pulling you into store after store to let you pick out anything you wanted with his hand on the small of your back. Allowing you to peck him softly when you found the perfect dress.

He lets you pull him into the dressing room. Trying his hardest to look away because you know what you’ll do to him. It’s just your way of teasing.

“Kento.. does this look nice?”

Nanami clears his throat, allowing himself to glance down at you only to see you completely naked. Having discarded of your previous outfit, underwear included, to try in the dress.

He chuckled deeply, cheeks turning a light hue of red as he shook his head. “Beautiful.” He watched as you finally slipped on the dress, looking absolutely stunning as he stuttered out a breathy compliment.

He kisses your forehead when you two are leaving the store, the bags in his hands feeling like lightweight as he extends an elbow for you to hook yours into. A small smirk on his face as people continued to eye you. Both in want and in jealousy.

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

He loves teasing you in public, convincing you to wear a vibrator when you two step out. Your legs trembly beneath you as you held onto his arm tightly for support. Each shaky step making you whimper under your breath as the toy brushes against your g spot.

“Suguruu, i can’t.” You mumble into his chest with a moan. Pretending to hug him so you could finally let out some of those adorable noises that he loved to hear.

Geto smirked, letting his hand run down your waist before patting your ass twice. “Come on, don’t want people to figure you out now do you? You look like you’re about to have a fucking orgasm.”

“C-cause i am.” You almost cried out, keeping the words soft for nobody to hear.

He takes you into a small restaurant to get something to eat. Asking for a seat at the very back so you could both be undisturbed. “Hmm, how you holding up there baby?” He asked with the tilt of your head, bringing his glass of water up to his lips before chuckling at the pout on your face.

You tried to do the same, bringing a shaky arm out to grab the glass before huffing in frustration. You couldn’t, it was too intense. “Suguru, please.”

“Please what?”

You let out another whimper, gripping the edge of the table tightly as the vibrations traveled through your whole body. Eyes welling with tears as you bit your hand to keep your cries at bay. “I can’t— ahh, i can’t Suguru.”

Geto watched as you trembled, legs crossing under the table as your eyes met his. Toes no doubt curling as you slumped against the table riding through your high.

“Well shit.. that’s fucking hot.” He grunted, cock standing hard until he noticed a waiter walking towards you. He was thankful that they could see only him and not you.

Your breathing was heavy, panting as you calmed yourself down. Jelly arms attempting to push yourself to sit up straight when Geto flipped off the switch on his phone.

“Good day, can i get you anything?”

“Hi, yes. Can me and my girlfriend have…”

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

Choso gets needy in public. Very needy. He started off with just wanting to touch you. Feel you. But it wasn’t enough.

He knows it’s too much to ask to fuck you. So he begs you to give him a handjob under a table. His abs tensed as your hand worked up and down his cock, using your spit to fuck him with your fist.

He tried to keep his whimpers soft, head buried in your neck as he drools lightly. His head feeling lighter and lighter as you sped up your pace.

“Hmm, does that feel good baby?” You whispered sweetly, your other hand running through his fluffy black hair as if it was just a normal display of affection.

“Mhm— s-so go-odd.” He moaned softly, voice cracking as his breathing became heavier. Hips thrusting up into your fist as an involuntary reaction.

You let him hold you. Seeming like an adorably soft boyfriend to public eyes. If only they knew that you had him on the brink of an orgasm.

His hold on you tightening when he felt his legs tremble. “Haah— babyy.” He whined, his cock twitching in your hold as your speed never faltered.

Holding back a smile when he groaned into your skin, cock spurting hot ropes of thick cum onto your hand.

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

He loves taking you to parties, and with every party comes hungry idiots who can’t take their eyes off of you. He likes to have fun. And he’s taught you to like having fun too.

He lets you do a little harmless flirting. Getting men hard thinking they had a chance, only for their hearts to shatter when you walked back up to him in a passionate kiss.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he kissed down your neck. His eyes alone being the biggest punch to all of these mens’ guts.

“Come on.” He whispered, groaning softly before pecking your lips. “You know how hard you’re making me right now? Knowing i have the hottest girl in this fucking room.”

You giggled, allowing him to pull you upstairs to a bathroom and push you down onto your knees. Using his fingers to swipe your hair off your face with a dark smile.

“You know how happy it makes me knowing that no one else can have you. Especially knowing that i’ve corrupted you to no return.” His smile turned into a grin. Watching you unzip his jeans to let his already hard cock free.

