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#very much unedited and raw
valentine-writes · 11 months
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could you write some headcanons about glamrock chica and roxanne having a crush on reader and not having a single clue how to confess? (if the reader is human or an animatronic is up to you!!)
ty!! have a good day ^^
CD BABY ! ☆
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[ tws + notes: no tws, fluff, insanely unedited, reader is an animatronic becuz i wanna SWITCH THINGZ UP FOR ONCE MWAHAHAHAHAHA, oh no accidental angst in roxy's part,,, my bad (´`;) ]
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↳ ft. glamrock chica, roxanne wolf
[ gn! reader, romantic relationship ]
author note: I LOVE WRITING FOR MY GIRLS!!!! chica roxy so beluved by me,,, SO SOZ THIS IS LATE ANON :( <3
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a new animatronic at the plex was quite the rarity. of course, staff bots and wet floor sign bots were frequently replaced. but you were something different. just as intricately made as the glamrocks, carefully designed and constructed to be marketable and loveable–
you found that everyone wanted a piece of you– of course, being the shiny new animatronic at the pizzaplex, people wanting to know you was nothing surprising.
what was unexpected however, was just how popular you got. in just short of two weeks, you had gained an immense amount of fans (children, teens, and adults alike–), merchandise of you selling out in the gift shops, and meet-and-greets filled with people, all wanting just to see you.
being adored was just the treatment that was expected for you. little did you know, a certain fellow animatronic felt similar adoration.
if only she could find time to tell you...
GLAMROCK CHICA headcanons:
▸ the first glamrock to introduce herself to you! chica is naturally very social, so of course she had to meet the new bot!! she's just friendly like that!!!
▸ when she saw the overwhelming amounts of attention you were receiving in the few days you had been their– she was jus like "wow!!! ok!!!! good for them they deserve it :>"
▸ only later, when she began to spend more time with you when patrolling the pizzaplex after hours did she really get attached. and i mean really
▸ what she thought was just a little crush blossomed into something much more than she had anticipated. she was completely in awe of you. of course, you hardly noticed the change when she went from sweet to sweeter with you. chica's jus nice like that!! ohhh but girly iz like,,, Yearning So Hard (secretly) itz INSANE. everyone else picks up on it except you. like. why does monty know abt her big fat crush on you bro. why is it obvious to him and not you. you're in her head like!! 24/7!!! like a song she just can't get out!!!
▸ however, 2 ur credit, you did notice that she was making up more excuses to hang out with you. chica was actually always planning to confess when "the mood was right" whenever you two were together, but always ended up losing the nerve or watching the opportunity slip away. so she just. kept hanging out with you as much as possible without ever getting The Perfect Confession. oh man does this KILL HER
▸ though she's stressed about making the confession just right,,, she ends up blurting it out randomly anyways. she is a MESS after, trying to reword everything she said, hoping she didn't just accidentally demolish your friendship please reassure her itz ok and u reciprocate she's in SHAMBLESSSS
ROXANNE WOLF headcanons:
▸ was very intrigued about a new arrival. didn't really think too hard about it. just hoped that you didn't totally outshine her.
▸ she met you a little later, after you had amassed your Insanely Large amount of fans. ouu it was,,, a rough start. she had heard about how popular you were getting, how you just seemed to steal alllll the spotlight from her, and how your fans were relentless in their quest for your time or your merch. she was PISSED. roxy got mad jealous,,, every single poster of you and your stupid little face and stupid little smile made her want to rip it off the wall (but she didn't. she's no monty.)
▸ roxy's determined that when she did meet you, she'd give you a piece of her mind. she'd somehow prove she was better, prove that she was the bigger star. but when she did meet you– oh. OH. she absolutely resented how cool you were. everything about you was just too lovely to hate. and she despised that she couldn't find a way to justify her anger. you were just too nice for her to hate.
▸ she'd never tell you that though. she'd never mention how she stares at you or how sweet you are when interacting with fans. no, she'd never tell you how talented she thinks you are, or how she's starstruck with everything you do. never. roxanne feels guilty for being so overwhelming jealous before as her adoration for you develops.
▸ she's definitely a little more snarky to you. anything to hide what she's thinking whenever she's with you. but occasionally,,, just occasionally, she'll let her guard down. and she feels so cherished whenever she does. attention from you feels better than the millions of people she's met. how is that possible?
▸ it's night when she confesses. it's after hours in the pizzaplex and there she is at your greenroom door. she looks embarrassed and she says that she's got something stupid on her mind she needs to let out. a very in-the-moment decision, considering she only really came to talk to you casually. as you encourage her to speak up– she just spills EVERYTHING. everything she felt before meeting you, everything she felt during your first interaction, everything she feels now. she's crying. and roxy feels stupid– weak and vulnerable, crying at your door about how she's never gonna be able to forgive herself for being so angry with you– but even more angry for being so in love. because at the end of the day, her insecurities have her convinced you don't want her.
if you reassure her otherwise, she's even more of a wreck. maybe. be gentle with her for the next few days after the confession. she needs it.
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padfootastic · 1 year
Text
Saudade
You can also read it on Ao3
x
Remus knew he was a coward.
It’s why he always preferred to blend in. He couldn’t afford not to. It’s also why, to his eternal shame and regret, he’d never bothered to even question the circumstances of Sirius’s imprisonment. His betrayal.
Because he knew if he looked even slightly below the surface, it’d shatter.
(He’d shatter)
Because he wasn’t just a coward, was he. He was also helpless.
No.
Powerless.
He was powerless.
It didn’t matter if he knew Sirius was innocent, if not of the murders then definitely the betrayal (because he knew, didn't he, that Sirius Black would never—as long as he had breath in his body, magic in his veins, life in his heart—do anything to hurt James Potter. It was a fundamental truth of life. There were five exceptions to Gamp’s law of elemental transformation, the sun set in the west, and Sirius was unfailingly loyal to James. Isn’t that how it's always been?)
Because even if the truth was not what it seemed, he couldn’t do anything about it.
So he lived his lie. Didn't bother to look past the newspapers blaring the inevitability of a Black turning to the dark side. It validated his own feelings, his mistrust, his circumstances.
It was a profoundly selfish act, but it was all Remus could do.
x-x-x-x
There was…one moment when he tried, just the bare minimum, really, in hindsight but it was enough to, if not soothe, then push down the constant guilt gnawing at him.
“Mr. Lupin.” Dumbledore looked down at him through his half moon glasses. “What can I do for you?”
Remus didn’t know whether to appreciate the even tone or not. In the past month, his entire life had collapsed around him. He’d gone from being part of a whole, one of four, to completely alone. Even putting one step in front of the other was getting too much for him and on some days, he forewent even that small action. Laying in bed, contemplating his entire life and how it went so wrong in less time than it took to blink—that was all he had the energy for these days.
So to hear Professor Dumbledore refer to him like that, almost pleasantly, as if they were still back in school and Remus had just bumped into him in the corridor—it was equal parts relieving and maddening.
He chose to ignore that for now, though. He had enough going on without discovering new things to be bothered about. Not like he had the energy for it, either.
“Headmaster, I—“ Remus gulped nervously. Now that he was here, it felt much more daunting than he could have imagined. What would he even say?
“Yes?”
Remus took a shaky breath and tried again. “Professor, are you—is it completely without doubt that Sirius—“ He couldn’t finish the sentence but he knew the other man understood what he was trying to say.
“Mr. Lupin…Remus,” Dumbledore started gently, and already Remus was regretting this little excursion. “I know the past month can’t have been easy for you. I wouldn’t even presume to understand how bad it must’ve been. None of us thought that Mr. Black could…” He trailed off, eyes staring at a door behind Remus. He didn’t think he’d imagined the sadness that flashed in his eyes, a meagre reflection of his own agony.
It was only a momentary slip, though, as his eyes hardened and steel coated his next words. “But what’s done is done, despite the tragedy of it all. Mr. Black made his choice, and now it is time for you to do the same.” He gave a sad smile, a damning one that spoke of his finality in the matter. “It is always harder to be the one left behind, Mr. Lupin, and your fate is one I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. I can only hope that you find the strength I know you have in you, and use it to move on from this episode.”
Remus could only sit there, stunned and numb and feeling like his skin was tearing itself apart from the inside, the way it did on full moons except worse.
An episode, Dumbledore said, as if he wasn’t talking about his family, his entire life. As if this was a schoolyard skirmish, an encore of that horrid ‘prank’ in fifth year, one he could forget if he so wished to. As if it was that easy to carve away the parts of himself that were entwined with the rest of his brothers (which made up most of him— mind, body, soul, and magic). As if he would even want to.
Remus didn’t try again after that, not with Dumbledore and definitely not with anyone else. If the man who was their leader seemed so sure, then who was Remus to go against his word?
(He’d never regretted anything more in his life, perhaps with the exception of the belief that caused this in the first place)
x-x-x-x
They didn’t talk about it.
At first, there was the whole thing with Pettigrew and being on the run and everything that came with it. Once that got sorted, though, there was no excuse other than it was easy.
Easy to ignore the ache in his heart when the distance between them reared it’s ugly head.
Easy to turn away when he saw the way Molly and Dumbledore treated Sirius in his own house, because isn’t that what he’d been doing so far?
Easy to stay away, altogether.
Sirius never brought it up either. Perhaps on purpose, too, because the pain in his eyes never lessened. Remus could pick out multiple instances where he opened his mouth to say something before abruptly shutting down.
That was another difference. Pre-azkaban Sirius wouldn’t have hesitated like that, not with Remus.
It only drove the knife further in. But did he have anyone to blame but himself?
It was just after Hogwarts had closed. Harry, who’d finished his fifth year, had gone back to the Dursleys but not for long because in a turn of events no one could have predicted, Sirius’ case had completely upended itself in the aftermath of the DoM debacle. Remus still didn’t like to think about it, how close he—they’d come to losing Sirius (again) and how it was only sheer dumb luck—a rock that made him stumble sideways instead of back—that saved him from falling into the Veil.
Perhaps the only positive of the evening was the Minister seeing Sirius Black fighting unequivocally for the Light and against the Death Eaters. In Remus’ opinion, it would be quite some time before anyone forgot the image of escaped inmate Sirius Black laughing at Bellatrix Lestrange in a strange parody of his actions fifteen years ago. The cold laughter juxtaposed with the deadly spells he’d been aiming at his cousin was enough to stun everyone not in the know and that was how an enquiry had been conducted into the case, leading to where they were today.
Remus, however, had spent every minute he could hiding away, even more than before. He couldn’t bear to show his face at Grimmauld Place—the idea of seeing Sirius actually sent a wave of shivers down his spine.
But, as he’d always known, his time did run out.
x-x-x-x
“So are we talking about this then?” Sirius’ voice is tired, perpetually exhausted as it seems to be these days.
They were sitting at the dining table, cups of tea long gone cold in their hands. It was the first time in months Remus has allowed himself to be in the same room as Sirius (it shouldn’t be like this. it never was before. how did it all go so wrong) and the other man wasn’t stupid. Even if Remus hadn’t initiated the conversation, he knew they’d have it. Of course it was Sirius who poked the sleeping dragon. He had always been the braver of the two. Of course, if it was a competition, then James Potter would’ve come leagues ahead of either of them, his passion and intensity unmatched.
(But James isn’t here right now and that’s really the cause of half their problems, is it not?)
Sirius was…quieter, more focused, but plenty brave enough. If Remus allowed himself to think about it, it’s no surprise he brought it up first. In fact, it’s more surprising that he hadn’t so far.
Still. “Talk about what?” he regrets the words almost as soon as they slip out of his mouth. Sirius only looks at him steadily.
Of course he knows what this is about but it’s easier to cling to what you’ve been hiding behind all this while, is it not? But is it fair, to him? More importantly, is it fair to Sirius? Does he not deserve an honest answer, an honest friend?
It’s that which pushes him to try again.
“I-I didn’t mean that.”
“Sure you did, Remus.”
“Alright,” he amended. “I shouldn’t have meant that.” And that at least is true. It gets a wry smile out of Sirius.
“There’s a lot I shouldn’t have done,” he continued, which neatly drives the mirth away. Remus looked down, at his fingers, the bitten down nails and ink stains, so he didn’t have to stare into the consequences of his actions.
‘I should—apologise.”
“Do you want to?”
His head snapped up, the sting of the comment settling under his skin like an itch. How could he think—? One look at Sirius’ face, however, devoid of any malice or cruelty, and the indignant feeling in him dies out as quickly as it rose.
It was a fair question. He hated the fact but couldn’t deny it.
How would Sirius know about the hundreds of hours he’d spent screaming and crying and begging someone, anyone to turn back time, to make things better, to give him a second chance?
Sirius couldn’t know about the time Remus hadn’t been able to get out of his house for seven months, two weeks, sixteen days straight, surviving only on dry crackers and tepid tea and stale bread and feeling guilty for doing so. He’d spent the entire time staring blankly at the sickly green wall of his bedroom, living in a haunting loop of his memories and wishing he was back in them.
Sirius hadn’t seen any of that.
(Would it have made a difference, if he had, Remus thinks. They weren’t indicative of anything but his own guilt, certainly didn’t stem from any moral conviction in Sirius—and what value did it have for someone who was being tortured day and night? living with the knowledge that he’d been left behind without so much as a second thought?)
It’s not something he’s thought about before—in those fantasies where everything is as it was before. Sirius apologises, Remus apologises, they hug it out and it’ll all be better again—but now, now he can’t help but wonder about the efficacy of platitudes.
He hated Sirius’ matter of fact resignation even more, like there was no other way for Remus to react except defensively. (It wasn’t always like this. The Marauders, James & Sirius, they’d always been his biggest believers. They’d made him capable of touching the sky and the stars and everything in between and Remus has been untethered ever since that fateful halloween. There was a time, when anyone expecting any less of Remus—even himself—than they should would’ve gotten all of Sirius’ hackles raised—‘our Moony’s worth a dozen of you and you should only be so lucky to get to see that’—so it stung particularly bitterly when it was the same man expressing this apathy.
The juxtaposition of the two Sirius’ in his head was enough to give Remus a headache at the best of times, let alone now.
So he takes a deep breath, lets the feeling wash away, and nods.
“You don’t have any reason to believe me, and I don’t blame you for it, but I do. Want to, that is.”
Sirius didn’t reply but Remus continued, undeterred.
“I didn’t for a long time. I didn’t want to, not at all. Because it would be my fault, you know? And I was so tired, Sirius, god. I was exhausted trying to keep up this pretense. I just needed to get the burden off.”
Sirius just looked at him, silent. Remus could see the way his eyes flick around the room, however, and how his fingers trembled ever so slightly. He might’ve been out of Azkaban but the signs would last a long time.
“What made you change your mind, then?” There's a note of curiosity in Sirius’ voice and Remus cannot articulate the relief that fills him at hearing it. Anything, even anger or blame, was better than that bland apathy that made his skin itch.
The question itself makes him pause, however. Because he’s guilty, nay, he’s ashamed of the answer he’s about to give. He contemplated shutting up, or perhaps leaving the room altogether, and it takes longer than it should for him to banish the thought.
“Remus?” Sirius asked again and it’s the knowing look in his eyes that made him close his eyes in defeat. He should’ve known he couldn’t have avoided this. This was a man who knew him better than anyone else who’s alive right now—how could he ever have thought he’d be able to hide things from him?
So he takes a deep, fortifying breath. Releases it slowly, grounding himself in the process.
“When I came to Hogwarts.”
“The time I broke out?
Remus tilts his head in the barest hint of confirmation. Sirius nods like he’d expected that.
Again, Remus wanted to be offended—but how could he?
“How’d you—“
—know?” Sirius finished. Remus nodded, a sharp, jagged thing that’s barely an answer.
Sirius smiled ruefully. It looked wrong on him, like a shirt stretched out and shrunk back down with a charm. “Because I know you, Remus. And though it hurt, I always knew you didn’t believe in me, at least not at the end there.
I’ve had nothing but time all this while. Time to think, to wonder where it all went wrong, what I could’ve done—time even to curse James out,” he lets out a hollow chuckle at that, one that Remus echoes because just the idea of Sirius cursing at James is so absurd, there’s nothing you can do but laugh at it, morbid though it may be in the moment.
“And the only thing I can think of is how bad we messed up. I don’t— you know the worst part about this, Remus?” Sirius asks, in his tired, broken voice. Just hearing it makes him want to flinch and hide away. Instead, he brings himself to give another shaky nod.
“I wouldn’t have cared one bit if you’d thought I was a mass murderer. Hell, even being a Death Eater could be believable under the right circumstances and you were away so long, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d entertained the thought.”
Remus waited for the ‘but’ with his heart in his mouth, tasting ash and regret and guilt. He knew what was about to come, had wondered the same thing hundreds of times, going round and round in circles with no relief to be found.
“But how could you ever, even just for a second let alone 12 years, think I could do that to Ja—“ here, his voice broke, unable to even finish the name. Sirius’ trembling hands clenched into fists, hard enough that he could see the knuckles losing color. The words were just as devastating as he could have imagined, if not more. Coming from another’s mouth and not just whirling in his thoughts, it seemed even more damning in the light of day.
And that was just it, wasn’t it. It was this that confirmed what Remus had known from the moment he’d been made aware of Sirius’ innocence.
There would be no forgiveness here. The most he could hope for was closure, perhaps a chance to clear the air, as it were, and that was only if Sirius was feeling merciful. Which, when it came to James, he seldom did. Remus would know; he’d seen the aftermath of what happened to those who dared touch James Potter.
And Remus? Ne hadn’t just hurt Sirius—that was almost inconsequential in the larger scheme of things—no, Remus’ biggest mistake was besmirching the legacy, the honor of James Potter.
Sirius had destroyed people for far less.
It was this realisation that weighed heavy on him, head bowing until his chin touched his chest, unable to hold it up anymore, not knowing what to say and unsure whether he should.
“I can forgive you almost anything, Remus, you know that. I wouldn’t have cared one whit about anything else but that you could think that—that anyone who knew us could—it was that, more than the dementors, more than the crazed prisoners, more than the taunts and insults and torture, that’s what almost broke me in Azkaban.”
A sob broke out from Remus’ chest, ugly and desperate and entirely unfair on his part. Sirius didn’t need his guilt, nor his despair. Remus didn't deserve to be unhappy in front of him. He had made his own bed and now he was to lie in it. He couldn’t even be happy about the hint of steel he could hear underlying Sirius’ words, a faint echo of his past self. Because the implications it held for him were devastating. Remus knew he wouldn’t lose Sirius completely—they had too much history for that, but he’d lose everything that made Sirius him. He’d been spoiled, allowed into the small, small circle of people Sirius truly let in, and he knew there would be no going back. There would be perfect civility, and amicable conversations, but he’d never have his Sirius back. He’d get the Sirius Black the rest of the world saw, the one with the impeccable masks, who was always in control—but not Padfoot, never Padfoot anymore.
And that was to be his penance.
“I am—I truly am sorry, Sirius. You’d never know how much. I just—I couldn’t—I don’t think I’ve taken one full breath since that night, everything was too fast and I couldn’t think and I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t used to being alone anymore,” he said, leaning forward desperately, wanting to explain (not justify, never justify), not wanting Sirius to leave thinking this was—this was what Remus wanted. because he didn't, never could’ve imagined things ending up like this.
It was almost humbling, this ignoble end of the Marauders. They’d considered themselves untouchable, rulers of the world, sitting atop a throne only they could see. So many promises, a seemingly unbreakable bond, the best of the best.
And look at them now.
All of them in varying stages of decay, dead and dying.
“And I know, dammit I know that doesn’t count for shite. But please, I just—you have to know—“ his hands pressed together, pleading, as the words came out in a defeated plea, “I never meant for it to be like this.”
“The worst part of that,” Sirius smiled, small and broken and not even worth a shadow of his usual brilliance. “is that I know you mean that, Remus. I believe it too.”
A second passed, then two, before he delivered the final blow.
“I just wish you’d fought for us the way we had for you.”
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wp100 · 9 months
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being a fan of old/dead artists/bands is so hard because you want new stuff to be released but their estates/whoever the hell manages their stuff does absolutely nothing with it
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jkslipppiercing · 6 months
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Needy | jjk oneshot
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♡ summary: your boyfriend often helps you set up for your weekly girls' night...what happens when he gets needy for you only 15 minutes before your girl friends arrive?
♡ pairing: boyfriend!jungkook, dom!jk.
♡ genre: smut, smut, aaaand- you guessed it- smut!
♡ warnings: pure filth, pwp, oral (f receiving), he eats her out, he fucks her from behind, overstimulation, squirting, choking, praise, begging, uh what else- spanking, dirty talk, cursing, creampie, raw sex, penetration, he's basically obsessed with her ass.
♡ WC: 3.2K.
♡ a/n: this is my first time experimenting with smut, so bear with me. please please please never hesitate to share your thoughts about my works with me, constructive criticism is very appreciated, since it helps me write better, and especially if what im writing is for you to read- it would help me to know what you think!
index
taglist
-unedited.
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you place your hands on your hips and settle your gaze on the scene before you.
at least fifty fluffy pillows are thrown all over fuzzy bean bags that occupy the whole space in the livingroom- save for the couch that sits in the middle, faced with the TV.
you're already in your silk PJs, a silk set of shorts- that are above thigh- and a shirt. drinks, beers, and shot glasses are neatly positioned on the table, along with millions of other snacks scattered all over the place.
Jungkook usually prepares the food and snacks like popcorn, chips, and natchos while you take care of the setup with the pillows, beanbags, and blankets.
it's fifty fifty.
every saturday night, jiho and yejun- your girlfriends- get dropped off at yours for a disastrous girl's night where drinks are exchanged and secrets are spilled.
in the meantime, jungkook heads out of the apartment and to his mates'- yoongi and taehyung, respectively jiho and yejun's boyfriends- for what he calls a "mature hangout" which is anything but.
you know for a fact they play video games and gossip about all three of their girlfriends.
speaking of your boyfriend, he waltzes into the living room, two bowls of popcorn stacked on top of each other in one hand and a plate of nachos in the other.
he sets them down on the table and turns to you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you to him rather abruptly.
you squeal, laughing when he wiggles his brows at you playfully before nuzzling his nose with yours.
you wrap your hands around his neck, putting your forehead to his.
soft locks of his hair meet your fingertips in a familiar caress, used to your touch.
your nails gently stroke Jungkook's scalp as he hums in satisfaction, his eyes shutting closed as he relishes your proximity.
"thank you."
"I already told you before, you dont need to thank me, sweetheart."
"i do, though."
"but i dont even do much."
"you do more than enough."
"it's the bare minimum. i wish i could offer more."
"shut up and accept my thanks, dumbass."
he chuckles and you pull away.
seconds later, you find yourself away from Jungkook's arms and frowning at the table, leaning down to fix the placement of the bowls Jungkook had just brought in.
"Kook! You got them wrong again! i always tell you, popcorn, natchos, popco-"
you feel a sharp slap on your ass, followed by a hushed curse.
"fuck."
you straighten, your jaw almost hitting the floor.
you were leaning down wearing short shorts, not paying attention of the possibility of flashing Jungkook. Your ass must've been on full display- scratch that- it was.
turning around, you take in the intensity of his gaze.
the earlier playfulness is long gone, replaced with cloudy chocolate eyes, hooded with something you were always able to identify- lust.
"did you just-"
he pulls you by the waist, catching you by surprise, yet again.
he looks at you in a way that quite literally has you melting, but you cant deny, youve never been wetter.
you can feel your arousal through your panties, only resulting from the mini spank delivered mere seconds ago.
"you're sexy in silk." his husky voice travels over your senses and sends them into overdrive.
just when you thought the situation couldnt get any hotter, his palms trace from your waist down to your ass.
he palms the soft tissue before squeezing it, hard.
your eyes shut immediately as you bite your lip.
his hand retracts only to land on your ass shortly after, sending a jolt of pain through your being and setting you alight with pleasure.
you gasp, incapable of making any other sound.
"bend over."
"w-what- right now?!"
"dont let me repeat myself, Y/N."
"but the girls will be here in fifteen minutes!"
"fifteen minutes is more than enough for me to make you cum more than twice."
more than twice?
dont mind if i do.
the pool of heat in your lower belly grows hotter under his gaze.
this man must be insane.
"go on." he steps away, willing you to get into the position.
you comply, bending over the armrest of the couch and stabilizing yourself on your palms.
"are you sure this is a good idea-" another spark of pain, from your ass cheek aiming to your pussy.
fuck.
you're silenced by the spank, and so, you dont say anything else. you just let the man behind you do his thing. not that you mind...
you can feel his presence behind you, and you're almost begging him to touch you until he hooks his fingers into the band of your shorts and tugs them down.
"i love your ass so fucking much." ...and another spank.
his words leave you breathless. you always knew how talented jungkook was with using his mouth, and he proves you right when he moves the string of the thong you're wearing to the side. he latches his mouth onto your pussy, eliciting a loud exhale from you.
you were never the type to scream your lungs out at the lightest touch, but you're also not hard to please, either.
at first, he works with a few nibbles and sucks on your opening, groaning into your entrance approvingly. he only gets a few gasps from you in return.
his hands are planted on your ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he dives in even deeper.
he surprises you when he pulls away, making you whine in protest but before you can straighten-
"don't move." he says from between your legs. "spread your legs wider for me, baby."
holy shit, this man is going to be the absolute death of you.
you can feel your pussy clenching around nothing at the dirty words, and you grow more achingly weak by the second.
when you do spread your legs, his tongue licks at you, but from a different angle. he switched his position so his butt is sitting on the ground beneath you, his back pressed to the couch. he grabs your hips and pulls you down to him, licking up your arousal from clit to opening then back again.
"so wet. for me?"
you hum in agreement.
it's true.
all for him.
he's no longer testing the waters, taking your clit in his mouth.
he sucks on it, causing you to moan.
you shamelessly moan at the action, but then he adds a finger.
and after he adds another finger, he moans into your pussy, sending vibrations through your body and fogging up your brain.
your mind is clouded, only focusing on the man between your legs, eating your pussy out like a hungered man.
he moves his fingers, slowly at first. you relish the delicious stretch his long fingers offer, moaning in appreciation.
it starts slow, but then his pace grows faster, snatching your breath away with it.
he's still nibbling on your clit, making your head swim.
your moans grow louder when he hits a spot with his fingers, and your mouth hangs open at the sensation.