His hand got a firm grip on your head, pulling it back to make you look up at him. “Open.” You did as you were told, parting your lips to let his spit fall onto your awaiting tongue with a moan.

You took his cock into your mouth, sucking harshly as you began to bob your head up and down. Your spit sloppily running down to his base as he began to fuck into your throat.

Groaning loudly when you blinked up at him innocently. “My perfect little slut, so good for me hmm?” His hold on your head tightened, quickening the pace at which you took him all the way. Your whimpers vibrating through his cock each time your nose pressed against his pelvis.

Neither of you flinched as the door flung open, the same guy from earlier standing with wide eyes as he watched the scene in front of him. “Well what are you waiting for? Can’t you see we’re busy.” Sukuna growled, the man scurrying out with a squeak of an apology.

Sukuna’s breathing sped up, his cock twitching lightly in indication that he was about to cum. “S-shit, love this mouth of yours so fucking much.” Pulling you off his cock and allowing his cum to spill onto your lips. Watching as you licked at his tip to swallow everything down.

“That’s my girl.”

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

You doubted that he even understood the concept of shame. Sitting you down onto his lap in front of many people with his chin on your shoulders. Glaring at anyone who stared at you for too long.

“What? Never seem a man and a woman before?” He spat, the girl immediately turning away from what she was truly watching, him.

You fight back a whine when he moves underneath you. His cock which sat snuggly inside you grazing your walls.

“Toji.. i don’t think this is a good idea.” You moaned softly when he jerked his hips up directly into you. Knowing just how to make his tip nudge that sweet spot inside you.

He hums, guiding you to rest back against him as he finishes whatever he was doing. The warmth of your pussy keeping him sane as you clenched around him unknowingly.

It wasn’t the first time he had you cockwarm him in public. Those skirts he warned you not to buy really did come in handy sometimes.

You watched as the place emptied out, a smirk on Toji’s face as there was noone around to see what you two were up to. “Now would you look at that,” he smirked, kissing down your neck with a small groan. “I can finally do this.” He thrusted up into you harshly, a small moan falling past your lips when he did it again.

“T-toji. ‘M so full.” You whimpered, he’d been stuffed inside for nearly an hour. Your pussy had gotten so used to him. Your hand came up to your mouth when he thrusted up into you again. His pace agonizingly slow as he teased you dumb.

“My girl’s so good f’ me. Letting me stuff my cock in her in public.” He whispered darkly into your ear. Looking around before lifting you off of him. Quickly slipping his cock into his sweats while your skirt fell naturally onto your ass. He sat you down beside him, shifting in his seat to block you from others’ view.

You moaned when Toji’s hand traveled under your skin, two of his fingers thrusting back into your sopping pussy before curling them upwards. Smirking widely when your thighs shut around his arm, your nails clawing at his biceps as he began fucking them into you.

The mean pace made you bury your face into his shoulder as your body shook. Your pussy already aching from the moment he had his cock deep inside you. Your eyes grew teary as your toes curled, biting into pure muscle to keep your sweet cries as bay as you gushed onto his fingers.

“Now, we’ll finish this in the car, yeah?”

ཐི♡ཋྀ 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓: 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

You’re his girl. And no one should be able to stop him from having his girl. Him being cocky on top of it just added to his way of thinking.

He loved your pussy more than anything. And he wasn’t scared to fuck you when he needed you. Pulling you into any public bathroom to have his way with you.

He doesn’t bother to go into a singular stall. Stuffing his cock into you in front of the big mirror running across the wall. Your hands gripping onto the sink counter as his fingers weaved through your hair.

“Such a dirty girl for me? Letting me fuck you like this.” He groaned, pulling your head up so you could stare at yourself in the mirror. “Aren’t you scared of someone catching us baby?”

You whimpered loudly, small tears sitting on your lashes as Gojo’s hard thrusts rocked you back and forth. “Satoruu, so go-od.” You hiccuped, vision blurring as your grip on the counter tightened. Feeling your boyfriend lean down to kiss softly at your exposed back and up to your neck.

“My slutty girl’s so pretty, does she know that?” He whispered, watching as you nodded with a cry when he began hammering into your g spot. “Uh huh. F-fuck— she knows.”

You back arched, lips parted in loud mewls before Gojo’s fingers stuffed past them. Muffling your sweet cries before pulling you up against him. Your back flush on his chest as he continued slamming up into you. “Look at you. Taking me so well. Gotta hurry up and make a mess ‘fore someone catches us yeah?”

You let out a whiny moan, glancing towards the door before your eyes met his blue ones. Your knees buckling beneath you when he reached to rub at your clit.

“That’s it.. come one baby. Let it all out.” He breathed, other hand snaking around your neck as your eyes rolled back. Your body trembling uncontrollably as you drooled around his fingers. Your orgasm raking through your body as you squirted onto his cock with a silent scream.

Gojo blinked, a grin slowly forming on his lips as his thrusts became sloppy. Fucking into you hard and fast until his cock twitched against your walls, coating them in ropes of his cum.

You both jumped when the door was pushed open, Gojo quick to pull you into a stall with hand on your mouth and a playful smile.

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chuluoyi · 8 days

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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 02:33 P.M 」

based on this video. this idea has been rotting in my brain for some while :') dad gojo will always have a soft spot in my heart <3

a part of gojo's love entries

your baby’s first trip to aquarium was such a cute affair you were sure you wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“waaa~” your baby’s eyes were gleaming with wonder as he gazed at the diverse array of colorful fishes above him, completely captivated by the view.

and your husband...

“aren’t they pretty, hmm?” satoru asked his adorable son with a grin, pecking his cheek and holding him snugly in the baby carrier against his chest, with a backpack of baby essentials strapped on his back.

he was the very vision of a domestic dad, and along with your son, who was dressed in a bear onesie, complete with two little ears, they made a really irresistible pair. even you couldn’t fault the crowd for staring at them.

“fwaa! waa~” your munchkin was squirming with joy, his tiny fingers stretching out towards the sight before him. satoru giggled, moving closer to the glass to give his baby a better view.

“look! that’s clownfish! and those wiggly flowers are anemone! and that is—”

he faltered at a fish passing in his view before deciding, “this— i don’t know, but it’s the clownfish’s friend!”

they are basically the same. your little boy and your husband, both of them clearly shared a brain cell as they happily pointed out different fishes.

“meh! hehe!” your baby babbled away, excited and incredibly happy in his father’s hold, and satoru too seemed to feel the same, as his eyes beyond that sunglasses crinkled.

“damn, my kid is so cute.”

suddenly he dived down and pretended to chew his pumpkin’s chubby cheeks, effectively making him squeal in glee.

and oh lord, the way your heart skipped a beat seeing that. it was so clear how much satoru adored your baby, and it made overwhelming warmth rush to your chest.

“he’s a good man,” an elderly lady beside you suddenly remarked, making you turn to her. “not many men do that for their kids.”

“he is…” you agreed with a shy smile.

“it’s a shame that you only have one baby,” the elderly man beside her—possibly her husband—added. “you’re still young and he is so good with them too.”

your heart swelled and would’ve already burst if it was possible. bashfully, you thanked the elderly pair as they went on their way.

and along the way, you received similar hushed comments and adoring looks—

“oh my! their baby is so cute!”

“how can such family exists?! the dad, mom, baby… all three of them are so good-looking!”

“such a hot dilf! can’t he divorce his wife and marry me instead? i’ll be his kid’s stepmother gladly!”

satoru pretended not to hear, but he clearly held back his laugh. you threw the school girl who carelessly blurted that a pointed look, making her scurry away.

and after the three of you were done walking around the aquarium and you stopped by the gift shop to get your baby his first fish pet.

your son suddenly became fussy, and satoru unclasped him from the carrier. “hmm? do you want mama?” he handed him over to you. “here, here~ mama wants to hold you too~”

as soon as your son was settled in your embrace, he giggled, and you couldn’t help but bounce him and coo. “do you have fun? you do, don’t you?”

it might not visible to others, but now satoru was staring at both of his reasons of being with literal stars in his eyes.

several years ago, he thought his life had stopped when his best friend negated his beliefs entirely, but you were there, holding his hand throughout it all. and then you married him— and then, you gave him a son to dote on.

you keep giving his life a new meaning. and he was thankful for that.

. . . meanwhile, you kept hearing whispers from a gaggle of girls in the next aisle, about how much of a dreamboat your husband in his blue shirt was and it was grating at your nerves so much that you pursed your lips into a total pout.

satoru thought you were the cutest, not even second to his baby, and he decided he wasn’t known for public decency anyway so he dived in and pecked your lips—dispelling any stray thoughts and making you flush in an instant.