"think you can handle another finger?" he rasps beneath you.
"please." a husky, breathless plea is all you can muster in this situation.
"please what?" he demands.
he adds another finger, making you take all three at once. he rubs your clit with his thumb, and all your thoughts are thrown out the window. you simply cant think.
his hand makes harsh contact with your ass cheek in a rough slap, doing an amazing job is heightening your pleasure.
"answer the question, y/n." his tone is dark, commanding you to reply, but you simply cant.
"oh, god!" you let out a high pitched moan when he curls all three of his fingers, knowing how to push all your buttons.
he knows. he's mapped out every inch by inch of your body, so you wouldnt be surprised if he reached certain spots even you wouldnt be able to reach.
you know that because you've tested that theory for yourself.
and you were right.
the man is a god at giving mind-blowing orgasms.
"beg for it." is all he says before he goes knuckles deep into you, basically abusing your hole. but it feels too good for you to argue, not that you want to.
he latches back on to your clit, and his fingers remain unrelenting at a fast speed.
"please, please, please!" you chant in a desperate moan for a release.
"Kook!" and right then and there, your orgasm hits you like a train and you tense. the euphoria is injected into your veins, mind-numbing you.
"that's it, baby." Jungkook coaxes you through it, pulling his fingers out to replace them with his tongue. he laps up your arousal, not wasting a single drop.
"you taste divine."
you just came, but now you want more.
Jungkook stands, leaning down to get ahold of you. you were hit with such a strong orgasm that you slumped forward in the midst of it, face planting on the couch like jello.
he hugs you from behind and you arch into him, feeling his erection.
he holds your body with one hand, grabbing your jaw and turning your face to him with the other.
you plant your lips onto his own soft ones, humming in contentment.
"thank you."
"we're no where near done for you to thank me, sweetheart."
you wouldnt come out alive.
"one more wouldnt hurt, right?" you say as if you're trying to convince yourself, aiming the words at you more than him.
he laughs, a deep rumble erupting from his chest. "we'll see."
what in bloody hell is that supposed to mean?!
the hand once holding your jaw now slithered down to your neck, claiming you as his. he pushes your hair to the side, tucking his head into the crook of your neck to place a few kisses there.
he takes your shirt off, your bra going right after as you're left naked for him to play with you.
he chokes you lightly, inhaling your scent as the other hand travels down to cup your pussy.
you're left breathless, even more so when he pinches your clit.
"who does this belong to?" he rasps into your ear, the sound so sexy it sends jolts of arousal through your spine, pooling down to wet slick between your legs.
"you." you mumble under your breath.
he slaps your pussy and you moan, arching your back and grinding back onto him.
"louder."
"you!" you desperately grind on his hand, only for a bit of friction.
"that's right." he snuggles into your shoulder, hand still on your neck as the other teases your entrance. "good girl."
your hands are clutching onto the arm rest for dear life, growing weak. your schest in heaving, and you might explode from all the hormones you're feeling right now.
Jungkook lets go of you, and you hear sounds of clothes shuffling which makes you look over your shoulder to meet his eyes just as he's unbuckling his belt, shirt off, chains on.
you're salivating.
"like what you see?"
he knows he's hot. smug bastard.
you only spread your legs wider as a response, putting your wet entrance on full display only for him to see.
you see him curse under his breath before he crosses the distance between you in a few strides, grabbing you by the neck to kiss you.
his tongue delves into your mouth, roaming, exploring, and dominating all it wants.
again, not that you mind.
seeing no reason in dragging this out any longer, the head of jungkook's cock nudges against your entrance, having you weak at the knees.
you moan into his mouth and he smiles into the kiss, always loving how responsive you are to his actions.
he pins one of his hands down on your hips, keeping you in place as he holds his cock with the other.
he guides it to your pussy, gliding it up and down your slick, causing your knees to waves everytime he nudges it with your clit.
"you ready for me?"
"please." is not even a coherent answer to his question, and he knows that because he chuckles at your neediness.
it started out with him convincing you to fuck him because of his neediness, and here you are now, begging for his cock.
he enters you with just the tip, testing the waters at first.
this isnt the first time you've had sex with jungkook. it's just that he needs to give you time every time because you just never got used to his size.
hes just so fucking big.
he enters you with another inch, then one after another until he bottoms out.
he groans at your warmth and your mouth hangs open at both the sound and the stretch.
"so fucking tight. all for me."
"all for you." you dont recognize your voice. all out of breath and high pitched, but jungkook loves it. he loves to hear you moan and writhe beneath him.
he stays there for a couple of seconds, letting you accommodate to his length.
he leans forward to take your tits in his hand, rolling the pebbled peaks between his thumb and index which makes your breath hitch. he toys with your breasts, kissing your shoulder from behind as he begins to move.
"mmm, fuck." is all he says before he moves his hips, gently. he knows when to be rough when it comes to sex, which causes him to speed up when all you do is breathe loudly.
it's like he has it as his mission to make you moan for him. for his ego.
and you do, because one minute, jungkook is being all lovey-dovey and slow with you, and the other, his hips are snapping into your at an incredibly high speed.
he leans back and grabs you by the hips, only to ball your hair into his fist and tug on it harshly. your hands are back on the armrest, desperately holding on.
he's fucking you relentlessly, groaning deeply at your tightness when you clench harder around him.
his groans are answered with high moans and pleas, and Jungkook speaks, his voice so full of restraint.
"look in front of you, y/n." and that's when you realize that you can see your reflection in the window.
you can see how Jungkook is manhandling you and take you from behind, and that does nothing but push you even closer to your climax.
"Jungkook!"
"can you see it?" he rasps out breathlessly. "can you see how well you take my cock, baby?"
"fuck!" there goes the second orgasm.
"cum for me." it barrels down on you and weighs you down even more than the first, tiring you out.
Jungkook's hand leaves your hair and grabs you by the neck, pulling you even more back to him and arching your back.
that position is the only thing keeping you from slumping forward and face planting onto the couch.
Jungkook thrusts just once, causing you to whimper out of overstimulation.
"i cant. i'm sorry, Jungkook. maybe you can fuck my mouth instead-"
"you did well."
"huh?"
"but you can do better."
hell no you cant-
he rubs your clit, still buried ball's deep inside of you.
the clit stimulation makes you relax a little bit, and maybe you can try.
"okay." you muster out a small confirmation which he gladly takes, except this time, he's anything but gentle.
Jungkook goes faster than he did before, ramming into you from behind but still rubbing your clit.
he squeezes your throat and leaves you little to no space to breathe, then loosens his hold after a couple of seconds.
he fucks you so hard you see stars, sounds of skin slapping against each other filling the room. his balls slap against your pussy, and it just feels divine.
your ass must be red by now, and you just cant breathe.
and then, you're hit with a sensation like never before. you cant see, cant breathe, cant hear, cant speak. a throaty scream snatches out of your throat and this orgasm is like none of the ones you've experienced before.
"you can take it." fuck fuck fuck fuck.
"fuck, kook!"
"yeah, baby? you like the way i fuck you so hard you forget your name?"
"thank you, thank you, thank you-" you're screaming, helpless. he's rubbing your clit, fucking you animalistically, tugging on your hair, and you can see it all in the reflection. you can feel his love for you.
the overstimulation doesnt make you uncomfortable, it makes you breathless.
he slaps your ass and smiles at the handprint.
shortly after, Jungkook curses under his breath and cums, "take it all." he thrusts into you through his orgasm, and when he's done, he pulls out and admires the masterpiece he created.
his cum mixed with yours oozes out of your pussy, and he plays with it, getting the mess all over his fingers.
you turn around just in time to see him suck his fingers clean, maintaining eye contact as he moans in satisfaction.
instead of feeling embarrassed, you step closer to him and kiss him. you both smile into it as you can taste yourself and him on his tongue, which feels amazing.
it feels euphoric.
you pull away, slightly cringing at the slick wetness you feel all over your thighs, which makes you confused.
"did i pee or something?" you say, perplexed, as you look at jungkook, which snorts in response.
"no, baby, you squirted." he gestures to his own lower abdomen, signaling the mess you made all over him. "you did it all over me, too. it was hot as hell."
you've never squirted before.
thats enough proof that he really did go all out this time.
wow.
when you look to the ground, seemingly embarrassed about it, he hooks his finger under your chin and makes you look up to meet his eyes.
"nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart." his eyes alone speak volumes. the man loves you more than himself.
"just proof that i fucked you well." he wiggles his brows, making you laugh.
you hug him in response, but then you remember...
"oh my god! the girls! i totally forgot!" you go to take a step forward, but wobble and almost fall instead.
jungkook immediately grabs you by the waist, stablizing you and pulling you to him.
"easy there, you're gonna hurt yourself." he says smugly, knowing he's the reason that's got you so sore.
"i should probably call them and make sure-"
"i already texted yejun saying you had a fever and cant get up from bed." he says a little too quickly.
he did what?
"you did what?!" youre so puzzled right now. "but why?"
"do you think i'm gonna leave you here after literally ruining you just to hangout with my mates?" he raises his brows, a frown tugging them together when he pins you down with a hard stare.
"plus, you need to shower, and you cant do that alone-" he smiles, his bunny teeth showing. "you need me to help." he wiggles his brows yet again, and you catch onto the implication a little too quickly.
there's no way you're surviving a second round in the shower...
right?!
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what do yall think for a first time?
@hoseokteardrop @nochuel @kaitieskidmore97 @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring @bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdolls @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotz @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime @allisonstone @hopekive @llallaaa @tarahardcore @hopetookmysoul @betysotelo18 @harmonic55 @ecrvea @awesomebabyyoda @peterstarkchrishiddleston @pinkrockstar19 @sweetestseoul @luv--youu @mochminnie @coletaehyung @whitelies2248-blog @ash07128 @bangtans-momma
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malleleothreesome · 4 months
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Leona who is pining after you...
💛 summary: Cohesive blurbs about things Leona would do and what he would be like if he were pining after you. ༶༶༶ 💛 warnings: gender neutral reader, unedited, pretty much just a stream of my thoughts. There is cursing. Very angsty but also has romance. Mentions of depressive thoughts. A very raw look into Leona's mind. There is smut (wet dream) in the middle, marked with 🔞 if you want to skip to the next bullet. ༶༶༶ 💛 word count: 4.7k because I'm delulu
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💛 Leona who is pining after you... tries to gaslight himself and cling to any sort of logical explanation he can come up with to try to convince himself that he definitely does not have feelings for you. It was probably just a one-time thing, and he just needs to find a way to get you out of his head. He's never thought about anyone this way before, so it's definitely just an error in his brain chemistry or something. It was only a coincidence that he happened to be thinking about you at that particular time, and if you had never been on his mind at all, his heart wouldn't be beating so fast every time he interacts with you. He would never allow himself to develop feelings for anyone, especially you, so he must not actually have any. It's really that simple. It couldn't possibly be that he's fallen for some weird, magicless human, right? Right?! There has to be something medically wrong with him! He must be crazy to have these kinds of thoughts about a stranger who just randomly poofed into existence at the beginning of the semester. Why did you invade his dreams? It doesn't matter! What the hell is wrong with him?!
It has to be a mistake, because there is no way he would EVER fall for someone as annoying and boring as you are, even if you do seem to have a better understanding of him than the people who have known him his whole life, and you treat him like he actually matters instead of seeing him as the scumbag you probably should have gotten to know better before giving him your time and attention. It's not like he genuinely cares what you think of him, anyway – he’s just grateful that he doesn't have to deal with another person treating him like a failure or a lazy, worthless piece of shit.
The way you look at him like he could be someone worth loving despite his constant tirade of anger is definitely not a key factor in him caring for you. Your smile and laugh makes his chest feel funny, and the fact that he is suddenly hyper-aware of his body when he's around you is probably just a symptom of mental or physical illness. Maybe he’s finally eaten too much red meat and he’s about to succumb to heart disease at the ripe age of 20. Perhaps he simply hasn't rubbed one out in a while and he’s thinking with his dick and not his head? He's definitely not attracted to you, and he's absolutely not thinking about what it would be like to kiss you right now. That would just be insane, and he can't believe he even let himself entertain the thought! He’d rather die than think about what it would be like to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you sit on his lap, looking down at him with that beautiful smile and those cunning eyes of yours, gently stroking his face as you lean down to press your lips against his… oh, god dammit!
💛 Leona who is pining after you… finally lays down in surrender to the fact that, alright, maybe he does have feelings for your dumb ass – against all odds. He convinces himself that he’s only humoring this pathetic little crush because it makes his monotonous, tiresome days a little more riveting. Lions are predators, and the thrill of the hunt is a key part of their nature, after all. Before you, all he had to look forward to was staring at the ceiling in his dark room for most of the day until the stars showed up in the sky, or until he got roped into housewarden drama and became too frustrated to do anything other than restlessly pace around Savanaclaw before eventually confining himself back to the comforting solitude of his room. He tells himself he might as well allow himself the small luxury of thinking about someone who doesn’t entirely annoy the shit out of him, because he could sure as hell use the emotional relief. At least this way, he isn’t actively thinking about how much he hates his life, and how much he hates himself for letting it become this way. Besides, what would be the harm in letting himself entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe – if he was lucky enough – you could be the first person to ever break down the walls he built to keep himself from getting hurt by other people? Plus, if nothing else, you make for such a pretty daydream.
Every moment he spends with you makes him want you to keep sticking around even after everything is said and done. You can actually keep up with his banter, which is probably why he can actually stand being around you in the first place. No one else is capable of keeping up with his quick wit, or of providing him with a good challenge. You aren't scared off by his harsh demeanor, and you're able to stand up to him when he gets a little too overbearing. You don't take his bullshit, but you still care about his well being and treat him with respect. Despite his public struggles, you don’t see him as some sort of charity case. He's never met anyone else who is able to be so firm with him, but gentle at the same time. He didn't know someone could have such a strong presence without even having magic, but you're somehow always able to pull the rug out from under him, showing him that you're much more powerful than he initially gave you credit for. You're a real pain in his ass sometimes, but you're also the only person in years who's made him feel like life might actually be worth living. Maybe these feelings aren't so bad after all…
💛 Leona who is pining after you… starts leaving his room more often and even attending classes again, hoping he'll run into you on campus. If he doesn't see you, that would suck, but he knows if he stays in his room all day, then he'd risk losing the chance to spend the day with you completely. Besides, if there's even the slightest possibility, seeing you could be the highlight of his day and make even his shittiest days seem almost bearable. When you finally show up, he throws a casual greeting and a nonchalant raise of a single brow, pretending like he coincidentally ran into you in the crowd and totally didn't memorize your class schedule. When your face lights up, telling him you were glad to run into him, his pulse races and for a split second, a goofy grin flashes on his face and he desperately starts fighting his tail from swishing eagerly behind him. All he does is mumble in agreement, then shove his hands in his pockets, rolling his eyes like this isn't what he's been waiting for since he woke up. He says he might as well join you in the cafeteria, because he's starving and it's that time anyway, so whatever.
As you enter the lunch line, your face falls in disappointment when you realize your favorite sandwich is sold out. Leona expected something like this would happen, so he asked Ruggie to grab him one of that type of sandwich along with his usual order, on the chance that he would get to spend lunch with you. He looks to his right, glancing at your slumped shoulders as your mood seems to deflate a little as a frown forms on your face. He steps forward and grumbles an off-hand comment that he snagged one earlier for himself, but since you look so pitiful, he'll let you have it, only because he doesn't want to deal with your incessant whining the whole lunch. When you gape up at him, shocked by his thoughtful gesture, his face starts burning red as he quickly turns away, aggressively stuffing a bite of food in his face to make himself look distracted. When he happens to catch your thankful eyes glistening at him, it feels like the air has been punched right out of his lungs, and the small smile and sincere gratitude tugging on the corner of your lips causes his stomach to do backflips. How annoying that his usually stoic demeanor always falls apart in front of you.
💛 Leona who is pining after you... constantly teases you and tries to embarrass you, attempting to make it sound like you're the one pining for him (even if you're not!) just to try to distract you from the truth. He teases you relentlessly, hoping it’ll make it so you won't feel confident calling him out on the little ways he treats you differently than everyone else. He loves seeing you get flustered trying to deny it, but he also uses it as an opportunity to study your reactions, trying to deduce your real feelings for him by the color in your cheeks, the wavering of your voice, how often you avert your eyes, and how quickly you fire back with an argument. The smirk that emerges on his face tells you exactly that he's not convinced, even if you deny everything. He may be subtle about it, but he uses every opportunity he can find to feel you out, to see if there's even the slightest possibility you might feel something for him. He'll never let you know how badly he wants it to be true with every fiber of his being. He’d be absolutely thrilled if you confessed to him, but he’ll never show it, because it's far more comfortable hiding behind sarcasm. His prideful, guarded heart prevents him from expressing genuine positive emotions and potentially opening himself up to any type of mockery.
💛 Leona who is pining after you... slowly becoming more attached to the idea of you falling for him. As the weeks go by and he hears you giggle as you argue with him, his thoughts linger a bit more when they try to calculate why he's not actually feeling burnt out from spending so much time with you. His patience with the rest of the world starts waning, not really bothering to deal with anyone or anything that could distract him from basking in your aura for as long as possible. He even takes a more active role in interacting with you, whether you two are chatting as he sits on a bench in the botanical gardens, or hanging out after-hours in his room, hoping that this could eventually become a common routine. He loves learning about you and the world you come from. When you open up about your background, he enjoys getting a glimpse into your mind. His brain starts rapidly filing away little details about you, creating a catalog of thoughts for each of his favorite things about you, or the little quirks you have that he secretly finds endearing. The memories of conversations where you both held each other's gaze for a fraction of a second longer than normal or the accidental touches that cause his heart to skip a beat come to life with a vibrance never seen in other parts of his memory bank. The time you grabbed his hand because the tree branches kept making “spooky” noises around you and the time you playfully messed up his hair (even daring to cop a feel of his ear in the process!), are some of his favorite memories to revisit.
As you two grow closer and more comfortable with each other, he pretends to be annoyed at you more often, only because he wants to test how well you can read him, and also how far he can push you. He revels in the way he feels a spark in his chest and a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips whenever your eyes meet. He tries hard to remind himself that the growing heat rising to his face every time you grin at him is all because of the temperature. His playful touches start to become more sensual, his voice dips deeper and more seductive as his hands linger on your skin, his breath fanning against your face and neck with every taunting word spoken. He hates himself for loving the way you bite your lip and blush under his gaze as he continues to run his hand up your arm, causing your eyelids to flutter. He loves the feeling of power your vulnerable, affectionate expression grants him, the rush of endorphins so great he thinks his entire body might collapse. When he pulls his hand back, the stinging absence leaves him in a state of panic, terrified that this might have been the moment you'd realize how he feels about you and finally flee. In an effort to swallow his vulnerability and save face, he'll cover up his aroused desire with aggression. With a bite in his tone, he'll lash out at you, mocking the way you acted so touch-starved and desperate in the heat of the moment, even though the only one truly desperate here is him. He has to force himself to maintain eye contact and an air of dominance with you while he snaps at you, even as he feels his throat tighten, heart slamming against his ribs. He metaphorically shoves you away and leaves before he loses control, before his raw affection for you spills from his lips like a confession.
💛 🔞 Leona who is pining after you... fast asleep as he lies alone in bed, your figure haunting his dreams. Right before he fell asleep, he was having a particularly bad day and he found himself clinging to a fantasy of holding you in his arms, using you as an anchor to help him process the dread of reality. On a typical night, all he has are his regrets and unanswered questions swirling around in his subconscious, but tonight is different – he falls asleep dreaming about being curled up against your warmth, wondering what it would be like for you to stroke his hair, gently reminding him that there's at least one good thing to wake up for, no matter how empty the day may feel.
As he falls deeper into his slumber, his eyelids begin to twitch and his long eyelashes tickle his flushed cheekbones. He finds himself lost within a dreamy state that feels so very real to him as your face fades into focus. You're kneeling beside him in the bed, and his body is covered in the sheets, with your arms wrapped underneath his shoulder. He can barely tell whether or not this is really a dream at this point as you rest your head against his. He can feel his body stirring and his tail twitching, roused by the comforting and blissful affection. The way you smile at him as you run your thumb along the curvature of his sharp jawline stirs a dormant ache in his soul as you lean forward and leave featherlight kisses in the crook of his neck, causing him to whimper under his breath. He buries his nose in the locks of your hair, desperately wrapping his arms around your waist, pushing your face deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder, craving the coziness and comfort of being physically close to the source of his yearning. In his dreams, your lips are able to be as soft and gentle as they are fierce and demanding, as the grip he has on reality grows weaker the longer he lets himself be trapped under the intoxicating spell you cast upon him, rendering him at the mercy of his deepest desires.
His breath becomes more labored and hitched, his temperature rising as a flush spreads across his face. His body starts moving involuntarily and he buries his hips further into his mattress, his aching cock desperate to be touched, throbbing as his precum smears against the sheets. He begins humping the bed, whining from the friction against his bare skin as he pulls you closer in his dream, shamelessly chasing after the erotic thoughts racing through his mind, fueled by the illusion of having you in his possession – ready to be ravished and worshiped by him and him alone. His full lips part as he moans your name. He thrashes around in his bed, a tingling, aching need radiates throughout his groin as his back arches off of the sheets, grinding his cock against the fabric of his blanket. He can almost feel the warmth of your body as he bucks his hips upwards once more, desperate for your heat. His fingers twitch as they clutch tighter onto the fabric, desperately trying to grab onto the illusion of you instead, wishing he could feel the texture of your skin underneath his fingertips. In his hazy state, he bites his lips and runs his fingers down his sculpted abdomen, his hand with a mind of its own, aching to reach lower. With a sigh of pleasure, he teases the tip of his leaking, throbbing erection as the muscles in his legs quiver with anticipation. He pushes his thumb against the slit of his tip, already wet with his excitement. He slowly rubs circles around his cockhead, causing his breath to hitch and his cock jerk at the sensation. In his unconscious mind, it's not his hand gripping his shaft – it's yours.
He wraps his large hand around the length of his dick, letting out a moan of pleasure as he starts to stroke, his pace increasing steadily with each pump, imagining what it would be like to have you kneeling between his spread legs, looking up at him as you jerk him off, begging to be fucked by him. His cock twitches and aches to be inside of you, to see your lewd expression as his dick fills you, his senses overwhelmed by the sight of you under him, sprawled out, sweaty and splayed wide open for the taking, gasping for air in between broken moans. His hips buck into his hand and he lets out a low growl as he feels the pressure building within him, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. He quickens the pace as he squeezes the base of his cock, stroking faster and faster, trying to keep up with the intensity of his dream. He wants to feel your velvety walls squeezing around him, milking every drop of cum from his throbbing cock. He pants heavily as the sensation of ecstasy courses through his body, moaning your name as he orgasms, his back arching off of the bed as he cums all over his hand, shooting thick ropes of hot cum onto his abs. He slows his pace, riding out his orgasm, lazily stroking his cock as it pulsates through his veins, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure tingling down his spine. With a final moan of satisfaction, he collapses on his bed, utterly spent from his activities. The euphoria of his orgasm fades away as he comes back to reality, slowly finding himself coming into consciousness. As he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the mess he made. He groans as he rolls out of bed, annoyed that he has to clean up after his wet dream before he can go back to sleep.
💛 Leona who is pining after you... falls into despair when he realizes his stupid feelings for you aren't going away – they're actually getting stronger by the day. You’ve made him feel like the world's not actually so cruel anymore, but he knows that his tiny, fragile castle is sure to crumble at any moment. Nothing good ever stays his way, does it? He's been telling himself that this was all some game. It's not like he actually wanted to be in a relationship with you, right? That would be far too much work. But what if you were actually worth the time? What if he could have someone who knew every aspect of his being and still loved and accepted him? What if he could be the person who's worthy of your beautiful, unrelenting love? Even as he chastises himself for entertaining the possibility of a relationship with anyone – especially a herbivore like you – a desperate, longing ache burrows into his bones, overpowering the cold, empty hollowness within him that had haunted him his whole life. This can't be love that he's feeling, and if it is... he knows now that love is the only strategy game in existence he's terrible at playing. There's no doubt in his mind he'll make the worst decisions imaginable because his entire being is clouded with insecurity. He is painfully aware that if he were to ever open himself up to the possibility of being with you, then his first thought would be of a thousand ways you would hurt him. He tortures himself with worries and fear, letting himself be consumed by anxiety.
The thing that frightens him most is becoming reliant on someone else for his happiness. Having someone whose opinion he actually values not thinking he is good enough for them is his worst nightmare. If there's one thing life has taught him, it's better to not have anyone at all. Besides, he doesn't even deserve you. There isn't a soul in this world who deserves someone like you – someone so selfless, understanding, empathetic, and forgiving. If you were his, you'd suffer. Your light would slowly flicker out from the darkness he would drown you in, just like everything else in his life that ever mattered to him. There is so much beauty to you that would go to waste in his care – why would someone as perfect as you ever settle for someone like him, anyway? There's no way you'd ever return his feelings. And even if you did… could he even be brave enough to allow you in? Does he have the strength to accept a heart freely offered to him? Will the scars and darkness within him allow him to accept such pure and unconditional love? He can't possibly be selfish enough to ask you to take the chance on him. You deserve to be with someone who is strong and complete – someone who can give you their whole being, wholly and unreservedly – not someone who is afraid of showing weakness, for fear of you leaving him broken-hearted. Someone who would actually have the capacity to love you like you should be loved. Not a broken, shattered shell of a Prince that could only ever give you pieces of his heart that are full of cracks.