“sato—!”

and before you could rebuke him, he whispered in your ear:

“so... baby number two, when?”

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tonycries · 21 days

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Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company!

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.”

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right?

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious.

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement.

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji.

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and-

And then he’s pulling away.

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing.

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.”

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice.

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji.

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave.

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips.

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress.

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him.

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck.

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue.

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked.

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears.

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance.

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat.

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess.

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip!

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.”

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you.

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy.

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it.

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight.

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going. “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin.

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more.

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you.

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel.

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him.

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.”

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad.

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt.

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you-

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan’ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust.

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words.

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet.

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars.

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth.

And that answers his question.

Messy and desperate.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well.

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed.

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all.

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.”

---

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter.

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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bigguyenthusiast · 2 months

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141 and their captain’s assistant

- it all started with a comment made by Laswell, she mentioned to John how tired he seems, how his eye bags are growing heavier each day passing

- she recommended him to get an assistant, John declined the offer and tried to get back to work, but laswell already made the call, she knew how annoying John can be when it comes to getting help

- then enters a pretty little thing, your hair in a messy bun, glasses neatly resting on your pretty face, short pencil skirt hugging your curves perfectly

- John couldn’t help himself from staring, gawking at you like some horny teenager

- the boys began seeing you scurrying around the base more often, the first to approach you was Johnny of course

- his deep voice partnered with his thick Scottish accent made you subconsciously bite your lip, staring up at him with your big doe eyes, you don’t even mean to, it’s just that more than half of the people in here were 6feet+

- Johnny’s flirtatious nature made you giggle, lightened up your day, but not your boss’

- every time the Scott decided to drop by your desk to accompany you, he’d get scolded by his captain

- “don’t need you distracting her from her job”

- “it’s her break, cap, plus, she’ a good lass, I’m sure she’s on top of…all her work” the scott would throw you a wink before his captain orders him to run laps around the base

- next came gaz, since he’s always visiting his captain’s office for reports, he saw you at the new desk in the captain’s office, the aura around you not matching anything in the dim, old and boring office, you gave him a slight smile before returning to your paperwork

- but gaz wasn’t going to let that be the end of your interactions no no

- he’d walk up to you in the mess hall, as you’re loading your plate up, striking a conversation with you, making last long enough for him to lead you to a table with his other teammates

- you shyly but politely sit down and introduce yourself to the masked man who sat opposite of you, his brown eyes staring into yours as his arms stayed locked, he just nodded and replied “ghost”

- you figured he’s not a social one, the Scot and the Brit both kept asking you questions, some may have been a bit intrusive but maybe they’re just being friendly !

- “so why ar’ ye here?”

“Kate laswell requested that I work for John price for a few months to ease the paperwork load on him”

- “I’m sure there’s a different kind of load he’s trying to get you to ease off of him”

- the three of your heads snap to the silent man, his brown eyes seemed to be crinkled, suggesting he was grinning or smirking underneath that mask

- “OI! LT’s got jokes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it” Johnny tried to reassure you, glaring at Simon as you looked down at your food

- you excused yourself as you made your way back to price’s office, you saw him still there, no signs of him moving at all “captain ? Did you eat today?” You asked sweetly

- oh what this man wouldn’t give to have the honours of eating you for every meal of the day, to have you sprawled on his desk, papers sticking to your sweaty skin, your chest rising and falling as you try to quiet yourself so nobody hears what your captain is doing to you

- “captain” fuck he’d love to hear you moan his rank, begging him to be gentle, but he knows deep down you’re a dirty girl and you want your “captain ?!”