Why the fuck does his chest hurt just thinking about the fact that you would be better off without him? It feels as if someone were stabbing his heart repeatedly, and no matter what he does, the wounds refuse to close and the blood continues to ooze through the cracks. He stares up at the dark ceiling of his dorm room as a single tear rolls down his cheek for the first time in years as he tries to cope with this excruciating feeling of hopelessness, despondency, and despair. The fear that you will one day be gone from his life grips his soul, his heart pleading with him to simply confess, yet his twisted mind forces him to remind himself of his inadequacy. What a sad, pathetic sight you would see, the once fearsome lion, pitifully pawing at your ankles as his heart poured itself at your feet, praying for the warmth of your love and the validation of your approval.
💛 Leona who is pining after you… hates how obsessed he is with you and your opinion of him. Every day he finds himself trying to be better because you make him want to try harder to make the world a brighter place. Maybe you're right, maybe he doesn't need to be King in order to lead people and do great things. Because of the friendship you two have nourished, he finally feels comfortable opening up to you and talking to you about what he's going through: his past, and how much he truly cares about everyone's safety, success, and overall happiness – a sentiment that's foreign to everyone who's ever known him in the past. Although he still can't bring himself to vocalize his emotions aloud, you now truly understand the message his eyes are always trying to relay, no matter how small the glimpse: even if he was destined for a fate in the shadows, his biggest hope is to someday become the leader he was supposed to be. His newfound vulnerability allows you to slowly chip off the armor that guards his heart and bring him peace, healing his wounded spirit. Because of you, he now understands what it feels like to be valued and treasured by another, and he feels empowered enough to put the effort into doing something to change his future for the better. It scares him how badly he wants to impress you, wanting you to be proud of how he's matured.
Before taking on the daunting task of bettering his Kingdom, he starts with something small – making a positive difference in your life. You actually make him feel useful. He loves the way you look up at him with admiration. He knows now that one of the reasons he fell for you so hard is because you always ask for his advice – knowing damn well he's the smartest person in this godforsaken place – and you actually take it. You listen to him and you value his opinions. Seeing things work out for the better when you take his advice and enact his plans gives him a rush of pride and confidence. It motivates him to keep working hard to have good ideas that benefit the world. He's always enjoyed helping people even though he's bad at putting it into words, or showing his true intentions, instead preferring to keep people guessing while he hides behind his indifference and nonchalant attitude. But now, thanks to you, he finds that the more time he spends caring about helping the people around him, the more understanding and honest he is with himself, the happier he becomes. He's feeling more confident stepping up to the plate, having less fear of letting himself or the other people he cares about down.
He started feeling honored to be the housewarden for Savanaclaw again and he actually takes the responsibility seriously, tackling issues and standing his ground with the students and teachers. He wants to set an example for others, making you proud of his actions by raising his standard. When it comes to issues in the school and within his territory, he's calm and diplomatic as he addresses issues – making sure everyone is heard and everyone walks away satisfied. No longer is he plagued by a lack of enthusiasm to make real, significant changes. He now genuinely enjoys himself, striving to go beyond his expectations to overcome his shortcomings, always pushing himself to think outside of the box. It's like the Leona of his past no longer exists, and he doesn't feel any resentment or shame at the thought, simply believing it's for the better that he finally has the strength to make room for a version of himself he can enjoy instead. Because of your guidance and patience with him, he’s slowly learning to no longer fight his introspective nature, instead choosing to work hard every day to embrace all aspects of himself – whether they be negative or positive. Every day is far from perfect, but he's allowing himself the respite of leaning on your shoulder, even though for now, it’s just as a friend and trusted ally, not as a lover. For the first time, he's happy with where his life is going and the person he is becoming. Through this whole experience of falling for you, he learned that there are still things worth fighting for, regardless of if you one day soon reciprocate his feelings or not. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself.
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I was nervous to write this because we all know that canon Leona leaves much to be desired when it comes to his story and the complexities of his character. I've spent over a year of loving him, meticulously crafting who I think he is and who I want him to be. Most days, I'm pretty sure Leona Kingscholar is just a character who exists solely inside of my mind, completely separate from the source material. So, if this resonates with you, I am very glad! Thank you for reading. I hope I was able to bring justice to my beloved Leona! If you would like to see this series with another character, please let me know. 💛 Erica Malleleothreesome
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douceurrrr · 11 months
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𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲
— the nerd with the big cock finally loses his virginity
warnings | unedited raw material, face fucking, spanking, doggy,fingering, breeding, first time, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)
a/n | inspired by this audio link
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you agreed to study this big test with ethan because he said that he knows a good way to study for the test and to be honest you didn’t really know how to study for the test, it was just too much to study but ethan insisted on helping you. ethan didn’t know where he found the balls to ask you to come over to his dorm to study but he did not thinking you were going to come anyways, a girl like you would never be around a guy like him he thought.
meanwhile ethan is chilling in his dorm until he heard a knock on his door, he walks over and opens it to see you with two binders labeled biochemistry on them. “oh hi, I didn’t really think you were going to come.” he sounded so surprised. “I needed help, didn’t i?” you replied with a smirk, letting yourself look behind him and in his dorm, you could tell he was very neat and clean. “I know you said you needed help studying but I didn’t think you would actually show up.” he nervously chuckled with his hand behind his head.
“are you busy or something? because I can totally come another ti-”
“no!”ethan cuts you off but instantly speaks again. “I mean no, you’re fine, I’m so happy you’re here.” he says, daydreaming a bit but realizes that you were still standing there. “oh sorry, please come in.” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “my uh roommate, chad isn’t here so it’s just us.” ethan says.
“chad as in meeks?” ethan rolled his eyes knowing he instantly lost a chance to hook up with you. “I know, it’s such a coincidence that they put the jock and the nerd together.” he huffed making you laugh a bit which was all he wanted to hear. “but in all seriousness my roommate is nice, he’s just never here.” ethan explains.
“oh um I’m sorry these dorms are so damn small, you can sit on my desk and I’ll sit on the couch?” ethan says making his way to the couch, his curls bouncing with each step. “actually I think I should sit next to you?” you wanted to be closer to ethan. “oh yeah sure, you can sit next to me if you want.” ethan replied with hope still in his mind that you are the slightest bit of attracted to him.
“yeah I forgot my laptop.” ouch that hurt. “oh yeah you want to sit next to me so we can share my laptop.” he nods as the hope that he had vanished but actually you just wanted to be close to him. you move next to him on the couch, getting closer and closer so you can “see the screen”
as you got closer and closer ethan felt his cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry, am I too close?” you said with your eyelashes fluttering at him. “uhm no, get uh as close as you need to.” ethan says, stumbling over his words. after a couple of minutes of silence Ethan notices you shivering a little bit which made his heart swell up to the thought of your discomfort, it’s not like you can get anymore closer to him because you two were basically hip to hip. “hey are you cold- here let me just.” you felt a arm slide onto your shoulders making you warm up a bit.
“is this comfy?” ethan says, voice laced with concern. you nodded. silence washed over the two of you and you can’t bear the tension anymore so you did the unthinkable and placed your hand on ethan’s thigh, hoping you’ll get to your goal. ethan felt a hand on his thigh and instantly sucked in his breath at the feeling. “a-are you hands still cold or something b-because your hand is pretty close to my uh cock.” ethan stutters while staring at your hand that was close to his erection.
“I’m sorry, is this fine?” you replied, acting like your gesture wasn’t intentional. “oh no no it’s fine it’s just uh your hand is pretty close to my erection a-and I don’t want it to uh shock you- oh now your touching it.” he says changing the subject once he felt you actually touch his bulge. ethan’s breathing starts to change and beads of sweat starts to form on his forehead. you see his facial expressions and instantly think that you fucked up, fuck he probably think I’m some sexual assaulter.
“t-that actually feels pretty good.” he breaths out and relief washes over you. you start to realize what you were feeling was pretty big making your eyes widen at the feeling. “a-all that is your erection?” no fucking way. “yes all that is my erection.” he replied with a gulp of his throat. then without thinking you asked, “c-can I see it?” ethan’s face turns beet red at your choice of words.
“y-you want to see it?” ethan says in disbelief. you just nod, not trusting your mouth anymore. “um well I guess you can see it.” he says, slightly nervous. he’s nervousness makes you a bit uneasy but it clicks in your brain, “are you a virgin?” ethan instantly babbles words. “what?! no I’m not completely a virgin.” what does he mean by “not completely a virgin”
“what do you mean by not completely a virgin?” you say, making air quotes with your fingers. “what do I mean? uh I uh tried with a few girl but uh my dick is just so big that I could never get more than just the tip in.” right when he said that you bursted out laughing. “are your joking?” you laughed while ethan says “no I’m not joking- why are you laughing.” you thought ethan was trying to be cocky with you but he wasn’t joking the slightest.
“so im not a virgin, s’just no one has been able to take it all before but uhm you still want to see it?” ethan says with you following with a nod. ethan puts his hand on his belt but pauses to say one more thing, “just don’t laugh, m’kay?” ethan says waiting for a confirmation, you mumbled something along the lines of scouts honor then tells him to get on with it. the sounds of a buckle unbuckling fills your ear as you watch ethan unbuckle his pants, he lift his hips to shove down his pants but waits a little to pull down his boxers, he takes off his boxers, he’s cock springs out of his boxers on it's own, slapping the skin of his stomach, you stared in awe.
“don’t laugh.” he says but noticed your lack of words, he’s huge. “s-see this is why I knew this wasn’t going to be a good idea.” ethan says and start to pull his boxers back up only for you to quickly stop him. your next words blows him away (pun intended) “I want to suck on it.” you say without thinking. “w-well you’re more than welcome to- AUH.” he didn’t have to tell you twice, your lips wrap around his head, sucking hard as your tongue flicks over his weeping slit. “oh god, you’re so good at that.” he groaned as you smirk up at him, before your head bobs down
“fuck that’s amazing.” he whimpers as the sounds of your mouth and spit clashing together fills the dorm room, thank god his roommate was away. “please don’t try to- shit- take it all.” ethan pleads. you then pulled away to let him know you were going to deepthroat him and of course he insisted that you shouldn’t. “it’s okay you don’t have t- SHIT.” you cut him off by pushing your head all the way down until your nose nestled against the light brown bush at his pelvis. his whimpers and moans increases every two seconds.
“f-fuck i can feel the back of your throat.” he grunts. every once in a while he’ll let out fuck baby or take that cock. later on you went to the extreme of fucking your face which he really insisted on not doing because he didn’t want to hurt you but soon enough he complied. “fuck you like this, don’t you?” you hun in response, sending vibrations through his cock making him extra simulation. soon enough his moans turns into m’gonna cum’s but you instantly stopped.
ethan eyes shot open. “why’d you stop, I’ve always wanted to cum down someone’s throat before.” he huffs in frustration but you had a better idea. “I want to sit on it.” you say, boldly. “oh? well uhm- no it’s just too big, I’ve tried this before and it’s just too big.” he says but you were already in the process of taking your pants off. “awe no don’t take your pants off, this is a bad idea but..” he trails off once he sees you bra. “well I guess you can try but s’just- just too bi- gosh you’re so wet.” you we’re fully naked next to him. “um before we start, can I just play with your pussy first?” he says softly while staring at you. you were sitting next to him with you legs apart, slightly leaned against the couch all comfortable.
“here- why don’t I just stroke my cock while I..” he trailes off to slide his his head down your stomach and onto your swelling clit. “you like that?” he says after hearing your whimpers followed with a nod. “I uh had to get good this- playing with the clit, swirling, flicking, rubbing so just uh lay your head on my shoulder.” he says and you complied, laying your head on his shoulder while he stroked his cock and play with your clit at the same time. soon enough he begins to slip a finger inside, saying how good it feels. “are you getting close? would two fingers help?” you instantly nod before his begins to slide another finger in but you needed more. “more please.” you whimpered.
“uhm you can try to get on it but I don’t th- FUCK.” you straddled him and guided his cock to you soggy cunt, pressing him in. you pussy sucks him in inch by inch. “just tell me if it’s too mu- holy shit it’s going all the way in fuck.” he watches as your pussy takes him whole and bottoms out. he babbles about how amazing you are as you start bouncing on him with a visible bulge poking out your belly. sounds of skin and fluids slapping together fills the room as your tits bounced in his face. his hands comes around to grab your ass and hips like he’s guiding you. “gosh you’re so beautiful- fuck.” he says before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
“yes yes yes fuck!” you yelped but still being mindful that you’re in a dorm. suddenly you feel ethan stop you. “wait wait, can we do it doggy, I want to see my dick going in and out of you.” his filthy words made your pussy clench making him wince. you gave him the okay and he turned you around on the couch. he aligned himself back to your pussy before pushing it in. “fuck you’re amazing.” he mumbled underneath his breath as he bottoms out. he grabbed your hips to start thrusting and you were close again. “fuck are you close again? please cum.” he pleads, bringing his hand around to play your clit to simulate you more. “shit ethan fuck!” you yell into the couch pillow which was muffling most of your cries. after a couple of good, pounding thrust a wave of ecstasy washes over you as ethan walks you through your orgasm with his along the way.
“fuck I’m close.” three words he thought he would never say with a girl. after two thrusts he cums in you, cum painting your walls. “I came in you, is that okay?” he says whilst trying to catch his breath. you couldn’t speak so you mumbled an uh uh of approval. he then turns you around and pulls you in a long awaited kiss with his hands around your waist and yours around his neck.
“be mine.” he whispered in you ear. you grinned.
-
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canuck-eh · 9 months
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For my AO3 readers, you'll get the "real" version in a few days. Tumblr will, too. Just watch me repost.
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!BAU!Reader
Is this full of cheap tropes, you ask? Why, yes. It is.
-> You know that trope where two people love each other, and it's obvious to everyone around them how they feel, but then these two idiots are oblivious? Yes. EXACTLY THAT.
Told from both POVs 👀 (each section is clearly delimited)
Word count: ~23k
Tags: case fic, canon typical violence, tooth-rotting fluff, friends to lovers, only one bed trope, idiots in love, mutual pining, smut, unprotected sex (they talk about it first), oral sex (f&m receiving), showers, feelings, semi-public sex, hints of sub!hotch, etc. (lmk if I missed any)
A/N: This has been "proofread" to the best of my ability, however, it's very long for a one-shot, and English isn't my first language. My lovely beta readers aren't done helping me with it, but I just wanted to share the "raw" version on here because you have been waiting long enough. Stay tuned for the "real" version in the upcoming days. You can wait for it or read my unedited awesomeness.
@criminalskies This one is for you, Rome. Thank you for being my greatest fan 💖
As much as people considered him an adrenaline junkie for always looking for his next fix with the way he loved and lived for his job and the next case, Aaron had become more thrilled about the trip rather than the prospect of chasing down unsubs in the past year.
He had attributed this to the fact that he wasn’t getting any younger, but truthfully, he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. 
He loved his job and everything it entailed, but somewhere along the way, saying “wheels up” had started to mean that a familiar warmth settled in his chest, and the longer the flight, the longer that warmth remained. 
Aaron wasn’t sure when he had started to love flying out hundreds of miles away because he had never been one to appreciate being away from Jack, but recently, he had learned to cherish the hours he spent in your company before the electrifying and thrumming energy in his veins would keep him alert and focused for days, and the hours after that energy subsided when exhaustion sank deep inside his bones, when the only thing he could feel was gratitude for your presence. 
While getting notified that the team had been called away for a case on a Friday night was a downer, Aaron looked forward to the long flight to Alaska. 
Jack wasn’t home this weekend, and he wouldn’t be home for the rest of the week because he was with Jessica visiting Roy, but Aaron still let Jessica know he would be gone for a few days so they could set aside times for him to talk to Jack. 
Aaron changed into a clean suit and he made his way to the tarmac, happy to find your car already parked there. He was smiling to himself as he approached you while you seemed deep in conversation with the pilot. 
He was a bit worried that you hadn’t had time to go home at all after leaving Quantico, but he was relieved to see you had changed into warmer clothes.
The pilot motioned he had to go just in time for you to notice your boss, and Aaron felt a bit relieved he wouldn’t have to fight anyone for your attention.
“Funny how the world always needs us when I’m about to read a good book,” you laughed. 
The sound never failed to make his lips curl into a small smile.
“What were you about to read this time?”
Aaron always asked because he had come to learn that your taste in books was flawless. He often read what you read so he could discuss it with you. At first, he read the same books so he’d have an excuse to talk to you, but he actually enjoyed what you “suggested”. He wasn’t sure whether you did it on purpose, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to talk about literature with you. 
The people on his team were all brilliant, and they all had a specific skillset, but Aaron loved how all-around intelligent you were. It was like you had lived a hundred different lives, always able to talk about anything with anyone, having a profound knowledge for different topics and wonderful additions to any discussions. Most of all, you could keep up with Reid, and that had amazed him, and the rest of the team, from the start.
Yet, you never flaunted your brilliance in anyone’s face. You clearly opted to remain quiet from time to time, and that was the true mark of someone’s intelligence in his eyes. Choosing not to show off, not to claim your IQ was above average in a room, well, it still caught him off guard how truly fantastic you were. 
“Fifty Shades of Grey,” you conceded.
Aaron couldn’t control his reaction quickly enough, staring at you with wide eyes, probably a bit slack-jawed. Normally, he would hide his contempt for some literary choices, but he didn’t manage to conceal his consternation early enough.
Fortunately, you cackled when you seemed to notice his shocked expression, and Aaron sighed in relief.
“You’re messing with me,” he remarked. 
“Of course I am. I prefer my knowledge of BDSM material to remain strictly professional… Well, most of the time,” you specified with a cheeky grin. 
Aaron wasn’t sure if you were still messing with him, but he was doing mental gymnastics trying to keep up with all the information you were throwing his way. 
You looked way too smug to have startled him into silence, opening your bag and proferring a book. “Hotch, please don’t have a heart attack,” you started, “I was just about to read The Great Gatsby. I saw it in your living room the other day when I helped Jack pick up his LEGOs, and I’ve never read it.”
Aaron noticed it was his own worn-out copy of the book. “How’d you sneak out with my book? You thief,” he accused, his tone gentle and far from accusatory. 
“What are you going to do? Arrest me?” you goaded with a smile and an attitude that should come with a height you didn’t have. As endearing as it was, he always feared you’d use it on the wrong person someday. “I just borrowed it. I figured this time, I should read something you suggested.”
Had he suggested it and… 
No. He hadn’t. 
“But I didn’t–”
You just grinned, and Aaron heard the familiar sound of engines rolling behind him. 
The rest of the team was arriving. 
Your nose crinkled adorably, and you put the book back in your bag. “Just hush. I’ll give it back.”
He shook his head, his hand smoothing down his tie to remind himself he had a job to do as he noticed a familiar, comforting warmth settling in his chest.  
Everyone eventually gathered and made their way onto the jet, sitting and preparing for takeoff. 
He was reminded once again that flying out was one of his favorite things about the job when he looked over at you beaming at something outside the window. 
Aaron loved seeing how bright your eyes got at any time of the day or night when you were on the jet. It was one of the things that melted his cold exterior into nothingness. 
Unlike everyone else on the team, remarkably, you had never complained about the lack of sleep the BAU allowed. Instead, you had seemed to choose to be inhabited by endless amounts of sunshine; to be a burning beacon of hope in the darkest nights.
He had asked you why you loved planes so much when he got over himself and decided he could talk to you like a member of his team rather than a plant Strauss had put on his team without permission. The reason behind your amazement with the whole sky still made his stomach flutter when he saw you light up as you watched fields of clouds or the ground thousands of feet below you. When you had answered him earnestly with a dazzling smile that made your gaze sparkle with youth, he had started to shed his unnecessary defenses. 
He had realized then that your delightful nature wasn’t an elaborate plan Strauss had come up with to spy on him and the team. The truth had thus started to blind him each time his eyes landed on you from afar; you were just immaculately pure, and he couldn’t help staring at your authentic perfection, mesmerized by your ability to glow even through the more gloomy and dreadful parts of the job. 
Your passion for planes had opened the door to many friendly discussions, and much to his enjoyment, to many private screenings of Top Gun with a seven-year-old who clutched the F-14 and the F-18 toys you’d gotten him for Christmas in each hand. 
Aaron felt your eyes on him as the team settled on the jet, but he almost never indulged or bathed in your attention when he was in work mode. He needed to be centered, and as much as you could be the center of his world when it was just you and Jack around him, as he watched how your eyes sparkled when you beamed at fighter planes instead of Maverick in Top Gun, he wasn’t sure he could even begin to admit how much you meant to him outside of work, and even less so when he had to focus on gruesome details outlined in the files splayed out in front of him. 
Nevertheless, he remembered how you had talked his ear off about your undying love for aircrafts late one night, over a model plane he’d bought for Jack but ended up building with you, nursing a glass of scotch. He fondly remembered you telling him that the jet was one of your favorite things about working with the BAU, that there was something eerily magical about looking out the small windows and see day turn into night before it turned into day again.
But what had taken his breath away was learning that your dad had trained as an army pilot, and even if he had been a commercial pilot most of his life, he had taken you all around the world and taught you all about planes, making you appreciate them for the miracle that they were. Aaron often thought about what you had said that night, something about how seeing the world had left you with a profound admiration for the journey rather than the destination, solidifying his own belief that home was a person rather than a place. 
He hadn’t been that surprised to learn that you had managed to get licensed to pilot smaller planes and helicopters considering your love for flying, but he was still happy that criminology had won over everything else because you were a wonderful addition to his team. 
Your license had come in handy a few times when the team needed to get somewhere on short notice, especially in remote areas where cars weren’t necessarily the fastest way to get around. 
Aaron realized belatedly that he had been staring at the empty seat next to you, and he was finally able to focus entirely on the case details when Dave shot him a knowing look. 
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“You look too giddy for a triple murder,” Emily declared, teasing you as she often did when you looked too happy to be flying somewhere.
“Alaska is one of the only places on Earth I haven’t been to yet,” you explained.
You shrugged, an attempt to calm the restless energy that coursed through your veins. It wasn’t appropriate to grin from ear to ear when your weekend plans to curl up with a good book had been cut short by Hotch calling and informing you that the BAU was requested to help with a triple murder in Anchorage. By all means, smiling wasn’t the expected reaction. But it was Alaska. 
“Really?” Derek crooned.
You bit your lip, averting your gaze. “I’ve been everywhere but here.”
“Well, you’ll see it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” David interrupted.
Sure, but you’ve been here countless times before.
You wrapped your arms around yourself to refrain from fidgeting. 
“I just always wanted to see the Northern Lights,” you confided. 
Hotch tilted his head and furrowed his brow, but before you could wonder what the look behind his eyes meant, Spencer chimed in with his own added insight. 
“You’re in luck. They usually occur from late August through April.”
“We’re right in the middle of it,” JJ pointed out. 
You weren’t ready to admit you had googled it before you had even put on a new pair of pants as you got ready to join the team on the jet. 
“When the sky is dark and clear, you should be able to witness the skies light up on an average of four out of five nights in Anchorage,” Spencer added.  
“Great. Thanks, Spence!” 
You smiled at Spencer’s enthusiastic nature as he proffered more information. He loved sharing random information he had stored away somewhere at any given moment. However, as much as you admired his brain, you didn’t know how to make him stop talking once he started. 
“Let’s focus on this case first,” Hotch declared curtly.
You and Hotch were friends outside of work, you knew how kind he was, but it was still commendable how he shifted from sweet and warm to assertive and detached like a seasoned actor. 
Hotch knew you better than the rest of the team, and it was obvious he had gathered from the way you scrunched your nose that you didn’t want Spencer to bury you in facts.
You mouthed a “thank you” in his direction and a lopsided grin appeared on his face before it disappeared again. 
Hotch put his laptop in the middle of the table, and Penelope’s face showed up on the screen seconds later. “Garcia, present the case, please.”
“We have a triple murder in Anchorage. Locals reported seeing a tall man fleeing the scene in the early hours of the morning,” she began. 
You noticed Emily looking at the crime scene photos. “The bodies aren’t displayed. Remorse, maybe?”
“It’s possible,” David observed. 
“Do we think he acted alone?” JJ inquired.
“Were the victims killed at the same time or in short succession?” you asked. “Are we dealing with more than one killer?”
Hotch shook his head. “As far as we know, the victims died promptly one after the other. There doesn’t seem to be torture involved but they were tied up.”
“Do we know if sexual gratification was obtained from the chains? They’re oddly specific,” Spencer mused.
“No traces of semen or saliva at the scene,” Hotch clarified.
“And no torture,” Derek added.
“So he’s probably not a sadist,” Emily concluded.
“The bodies are partially covered up, the corpses weren’t desecrated in any way… And look at their hands,” Spencer remarked.
The hands were crossed over the bodies, much like you’d expect to see someone’s hands if they were displayed in a coffin at a funeral home.
“And there are flowers at their feet. There’s definitely remorse,” JJ noted.
“Not a cold-blooded killer then,” you reported.
“Most of the killers we encounter aren’t cold-blooded. They’re just very hot-blooded,” Derek asserted.
“What could be his stressor?” David prodded.
“That’s what we’ll have to find out,” Hotch denoted.
Spencer continued, “The victimology is all over the place, so he may not be looking for surrogates.”
“If this is a spree killer, it won’t end well,” Emily explained.
Hotch furrowed his brow deeper as he gave her a curt nod. “Be on the lookout if this ends up in a confrontation. Suicide by cop is probably going to be his way out.”
“We should split up,” Derek proposed. 
Hotch straightened his spine, his boss mode kicked into gear. “JJ and Prentiss, go see the local law enforcement. Gather what they have so far– Reid, start a geographical profile. Try to find anything that ties the victim together. And Morgan and Rossi, go see the M.E. We need to make sure torture wasn’t involved, and we need to know if there was any sexual component to these crimes.”
“What about me, Hotch?” you queried, aware he hadn’t mentioned your name.
His eyes were set and heavy, as they often were on a case. “You’re with me, we’ll go talk to the rangers before we head to the precinct.”
You nodded. 
He narrowed his eyes on you, but he addressed the team. “Try to get some rest before we get there.”