- John snapped out of his daydream, he looked up at you, you were leaning to the side trying to check on him “have you eaten today?” You asked again, a worried look in your eyes

- John nods, not looking you in the eyes “yeah yeah” he cleared his throat as he tried to get back to work, but your soft, smaller hand stopped him from grabbing his pen, his brown eyes looked up, ab eyebrow raised as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’

- “I’m sorry, captain but I can’t allow you to get back to work if you haven’t had food” you stated, your body trembling as you stood your ground

- truthfully, price can easily launch you across the room with one arm, he knows his limits, and you’re nowhere near it, but you were right, he does need to eat, and although he wishes he could order you to spread your pretty thighs for him and let him have his fun, he doesn’t want to lose such a pretty sight so fast

- he let go of the pen, leaning back on his office chair “I haven’t brought any food”

“The mess hall still have some food there”

- “I don’t eat that rubbish”

“Well too bad, you need to eat”

- ooh… I guess his little kitty got claws now

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #captain price #ghost #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz x reader

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dante-mightdie · 3 months

Text

jealous!toxic!ghost and prices daughter pt. 2

every time simon has seen you since you found out about him sleeping with other people, you’ve been sulky and pouty with him. you still let him shag you but you also try and pick fights with him…

which he shuts down instantly…

“so what if I shagged her? ‘m a grown man and I can do what I want so pack it in…” he’d spit as he throws his shirt on, leaving you to wallow with the covers pulled over you and your arms crossed over your chest

few months later and your father is being awarded with a medal and wants everyone there to celebrate. simon can see you, all prettied up with a dress that price definitely bought you for the occasion

his hand on the small of your back as he introduces his pride and joy to his colleagues and soldiers. doesn’t miss the way that Alex fucking Keller raises your hand to his lips as he introduces himself, a cheeky grin on his face as he watches you blush

simon originally planned on pulling you to the bathroom for a shag if he got bored enough at the event but he can’t even seem to get a second of your attention because you’ve been hanging off of Alex’s arm for most of the night

“gonna let him touch your daughter like tha’?” simon asks price as they stand at the bar, narrows his gaze as he watches Alex take you to the dancefloor, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist and holding you flush against him

price flicks his eyes over to you before shrugging his shoulders, “Alex is a good lad. I’d rather she spends time with him instead of that little prick she’s been crying over.”

simon only grunts in response, raising his glass to his lips before taking a sip of his bourbon

he corners you outside the bathroom an hour later so he can finally speak to you alone, “you get tarted up for all your dad’s soldiers then?” he says, placing one hand on the wall and towering over you

“excuse me?” you spit, trying to push past him but he just pushes himself right up against you, caging you in

“you heard me, sweetheart. you gonna let him touch what’s mine?” he says with a hum at the end, taking one hand up to pinch your cheek, making you scowl at him

“I don’t belong to you, simon. now, leave me alone or I’ll tell my dad what you did.” you say without a single falter in your tone before slipping under his arm and stomping off, your heels clicking against the marble floor

he spends the rest of the night watching you with a mean look on his face, even telling soap to fuck off when he tried to talk to him

an ugly feeling creeps up in his chest as he watches you trace the tattoos on Alex’s arm with a fascinated look in your eye, fawning over how cool they are

feels like kicking himself when he remembers how you used to try and ask about his tattoos only to be shoved off of him, his harsh tone telling you not to touch him

#mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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reverieblondie · 28 days

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Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X fem!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter.

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?”

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.”

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself.

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture.

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare.

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?”

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment.

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation.

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace.

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.”

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…)

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!”

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class…

“Miggy~”

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.”

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age.

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…”

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest.

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic.

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement.

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them.

“Well…technically…I didn’t”

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.”

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man.

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?”

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…”

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment.

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions,

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow.

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…”

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-”

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him.

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!”

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!”

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile,

“It’s like density!”

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush.

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same.

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…”

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips.

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt.

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye.

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this…

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?”

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…”

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.”

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…”

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you.

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap.

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain.

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?”

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight.

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do?

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again.

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious.

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat.

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…”

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.”

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly.

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?”

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shakes through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again.

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…”

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain.

“Miguel, I like the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t have run away…”

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, like when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now.

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat.

“I thought you were sweet…”

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you.

“Could I make it up to you somehow?”

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.”

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest.

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect.

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you.

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want.

“Miggy, I always like you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more.

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…”

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver.

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass.

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you.

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…”

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your licks isn’t lost on him.

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses.

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~”

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets.

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly creases up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can.

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and crease his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?”

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine.

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick.

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~”

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit.

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more.

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste.

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop.

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more.

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length.

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering.

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch.

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine.

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper.

“So eager, Miggy~”

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling.

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths.

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile,

“Good…”

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce.

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high.

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin.

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more.

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.”

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you.

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt.

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting.

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently.

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort.

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question,

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?”

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer.

“Miggy, about time you asked…”

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…

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