It didn’t take long for the team to scatter on the jet, some worked, some slept, but whenever you were on a plane, excitation kept you awake. It was usually a good thing, you could put your restless energy to good use as you took in every last detail about the current case, and even if you got to distant locations more tired than you should, you were ready and eager to help. 
You looked out the window, seeing beautiful sights and shades of blue below you.
You chanced a glance at Hotch, finding him absorbed in case files. He didn’t look up or acknowledge you, but you knew what he was like when he was working. He wasn’t dismissive on purpose, he was just dedicated.
You closed your eyes for a few minutes, your headphones silencing the world around you. You wanted to make it look like you had tried to get some rest, at the very least. 
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The rangers turned out to be too deep into the national park for you and Aaron to reach them on foot, so he opted to go back to the precinct, sharing a comfortable silence on the way back.  
It took a few hours before Aaron watched you yawn at the data in front of you, and a warmth in his chest gave him a momentary reprieve from the gruesome case before his conscious reminded him he had no right finding you this attractive when a spree killer was on the loose. 
“You’re staring again,” Dave sniggered.
Aaron shook his head and turned away to pour himself some coffee from the communal pot. He decided to pour you one too.
He was aware that you never slept on the jet. You always looked out the window and as much as he found you adorable whenever you were mesmerized by the scenery below you, he worried about you not getting enough sleep. There was nothing he could do about it though, so he brought you coffee when he himself needed one, since you slept about as much as he did.
“When are you going to man up and tell her you like her?” Dave asked. 
It wasn’t accusatory. And Aaron had learned not to deny it to Dave because he wasn’t exactly subtle about it when he was caught staring from afar.
“She doesn’t–”
“You’re blind, Aaron.”
“Thanks, Dave.”
Aaron managed to get your coffee the right shade of drinkable for you, and he made his way to you, ignoring Dave’s remarks. 
“Thank you, dear,” you said mindlessly as he put down the mug in front of you.
He smiled at you before he focused on the things in front of him again.
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Hotch disappeared at some point in the afternoon to go talk to the police chief and you were left gazing at his empty seat, missing his quiet but calming presence.
“You know you’re obvious,” Emily commented.
Not again. 
“I don’t know what you mean,” you denied with a sputter, aware it wouldn’t work out that well for you. 
“Sure you don’t.”
“Emily–” you warned. 
“You should tell him.”
You shook your head at the absurdity of her comment. 
“He’s my boss, Em.”
“And he’s smitten, too,” she clarified with a huge smirk. 
“Sure–” you started. 
“He is. You should see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking,” JJ added.
“Stop it. I can’t start believing that. Delusional isn’t an adjective I want to add to my profile.”
JJ shrugged. “Fine. All we’re saying is, you should tell him. You might be surprised.”
“Surprises aren’t always a good thing, JJ.”
“Maybe. But this one could be.”
You nodded, if nothing but to keep them from adding to it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“That’s all we ask,” Emily added.
Hotch came back with food in hand and after a while, it became obvious you wouldn’t get the break in the case you had hoped for tonight. It was nearing midnight when Hotch called it and told everyone to go get some rest at the hotel.
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Aaron called Garcia in the car to find out where she had made arrangements.
“You’re staying at the Alyeska Resort,” Garcia quipped, too chippy for this time of day in Quantico.
Aaron knew enough about Anchorage, Alaska, and about traveling in general, to know that if a hotel name ended with the word ‘resort’, it wasn’t cheap and thus it meant something not good for the BAU’s budget.
“Garcia–”
“Local LE put you there. I have nothing to do with the booking.”
He did not respond. 
“I swear!” she tried to insist. “They just asked me how many rooms you’d need.”
Aaron knew that she was lying when her voice got all high and squeaky. But he also knew she knew he knew she was lying and that she would have to answer his questions later, thus it meant she was doing this for a good reason.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he declared as he hung up.
His fellow team members in the SUV with him seemed entirely too content to be staying at a luxury resort rather than a small-town motel, and if he wasn’t preoccupied with the budget meeting next week, Aaron would admit he loved the prospect of sleeping in a comfortable bed a lot more than the too small double bed that would have been waiting for him otherwise. He looked forward to a warm shower as well. The humidity and the cold air in Alaska had a way of creeping into the clothes he had brought with him.
“We’ll go back to Chugach State Park tomorrow first thing,” he announced.
You always stayed behind with him and took the last rooms once the others were all set and on their way up. He loved that you never really left him alone. He felt much more like a team member rather than a boss since you had joined. 
Unfortunately, your good heart also meant unwelcome surprises. 
Apparently, there was a mix up and only one room was left, and since the others had already left the lobby with their key cards, you didn’t have much of a choice when it came to whom you’d end up sharing a room with. 
Aaron didn’t mind sharing a room with you, heck, he was used to having you around and he would never turn down the opportunity for some alone time with you, but this was work and he had to maintain a façade of professionalism. 
He ended up talking to the manager at this ungodly hour only to be told Garcia had booked this number of rooms precisely, and that there wasn’t anything else available tonight. 
Garcia, an eternal night owl, also didn’t pick up the phone even after he called a few times. It was earlier in Quantico. She wasn’t asleep, so she was clearly ignoring his calls. 
As if you sensed his growing despair, you patted his arm, silencing the entire world for a few seconds. 
“It’s fine, Hotch. We can share a room.”
He knew it was fine, that didn’t mean he had to go down without a fight. Why was Garcia even doing this?
“I’m tired. Let’s go to bed,” you added. 
He wouldn’t get in the way of you sleeping, that was for sure.
He walked behind you until you opened the door to the room, and as luxurious as it was, only one bed stood in the middle of the room. 
Just great. 
The floor didn’t sound better than the too small double bed he could have gotten now. 
The silence was heavy, and as much as he loved sharing companionable silences with you, this one unsettled him. 
“I’ll take the floor,” he clarified, mostly to clear the air. 
You turned towards him, raised eyebrows as if to defy him to add to it. “You will do no such thing, Hotch. You will put that lovely head of raven hair right there on the pillow next to mine. The bed is huge, and I will not take no for an answer.”
Lovely head? 
He shook that thought away as soon as it emerged. You were tired. You clearly hadn’t meant to call him lovely.
As much as he knew how kind and sweet you were, he also knew he couldn’t say no to you, and he surely wouldn’t try and fight you on this one because he was bone-tired, and he’d give just about anything for a few hours of decent sleep in a real bed. 
“Yes, ma’am.”
You beamed at him, a huge grin that made his heart leap in his chest. 
“Besides you’re too old for the floor.”
He scoffed. You often made jokes like this, and if anything, it made him feel younger to be around you. 
“Well, that just means you’re young enough for it,” he quipped.
You nodded, your grin as present as ever. “I am. But I said we’re sharing.”
“That you did.”
He got around to showering even though he was dead on his feet, and when he walked back into the room, you were frowning and crinkling your nose at something on your phone.
“Everything okay?”
He brought you out of your trance with his question as he exited the bathroom, your phone discarded as you picked up your go-bag. 
“Yes. My turn?”
He nodded. 
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He was reading something in bed by the time you got out of the shower, and if you had packed pajamas that wouldn’t keep you warm, you didn’t mention it and neither did he. 
You noticed he was holding his copy of The Great Gatsby, smirking at you as you approached the bed. 
“Are you up for a bedtime story?” he drawled, his voice betraying he was as tired as you were. 
You carefully got into bed with him, keeping an arm’s length of distance between you as you watched him propped up against the headboard, his eyes navigating sentences in the book. 
He looked so different when he was technically off the clock. As much as you could tell he was stressed out, he was just at ease around you when you weren’t surrounded by colleagues or an entire precinct of police officers.
“See, I know you’re joking but I like your voice,” you shared. 
In the soft glow of lamplight that stood beside him, Hotch cradled his book in his hands, his slight frown softening as he looked at you lying on your side beside him.  
“Do you really want me to?”
You nodded, biting your lip nervously. “Maybe a few pages?”
With a gentle smile playing on his lips, he cleared his throat, and as he began to read, his voice, deep and resonant, filled the room, transporting you to the vivid world of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s masterpiece. His voice eventually painted a vivid picture of Jay Gatsby, a man driven by dreams and unrequited love. The words, like brushstrokes on a canvas, drew a believable portrait of the roaring 1920s, a world brimming with both opulence and sorrow.
You yawned, hiding your face into the plushy pillow. 
“We should probably get some rest,” he commented, his gaze filled with a tenderness you only saw directed at Jack. 
He was about to put the book away, but you stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. “Just read me your favorite part?”
Hotch shook his head, but you knew he was unable to say no to you when it was just you two. 
He just looked at you, the book open on his large hands. He went through a few pages, stopping around the middle, and he didn’t lose a beat once he found what he was looking for. “Every extravagant party, every shimmering light in this mansion, pales in comparison to the beauty that radiates from within you. Your presence, my dear, turns this mansion into a home.”
As he concluded the sentence, he closed the book gently, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a beautiful passage. You could see why he had chosen it. 
The room seemed to hold its breath as well, helping you bask in the lingering emotions evoked by the passage he had just read. 
You knew how you felt about him. It was incredibly hard to forget you were irrevocably in love with your boss on any given day, especially since he was your best friend on top of that. 
You had fallen for him somewhere along the way, and now you didn’t know how not to love him. It was just so easy to love him, it was as easy as breathing, and it was as natural, too.  
“Let’s get some rest,” he whispered.
You inhaled shakily, about to comment on the book itself rather than feeding him another compliment when he shut off the light beside him, rendering the room dark. 
You were nervous about spending the night close to him. You were scared your sleeping form would do or say something. 
But hopefully, exhaustion would make that nearly impossible, and at any rate, he would be sleeping, too. 
“Goodnight, Hotch,” you muttered sleepily. 
“Goodnight.”
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Aaron wasn’t sure if your soft snores had woken him, but he realized he could hear them so distinctly because he was tangled around you. 
He immediately shifted away, appalled he had done this to you, but you followed, seeking warmth in your sleep. He knew when he saw you come out of the shower that you’d be freezing, and who was he to deny you warmth? 
But was it selfish and inappropriate to let you cuddle into his chest when you didn’t approve or consent to this at all?
He allowed himself to hold you for a few minutes, right until his conscience screamed at him to let you go. 
He got up and draped the covers over you, picking up his phone and realizing it would wake him in about 45 minutes anyway. 
Sharing a bed with you, sharing his warmth with you, he longed for it. He wanted it. But he would never have it. You were his subordinate. This couldn’t happen, and it shouldn’t. 
You were undoubtedly his best friend, and that would have to be enough. 
As perfect as you were for him, he had to be a good man and keep a lid on his feelings for you. 
You deserved better than having your boss admit to having a crush on you, to having an older widower with a son pledge his love for you.
And as much as he wanted to shield you from the world, as much as he always would, he knew you could do better.  
He couldn’t believe this might happen, as much as he wanted it to. 
You mumbled his name in your sleep, and as much as he longed to stay put and wrap his arms around you again, he needed to do be a good man for you. He needed to be better than this. 
He put on his suit, reminding himself he was here to work, and he went for a walk, hoping it would help clear his head. 
But the thing was, the more he walked, the more he realized he couldn’t escape thoughts of you. 
He saw a bench overlooking the mountains, and instantly, he longed to show it to you. He longed to pick up his old copy of The Great Gatsby, and to read to you while your head fell on his shoulder, absorbed by the magic of Fitzgerald’s words and the beauty of Alaska. 
He thought about you stealing his shirts instead of his books, and somehow, even if he knew it could never happen, imagining you wearing his shirt left him happy enough to face the day ahead. He walked back towards the hotel, seeing the coffee shop down the street and immediately opting to bring you coffee if it meant he’d have a chance to hear you call him “dear” again. 
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Unfortunately, you woke up to an empty room, and as troubled as you were that he wasn’t still holding you when your eyes opened, you understood him better than he understood himself at times. 
He cared for you in his own way, and you knew how problematic it was, not only for him, but for your work situation. 
He probably woke up in a panic, unable to comprehend why you were voluntarily scooped up into his arms, trying to warm up. You had felt him move and you had followed, hopeful his doubts would leave him alone but they never left him alone long enough for him to indulge. After all, you knew he liked hugs and physical proximity, but maybe he didn’t crave them from you. 
Still, you had felt what it was like to be held by him, and as saddened as you were that he hadn’t stayed, you knew Hotch. You knew he processed things like a turtle shuffling towards the sea.
The door of the room opened before you could gather your own thoughts, and he walked in, offering you a cup of coffee from the coffee shop you had seen down the street last night. 
“Thanks, dear,” you smiled at him. 
He furrowed his brow, averting his gaze, but you saw a slight color taint his cheeks. 
“Another body just turned up.”
You nodded and he left again, surely his presence was required somewhere else.
You tasted the coffee, feeling it turning on your brain cells one by one as you realized how perfect it was. Hotch always nailed your order. He might not know how to approach this thing that seemed to simmer between you, maybe you didn’t either, but he cared, in his own way, and that was all that mattered. 
You glanced around the room, your eyes stopping on the book. You picked it up from the bedside table, skimming over a few pages and smelling it, finding comfort in the fact that it smelled old. 
You put it back, and you swiftly got dressed and ready to head to the precinct. 
As you walked across the lobby, Derek, Emily and JJ were waiting for you, and you joined them, hoping to tag along with them to go to the precinct since Hotch had clearly already left.
“Well, someone was up early and got coffee, but she didn’t think about her beautiful coworkers,” Emily teased.
You realized you still held the cup of coffee in your hands, not finished with it yet. 
If you mentioned Hotch had brought it to you, you’d never hear the end of it. You already had to deal with JJ and Emily telling you Hotch was smitten, you didn’t need Derek to add to it.
“We can probably stop on the way to the precinct. The coffee from the communal pot almost made me gag yesterday,” you clarified. 
“It’s your treat, though, mama,” Derek noted, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 
“Fine,” you conceded, aware you needed to get to the precinct sooner rather than later. You also didn’t have enough fight in you to argue about whose turn it was to pay for coffee.
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With the geographical profile that Reid provided, the team eventually deduced that the unsub was a ranger as well, and the remaining rangers explained that Peter Tipps was probably located near the river deep inside the park where he had a cabin, and that the only way to get there was by helicopter or with ATVs. 
It had taken less than 48 hours for the team to make a connection between the victims, and for Reid to have a geographical profile ready. 
It took Aaron less than two hours to get a warrant. 
Really, the hardest part of this whole thing seemed to be convincing the oldest ranger with his impressive Tom Selleck mustache, the captain of the other rangers, to allow the team into the park to make the arrest. 
“The only ranger I have who can fly this thing is in his Florida, and the other one is Tipps,” the mustache explained again, seemingly decided not to let anyone touch his helicopter while a spree killer roamed free.
“And as I’ve told you, repeatedly I might add, I can fly it,” you interrupted.
Aaron gestured for you to show the ranger your license in hopes of speeding up the process. 
Aaron stared at the captain, waiting for him to come up with another half-assed excuse when he had a perfectly capable pilot right in front of him. 
The mustache finally nodded as he looked at your license carefully, way more carefully than he had probably ever looked at anything else in his entire life. 
Aaron added, “We have reason to believe he could be killing them near Knik River. The M.E. found traces of the river’s microorganisms in the victims’ lungs. How close is the cabin to the river?”
“Maybe a hundred meters or so. But like I said to sweetheart here,” the captain looked at you with a smile, “the only way to get to Peter’s cabin is by helicopter or with our ATVs.”
Aaron knew what you looked like when you were trying to breathe through your frustration. He also knew that the ranger was pushing your buttons. 
Aaron wanted to intervene because that man was clearly intent on getting on your last nerve today, but you just smiled as he reluctantly proffered the keys to the chopper. 
Aaron admired how you kept a level head under most circumstances. He knew it wasn’t easy to be a woman in law enforcement, and it certainly wasn’t easy to be a woman in the FBI. 
He loved that you showed men like him you were better than them every chance you got, though. You were truly one of the best agents he had ever seen, and he considered himself lucky to get a chance to witness the shocked expressions on some men’s faces when you demonstrated just how capable you were. Truthfully though, he hoped one day all women in law enforcement would not need to demonstrate they belonged there just as much as the men. The greatest agents Aaron had had the privilege of working with had been majoritarily women, and they still were.  
The captain explained how to get to Peter’s cabin with the chopper, a detailed map of the park in hand to serve as visual support, and it was agreed that Aaron would go with you and the mustache while the others took the ATVs. 
Aaron took you aside to check how you were doing while the rangers coordinated with the rest of the team, knowing the mustache probably hadn’t gotten to you, but it was his job to make sure you were okay.
“All good?” he asked. 
“My dear knight in tight-fitting pants, you know I don’t care that Whiskers here is an accomplished jackass.”
Aaron fought the urge to laugh. He had been somewhat certain that the ranger hadn’t gotten to you, but the nickname you had just invented for him confirmed Aaron’s hunch. 
You always came up with nicknames for people around you, especially for those who insulted you in any way, and Aaron wondered if you had ever given him one when you first started working for him. He had to give it to you though, you came up with the most amusing nicknames he’d ever heard, and he lived with a seven-year-old. Nonetheless, at some point, you had become his friend, and his protectiveness over you had even awarded him the title of “knight”, whatever other words it was buried with. He was incredibly proud to have earned that title. 
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You landed near the site of the cabin, aware that the sounds of the chopper would alert the unsub of your presence, but fortunately, Peter was probably used to the rangers coming and going on his land, so he might believe the roaring sounds to be his colleagues rather than law enforcement coming to arrest him. 
Hotch gestured towards the pier, and you saw what looked like an unmoving body. The captain canvassed the perimeter around the cabin while you and Hotch headed towards the pier. 
You walked up to the body while Hotch covered your six, and you noticed rigor mortis had already set in when you put your hand on the woman’s neck. 
That was when you dramatically heard branches cracking near you, and you turned towards the line of trees, finding Peter coming out of the woods with bloody tools. 
You didn’t notice he was pointing a gun at you before the ranger rejoined you, and as much as you had figured Peter Tipps out at the precinct, confrontations like these usually didn’t end well because spree killers weren't often desperate. 
“My boy, it doesn’t have to end like this. Think about your mama.”
Wow. That ranger really didn’t know when to shut up. Not only had he infantilized the unsub, Hotch had been very clear that the talking should be left to you or him.
“I’m doing this for my mama!” Tipps howled.
You held your hands up, mostly to show you weren’t carrying your weapon right now, to convey that you weren’t a threat. “I know you are, Peter. People wronged her, and you want her to get justice before it’s too late, right?”
You had uncovered along with JJ that the women who were killed in the past days were all women who had wronged his mother.
Peter simply nodded, defeat evident on his features. 
You looked over at Hotch, aware he got your plan to humanize Peter with just a look.
You had to relate to Peter, you had to make him think he wasn’t a monster. 
You gestured towards Hotch to let him know that you were ready.
Hotch always figured what you wanted to say with very little, and you were sure this was why he so often paired himself with you. You made a great team. 
You subtly drew your weapon, keeping it as concealed as you could.
“But you’re not a killer, Peter,” Hotch clarified.
“Yeah, are you sure about that?” Peter seethed. 
You nodded as you started to approach him. “I am. It’s eating at you. The guilt, the remorse… you want to do right by your mom and that’s honorable. But this isn’t the way.”
The team all knew time was of the essence, Penelope had called earlier to let you know that Peter’s mom was circling the drain. 
“Come on, if we leave now, you’ll still get to say goodbye,” Hotch reminded him. It was talking down a suspect 101, hoping that talking would get to appeal to someone's humanity, and in this case, to Peter's love for his mom.
Hotch was now closer to Peter than you were, and within a split second, you knew how problematic that was when Peter’s finger hovered close to the trigger. 
Hotch had read the situation as well and he ducked, but Peter had managed to shoot at Hotch. You had no choice but to shoot Peter, successfully hitting him in the knee, hoping you weren’t too late reacting for Hotch. 
You saw Hotch move and get up, and he seemed unscathed apart from being winded by the bullet hitting his vest.
Peter was wailing in pain and his screams echoed around the surface of the river, resonating loudly enough to make you wince.  
You had probably hit him right in the kneecap. You so rarely missed your target.
Peter dove into the river next to him before you could run to him to cuff him, and this time of year, the water wasn’t only cold but very agitated. It would take a great swimmer to survive this if the cold didn’t numb his senses as he went in, and if you hadn’t shot his leg and rendered it mostly unusable.
You saw Hotch run towards where Peter had gone in, and you yelled at him to not be stupid about this. You tried to reach for his arm to hold him back, but Hotch was out of reach and he dove in right after Peter, ignoring your loud protests and screams not to be reckless.
Your heart was in your throat as you hoped for Hotch to resurface, ready to dive in right after him with the ranger looking at you. 
You ran towards the river but Whiskers held you back right before you could dive after both of them. 
“Sure hope your man is a good swimmer,” he added.
Wow. He really didn’t know when to shut up. How you hated his guts.
You couldn’t even breathe as you waited for Hotch to come back up. You felt your heart beating out of your chest, your own heartbeat loud in your ears as you clenched your fists and prayed to any deity that would listen to make sure that Hotch would be okay.
But Hotch knew how to swim. He was a triathlon athlete. He could do this. If anyone could pull this off, it was him.
You saw him resurface and cough up enough water to fill a glass, holding on to an unconscious Peter. He brought him towards the edge of the pier, and the ranger let you run towards them. You brought them both out with the ranger’s help, realizing just how cold the water was as you held Hotch’s shoulders.
The ranger tried to revive Peter, but you could only focus on Hotch. 
You helped him out of his vest, seeing him wince and hiss as he moved. You knew what it felt like to get hit with a vest, and you knew he was putting on a brave face for you.
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Aaron knew that not shaking from the cold wasn’t a good sign. He had to warm up, and fast. 
“Hotch! Are you okay?”
“Mm’ okay. Just cold,” he replied, the shivers finally overtaking his body, and he sighed in relief. Feeling the cold was good. It meant he was cold, but not cold enough to be in danger.
You tried to warm him up, but he needed to take off the wet clothes before he froze to death.
He watched you yell orders at the ranger as you heard the ATVs approach, and while you didn’t have authority or power here, when the ranger met Aaron’s troubled gaze, he actually listened to you without a single protest.
“Let’s take the chopper and bring you back to warmth.”
Aaron hopped into the chopper, and you tried to put the heating as high as it could go but he knew that helicopters like these weren’t equipped with proper ventilation systems like cars. Still, it warmed up enough to make him feel his toes again, and you clearly didn't care if you were sweating through your eyeballs.
Aaron watched you pilot the helicopter back to the helipad at the entrance of the park and he was once more overwhelmed by how amazing you were. He watched you through a daze as you gripped the joystick and led him towards warmth, his chest already fuzzy with feelings for you. He noticed how you frowned at everything around you when you were nervous, and he knew how quiet you got when you were determined to do something right. The sun started to set, and it painted beautiful hues across your face, just in time for him to watch a bit of sweat glisten on your forehead. He wasn’t nearly as warm as you were right now, but you clearly didn’t care that sweat was about to cloud your vision as the helicopter slowed. 
He felt you put the chopper down and before he knew it, he was running with you towards one of the SUVs appointed to the team, not letting him get a word in about driving. You ordered him to lie down in the backseat, and he just obeyed without a single word, grateful for the blanket being draped over him before the door closed. 
Aaron listened to you ramble on and on in the car, knowing you were nervous and trying to distract yourself. Last night when you had mentioned you liked his voice, he had been too much of a coward to tell you just the same. 
He noticed your shaky hand put the heating as high as it could go, and when you parked the car near the hotel, Aaron’s teeth had stopped chattering together. 
He let you lead the way as you brought him up to the room, and he shut up when you brought him into the bathroom and turned the shower on for him.
He looked down at himself, realizing he had to discard his wet suit. He frowned at his pants, seeing your point about them being tight-fitting now more than ever. 
“I need to remove my clothes,” he stammered, his voice still unsteady because of the cold seeping through his bones. 
You nodded as if it was your cue to leave, as much as he wanted you to stay. 
“I’ll be right here,” you mentioned, pointing towards the room. 
Aaron wasn’t used to someone caring about him, even less so this way. You always cared. You cared enough to ask him to eat, to ask him to take a break, to ask him to get some sleep. You always showed him you cared.
He loved that about you.
He nodded, and told you to tell the team about what had happened and why you had left in a hurry, hoping he made enough sense because his mind was frighteningly numb.
The hot water scalded him as he felt the spray on his skin, but he appreciated the fact that he could feel every extremity and limb within minutes of standing under it. 
He took his time showering, careful to avoid the forming purple bruise on his ribcage. 
He wasn’t sure if Peter had made it, but he chose not to think about the case. The team’s work was done as far as he knew, and he needed not to think about anything for a while. 
He needed not to be reminded of the fact that he had woken up with you in his arms, and the fact that he wanted nothing more than for that to happen again.
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You called the team to let them know everything that had happened, they informed you that Peter was alive and that local LE would take care of the rest, you all agreed that everyone would meet back at the hotel to get dinner together after a record-time arrest in just over two days.
You changed into more comfortable clothes while Hotch showered, and you picked up the book again from the bedside table. You waited a few minutes to make sure you didn’t hear a distinct thump signaling he had fallen, and eventually, you texted him that you were going down to the lobby. 
Fortunately, his phone had remained in the helicopter when everything went down, so it hadn’t been ruined by water damage. You heard his phone buzz on the other side of the door, now aware your message had gone through. 
You made your way down to the lobby with the book in hand, determined to read that passage he had read to you last night. 
You also weren’t equipped to see him come out of the shower all wet and warm, and since you hadn’t given him his bag before he went in the shower, you wanted to spare him from having to walk around the room in just a towel. 
Not that you didn’t want to see him, but you figured he deserved a bit of privacy considering he already had to share a room with you. 
You wanted to ask if his ribs were okay, but you decided to wait until he was out of the room to do so. 
You sat down in the lobby with his book minutes later, picking up where you had left off last night. You much preferred having him read to you, but you couldn’t say you weren’t excited to get to his favorite part. 
You couldn’t tell how long you had been reading when you finally finished the book, but you were completely taken aback by its beauty when JJ sat down next to you, Emily not far in tow. 
“How’s Hotch?” JJ asked.
“Fine,” you replied.
You put the book down, your thoughts all over the place before meeting their watchful gazes, seeing how both of them looked too smug for your own taste. 
“You know, the mustache man said you were awfully worried about your boyfriend,” Emily teased with quirked eyebrows and a huge smirk.
“Let’s not do this, please,” you gently warned. 
You could stomach the teasing, the jokes and all. But Hotch had been hurt today, and worried or not, you didn’t want to think about what could have happened. 
The upside of working with profilers is that they knew when to let things go. 
“Are you okay? Pen said today was–” JJ started.
You still missed your dad dearly. You knew today’s date by heart, always dreading it for a week before and crying over it for a week after. 
You nodded. “Sometimes I just can’t believe it’s been two years already.”
“I promise, it’ll get easier,” JJ reassured. 
Logically, you knew she was right. But that didn’t mean you didn’t miss your dad. 
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Aaron found the room empty after his shower, missing your presence acutely. He knew whenever you weren’t around because it was such a huge contrast to having you around. He was aware you had probably left the room to spare him from having to walk around in just a towel, and he smiled to himself because that’s how thoughtful you were. 
He looked at his texts, seeing yours before he saw those back and forth with Garcia, then he let his thumb over the call button for Garcia. He needed to know why she had done this for the team and to him. Surely something had escaped him.
He pressed the call button.
He heard the line click.  
“I spoke with the park rangers, Garcia,” he immediately announced.
He heard nervous energy ruffling papers and furiously clicking on keys. 
“Sorry, sir. But the poor soul won’t tell anyone she lost her dad two years ago.”
Oh. Right. You lost your dad two years ago. You were still grieving when you joined the team. He remembered that. Why didn’t you tell him about today? 
He was your friend. He even had the audacity to assume he was your best friend.
Maybe it was his fault, he should have remembered. 
He should have known when he figured out that Garcia wanted to do something nice for you. 
“Oh.”
“I am appealing to your humanity, Hotch. Please–”
He sighed, far from mad. “Just two things: How did you pull this off and how did we end up in the same room?”
“It’s best if I don’t tell you, and for the other part, ask your other coworkers. I’m not the one who wanted to meddle here–”
Dave. It had to be. He had been making comments for months, giving him looks for longer than that, and he was a true Italian mom, always putting his paws in other people’s plates. 
“Noted.” He paused, knowing better than to question her kindness and her methods. “Oh, and Garcia?”
“Yes, sir?”
He didn’t know how she pulled the last part off, but he knew she hadn’t done it alone. She didn’t know you were the last ones to head up when the team reached the hotel. Someone told her, and someone else meddled. 
“Thank you,” he said softly. 
If anything, Garcia might have just salvaged his friendship with you. He felt like a fool for not remembering the anniversary of your dad’s death. 
Aaron hung up and sent you a text that he was on his way down. 
The second he saw you standing alone in the hallway near the elevator, he hugged you. He didn’t initiate hugs nearly enough in your friendship, but hugs were meant to be comforting and you deserved comfort if he could provide it, especially when you needed it but wouldn’t ask for it. His bruised rib protested a little, but he attributed it to the fact that the book you held was biting his skin.  
You finally hugged him back, your arms wrapping around his waist, and he breathed a little easier.
“Penny told me she blabbed to you all that it’s been two years since my dad passed.”
He leaned back enough to look into your eyes, but he pulled you back in within seconds. “I’m sorry.”
His arms wrapped more tightly around your shoulders, he could feel your heartbeat strong and steady against him, and as worried as you had been earlier, he was here and he was alive because of you and your quick thinking. 
He settled his jaw on your crown, and he felt you shake a little as you drew in a full breath. 
He felt warm puffs of air hit his chest, and he realized again how his body was perfect against yours. As tall as he was compared to you, his chest was perfect for your cheek to rest on, his chin was at home on top of your head, and his arms had been molded to accommodate your frame. 
It occurred to him in that moment that he didn’t initiate nearly enough hugs because he didn’t know how to let go.
He moved back to look into your beautiful eyes again. “I asked the concierge this morning, and we should be able to see the Northern Lights tonight.”
“Gosh, I really hope so.”
“Why do you want to see the Northern Lights? If I may ask.”
His hands were still on your shoulders, not that you seemed to mind the comforting touch.
You smiled as you surely remembered a fond memory. “My dad loved North to Alaska by Johnny Horton. He sang it to me all the time as a kid. And he promised me he’d bring me here one day so we could look at the Northern Lights and say hello to my mom… but then, you know… Life happened.”
He recalled something you had shared with him not so long ago.
“Your mom is from around here, right?” 
“Yeah.”
He gave you a small smile, gently caressing the length of your arms. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Thank you for asking.”
He saw the rest of the team gathered not far away in the lobby, and he was grateful the hallway had shielded you both from sharing this intimate moment with them. Not that he would have cared much. You were his friend, the team knew that. 
He saw your eyes linger on his lips, and he was too absorbed in what it could mean to form a coherent sentence.
Your hand patted his chest gently, and he was too stunned to do anything but stare at your hand on him. 
“I’ll just go freshen up and put the book back. See you in five down here?” you offered.
Aaron nodded, completely lost on the feeling of your hand on his thundering heart. 
He was left standing there, instantly missing you as he watched you disappear into the elevator. 
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While normally everyone would be cranky because of the jetlag on the first few nights, the team was in a good mood. Enough so to go out together and eat at the hotel restaurant.
Even Hotch was in a good mood and drinking with the team. He drank from time to time with the team, but this time, he had more than one drink which was unusual for him.
The food the waiters brought to your table was delicious, and each time you listened to the team ramble about one thing or another, you found yourself looking at Hotch to see if he laughed. 
“So, Hotch. Anyone new in your life since Beth?” Derek asked, waggling his eyebrows at his boss as if it was normal for him to ask about his private life.
“No,” he replied.
Hotch never shared much of himself with the team, and no one knew the details of what led him to break up with her. He mentioned that Beth went to work in Hong Kong, but you had seen Beth a few months later in the grocery store. Surely, her contract hadn’t been that long, or long enough not to warrant trying to make it work long distance.
If you were honest with yourself, you were relieved not to have to see him love another woman. You wanted him to be happy, but you wished he could be happy without it hurting you. 
You were somewhat relieved he wasn’t dating anyone, although Hotch being Hotch, he could just be denying it in front of the team until he was ready to come out and say it, but you had a feeling he was telling the truth because you spent a lot of time with him outside of work, and as his best friend, you hoped he would have told you if he was dating someone.
You looked up at him and offered him a small smile. He gave you one back.
Derek narrowed his eyes at you. “What about you, honey?”
“I’m—No.”
You tried not to flush, but you didn’t like sharing details regarding your private life, especially around the team, and especially around Hotch. 
You couldn’t date most of the time because of your job, but in the past months, it was mostly due to the fact that Hotch was the only person on your mind. While you could technically go for a knock-off version and have the team comment on their striking resemblance to Hotch, you were more than happy to have the real thing in front of you, even if you never got to have him the way you wanted. 
Derek instantly started teasing Spencer about something when he seemed to notice your reluctance to discuss this, so you sipped on your drink, finding it empty already. 
You walked away to get yourself another drink, knowing it would be your last for the night.
The bartender was cute enough, and if he was pouring more gin than he was supposed to in your drink, you weren’t about to report him for it.
You turned and looked back at Hotch, and as much as he seemed absorbed in a conversation with Rossi, his eyes narrowed on you for a few seconds. 
Even from this distance, you found him absolutely gorgeous. He was gracefully imposing, and if that was only the first thing you noticed, now you knew he had a heart of gold as well. It truly baffled you that women weren’t falling at his feet every time he walked into a room. The man was absolutely flawless. He could be displayed in a museum for passersby to gawk at him, and you’d be prepared to pay good money to stare at him all day long. 
“I get off at 11,” the bartender suggested with a smile as he placed your drink in front of you.
Had you been in the mood and not overly in love with your boss, he could have been your type. But only one man mattered to you, and he didn’t even know you were in love with him in the first place.
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Aaron witnessed the bartender getting too close for his taste from afar, and unfortunately, Dave saw it, too. Aaron wasn’t one to show much on his face, but he couldn’t help clenching his jaw and his fists when he saw the bartender flirt with you.
“Please go talk to her or I will,” Dave said, clearly an attempt to goad him into acting on it. 
Aaron didn’t question everything for once in his life, and he just reached you in a few strides.
“You aren’t allowed to flirt with customers,” he bit at the bartender.
Aaron cornered you against the counter, towering over you.
“Are you okay?’’ he asked, concerned.
“Yes. Are you?’’
“I am,’’ he replied. He was breathing easier now that he had silently told the bartender to keep his distance with a warning look. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
You nodded and followed him out.
The team was so used to you two disappearing together that no one questioned it when you announced you were going for a walk.
If Dave waggled his eyebrows and smirked at you both, Aaron purposely ignored him.
“Thanks for getting me out of what would have been a very awkward conversation,” you muttered.
Aaron gave you a tight-lipped smile. “People hit on you all the time. You didn’t need me.”
“I always need you,” you admitted.
Aaron ignored the flutters in his chest at your revelation. 
It wasn’t dark enough for the Northern Lights yet, but he sure hoped they’d show up before you left in the morning. He really wanted you to see them. 
“This place is so beautiful,” you whispered into the night.
“Yeah,” he agreed, looking down at you with a soft smile. “Beautiful.” 
He walked around the resort with you, and he loved sharing silence with you because you never felt the need to fill it with talk. 
You started yawning the longer you walked, and Aaron chuckled next to you, finding your exhaustion endearing. 
As much as he wanted to stay and enjoy walking with you, he knew you were tired. He was, too. 
“We should catch some sleep.”
“Yeah,” you agreed reluctantly.
He saw you look up one last time, a bit saddened himself that you wouldn’t get to see the Northern Lights like you wanted.
“Let’s go back to our room.”
Aaron knew you could make it up there even if you were tired, but he wouldn’t have you falling on his conscience if he could help it. His hand on your lower back, he guided you towards the lobby and the elevator. 
“You know I can get there safely, right?” 
You didn’t look as though you minded his hand, you usually never did anyway.
He gave you a small smirk. “I know. I just like knowing you’re safe.”
“My knight in tight-fitting pants!” you teased again. 
It had become a running joke by now. You had teased him about his tight pants for months, but not once he had had the courage to change his wardrobe because he had caught you staring. 
He scoffed but he still kept his hand firmly in place.
The silence was heavy as he let you both in, and he realized he really wanted to hug you again. 
Usually, when you hugged him, it wasn’t necessarily spontaneous. You hugged him on special occasions, like the Christmas party at Dave’s, the New Year’s Eve party at Garcia’s, or any of the birthdays and holidays the BAU celebrated. Sometimes, you hugged him after leaving a dinner party with him and Jack. Or after one of your many private screenings of Top Gun. But those were different. 
Now, he wanted to hug you. He wanted to initiate it. 
Sometimes you had hugged him for comfort, but you always asked first. You were always careful not to overstep the boundaries of your friendship, and Aaron didn’t know if he could ask right now. 
He wanted to hug you for other reasons than comfort. It was selfishly motivated, just wanting to feel you close. 
Aaron tried not to think about how your clothes hugged your silhouette flawlessly as he trailed after you into the room. It was dangerous to let himself think of you, with or without clothes on. Whether you wore a magnificent dress on a night out with the team, slacks and blouses at work, even hoodies with jeans in less official settings… You were always a sight. 
He let you get the first shower, and he debated calling Jack, but it was too late for him to do so even with the few hours of difference, so instead he sent a text to Jessica to tell her to give Jack a kiss for him.
Aaron looked outside minutes later and he realized one of your wishes could come true tonight, and he really wanted to be the one to share it with you. Selfish motives or not, you were still his friend and he wanted to get to see your face the first time you saw the Northern Lights.
He picked up the warm blanket he brought everywhere from his go-bag, and he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. 
He was too giddy to care about optics when you emerged from the bathroom smelling delicious and wet, and he just beamed at you and grabbed your hand. 
“Come on. I want to show you something.”
He saw you notice the blanket stored under his arm, and you clearly wondered what was happening. You weren’t reluctant as much as you were confused, at least, that was how he saw the shocked expression on your face as your eyes lingered on his hand in yours.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Of course, I do.”
“Then come with me.”
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Within minutes you were outside and all bundled up, and Hotch brought you towards a small bench overlooking the mountains and he smiled as he saw you tear up at the sky above you.
“Oh, Hotch! Oh, they’re so beautiful!”
Dancing waves of color and light pulsated through the skies in vibrant hues of green, yellow, blue, pink, and violet. Each color looked even more beautiful as they were reflected on the mountains.
You felt Hotch’s eyes on you, and as uncomfortable as you should have been for tearing up right now, you weren’t. You were always comfortable around him, even if you were crying at the beautiful and surreal spectacle Mother Nature was giving you.
You turned to look at him, completely taken aback by how beautiful he looked right now. 
The silver sheen of the moon glowed on his features, and the many lights of the skies swam around in his hazel eyes. He was always gorgeous, but he was simply breathtaking right now.
You turned back towards the Northern Lights before you blurted out that he was magnificent, and your heartbeat slowed as you took in the sight of the colorful lights dancing ethereally in the sky. 
“Beautiful,” he added after a while.
You agreed. 
You shivered after a while, too taken by the lights above you to care about the humid cold seeping through your clothes.
“Here—” he said, offering his warmth. You slid next to him, engulfed by heat as he laid the blanket over you.
You did your best not to melt into his side, but Hotch just clasped your shoulder and brought you even closer to him. 
You ended up putting your legs on top of his, slotting them between his. He held you so close that you could feel his warm breath as his nose brushed your temple.
It didn’t take long for you to be warm and comfortable.
Hotch offered to go back the more you shivered, but you wanted to stay a little while longer.
“Can we stay a little bit longer?”
“We can stay as long as you want.”
After a while, it occurred to you this was very domestic and you wanted to thank him, but nothing came to mind except a compulsion to hug him.
“Can I hug you?’’
Every time you had asked him, he had smiled and agreed. But you still always asked because he was your superior, and you never wanted to make him uncomfortable.
“Of course you can. You don’t have to ask every time.’’
You moved to straddle his lap, and he brought the blanket around you both. It shielded you from the cold wind. 
You put your head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent as you nuzzled your nose into his neck. His hands roamed gently over your back, warming you with his touch. His body was warm, and the blanket around you was enough to make you stop shivering. At least, you weren’t shivering because of the cold anymore.
After a while, you made a move to pull back, but he held onto you firmly.
You looked at him, puzzled.
“Not yet– Just, please… Not yet.” 
You didn’t know what this was about, but you’d never deny him a longer hug. 
You nodded and remained firmly in place against him, your bodies melting into one. You put your arms around his neck, your gaze meeting his. His eyes were full of affection for you, warm and kind, his brow softening the longer he looked at you. 
You seemed suspended in time in your little cocoon. You traced his face with featherlight touches and fingertips, and when he closed his eyes to breathe in slowly, you smiled to yourself.
You put your forehead against his as you caressed his nape and the bottom of his hair, and when your hands gently grazed his neck, he took a few deeper breaths.
You were too far gone to pull back now. 
This was months in the making, if you were totally honest with yourself. 
The blossoming friendship after he had finally warmed up to you, the quiet nights in with Jack, the model planes, the many screenings of Top Gun, the inside jokes, the playful banter, the lingering hugs, and the book last night? The interrupted cuddles in bed this morning? 
You had managed to go through the entire book earlier, and his favorite line was nowhere to be found, as if he had created it out of thin air, as if he had been inspired to share his own poetry within the confines of the Roaring Twenties and Gatsby himself. Hotch must have known you’d eventually notice it wasn’t in the book, and then what?
And then this?
Bringing you to an isolated bench like he had scouted the place for the best spot to watch the Northern Lights…
You cradled his face, and his breath hitched.  
How long had it been since someone had touched him like this? How long had it been since someone offered him the tenderness he deserved?
Hotch’s eyes opened and they were locked on yours. His gaze darted down to your lips, you opted to lean down as a smile grazed his features.
There wasn’t a fire or a blaze of glory. Your lips met quietly, silently, and yet, the heat that radiated through your entire body burned every one of your extremities. You needed him. You had to touch him, you had to cherish him.
The kiss picked up as his lips parted for yours, and when his tongue shyly met yours, you shuddered because, with just this, you knew you’d never want to kiss anyone else ever again.
The kiss was gentle, tentative, shy… But it was also smooth sailing amid the chaotic ocean that your mind was swimming in. The thoughts and voices in your head were loud, but his lips on you were louder.
“I know it’s against Bureau policy, but what if we used that bed of ours, not to sleep, for the rest of the night?”
“Are you sure?” 
I’ve never been surer.
“Yes.”
Hotch nodded and he brought you to your feet. He brought you inside and if his hand was firmly clasped with yours in the elevator, you chose not to wonder what it meant.
For once, you wouldn’t question anything. You would allow yourself to be in the moment, you would allow yourself to feel and to be with him fully.
He opened the door quietly, bringing you inside by the waist.
He pulled you closer, cradling your face as if you were precious. His gaze was soft, and knowing him, he was looking for any sign that you would back out or run away from him, but you were certain. His hands and arms on you were all you needed to know you were meant to be right here.
The earlier kiss was enough to know his lips were perfect on yours, and every breath he had shared with you had given you a new outlook on life.
You needed him like you needed air.
“You’re beautiful,” you uttered low as your hands came to rest on his chest, pulling on his lapels to get him ever closer even if your bodies were almost draped on top of each other already.
He chuckled and looked down, so you smoothed your hand up and down his chest, carefully not to press down so you wouldn’t hurt him. 
He looked up again, a fond expression behind his eyes.
“You are breathtaking,” he whispered, his eyes darting in quick succession between yours. 
A small smile ghosted over his lips before he ran his thumb over your lips.
“Kiss me,” you pleaded gently.
Apparently, he didn’t have to be told twice. 
He leaned down and his knees buckled the second his lips were on yours. You tried to hold him up, but you walked him back towards the bed before you both fell. 
The back of his knees met the edge of the bed and he sat, bringing you down with him. You straddled his lap and ran your fingers over his forehead before smoothing his hair back and letting your fingers graze his scalp. 
He shivered under you, still smiling up at you as his hands roamed over your back gently, stroking it and pulling you in. You grinned as his eyes met yours, the pale hazel now dark brown.
Hotch picked you up and shifted you both, laying you down and hovering above you as his hands trailed up and down your body length.
He rested his weight on his elbow next to you, just looking at you with sparkling eyes and a dazzling smile.
He positioned himself halfway between your legs and he brought your leg around his waist, his touch warm at the back of your knee.
You could feel all of him pressing against you, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed to touch him. You needed to know how warm his skin was, how smooth his skin was, how rough the shadow of stubble growing on his cheeks was, and how beautiful he looked when he wore nothing but you on top of him.
You helped him shed his jacket as he helped you remove yours, and you let your fingers rest around his waist, tentatively moving his shirt out of his pants before you unbuttoned it. 
He let you and when you traced his scars with gentle fingers, he closed his eyes. He reopened them only when you started kissing them one by one, taking your time to savor them. 
“You are beautiful,” you repeated as your lips met each scar and raised edge of him. You saw the angry purple bruise on his rib, and you kissed that one even more gently. 
You would worship him if he let you.
He removed your shirt and your chests met in the dark, the warmth of your combined bodies was enough to make your head spin.
He kissed you again until you couldn’t breathe, until the only air you would ever want again was the one he was pouring into your lungs himself.
“We don’t have to do anything.”
“Aaron—”
He smirked, a playful grin on his lips.
“What?” you asked.
“You never call me ‘Aaron’.”
“What if I start?”
You knew what this meant, both to you and to him. It was silently acknowledging that in this moment, and whenever you would call him ‘Aaron’, he wouldn’t be your boss or your coworker. He would just be ‘Aaron’. 
He just beamed at you, and you knew you had made him happy with something small.
You fondly caressed his cheek, and you looked deep into his eyes. “Do you want this?”
“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea.”
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He didn’t know precisely when something had shifted in his brain earlier, but he knew that he couldn’t stop himself from wanting this and you now that he had had a taste. 
Aaron unbuttoned your jeans and removed them with your adamant nods to do so, and when he stared at your lace panties, he could have sworn he felt himself twitch in his pants.
He kissed his way down your belly, and up again. He kissed every inch of skin he could find, and every sound you made became his new favorite from now on. Every time you rocked up against him, you made him stir in his pants.
He was kissing you again and this time, he unclasped your bra.
“Is this okay?’’ he asked between soft kisses.
“More than.”
He used one of his legs to part yours, making you encircle his waist with your legs resting around him. His hand traveled up and down your leg, making him thrust his hips into you instinctively each time your lips and tongues fought together. He trailed your thigh with his fingertips before grabbing the back of your knee to pull you closer against him, thrusting again.
You were positively thrashing for more friction under him, and he was drunk on how it felt to have you like this, to have you desperate for him the way he had so often imagined.
He moved to kiss your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses before he sucked on your pulse point. Your moans echoed around in his head, making him harder than he had ever been before. He kissed every part of your neck, from the spot below your ears to the column of your throat. He gave gentle kisses before he sucked and bit your velvety skin, trying to fight the urge to mark you as his.  
He purred when you grabbed his head and smoothed your fingers into his hair, and he moaned inside your mouth as his clothed erection met your clothed warmth.
The more he moved against you, the more your hand massaged his scalp before your nails started grazing his skull, the more he kissed your delicious skin, the more he tasted your lips on his, the more he felt his balls tighten and threaten to make this embarrassing. 
Aaron knew coming in his pants wouldn’t make a good first impression. He stilled his movements, trying to breathe through everything that he felt. 
“Everything okay?” your gentle voice calmed him instantly. 
He nodded. “Just very– You’re very–”
Oh, perfect, Aaron. Make a fool of yourself. 
“Well, so are you.” You smiled at him, and when you rutted your core against his erection, he had to bite his lip to refrain from getting too excited.
“I’m too close,” he admitted, averting his gaze. He was embarrassed, but he couldn’t help it. You were so perfect, and so– 
Your eyes sparkled with affection, and he wasn’t sure if he had voiced what he needed to voice correctly because you stared at him with nothing but adoration. 
Your hand came to caress his cheek, tender and delicate. “Let’s slow down and just kiss for a while, then. What do you say? Want to make out?” 
He smiled at the proposition, more than willing to just kiss you for a few minutes. 
Your lips were on his again within seconds, this time less hungry and more tentative, exploring and savoring. 
The pleasure centers in his brain didn’t let up, but a few minutes of gentle kissing was enough to calm down. 
“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered against your lips, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 
Your hand was in his hair before he knew it, stroking his head with soothing patterns. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Aaron. It would have been incredibly hot if you had spilled because of this, but I’m glad because I’d rather have you come a bit later. And somewhere else.”
Oh. 
He was in for a treat. You would be the one to tell him when and where to come. He knew you were the kind of person who led others, well, he didn’t know. But he had thought about it. 
“What do you want?” he pondered.
“Take off your pants,” you indicated. 
Aaron shed his pants, standing in his boxers before you, watching you wearing only a pair of lace panties which would haunt his fantasies for days to come. 
He wanted to palm himself to relieve some pressure, but he was in a trance where only your voice would get him to do anything.
“Now, come here,” you gestured. 
He draped himself over you again, his lips finding yours instinctively. 
“You are so perfect,” he croaked. 
Aaron made it a point to kiss every part of you with the utmost love and adoration he had for you.
“Beautiful,” he muttered against every inch of your bare skin.
He left a trail of goosebumps everywhere he touched you, everywhere he kissed you, and if you shivered again, he knew it wasn’t because you were cold. 
Aaron looked at you like a work of art made to be worshipped and appreciated, and he wouldn’t let an inch go to waste.
“Fuck. You’re so perfect,” he whispered.
He dove in to capture a nipple between his lips, and he rolled his tongue on it, making you buck upwards for more.
He smiled when he saw how responsive you were and he got to work, kissing and suckling on your breasts before coming back up to your mouth. He kissed you so well you couldn’t help but arch up into every touch, into every flick of his tongue as it met yours.
Aaron wanted nothing more but to ease the throbbing he felt, but above all, he wanted to see you squirm under him some more.
He normally would let you get your way from start to finish, but he felt like he had something to prove this time, and he would prove it. But not without your explicit consent to do so.
“I need to hear you say it.” It was implied that you both knew what ‘it’ meant. 
You just smiled at him, and he was helpless to do anything but smile back. 
“I want this, and I want you. Now stop messing around and remove my panties.”
He chuckled at your decisiveness. “Yes, ma’am.”
He hooked his fingers into the waistband, gently pulling them down and letting his gaze linger on you. 
“You can stare all you want once you remove your boxers, Aaron,” you expressed with undertones of teasing and affection. 
He shed his boxers, baring himself to you. He saw your eyes go wide and your body tense up as you took in the sight of him, but you relaxed as he resumed kissing you, his soft kisses trailing your neck sloppily. 
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make it fit,” he said cheekily as he breathed against the column of your throat, feeling your breath hitch next to his cheek. 
Your fingernails grazed his back, and his entire plan ran out the window, his shudder short-circuiting his brain. 
“Please–” you moaned. 
Aaron wasn’t sure what you were asking for, but he was done questioning his instincts. 
He moved down until he was face-to-face with your pussy, and he smiled up at you, watching how your breath hitched again, how your inner thighs seemed to be trembling, how your pussy wanted to clench around something, and he started kissing your legs. He dragged his fingers on your thighs, making you thrash and try to find some friction. He was drooling and aching to taste you, overwhelmed by the urge to lap at you and feel you flutter on his tongue. He wanted to nestle his nose in your cunt and never forget the scent. He wanted you to use his face to make yourself come. 
He wanted to flick his tongue over your clit until you mewled his name for everyone to hear.
He wanted you to shove your cunt in his face, asking for more and he wanted to growl as you tried to put your legs around his face.
The thoughts made it hard for him to not touch himself for some relief, but it was easy to focus on you.
He delivered a gentle kiss on top of your pussy. “Beautiful. Perfect.”
“Aaron–” you hummed, a gentle reminder or a warning, he didn’t know.
He hooked his arms under your thighs, bringing you ever closer to getting what you wanted.
“Will you let me find out how sweet you are?” he asked, ready to dive in.
You moaned loudly as your eyes met, and you nodded, signaling him your consent again. 
“Tell me,” he urged you, refraining from shoving his face into you.
“Taste me. Make me come on your tongue.”
Aaron groaned but he didn’t lose a beat. He dove right in, lapping at you the second his tongue was on you.
He grunted loudly as he tasted your juices. 
“So delicious. I knew you would be.”
You shuddered and arched your back, your pussy shoved into his face, but Aaron managed to keep your hips firmly in place after a few tries. He was tasting you everywhere his tongue could reach, and when he finally swirled his tongue around your clit, he smiled against your cunt because you couldn’t control your hips thrashing any more than he could. 
Aaron vowed to remember every sound you made because he wasn’t sure music would ever compare to the melody you were composing for him right now.
He started moving his face along with his tongue, his nose teasing you. He sucked on your clit before he lapped at you again, alternating flicking his tongue over you, sucking your clit and shoving his tongue as deep as he could inside you, his nose buried in your intoxicating scent. 
One day, if you let him, he would have you sit on his face. He would have you sit there until the only sounds you’d make were whines and pleads to stop.
He looked up at you as he sucked particularly hard on your clit, your hand pulling at tht roots of his hair and making him thrust his hips into the mattress. He watched you grab a pillow and bite into it, and he had to stop altogether. 
A needy whine escaped your throat, and his cock twitched at the sound. 
He picked up the pillow, pulling it away from your beautiful face. 
“Let me hear you.”
“The team–” you started.
He shook his head. He didn’t have a care in the world right now. Not if you were agreeing to be his tonight. 
“I need to hear you if– I need to hear you.”
You nodded, and Aaron went back to it.
It didn’t take long for you to moan incoherently, and to thrash against his face violently. How he loved feeling your legs trying to strangle him, feeling your fingers pull his hair to get more friction on his face. 
“What do you need, sweet girl?” he asked, his voice a bit muffled by your cunt. 
“Your mouth. Your tongue. Like this. But maybe a finger?”
Aaron did as he was told, and you were so worked up as he started moving his finger in and out of you that he didn’t care if the entire hotel was hearing you moan and cry out his name. He didn’t even care if there was a noise complaint.
After chanting his name like a cheerleader for a few seconds, Aaron growled against your clit as he shoved his hips into the mattress repeatedly, the tension not easing. He felt himself throb in need, surely almost purple and the vein on the side of his shaft protruding. 
He was so turned on by what he was doing to you that he couldn’t help trying to find some relief himself.
He arched his finger inside you and combined with his tongue on your clit, you were shaking from head to toe. He knew he was about to be rewarded for his efforts.
“I’m so close.”
Aaron doubled down and spat on you, making you even wetter. 
He sucked on your clit once more and this time, you incoherently mumbled his name as your hips shot up the bed, your cunt fluttering on his tongue as you fell over the edge.
Aaron almost came as he heard you mewl out his name, and if the team was able to know this had happened, he couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when you were so delicious and perfect.
He moved to lie down next to you, ghosting his fingers over your burning skin as you rode your orgasm. He watched the goosebumps he conjured with his touch, and he watched how your nipples hardened under his caress. He held you with one arm and let the other dance on you, carefully letting you know you weren’t alone. 
He kissed your cheek after a little while, and if he was leaking pre-cum onto your stomach, you didn’t seem to mind.
You watched him through hooded eyes, and it occurred to him that it was supposed to be like this. He didn’t want to be sentimental right now, there would be time for that. But he was certain this was meant to happen.
You swiped your thumb on his chin, removing traces of you from there. You had drenched his face, but he loved knowing you were all over him. He leaned down to kiss you and as you were about to wipe your hand on the sheets, he caught it and brought it up to his mouth.
He put his mouth around your fingers, sucking down the juices you had gathered from his face. Your breath hitched and when he moved your hand towards your mouth, you only opened up like you were stuck in the same trance as he was. 
You sucked on your own fingers, the sound making him hiss. He replaced your hand with his, your tongue delightful on his digits, the feeling absolutely marvelous and making him twitch violently.
“You’re so delicious. We shouldn’t let this go to waste.”
He was ready to curse your name when you made a move to reach for his pulsing cock. It was painful to be this hard, but he swatted your hand away just as you were about to wrap your hand around him.
He wanted to prove you’d always be his first priority. He wanted you to remember tonight as him showing you you came first. 
“I’m giving you another before I let you touch me.”
“Please– Just a little,” you pleaded with the cutest pout he had ever witnessed.
The thing was, he wasn’t sure he could say no to you in any setting. 
He nodded and grabbed your hand, bringing it onto his cock. You were gentle and slow, moving it on him just enough to make him close his eyes and make him hiss as you relieved some of the tension there. How often he had imagined your hand on him like this, but it had never come close to the real thing.
He put his hand on top of yours and he opened his eyes again, his eyes locked on yours as your combined hands made him shudder in delight. 
Your thumb gently roamed over the tip and Aaron hummed, stopping your movements.
“Too close.”
You brought his face close to yours, and he followed. He would always follow your lead. He would follow you anywhere. He kissed you tenderly, the flutters in his chest violent compared to the throbbing in his balls. 
“You’re perfect, Aaron.”
If your hand had still been on him, he would have spilled right into it as you voiced that. He was grateful he had stopped you before. 
He let his hand wander down to your core, decided to bring you over the edge again before he did anything else. 
“What do you want?” he breathed.
“Just this. Hold me. Use your fingers.”
Aaron nodded and kept his eyes locked on your face. He let his index move over your clit, rubbing it in circles and from side to side, finding what pattern made you moan louder. He alternated between this and thrusting it inside you, coating you in your own juices and making the rubbing smoother. He loved how you clenched around his digit when he gently thrusted it inside you. He brought it back up, playing with your clit how he had figured you like as he read how your body tensed, and how your moans graced his ears, and when you were left moaning and panting, trying desperately to cling to him more than you were already, he gathered you’d like his next move, planting a small smack on your clit with his palm. 
Your eyes rolled back inside your head as you screamed, and Aaron figured he had read you correctly. You certainly liked mixing pleasure and pain a little. 
Aaron was transfixed by how incredibly beautiful and perfect you were, and he couldn’t help but want to capture your sounds with his mouth. He kissed you with everything he felt for you, and he felt your legs thrash on the bed just as you tried to catch his hand between your legs. He felt you throb on his finger right as you shouted his name into his mouth, right as you fluttered on his digit, and he was dangerously close to coming on your stomach right then and there as he held you through the waves of your orgasm. 
“Breathtaking,” he uttered low against your lips.
Aaron kissed you gently, and you kissed him lazily as the gears in your head slowly came back online, and the second your gaze was clearer, you reached for him again. 
“Please… I need you now.”
He chuckled, but there was no mocking involved.
“Me too, sweetheart. You have no idea. You have no idea what you do to me.”
Aaron always kept condoms in his go-bag, but he wasn’t sure they weren’t past their expiration date. He never used them. Too tired during cases to try and find someone, and sex to him meant too much to try and get it on with a stranger. The only ones used in that box had been with Beth, and she had been gone for many months, not to mention their last moments weren’t particularly intimate. He still wasn’t sure why he kept some in his bag to this day, but he would have to find out whether they were still good now.
He gestured to get up, but you held him back with force. He was often impressed by how strong you could prove to be. He remained firmly in place, holding you close.
“What are you doing?”
“Condoms,” he explained.
“Oh. I’m clean. Only ever been with two other men, and yeah… I got tested recently as part of our annual physical. As you know.”
Aaron nodded.
Right.
He was clean, too. He had been tested as recently as you. 
But surely you didn’t want to do this without protection so early on in your–
Your what?
He didn’t want to think about whether you only wanted this once.
“I’m clean, too,” he clarified. 
“I trust you. And I don’t want anything between us. But if you want to wear a condom, I understand, and I’ll respect that.”
“No, I– I only ever did this with Haley without protection, and bringing up my dead ex-wife right now is surely a dick move, but–”
You just smiled as you patted his chest. 
“Say no more, Aaron. Where are your condoms?”
Aaron loved how considerate and thoughtful you were. He loved everything about you, and even if he wasn’t good at saying things, he could say a lot with his mouth.
He kissed you passionately, bringing you close to his body to make sure nothing got between you.
He didn’t let you catch your breath for a little while, pouring his affection for you into the kiss. 
He eventually moved away, cradling your cheek as his eyes met yours again. “What I meant was, I’m clean. We don’t need–”
“I’m on birth control, too,” you added. 
His erection had started to waver, but your hand wandered on his thighs, and when you started pumping him, he hummed low in his throat as he hardened fully once more within seconds.
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 “Will you let me feel you?”
Aaron nodded and positioned himself between your legs. You put your legs around his waist, granting him access and he grabbed his dick to align it with your entrance.
He breached you with just the tip, making you curse because of how large he was. He gently caressed your leg with one hand, holding himself up with the other and he slowly sank in, inch by inch. 
He allowed you to breathe through it until he was fully sheathed.
You knew you were clenching and fluttering around him, and you were trying to remain sane as he met the deepest parts of you. You had no doubt that you had been made for him, in every sense of the word.
“You feel so good,” he groaned.
“Oh, fuck, I love–” you paused, catching your feelings in time. You were no expert but declarations of love during your first time having sex with someone weren’t really supposed to happen. “Your dick,” you added.
“You’re so perfect,” he added breathlessly. 
“Move, please.”
Aaron didn’t have to be told twice. He started moving in and out gently, letting you adjust to his size while still giving you a pleasurable mix of pain and elation.
You made him lean down more, his weight now almost resting on top of you, not letting an inch between you.
He thrusted in and out of you with more speed, punctuating his thrusts with kisses. 
He was frantic, his movements uncoordinated and unrehearsed, his groans filling the room around your moans. 
You knew he was close, and you were certain he was about to explode.
You wanted to look at his face, and the way it contorted with pleasure. You clenched around him the more he prodded a deep and soft spot within you, making your body shudder and your legs tremble each time he hit it.
You felt the coil in your stomach tighten the more he hit that spot, and he was hitting it repeatedly. No one had ever reached it like this before.
Your nails raked the length of his back, spurring him on to thrust his hips into you faster.
You closed your eyes to revel in how marvelous everything felt when you heard him hiss.
“Keep your eyes on me.”
You opened them again, and his free hand found yours, your fingers intertwining and linking your bodies in another place. There was something special about feeling pinned under him.
He kissed you again, his tongue unforgiving as it clashed with yours.
He groaned loudly and you heard him growl as his hips stuttered. He was losing his rhythm, but you were losing it, too.
“Let go, Aaron. I’m right there with you.’’
He snaked a hand between your bodies, and it was the only thing that could get in the way that you would allow.
He put a finger on your clit and his finger circled it even faster than earlier, and his desperate hand between your bodies trying to get you there before he exploded was enough to send you over the edge again.
You felt him let go as you had told him to. He went slack-jawed as a long drawn-out moan escaped his lips. You felt him paint your inner walls with copious amounts of his seed, shot after shot, groan after groan, burying himself inside you delightfully. 
The second he would pull out, there would be a huge mess. It was obvious. You heard the wet sounds squelching, his slow thrusts slapping your pussy and almost as if he wanted to make sure his seed was deep inside you as he milked his own orgasm with your clenching walls until his hips stilled.
He rested his whole body weight on top of you.
You were gently grazing his back, caressing it soothingly. He shuddered against you, clearly loving every single gentle touch you were giving him as he came down from his high.
He softened inside you enough to pull out, but you wanted him to remain inside you a little longer. 
He grabbed you and picked you up before you could even think straight again, remaining inside you as he brought you towards the bathroom. The motions made parts of your mixed juices drip out on him, but you were glad evidence of you two was on him, not just inside you.
He turned on the shower as you kissed him tenderly, unable to stop clinging to him, and if you had your way, you would hold him all night.
He brought you inside the shower before he let you down on shaky legs, making sure to hold you up against him, for which you were grateful since your legs seemed to be stuck in subspace with half your cognitive faculties. 
“I don’t want you to sleep in a wet spot,” he whispered next to your temple. 
You nodded as you caressed his cheek, loving how considerate and thoughtful he was with you. 
You held each other under the spray until Aaron started cleaning you up with gentle hands. He clearly wasn’t trying to make it sexual or trying to indulge in feeling you up, but you loved sharing a comfortable intimacy with him so early on in your–
Fuck.
Your what? 
Relationship?
You didn’t want to ruin this by thinking about what it meant. Not just yet.
“Would you let me wash your hair?” you asked sheepishly, wanting to do something nice for him, wanting to care for him as well as he cared for you. 
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You were so caring and loving that he had a hard time believing you thought about this as a one-time thing, but he wouldn’t assume.
He dropped to his knees without further thought to allow you to wash his hair, and feeling your fingers massage his scalp had no right feeling this good. If he wasn’t truly spent, he would be getting hard again for sure. 
He closed his eyes as you worked on his hair, choosing not to be in his head too much and to enjoy this. He refrained from touching you the way he wanted to. You wanted to do this for him so he would let you.
Once you were done, you motioned for him to get to his feet, and as soon as his eyes met yours, you asked him to kiss you because clearly it had already been too long since his lips had been on yours.
He kissed your lips, your shoulders, your nose, your cheeks, your head, and he would kiss every inch of your body again if you wanted. He would make sure you knew how beautiful he found, how much he loved every part of you. 
Bringing you back to bed after showering with you felt as intimate as the shower itself, and when he put on a pair of boxers and offered you a t-shirt, he didn’t stop to think about how he wanted to see you wear every last shirt he owned.
You’d talk later. Right now it didn’t matter. 
You immediately cuddled into his side as you got into bed, and Aaron liked the weight of your head on his chest. It centered him and it made the incessant questions in his head finally stop.
“You smell like me,” he declared to the room.
You hugged his waist more firmly, nodding as he planted a kiss at the top of your head.
You yawned a few times, and he chuckled as he watched you try to fight sleep. You would fall asleep in his arms in no time, and he would definitely not let go this time. 
You started to move away, but he held you back before you could even reach your pillow. 
He would be your pillow tonight. He longed to watch you fall asleep on his chest. 
He wouldn’t let you move away again anyway, not tonight and not ever if you wanted him the way he wanted you. “Please—just—”
“Aaron, if we cuddle, this means something.”
“I want it to mean something,” he replied sincerely.
How he wanted it to mean something. He wanted it to mean everything.
You nuzzled your nose into his chest, firmly gripping his waist until your hold went lax and soft snores filled the room. He smiled, watching your precious form find rest on top of him. 
Exhaustion and jet lag probably took over because he was out like a light in no time.
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You woke disorientated a few hours later. Surely, you had been so worn out that a dreamless sleep had found you. But as the gears in your brain started turning again, you remembered him and you tried to reach for him but he wasn’t in bed next to you.
He was up and looking out the window, but he didn’t look panicked or like he regretted anything that had transpired tonight. His shoulders didn’t look tense and from what you could gather, his brow wasn’t furrowed. He did look deep in thought, and you wanted him to know he didn’t have to face the unkind thoughts alone, knowing full well his mind was his worst enemy.
You approached him quietly so as to not startle him, and you put your arms around his waist, planting a kiss in the middle of his bare back. He relaxed as soon as you wrapped yourself around him more firmly, and he let out a big breath.
“How beautiful is this?’’ he whispered, focusing on something out the window.
You could see the Northern Lights still dancing on the horizon, right on top of the mountains, and the way Aaron looked completely mesmerized was enough to make you agree to anything he might say.
“I could see myself living here when I retire,’’ you confessed.
Aaron turned around in your embrace, and a kiss grazed your forehead.
“Would I be included in those plans?’’
Your arms still around his waist, you looked up into his eyes, smiling at him. “If you want to be.’’
He cradled your face then, his expression softening. “There’s absolutely nothing I wouldn’t want with you.’’
You were relieved to hear it. It seemed obvious Aaron wasn’t the kind of man to do one-night stands, especially with his coworkers, but somehow, hearing him say he wanted some kind of life with you in not so many words settled your stomach. 
“You’re going to retire first, though.”
“And I want you to be there when I do.”
“Really?” you double-checked. 
“Listen, I know it’s scary to talk about the future like this. We just– But you…” he paused, kissing your cheek, “feel right.” He moved to the other cheek, your hold on his waist tightening. “This– It feels right.”
You rested a hand in the middle of his chest, feeling his heartbeat calm and strong in the palm of your hand. 
“It feels perfect. And it’s not scary. Maybe it should be, but I’m really calm.”
You grabbed one of his hands, putting it in the middle of your chest so he could feel your heartbeat as well. 
Stuck in this little moment, feeling each other’s heartbeats, he leaned down to kiss you again, and when your hand found its way into his hair, he shuddered against you. 
You felt him twitch in his boxers and you smirked at him. You hadn’t realized he was hard again, but you had started to gather that your hand in his hair proved to be a reliable method to make his knees buckle, or at the very least, make him shiver in delight.  
“May I?” you asked, reaching for his erection. 
“We don’t have to–”
“Hush.” You palmed him through his boxers, his eyes rolling back inside his head as he groaned. “I want to. Do you want me to?”
“Yes.”
You brought him towards the edge of the bed, and you kneeled in front of him as you gently took off his boxers.
“I’m going to make you feel good.”
He nodded.
You caressed his legs, kissing his inner thighs before you spat on his cock, making him hiss. It twitched, and you decided to wet his length with your tongue, tracing the side of his cock with it before you licked the throbbing vein with gusto. 
You could tell he was having a hard time staying still, and when you sucked him down into your mouth with your hand accommodating what you couldn’t take in in one go, he moaned so loudly you thought you would never hear such a lovely sound again. 
You moved up and down, stretching out your mouth with his width and length, trying to make this a memorable experience for him.
You flicked your tongue over the tip as you bobbed your head, stroking his dick covered in spit with your hand, his hips gently pushing off the bed.
His hand came to rest on your head, but he removed it as soon as you choked a little around him. You grabbed it, put it back on your head, and you looked up at him through your eyelashes, giving him permission to let loose. 
His soft expression was all you needed to work harder. 
You buried your nose in his pubic hair soon after, the tip gently grazing his pubic bone, and you swallowed around him to wet his length more and make it easier for the back of your throat to accommodate him. It had been a while since you had done this, but the stretch felt good, better than you remembered. 
You moved your hand up and down as you licked him up and down again, letting your lips  kiss his cock and his vein, and you took him in your mouth again, sucking him harder and faster, immediately making him thrust into your mouth involuntarily.
“Oh god,” he groaned.
You didn’t let up. His hand in your hair tightened as you sucked harder, and it only spurred you on.
“So close–”
You hummed around him to signal your approval.
It didn’t take long for his thighs to quiver, but he pulled on your hair gently to make you stop.
“I’d much rather have you again,” he said hoarsely. 
You smiled up at him from under your lashes and he swiped the tears on your cheeks away. You had teared up as he hit the back of your throat, but it had felt so good to feel him harden and pulse in your mouth.
“I’m on top this time.”
Aaron nodded and moved to sit with his back to the headboard. You straddled his lap and sank down on him without losing a beat. You put your hands on each side of his shoulders, gripping the headboard as you adjusted to his size.
He gritted his teeth when you started moving.
“You’re so perfect–”
You shut him up with a searing kiss, making him moan into your mouth as your tongue met his and you knew he could taste himself on your tongue.
He started rubbing your clit with his thumb, his eyes sparkling with affection for you.
“You’re good with your fingers, god–” you muttered.
“Sweetheart–”
He started thrusting up to meet your movements when you lost your pace to the sensations he brought you. He hit a particular spot inside you as you rocked your hips, and as you moaned loudly, unable to be quiet and not really wanting to since he had asked to hear you earlier, he seemed to realize he had hit that sweet spot.  
“Right there,” you whined, chasing your peak on him as you tried to move your hips so he’d graze it again. 
“Hmm…”
He hit it again with a forceful thrust. 
“Oh fuck, right there, Aaron.”
“Let go, sweetheart.”
Hearing Aaron call you sweetheart repeatedly was enough to make you lose it, apparently. The coil in your stomach tightened dangerously before it was ripped loose, and you started shaking as wave after wave of pleasure overtook your entire frame.
His hands were lazily stroking your back as you slowly came back down from your high. 
His shallow thrusts upwards were messy and uncoordinated, he was clearly close from feeling you come around him, the tip of him still grazing your g-spot deliciously. 
You felt him twitch more violently as you rolled your hips, his hands gripping your waist tightly. 
“Can I–”
You stopped moving altogether. 
“Not yet. Hold it a bit longer.”
You slowly rolled your hips on top of him again, his length pulsing the more you moved. He was close, but you wanted to make this last.
You were slow on purpose, and he followed your lead, his thrusts delicate but deep. 
“Please sweetheart–” he whined. 
You knew he was close even before you slowed it down, and you felt his thighs quiver under you. 
“Let go, Aaron.”
You felt him pulsate and shoot up inside you, trying to clench around him to suck every last drop inside you and keep it there. You fluttered around him, and Aaron smiled lazily at you as his mind slipped into subspace. You kissed his sweaty brow, and his hands caressed your back gently, pulling you closer to hug you against his chest. 
“Told you I’d make you feel good.”
He hummed, still inside you, and you loved feeling him this close, to know you had rendered him shaky from head to toe. You looked forward to edging him again in the future, although for way longer than this. Edging and orgasm denial could be so delicious if you knew how to do it just right, and you had a feeling Aaron would figure that out with you.
“We should probably shower again so we don’t make a mess here.”
You smiled at him, and this time, you kissed him everywhere in the shower like he had done for you earlier, showing him that love, care, and affection didn’t have to be one-sided. 
It wasn’t long before you were back in bed, and in no time Aaron fell asleep with his head on your stomach as your fingers gently caressed his hair, his soft moans becoming long sleepy breaths.
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He woke up to you draped over him, and saw that you’d both have to get up and get ready to go back home shortly. 
He lazily traced your face to make sure he could almost paint it from memory once you left the confines of this room, his legs still entangled with yours, your limbs warm and heavy from sleep within his. 
He loved this. He wanted this every morning from now on. 
You softly woke up, hiding your face in his chest as he kissed your temple, and his hands roamed over your back, keeping you close. 
He leaned down to kiss you, and as your morning breaths mingled, it became clear to you that he’d never want to share this with anyone else. 
You were it. 
He looked at the time again, and he realized you had to go before the others woke up and realized you weren’t already down for breakfast, especially since you were the early birds of the group after all. 
But you indulged in more lazy kisses, so he did too. Kissing you was a privilege he would never take for granted. 
He kissed you without stopping, almost preventing you from leaving the room altogether as the kiss got heated.
“We have to go down,” you mentioned between kisses.
Aaron nodded but he held on to you firmly, his lips still too hungry for yours. 
After some time, you got up and put on your clothes, and he let you, aware he had to leave the room at some point, too. 
Aaron pouted as you put your clothes on, mostly because he really loved seeing you without them, and he pouted as he put his own clothes on, too. He was strangely protective of what had transpired last night, and putting on his suit again saddened him because he knew you wouldn’t get him out of it for a few hours. 
You made to exit the room with him in tow, but he pulled you back and he hugged you firmly against his chest, unable to let go quite yet. 
He knew he was being clingy, but he couldn’t let you go. He didn’t want to. He was scared that stepping out of this room would mean the magic was over. That you’d realize you deserved better than him, that you’d realize this was–
“I know who Jack gets his pout and puppy eyes from,” you tutted. 
He smirked. You loved his son. He knew that. But each time you mentioned him, each time you spared a thought for him, it made something flutter in his chest. 
“You give him what he wants when he uses them.”
“And what do you want?” you asked. 
He waggled his eyebrows. “Just one more kiss.”
You nodded and you kissed him gently, but you didn’t allow him to let him pull you too close, and he understood, because if he had his way, you’d never leave the room in time to go unnoticed by the others. 
“We’ll be together on the jet in less than an hour,’’ you added between pecks on his cheeks.
“But I won’t get to do this on the jet,” he pouted again.  
“I mean, you could. But you’d be risking giving Rossi a heart attack.’’
Then, he was hit by an idea. A promise to not let the magic be over quite yet. 
“Come over tonight.’’
You looked surprised by his offer. “Sorry?’’
“Come over tonight. And bring a bag with enough clothes in it to stay for a few days.’’
“What about Jack?’’
“Jack is with Jessica for the rest of the week. They’re visiting family.’’
A hand clasped your mouth. “Shit… What are we going to tell Jack?’’
Jack loved you as much as you loved him. This would be the easiest thing. He would just have to tell Jack you’d stay over sometimes, that you were more than just his friend. Jack wouldn’t have a problem with it. Aaron knew it for a fact because Jack had already asked if you were his girlfriend, and that he’d love to have you around more. 
“The truth. When you’re ready,” he replied, confident. 
“And what is the truth?” you asked with a smirk and quirked eyebrows. 
How adorable you looked, how perfect you were… 
He gathered his courage, he inhaled, and he smiled at you. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
It sounded corny to his own ears, and thankfully, you laughed it off. 
“You’re so corny.”
He shrugged. “I’m just old-fashioned.”
He was waiting for your answer and while his heart was in his throat, he was sure you weren’t making him wait to torture him.
“Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend, Aaron.”
“I know we’ll have to figure a few things out, but–”
You cradled his face fondly, your care for him evident. “Look, I’m in this and you have me, any way you want me. But let’s not talk about this now. Let’s keep Alaska magical.”
This was the easiest thing he would ever agree to. Keeping this experience completely untainted by normal life, by your reality outside of here. Keeping Alaska magical was something he could do.
He nodded. “Later.”
“Later.”
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Once on the jet, you tried to avoid looking anyone directly into the eye since they would probably be able to tell you didn’t sleep much last night if they saw your face, and they really didn’t have to know why you hadn’t slept. 
“Did you see the Northern Lights last night after all, dear?’’ Rossi inquired. 
“I did.’’
“And?’’ 
You beamed at the memories still fresh and imprinted on your brain. “Magical. Almost stayed up all night to watch them.’’
Derek frowned at that.
“Why do you look so pissy, Derek?” Emily asked.
“The couple next door went at it last night,” he declared to the team.
You were somewhat relieved he was saying the ‘couple next door’ because that could be anyone. It was a big hotel, and it didn’t mean anyone had heard you and Aaron, or that they had figured out you and Aaron were next door to Derek. Especially since you weren’t particularly subtle about it last night when Aaron had told you he wanted to hear you.
Emily smirked as her eyes narrowed on you, caught red-handed as you admired Aaron.
Fuck.
“Wait, weren’t you both in the room next to Derek?” Emily asked.
Shit. 
She knew. You’d told her. You always texted each other room numbers. As women on cases in remote areas, you always did this. And you had mentioned in passing that you were sharing with the boss because Emily knew about your ongoing crush on him. 
Aaron sat with his back to the team and looked at you with a silly smile, proud rather than embarrassed. 
Rossi smirked knowingly. “Why are you beet red, honey?”
You looked at Aaron, opting not to let him get out of it so easily. “You should ask Aaron.”
“Aaron, is it?” JJ teased.
If Emily knew, JJ knew. It was a known rule among the BAU members. 
You tilted your head to the side. “I think they want an explanation, boss.”
Aaron flushed and furrowed his brow, but he didn’t look angry you had thrown him under the bus. You were both in this after all. 
He still had a small lopsided smile partially hidden, and his eyes glistened with adoration for you.
“The Alaska atmosphere and the Northern Lights really have a way of showing people there’s magic happening right in front of them,” he added with a grin, his eyes never leaving yours. 
The girls gushed as Derek chuckled. David clasped Aaron’s shoulder in pride.
Spencer frowned. “Actually–”
“Shut up, pretty boy,” Derek interrupted. “Sure sounded magical last night,” he added, waggling his eyebrows at you.
Aaron was bright red, and you knew this wouldn’t be too good for his blood pressure. You moved to sit with him now that the cat was out of the bag. 
The team all asked questions before you took off and ultimately, after their curiosity had been satisfied and it sizzled out, they left you alone.
You vowed to remember Alaska fondly, its magic not lost on you, not now and not ever. Rossi could say whatever he wanted; Alaska would always be dear to you.
Aaron knew how much you loved looking out the window when flying, offering you his own seat next to the window, but you shook your head. 
“If you sit there, you won’t see out the window as well.”
“It’s fine. The view’s perfect from here,” you replied with a smile as you continued to look at him.
He smiled back. You wondered what you had ever done to deserve someone like him.
You silently wondered when saying “I love you” would be considered too soon. You thought about googling it right until you decided you were done wondering, and you pulled him to his feet to bring him towards the back of the jet.
You started kissing him the second the curtain was closed, and he kissed you back, but you both kept the kissing PG-13 because the team was only a few feet away.
You felt how much he cared for you in every gentle touch, and you felt it overwhelm your senses because he felt things for you as much as you felt things for him.
“Sorry. Couldn’t wait until Virginia,” you explained.
At the same time, he blurted out, “I love you.”
You brought him towards your face by his tie, his forehead resting against yours just like last night, right before your lips had met for the first time. “I brought you back here to say it first.”
He smirked widely. “Okay. I take it back.”
You tutted. “You’re not allowed to take it back.”
He kissed your nose at that, his smile so wide and beautiful, you almost wanted to take a picture to make sure it would last, to ensure nothing would ever get in the way of seeing him this happy again. But truthfully, picture or not, you would remember this moment forever. 
“Good, because I’m never going to.”
“I love you,” you whispered.
He kissed you with gentle lips, not letting it deepen too much but still making his case when it came to the heavy yet soothing declarations you had both made seconds before.
“I want to do so much more than just kiss you,” he groaned. 
“Thoughts on joining the mile-high club?” you suggested with a smirk, running your hand up and down his tie.
He looked at the curtain, his brow furrowing for a second. “We should wait until everyone’s asleep.”
Wait, what? 
“I thought you’d say no,” you replied, laughing nervously. 
“I think you underestimate what you do to me.”
“Do I?”
He picked you up and sat you on the counter, your legs coming around his waist instinctively. He moved closer into the space, and you felt him stretch the seam of his trousers as his core met yours.
“That–” he paused, gently thrusting so you’d know he was hard, “is just a small token of my appreciation for you.”
You scoffed, a giggle escaping your throat. “Small? You’re kidding, right?”
He scoffed in return. 
“Can’t you just order the team to sleep?” you suggested. 
“I can ask Reid to explain 19th-century medical practices to everyone?”
Brilliant man. 
Derek would be the first one to put his headphones on and shut his eyes.
Then Emily.
Then JJ.
Rossi wouldn’t listen anyway. He just tuned Spencer out if he wasn’t already asleep.
Spencer would tire himself out rambling after a while. He would kip on the sofa.
It would leave you and Aaron. The only two people who almost never slept on the plane.
“Oh, you’re a brilliant man.”
With a plan, you went back to the team, but no one gave you a second glance, surely because no funny noises had been heard from behind the curtain.
The plan was put in motion and if someone suspected it was a ruse, no one said anything about it.
Aaron brought you into the bathroom the second everyone was asleep, and immediately put his lips on yours like he’d never get the chance again. To be fair, there wasn’t a second to lose. When you unzipped his pants and moved him out of his boxers to pump him, spitting on your hand to stroke him gently, his eyes rolled back inside his head and he let you take the lead.
You brought him close quickly, your strokes careful and calculated. 
He snaked a hand into your panties, and you were proud of yourself for wearing a skirt today. He slid down your panties and pocketed them before he let his hand rub your cunt gently.
“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he said as his finger breached you.
You smiled at him, trying hard to remain silent. He didn’t lose a second with foreplay at your request, moving to align his cock with your entrance. He picked you up in the small space, and you slowly sank down on him as he held his cock for you to slide down on.
He trembled as your walls fluttered around him, and he gasped into your mouth once he was fully sheathed inside you.
Aaron held you up as best as he could, and he put a hand on the wall behind your head and the other under your ass to thrust into you while still holding you up. He gained a nice rhythm, but you could tell he was close and that he wouldn’t last long from how erratic his thrusts already were. 
“Touch yourself, I’m close,” he whispered through gritted teeth.
You put your hand between your bodies to bring yourself closer to the edge, feeling him throb and pulsate, his dick’s movements echoing around your walls.
The second you started touching yourself, you were shaking violently, and you had to muffle your moans into his mouth as you came with overwhelming shudders, using your lips to silence his groans as he shook from the sheer pleasure of burying his seed inside you once more. You felt him twitch and shoot up inside you, and the thought that he was so deep inside made your heart beat faster, and combined with the risky aspect of it all, you felt like you were riding a very long wave of pleasure after pleasure. 
He carefully pulled out and picked up toilet paper to clean what was seeping out of you before he cleaned himself up rudimentarily, his touch gentle as he wiped your inner thighs. 
“Thank you.”
He just smiled at you, discarding the soiled toilet paper and flushing it down the toilet. 
You made sure his pants were holding up as he put himself away, you watched him gave himself one last look in the mirror before he moved to exit the bathroom first since he was closer to the door.
You held him back by the elbow. He was forgetting something. 
“My panties, Aaron.”
He smirked. “I’m just making sure you come get them back tonight.”
“You’re still dripping out of me. Literally.”
He just grinned. “You’d better keep your legs close together then.”
Oh. 
You thought you had sensed it last night. 
He would follow your lead when you were in bed, you were sure of it. But this? Asking for it? Submitting himself to you and your treatment of him if he–
Oh. 
He really was your perfect match. 
“You’re gonna pay for that,” you declared. 
“Oh, sweetheart… You probably know I look forward to it.”
You shook your head in disbelief. 
You’d have fun. You’d never be bored. It was obvious. 
“Besides, you still have to give me my book back,” he added, his grin plastered on his face.
“About that…” you started, playing with his tie. 
His smile faded for a second, his brow tightening but his body didn’t tense up. “You know, don’t you?”
You nodded. “And believe me, I looked for that one line.”
“I did a character study on Jay Gatsby when I took elective literature courses in college. I wrote it down in my analysis, well– I wrote how someone’s presence can make any place feel like home, and how Daisy was his home. I may have paraphrased my essay when I said it to you so you’d think it came from the book, but–”
You cradled his face gently, your thumbs rubbing his cheeks. “How long have you been trying to tell me without actually telling me?”
“I don’t know for sure when I– but uh– I knew for sure how I felt when I saw you covered in mud, running with Jack under the rain across the soggy soccerfield with the model airplanes we had spent hours building together.”  
You remembered that fondly. He had falsely scolded you for ruining the model airplanes before he had showed up to work the next day with a huge smile as he presented you a cup of coffee from your favorite coffee shop close to Quantico, only offering it to give it to you if you promised to help him build new ones for Jack. 
You had ordered new model airplanes to assemble with him by lunch, and by dinner, you had sent him a screenshot of your order. 
Maybe you had been trying to tell him without actually telling him for a while, too.
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Aaron exited the bathroom and he walked back to his seat, relieved to see that everyone was still asleep on the jet.
You joined him moments later, waddling like a penguin to keep your legs shut. He was aware you had probably peed to avoid getting an infection, but that didn’t mean deeper substances weren’t threatening to drip out of you. How he loved knowing he was inside you.
Aaron got to work, and while you never slept on the jet, too mesmerized by the outside world to get some shut-eye, this time, you actually seemed tired. 
You rested your head on his shoulder, and Aaron looked at you trying to scuffle closer. He dropped his paperwork to put his arms around you, and he kissed the top of your head as you nuzzled your nose into his shirt. He grinned widely as he realized you were well and truly his, Alaska magic or not. 
You’d still have to talk, but he wasn’t worried in the least. He’d make sure this would work.
He held you close, letting the paperwork wait, and for the first time in years, he allowed himself to close his eyes as he held your sleeping form. He allowed himself to rest on the jet because he knew for sure he’d wake up to a reality far better than what his dreams could ever offer.
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empty-movement · 4 months
Note
May I ask what scanners / equipment / software you're using in the utena art book project? I'm an artist and half the reason I rarely do traditional art is because I'm never happy with the artwork after it's scanned in. But the level of detail even in the blacks of Utena's uniform were all captured so beautifully! And even the very light colors are showing up so well! I'd love to know how you manage!
You know what's really fun? This used to be something you put in your site information section, the software and tools used! Not something that's as normal anymore, but let's give it a go, sorry it's long because I don't know what's new information and what's not! Herein: VANNA'S 'THIS IS AS SPECIFIC AS MY BREAK IS LONG' GUIDE/AIMLESS UNEDITED RAMBLE ABOUT SCANNING IMAGES
Scanning: Modern scanners, by and large, are shit for this. The audience for scanning has narrowed to business and work from home applications that favor text OCR, speed, and efficiency over archiving and scanning of photos and other such visual media. It makes sense--there was a time when scanning your family photographs and such was a popular expected use of a scanner, but these days, the presumption is anything like that is already digital--what would you need the scanner to do that for? The scanner I used for this project is the same one I have been using for *checks notes* a decade now. I use an Epson Perfection V500. Because it is explicitly intended to be a photo scanner, it does threebthings that at this point, you will pay a niche user premium for in a scanner: extremely high DPI (dots per inch), extremely wide color range, and true lossless raws (BMP/TIFF.) I scan low quality print media at 600dpi, high quality print media at 1200 dpi, and this artbook I scanned at 2400 dpi. This is obscene and results in files that are entire GB in size, but for my purposes and my approach, the largest, clearest, rawest copy of whatever I'm scanning is my goal. I don't rely on the scanner to do any post-processing. (At these sizes, the post-processing capacity of the scanner is rendered moot, anyway.) I will replace this scanner when it breaks by buying another identical one if I can find it. I have dropped, disassembled to clean, and abused this thing for a decade and I can't believe it still tolerates my shit. The trade off? Only a couple of my computers will run the ancient capture software right. LMAO. I spent a good week investigating scanners because of the insane Newtype project on my backburner, and the quality available to me now in a scanner is so depleted without spending over a thousand on one, that I'd probably just spin up a computer with Windows 7 on it just to use this one. That's how much of a difference the decade has made in what scanners do and why. (Enshittification attacks! Yes, there are multiple consumer computer products that have actually declined in quality over the last decade.)
Post-processing: Photoshop. Sorry. I have been using Photoshop for literally decades now, it's the demon I know. While CSP is absolutely probably the better piece of software for most uses (art,) Photoshop is...well it's in the name. In all likelihood though, CSP can do all these things, and is a better product to give money to. I just don't know how. NOTENOTENOTE: Anywhere I discuss descreening and print moire I am specifically talking about how to clean up *printed media.* If you are scanning your own painting, this will not be a problem, but everything else about this advice will stand! The first thing you do with a 2400 dpi scan of Utena and Anthy hugging? Well, you open it in Photoshop, which you may or may not have paid for. Then you use a third party developer's plug-in to Descreen the image. I use Sattva. Now this may or may not be what you want in archiving!!! If fidelity to the original scan is the point, you may pass on this part--you are trying to preserve the print screen, moire, half-tones, and other ways print media tricks the eye. If you're me, this tool helps translate the raw scan of the printed dots on the page into the smooth color image you see in person. From there, the vast majority of your efforts will boil down to the following Photoshop tools: Levels/Curves, Color Balance, and Selective Color. Dust and Scratches, Median, Blur, and Remove Noise will also be close friends of the printed page to digital format archiver. Once you're happy with the broad strokes, you can start cropping and sizing it down to something reasonable. If you are dealing with lots of images with the same needs, like when I've scanned doujinshi pages, you can often streamline a lot of this using Photoshop Actions.
My blacks and whites are coming out so vivid this time because I do all color post-processing in Photoshop after the fact, after a descreen tool has been used to translate the dot matrix colors to solids they're intended to portray--in my experience trying to color correct for dark and light colors is a hot mess until that process is done, because Photoshop sees the full range of the dots on the image and the colors they comprise, instead of actually blending them into their intended shades. I don't correct the levels until I've descreened to some extent.
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As you can see, the print pattern contains the information of the original painting, but if you try to correct the blacks and whites, you'll get a janky mess. *Then* you change the Levels:
If you've ever edited audio, then dealing with photo Levels and Curves will be familiar to you! A well cut and cleaned piece of audio will not cut off the highs and lows, but also will make sure it uses the full range available to it. Modern scanners are trying to do this all for you, so they blow out the colors and increase the brightness and contrast significantly, because solid blacks and solid whites are often the entire thing you're aiming for--document scanning, basically. This is like when audio is made so loud details at the high and low get cut off. Boo.
What I get instead is as much detail as possible, but also at a volume that needs correcting:
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Cutting off the unused color ranges (in this case it's all dark), you get the best chance of capturing the original black and white range:
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In some cases, I edit beyond this--for doujinshi scans, I aim for solid blacks and whites, because I need the file sizes to be normal and can't spend gigs of space on dust. For accuracy though, this is where I'd generally stop.
For scanning artwork, the major factor here that may be fucking up your game? Yep. The scanner. Modern scanners are like cheap microphones that blow out the audio, when what you want is the ancient microphone that captures your cat farting in the next room over. While you can compensate A LOT in Photoshop and bring out blacks and whites that scanners fuck up, at the end of the day, what's probably stopping you up is that you want to use your scanner for something scanners are no longer designed to do well. If you aren't crazy like me and likely to get a vintage scanner for this purpose, keep in mind that what you are looking for is specifically *a photo scanner.* These are the ones designed to capture the most range, and at the highest DPI. It will be a flatbed. Don't waste your time with anything else.
Hot tip: if you aren't scanning often, look into your local library or photo processing store. They will have access to modern scanners that specialize in the same priorities I've listed here, and many will scan to your specifications (high dpi, lossless.)
Ahem. I hope that helps, and or was interesting to someone!!!
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redamancyys · 1 year
Text
All Around Me - Kaz Brekker
WARNING(S) ◆ smut, piv sex, oral (fem recieving), cursing, unedited.
WORDS ◆ 3.7k
REQUEST(S) ◆ based off of this request, though i did stray a little. basically kaz and the reader have sex for the first time!
AUTHOR'S NOTE ◆ sooooo this ended up being a lot steamy-er than i intended, but i hope that you enjoy it, because i definitely liked writing this one!
To say that the desire was eating you both up from the inside was an understatement. 
Kaz had never wanted a person the way that he wanted you. It was a raw, carnal desire that came from deep within him. He had never been a person who ached for touch until he met you, he wished that he was able to be the man that could grab you by your hips without spiraling into a panic, or could kiss you for as long as you wanted without having to take a break because his internal thoughts were becoming too much to handle. 
You would always explain to him that it wasn’t his fault. 
Hushed whispers, your hands placed ever so carefully on his clothed body, trying to keep him grounded whenever the aversion got too bad. You had seen him at his worst, where he had to put his head in between his knees in order to stop the flashbacks from coming back to him. Though sometimes no matter how hard you tried, Kaz would morph back into that little boy again, feeling his brother's dead motionless flesh against his own as he floated back ashore. He would feel alone, no matter how much you tried to explain that you were here, he didn’t have to worry, he wasn’t there, he was safe.
And what was even worse, he felt like he was somehow disappointing you. He was with you, but you couldn’t even touch his bare skin without him spiraling into a mess. No matter how many times you explained that you were there for him, that you were always going to make sure that he was okay, there was still a piece of him that wished he was different. But Kaz’s wishes never came true, it would never magically go away. He had to face this head on if he was ever going to be able to properly love you, and for you, he was willing to try anything. 
That had been a few months ago, and since then the two of you had worked very hard to overcome his aversion. You went slow, placing bare hands against each other, small kisses, anything that you could think of that would be enough to help but also just enough to not make Kaz feel uncomfortable. It had gotten to the point where you two were able to cuddle with one another, his hands could go up and down your spine and paint small drawings on the skin of your arm and legs. And you could do the same towards him. After a while, you both were able to take your tops off, explore those parts of your bodies, and every time you went farther, the desire began to creep its way into both of your chests. Both of you were aware what the next step was, you both weren’t dumb, but neither of you had the inclination to talk about it. It was like the two of you were dancing around the conversation, doing everything that you could to not bring it up. 
Wylan and Jesper were always talking about it. Well, that was a lie, Jesper was usually the one that would talk about it with you. He always talked about the pining, the excitement of getting to explore your lover's body . . . it was something that you wanted but had never experienced before and before you knew it, you were sitting on your shared bed with Kaz, trying to concentrate on a book while he did his paperwork at his desk. You took a moment to stare at him, watching as his hands pressed against the paper, quill etching sounds into the silence between the both of you. You took your bottom lip into your teeth, sucking in a harsh breath. You could do this. 
“Kaz, I wanted to talk to you about something.” 
You could’ve gone about it a different way, because the moment Kaz stopped what he was doing and turned to face you, there was a hint of worry in his expression. Most of the time when a person told another that they had to talk to them about something, it was bad news, and you were quick to assure him that it was nothing of the sort. “Nothing bad, I promise. I just wanted to bring an idea up to you.” His face immediately softened, one that you knew he didn’t share with many. You took a moment to study his expressive eyes, your own going from them to his lips, the ones that you wished were kissing the delicate skin on your body. Giving him a tiny smile, you said, “I wanted to see what you . . . thought about having sex with me? We’ve been getting to that point for a while now and I just thought that it wouldn’t hurt to ask if you wanted to go all the way?” 
This was definitely something that he wasn’t expecting to come out of his mouth, especially because of the unspoken barrier between the both of you when it came to talking about these types of things. Of course he wanted to, saints, if he could he would take you right then and there but you and him knew that it would take a lot more mental preparation on his end for this to happen. And perhaps for a moment you thought that you had struck a nerve with him, that he would dismiss the idea and you would leave to compose yourself, but that was far from the truth. Instead he set down the quill and turned to face you completely, his gloved hands playing with one another as an attempt to ground. You didn’t move, eyes attentively staring, waiting for him to say something. Kaz eventually opened his mouth to say, “Of course I want to have sex with you.” He said it as though you were dumb thinking that he wasn’t, but you knew that this was his way of trying to guard himself from the actual thoughts that came into his head. “I think I just need a little time to prepare first-” “Yes! I know, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable first,” You cut him off, not wanting him to think that you were going to pressure him. 
Soon enough you two were discussing the logistics, almost as if you were scheduling a business meeting of a sort. It made you chuckle at first, but as the days went by, closer to the date that the two of you planned to finally go the final step, your nerves began to jumble up. 
~
You sat down at the edge of his bed, very reminiscent of a few days ago when you popped the question, but instead of Kaz sitting at his desk, he was sitting beside you. His breathing was slightly rigid, he was nervous which you completely understood. In order to comfort him, you placed your hand on his gloved one, looking at him with a look of kindness in an attempt to show him that you were nervous too. 
“I love you,” You said to him. 
“I love you too, Y/N.” 
One finger at a time, you began to pull his gloves off of his hand, and then the other one, setting the pair onto the bedside table. You held one of his hands with yours while the other one made its way to the back of his neck, pressing soft kisses to his lips. Kaz responded by putting his hand on your waist, eagerly kissing you back. He pulled you closer to him, until you got the idea of straddling his waist, legs on either side of him as you sat on his lap. This kissing went on for a while, semi for comfort but also for pleasure, as you knew that you would never get tired of kissing Kaz Brekker. His lips tasted like honeyed tea and you relished in the notion that you would be the only one who ever got to taste such a sweet thing. 
You were still sitting on his thighs and you needed him more than ever now. That familiar feeling that bubbled up inside of you whenever you two got this far began to resurface, causing the kissing to become even more fast paced, filled with want and need. Though the most enjoyable part was that the two of you were having fun, taking moments to stop and admire one another. For a moment a sly smile came across his lips and you wiped it away with a kiss, going back to the fast pace that had been set before. Your hands came and tentatively went under his shirt, feeling the taut skin of his chest with calm and courteous fingers, not wanting to upset him, though clearly beginning to fog up the idea of being gentle. The thought of him above you with a body like that? It made you falter in your movements. He was beautiful, and you were sure that you would never allow him to forget it. 
Using the break in your concentration to his advantage, Kaz began mouthing along your skin, knowing that your neck was sensitive in a multitude of places and skimming your skin with his teeth ever so gently, hands pulling up your shirt above your head. His eyes scanned your body, raising an eyebrow. “No bra?” He asked, making you shy away and look anywhere but at his face. You didn’t reply, but he seemed to not like that. His hand came and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. You gave a small smile, “I wanted to be comfy.” He hummed, somewhat disappointed in your answer but not disappointed at how compliant you seemed to be with him. Kaz went back to kissing your neck, teeth grazing along your soft skin, making you jump whenever he bit down on a particular spot. 
You were beginning to grow impatient. Perhaps it was with the way that he was worshiping you, wanting to kiss every single inch of you and make you keel into his touch over and over again. Or maybe it was because no one had ever made you feel this way before. You hadn’t been with others before, never trying to get this far with the men of Ketterdam for fear of ruin or awkwardness in the morning. You had only longed for Kaz before. 
His hands found your breasts, squeezing them and kneading them together, fingers coming to pinch your nipples. Your back arched into him and you almost fell over on top of him, using your hands on his muscles to stop you. You reached and decided you wanted to please him, to show him how much you wanted him. You trailed your hands under his shirt and came to the band of his pants, pushing your fingers past it and making your way down. Before you could hit his obvious hard on, one of his own hands came and grasped your wrists, pulling your hand away. You looked up, thinking that you did something wrong. Tilting your head, you gave him a silent what? Maybe you had made him uncomfortable, and he was trying to come up with a way to tell you off. 
Though that didn’t seem to be the case when Kaz’s lips offered a smirk. 
“I’m not done with you yet,” Kaz explained. In one movement he put his hands to your back and flipped you two over, him now on top of you. Your head hit the mattress with a small humph and wondered what he had in store for you. 
You worked with him to shimmy your pants and panties off, throwing them to some side of the room. His hands splayed against your thighs and you watched with an open mouth to see what he was going to do. He gave you a look, a familiar one that reminded you that you were actually here with him, no one else, the two of you were doing this amazing thing together. Your heart swelled with adoration as you thought that this was the man that you loved, the one that you trusted more than anyone else in the entire world. You were also well aware of the slick that was beginning to coat your thighs, body betraying you and showing him how much you wanted him, how you ached for him. Kaz seemed to like it though, bringing his flesh hand to your slit and scooping some of it up. When he brought his hand back up, you could see the way that it glistened on his skin, popping a finger into his mouth and humming sinfully at the taste. He did it again and again, humming every single time your arousal hit his tongue. You looked down with heated cheeks, feeling a little embarrassed that you were getting so worked up over something so small. “You taste . . .” He trailed off, bringing his tongue to your folds and swiping up from your hole to your clit. “Amazing.” 
“It’s all for you,” You said, wiggling your hips and urging him to pleasure you again. Kaz smirked, feeling a sense of pride wash over him at your words. He brought a finger to you and pushed it in, watching your mouth open into a wide ‘O’ at the feeling. He curled it up, making your muscles tighten around him. Kaz built a steady pace and he came back up to your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek sweetly as if he couldn’t hear the lewd sounds that were being created when he added a second finger in. 
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” He said, towering over you. His thumb rubbed against your clit while his fingers fucked into you. “To see you under me like this.” The both of you seemed to have this desire for each other for the longest time. 
You moaned out at his words, thighs clenching around his hand to keep him there. You couldn’t respond, too busy thinking about the steady fire that was building in you. You reached to climb higher, hoping he would grant you some kind of release. He didn’t give it to you though. Instead, whenever you were getting to that tipping point, he would stop all of his movements altogether until you stopped shaking, then repeat the process over and over again. It was making you go crazy, how he had the power to push you towards release but he just wouldn’t do it.
You opened your mouth to speak but you couldn’t. As if to test you further, he pushed a third finger into you, making you moan out his name loud and roll your eyes to the back of your skull. His thumb kept rubbing languid circles on your clit. You thought if you stayed quiet you could sneak an orgasm, cut him off guard. But as if he heard your thoughts, his movements stalled and he put his other hand firmly on your hips so you couldn’t even move against his statue-like hand. His dark eyes bore into your own and you squeezed around his fingers. “You make me feel so good, Kaz.” The praise fell from your lips with ease, lava pooling in your stomach as if threatening to burst at any moment. If only he would just rub a little bit more . . .
He pulled his hand away from you. Kaz didn’t even respond to your statement and you wondered if you said something wrong, if he had enough. And he had enough all right, but not enough of you. He wanted to see you cum, just around his cock and not his fingers. But you couldn’t hear what he was thinking, which made you whimper when he pulled himself away fully, standing at the edge of the bed. You opened your legs up to him, the farthest that you could go without hurting yourself and hoping that it would make him come back to you quickly. Your clit was aching from several denied orgasms, almost thinking about pulling your hand down to finish yourself off, though deciding against it when knowing Kaz would never allow something like that. He liked seeing you writhing like this. 
Kaz’s hands shed all his clothing. He wasn’t exactly putting on a show for you but you marveled anyways, watching the way that his muscles flexed when his shirt came off and how you wanted to lick all around his abdominal region and make your way all down to his cock, which was pressed against his stomach and slightly glistening with precum. It was big and felt your insides clench just thinking about it sliding into you. Once he was satisfied with his clothing off, he came back down to the bed and kneeled between your spread legs. 
“Kaz,” You whispered. “Please.” 
There was a hint of mischief in his eyes and it took all of your strength to not roll your eyes. “What do you want me to do to you?” Of course he wanted to hear you say it, to announce what he was inevitably going to do. You couldn’t ignore the way you loved how controlling he was with you, how he ordered you to do some things. And as much as you hated that he didn’t let you cum, you also loved how he would make you cum when he wanted you to, not you. He took his cock into his hands and rubbed the tip against your glistening folds, teasing you in the most sinful way possible.
“Please . . . Fuck me Kaz. Make me cum, I can’t take it anymore.” You just wanted him inside of you so badly, you were going to scream if this went on for any longer. He was right there, denying you both the pleasure. With a nod of his head, he pushed into you in one fluid motion. The feeling of him bottoming out inside of you made you grip onto his bicep, pulling him close so his warm chest was against your own again. He wasted no time moving, the sound of it deliciously sweet in your ears. Kaz took your legs and pushed them upwards, your feet hanging off of his shoulders and pressing your thighs further up until they were almost hitting the mattress. The change in position had you crying out, feeling him hit deeper inside of you. 
You could feel every single scrape of his cock against your walls, increasing that fire in your stomach until you were sure you were about to cum. He kept at it with such loyalty and vigor, his motivation to make you feel the best you ever had fuelling him to a tenfold. He was such a devoted man to begin with, so you should’ve known that he would handle things the same way in bed. 
You squeezed around him. “Please,” You whimpered. 
“Go ahead.” Those two words were all you needed, allowing yourself to scream out as your orgasm ripped through you, built up again and again and now it was finally here and it was amazing. It rippled through you like shockwaves, and made you go limp under him, legs completely boneless. Kaz didn’t let up as he rode through your orgasm, keeping the same pace with you. He was unforgiving, not giving you time to adjust and instantly making you feel the feeling of overstimulation. You were so sensitive to his cock ramming in and out of you that you could feel a second orgasm already building up. The tip of him hit a particularly nice spot in you and you yelled, curling your toes and your hands came to tangle and grip in his hair. You almost stopped for a moment thinking that you were hurting him, but when you looked at his face, you saw only fucked out bliss, white incisors showing in a ravenous grin. His eyes opened and they were almost fully dark, making you shiver. 
“You feel so good,” He mumbled, as though he was talking to himself. He was completely thrown into the pleasure that you were giving him, hot and warm and just perfect , like you were made for his cock to be rammed into over and over again. “Made for me, all for me.” He used your past words, them never losing their meaning no matter how many times he muttered under his breath. 
Time seemed to slow and grow faster at the same time, the whole room disappearing as both of you focused on only each other. You weren’t sure how many times he had made you cum at this point, you took whatever he gave you and took it well. When you got enough strength to crane your neck down, you watched as your hole enveloped his cock, it coming back out slicked with the remnants of your past orgasms. Kaz saw where your eyesight was and a sense of pride washed over him again. “Do you like watching that? Seeing how well you take me?” He asked, egging you on. His hand went to grab your own and placed it on your lower abdomen, and you could feel the skin slightly raising up every time he went into you. You could see it too, sliding in and out. Though, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself, his movements were beginning to falter. He was becoming more sloppy with his hips and you knew he was about to cum. So, to give him what he had worked for, you wiggled your hips up, matching his hips. Your oversensitive clit rubbed against the base of his cock and you were clenching around him, and as if on cue, you were cumming again, feeling weak under him. Kaz wrapped his arms around you and pulled you up, his cock splitting you open until he was spilling inside of you. 
The moans that left his mouth were probably the hottest things you had ever felt in your life. You could feel his cum dripping down his cock, coating your thighs and dripping onto the soiled sheets. He put you down on the bed and followed you, eyes watching your own and kissing your sweaty forehead. He finally stopped moving and stilled inside, not wanting to leave you. He didn’t want to leave this moment and neither did you. 
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softlyspector · 3 months
Note
oooh okay in that case.. 28 or 33 or 93 pretty please (one of them or maybe combine them if u want to?). and obviously, about our fav pixel man joel 🤠 tysm if choose to write this!! 💕
Word count: 1.2k
Prompts: 28. domestic fluff; 33. kissing scars; 93. touch starved
cw; fluff, touch starved joel, coffee lust, winter vibes, very unedited
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Once, there wasn't time to think on it. In Jackson, there's too much time to think on it.
There's is: the settling in, the creaking around old hurt, the push of a thumb against the bruise of old wants and older fears. Wants and fears that feel brand new in an old world.
The day is new, and so is the winter that's settling over Wyoming, his first in Jackson. It's a thick blanket that muffles sound and strings along the bloody, visceral memory of the last one laughingly. All play and marionette strings.
Coffee, the first he's brewed in years, steams in a mug on the counter. He's yet to pick the cup up since he poured out a measure. The smell of it is enough to knock him back a step.
It's one of those moments.
One of those times where everything in the world seemed to come crashing down, and settle heavily on his soul. The last twenty odd years suddenly weigh more, hold more.
He cups one hand around the ceramic, fingers of warmth bleeding through into his palm, through calloused, hardened skin. His mouth waters, but he can't seem to pick it up and take a sip.
The dark, bitter smell reminds him of quick mornings, trying to find a pair of matching socks, of shuffling out the door with a little girl in his arms, still half asleep. It reminds him of driving across town, windows down, heat brutal; of coffee stained rings on every flat surface in his house.
The wind howls. An icicle rattles and then comes crashing down from the lip of the roof, shattering on the frozen snow already packed deep in the yard.
Crystals of ice spiderweb over the glass of the window he stares out. The wind sends puffs of white swirling off the branches of the trees in the backyard, scattered to the wind.
This fear is one that never left him, he'd guess.
Fears that try to connect the world where coffee had been normal and plentiful and taken entirely for granted, to this one, where being ripped away and ripped apart is all the easier, and all the more likely.
Loss connected to loss connected to loss. All the ways he's been left, nearly left, before.
"Joel?"
A warm hand slots between his shoulder blades. The smell of cinnamon wraps around him.
"It's gonna get cold if you just keep staring at it like that."
He looks at you and then back down at the cup, the black depths. There's sleep in your eyes, a softness between your brows and the edges of your face. When you smile, your eyes crinkle up. You smile with your whole face.
Jackson looks good on you. Peace and safety looks good on you.
He can only feel a little pride at bringing you to it.
"Just thinkin'."
You nod, nestle your chin against the top of his shoulder.
There, that — a want.
Want that meets the fear readily.
Just the warmth of you along his side is enough to do it. Just like your hand over his in the cold, or the soft fan of your breath against his throat, is enough to remind him of it.
"Hard work by the looks of it,” you tease.
“Mm.”
You hand slides down his back, then up again, before you wrap your arms around him. "Well? Either share with the class or take a drink."
He snorts, and the tension that had been beading along his shoulders melts away. "Yes, ma'am."
Probably he should tell you what he's thinking about, instead he lifts the coffee cup to his mouth. It's not steaming anymore but the liquid inside is warm enough.
You press your nose to his cheek after he swallows, affection thick in your voice. "And? As good as you remember?"
Maybe a little more stale than he remembers. Still, its as close as it'll ever get to what it once was. "Yeah."
You pull away, the loss of warmth worse than he wants to admit. Like a raw fucking ache in his bones.
Pathetic, maybe, the way he wants to orbit around your outstretched hand.
Fear rises to meet the want, the ache.
He turns, following your path across the kitchen with his eyes. "I bet you ordered fun little drinks at coffee places," you say as you root through a cabinet. "Mocha something. Or something with caramel. And then drank it real quick on your way to work like it was a dirty secret."
"Funny."
"I think so," you say and turn from the cabinet. You leave the door open, and cross back to him in two big steps. "Here. Not as good as mocha or caramel or whatever."
"Vanilla?"
"It's good in there and it's good in the cold. Just trust me for once, Texas," you laugh and nudge him toward the table in the corner of the kitchen.
"Now where in the world did you get somethin' like this?" He asks and sits. It's not surprising anymore, how easy it is to follow your hand.
You shrug. "There's this fella who asks me if I need anything each time he goes on patrol. He's got a real nose for finding whatever I want."
"Mm." He shakes a few drops of the stuff into his cup. "Only had to shiv a couple a clickers for it."
"Well, what're a few clickers?" You smile and drop down in the chair next to him. You knee brushes his, the outside of your socked foot touching the inside of his. "Basically nothin'."
"Basically nothin'," he agrees and pushes his knee more firmly against yours.
You look from him to the cup expectantly.
He takes a long sip of it.
"And?"
"Good. Not sure it was worth the clickers though."
You roll your eyes. The still falling snow bathes you in a blue-white light, feathery behind your head. "Last time I try to improve anything for you," your hand brushes his when you take the cup from him.
The coffee is only lukewarm now, but you hum and take a second pull.
"Fine by me," he grumbles, watching you. "That ain't your business anyway. C'mere," he requests, pulling the cup from your hand, threading rough fingers through yours.
You move easily into his grasp, from your chair to stand between his knees, fingers delicately raking through his hair, resting against the back of his neck warmly.
He closes his eyes to the feeling, the brush of your lips feather light over his skin when you lean down, drawing over the bump of scar on his nose, across the other little nicks that left evidence behind on his skin.
It's quiet for a while, still, the shush of snow piling up.
Eventually, you kiss him, the barest press of your mouth to his, before you're tucking your arms around his shoulders, leaning fully and hard into his chest. The pressure feels good, solid, it eases some ache he hadn't known was there.
You taste like coffee and mint, and linger on his lips. "It very much is my business," you say, "to improve things for you. Like it or not. I don't know anyone else who would brave clickers for me anyhow."
A pang in his chest, saddled with feeling. "Mm."
"So, did you?"
"Did I what, sweetheart?"
Your hands brush over his cheeks again, scratch through his beard, impossibly soft. "Buy iced caramel macchiatos and shamefully hide the evidence?"
He chuckles and then blinks up at you. "No. It was always a mocha cappuccino."
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romanianseba · 2 years
Text
Just A Walk
What happens when you wake up on your dad's best friend's bed come morning? Is he as unyielding as he constantly seems to be?
Pairing: dad’s best friend!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: age gap, reader is twenty (bucky is thirty-nine), sexual tension, mentions of sex, explicit content, smutty smut, dirty talk, adult talk, fluff ?? 18+ only
Word count: 3.4k
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A/N: pov: after reading all those countless dbf!bucky fics, now you're wondering what would actually happen the morning after you let the spark start the fire with your dad's best friend.
hello! a pretty chill, hot, fluffy lil fic that I hope you enjoy very much!!!!!, makes you smile, inspires you, whatever. love you guys thanks for staying around and always being so kind to me<3 let me know what you think ????!!!! (this has been on my drafts for months cause i had plans to continue but.... hehe)
"What are you doing?" Your voice comes out groggy, thick with sleep as you pat hair out of your face and rub your eyes.
He stands at the other side of the room. Giving you only a side glance that last a second when you speak. Right before diving back into his task at hand; looking for whatever he wants to take from his dresser.
And if you were a bit more awake and on your senses you wouldn't have missed the way he literally froze when he realized he had woken you up.
"I'm going for a walk," He replies, sounding distant and avoiding eye contact with you as he goes to sit on the edge of the bed to put socks on.
A harsh contrast to the intense eye contact he had going on a few hours ago as he railed you on his mattress. Two rough fingers inside your mouth while he hold your face in place, forcing you to keep your eyes on his with each hard trust of his hips.
"Right now? Today?" You push on your elbows to take a look at the digital alarm clock on his nightstand, confirming your suspicion that it is, in fact, before sunrise.
"Yes."
You frown, your student brain unable to understand why.
"Why?" Why?
Why this early?
Why at 5:30 AM on bloody Sunday?
He chuckles under his breath, tying his sneakers fast, "I have a routine, baby."
"I see that," You mutter absently, your mind already taking a moment to just take the man in.
He's glorious. It's difficult for you to think of a more beautiful man. Even when your imagination is so vivid and can get so creative, you couldn't possibly create a person in your head that rivals his beauty.
It doesn't come close to a magazine male model, it's far better.
Bucky's though and raw, with imperfect hot features, unedited; he's real.
Right in front of you; you are in his bed; and you can't wrap your head around it.
His long bed hair tangling in every direction, some rebel strands falling over his face. The comfy thick sweatpants he's now wearing; very innocent, except they're hanging dangerously low on his hips. So low, your thighs squeeze together as you briefly take sight of his happy trail while he slips on a sweater and his white t-shirt riddles up for a second.
And he notices. Of course he notices.
And he gives in. Finally looking you down, laying on his bed, taking in your naked form under his sheets.
Your attention perks up and you feel vaguely more awake when you catch his eyes on you, finally. Your heart skips a beat when he takes you in.
Just like yesterday night.
And you can almost see the flashbacks swimming in his head. Your small body squirming under his. Flashbacks that you both share now. His big thick fingers buried deep inside your warm and tight center, working you wonderfully. Flashbacks from the night you two finally ignored all the logical reasons both your heads had on why you shouldn't fuck each other and gave in to each other's fantasies. His experienced tongue and fingers making you come undone beneath him once or twice before finally taking you.
All the scenes running quickly through his mind —allowing you to fall sleep over his chest afterwards, and not getting that much sleep at all himself— taking him to the present moment.
Your body blinding all his common sense again. After finally knowing how good it feels in his hands, how soft, he was all the more eager to touch you again. Your legs tightly shut and a hint of a smile tugs at his mouth seeing the effect he has on you; a little, sweet, innocent–looking, beautiful girl.
Half his age... and his best friend's daughter.
Suddenly his eyes rip from you, like a coming out of a fantasy, like a bubble has been popped. And he's back to staring at the floor and avoiding your existence in his room. In his bed.
Your heart drops.
But your lips keep the little, youthful, stupid smile that has been there since yesterday night when you sneaked into his house at midnight. With high hopes and an aching cunt, and he didn't kick you out.
What confused you the most was not his distant attitude, but his very active demeanor so early in the morning, he looked fresh and fully awake. Something you were still trying to cope with, your eyes begging you to close them again.
And how does he do it when you, unbeknownst to anyone, clearly see his lights going off well past midnight each day? Staying up till late watching YouTube videos from your bed while keeping an eye on Bucky's bedroom, who's window was conveniently aligned with yours from the house next door.
"How come you wake up so early when you go to sleep so late most days?"
"Like I said, I have a routine," He states firmly as he goes to grab one last piece of clothing to keep warm outside in the already freezing autumn weather. "You better go back home before your parents find out you're not in bed." His voice is firm and authoritarian.
And your insides tighten because that's just how he sounded yesterday when he asserted his dominance over you.
"Don't fucking move."
"Bucky," You whimpered, pussy already sensitive and abused, stubble burning your thighs deliciously as he licked his way through your second orgasm. "Please... please, just– just take me already."
He growled, hands strongly pinning down your hips, "I'm gonna fucking take you whenever I feel like it."
You'll be lying if you said that alone didn't make you so damn wet again.
"I wanna go on a walk with you." Throwing the soft white sheets off your body, you stand up hastily.
"What?" Is his immediate response. Eyes snapping back to your side of the room. "No."
That word alone like a warning.
"Yes, I want to." You persist, enthusiastically.
"You have to get to your house."
His tone of voice is dead serious, but his brain is losing it every passing second as he watches you stand there naked. Eyes burning holes all over your body.
"I love walks."
Trying your best to ignore the intensity of his gaze on your skin, you reach to pick up your abandoned underwear thrown by his desperate hands onto the floor hours ago. Panties going quickly up your legs and clasping your bra before he speaks again.
It takes all the will power he's ever mustered to tear his eyes from you and pace around the room, gathering his stuff to leave as soon as possible. "You can't come with me. Save a moment to go by yourself later– after you've had breakfast, I don't know."
His voice still assertive, but now there's a desperate edge to his tone; his logic trying to convince himself this is a bad idea, trying come up with stuff to stop him from spending more time with you.
"Please," You beg lightheartedly, Unbothered about his seriousness, slipping the pair of sweatpants and old shirt you wore to sneak out of your house back on and being thankful for your outfit choice. Which will not serve as excuse to not go on a walk, you'll be covered enough against the early morning cold.
Knowing it wouldn't be a matter of seeing you wearing revealing clothes for Bucky anymore you had chosen to go with comfiness over looking appealing. Truth be told, he would've taken you even if you were wearing a potato bag with how long you both had dragged the teasing and tension between each other.
Fully dressed, you continue your persuasion. "It should be fun. Besides it's Sunday, they won't be up till later."
He stops abruptly when reaching to unplug his charging phone, deciding he's had enough. Turning back to face you, this time he makes sure to look into your eyes.
"Listen, doll, we're not–" He cuts himself short, deciding he doesn't want to just be a jerk and possibly hurt your feelings.
Slowly scanning your soft, young face and wide eyed expectant expression, he takes a few short calming breaths. Decisive but softer this time, he continues. "We should've talked about this earlier. You shouldn't have even stayed the night over. We're not a couple, alright? We..."
"I know about casual sex, Bucky." You cut him off in a know-it-all tone of voice, close to rolling your eyes at him.
He strides closer, stopping right in front of you. Fresh mint breath fanning on your face with how close his frame looms over yours, big and tall.
The exasperate fire picking up in his voice and expression again.
"Then you understand that you going on a walk with me, suddenly being part of my routine, after casual sex, would imply more than that."
You know how he feels. And, deep down, of course you feel stupid, too. But you're not ready to leave him alone in his misery. You're not ready to be alone in yours.
And you definitely want more of him. Having experienced last night you know sex will never be the same for you, not if it's not with Bucky. And you won't risk having him push you away so soon.
Thankfully for both of you, he was one of the very few people you trusted with your life and his rage didn't make you feel unsafe. Maybe flinch a bit, maybe if you were completely honest it turned you on a bit; but it certainly didn't make you feel at risk at all.
So even when you're not usually argumentative, or the most confident person, and would have already given up with basically everyone else; meekly giving them the reason, you refuse to right now. And it's possibly the most stubborn moment of your life.
"C'mon, everyone can go on a walk. You think it's a Bucky Barnes thing?" You scoff and tease him playfully. "We just happen to be two people that know each other and decided to go and have a walk together for not having anything else to do this bloody early in the morning. I can't go back to sleep and I'm going on a walk, too." Your gaze is challenging now.
Bucky Barnes was convinced that your stubborn and sometimes confident personality was going to add five years to his life and suck five from him at the same time.
Jaw tightly clenched and a very faint spark of amusement in his eye, he growls lowly.
"You don't fucking give up, do you?"
The eye contact you had manage to keep falters and you swallow, suddenly becoming nervous. Your naturally nonconfrontational and calm state of existing unable to maintain the confident facade for longer.
"I— uhm, I promise I won't talk much, won't bother you." You mumble.
His hard features soften immediately, voice a gentle whisper as he shakes his head.
"You don't fucking bother me when you speak, doll," His eyes searching for yours to insist on it; "Get that out of your pretty head."
He lets out a long and tired sigh, stepping away briefly to reach into his reach-in closet and a drawer before approaching you again.
"Here," He hands you a coat and goes to roll a beanie down your head. "Don't want you to catch a cold.
You can't hide your gleeful smile when you realize he's allowed you to join him.
"Thanks."
"This won't happen again." He announced, his hands arranging the warm blue beanie over your head.
Your smile falters a bit, looking up to him, a knot going up your throat causing you to stammer.
"What? This..."
"What? Are you worrying I won't fuck you again, dirty little thing?" His smirk is smug and self-satisfied.
A calloused palm goes up to the side of your neck as he, very slowly, leans down to gravelly whisper in your ear. "You felt too good to give that up so soon, sweet cheeks."
His intention clear to torture you. The innocent, feather-like lick and tug of his teeth at your earlobe confirm it to you.
Facing you again, he stares for a while; blue eyes locked on yours, his nose an inch from yours. Small baby face against his older, mature one. Your mouth goes dry.
"It's the last time you beg to do anything else with me that is not screw around. And as soon as we come back you're slipping your ass back to bed." A pause, "Your own."
You can't argue back on that.
"Fine."
"Where are we going on your bike? The park's two blocks from here."
Trailing behind him into the garage, you frown when you see him taking his big, stunning, motorcycle ready.
"Not going there today. I see Mr. Wilson and a few others walking there every day. I don't want any nosy neighbors running their mouths to your dad about it." His answer is fast, like it's a thought that's been going around his head all this time.
Holding a bike helmet in each hand, he approaches you again.
"This shouldn't be weird. I mean, you're always at my house. People know you're basically an uncle to me." You express mindlessly, finding it funny that he wants to avoid you in public all of a sudden.
"Stop," He hisses through gritted teeth and closes his eyes, focusing on breathing calmly through his nose after the guilt-ridden mental slap he just experienced with what you said. "Just– do not say that again."
"Okay," You say just above a whisper, biting your tongue before he regrets letting you go with him.
Sighing he places one helmet on top of the almost sparkling seat of his bike and lifts his hands to help you into the other one. Carefully covering your head with the heavy black material and doing all the safety checks himself; making sure it's comfortable and placed correctly.
His eyes fall on yours after he's pleased with it, hands resting on each side of your head; over the helmet. You stare back, like suddenly being trapped under a spell. His eyes are gentle this time, and the moment feels so intimate, so warm and lovely, you feel heat warming your cheeks.
Just two people who are madly attracted to each other, staring into each other's soul... at least that's how it feels to you. Lasting both an eternity and simply not enough.
Breaking the spell, popping the bubble, slapping you out of a daze; you jump a little, getting startled when he slides the helmet faceshield down.
Ending the intimate eye contact and the spell you were both in.
"Is it comfortable?" He ask, and you're glad to realize he too sounds slightly out of breath.
"Yeah, just a little heavy." You breathe out. "But it's okay."
He nods, his thumb wiping away a dusty spot on the black tinted faceshield. A light frown, caused probably by intense overthinking, permanent on his handsome face.
"Good."
2K notes · View notes
upheavalofmemory · 1 year
Text
pick a pile || future spouse/lover letter!
I am someone personally who tends to find comfort in these types of readings, so I hope someone here can find the same comfort.
Keep in mind that I am still a beginner, not even quite sure if I have abilities, so I will say that this is mostly for entertainment only, but if it resonates with you, it resonates.
I will be using tarot as a guide and leave the rest for whatever is told to me. Keep in mind I won't be editing the written portions, just the portions that I write myself from my intuition and the cards, everything else is raw and unedited.
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pick a pile! webkinz dog inspired <3
masterlist
Pile 1
Wow, they have a lot to say I think.
"Hello, dear (a faint chuckling in the background),
my sweetheart, my beloved. My beloved, I can see you, you are not too far away. Do you miss me? I hope you do, I miss you, I miss you the most. How are you? fine? I'm glad of it. You are stronger than you think, you know, that is why i love and adore you. five years ago, I never thought I would meet someone like you, and here we are today. finally you are here, with me, in my arms, something i never expected to be saying. finally finally finally. there's something about you- there's so much about you that i adore. i cant approach you yet. look at you in your elegance, absolutely a marvel and me? i am just a peasant boy, waking and quaking in your presence. will you do me a favor? don't let someone else sweep you off your feet just yet, i promise that when i get my confidence up and my ducks in a row, marbles in a bunch. it will be soon! I promise. i promise i promise i promise, for your sake and mine we need to meet soon! maybe i hope so, I'm not sure.
anyways i do love you, see you soon.
yours forever. "
I believe that this is from their future self. They are fiery and loving and they love you so much. They may be very nervous in your presence but they want you to know that YOU and only you cause that nervousness, it's like they are a shipwreck when they are around you. You give them anxiety and butterflies! They give off very anxious energy, they just want to keep repeating how much they love you. They'll shake your whole body and shout it from the rooftops and the tops of mountains, only you do this to them. They love you they love you they love you, they really do. I have a feeling that they don't express this verbally but they think it so much and they don't want you to doubt their appreciation.
pile 2
I had to do pile 3 before this one.
"Hi baby <3
My adoration, a mirage of all things beautiful and concrete. Except you're real of course! My beloved baby, how are you? Dazzling, as always. A fortress that cannot be torn down, stopped, or blocked, an absolute unit! (laughter here) I love you, you know? You're funny as hell and I'm glad to be with you. My every wish was granted, would you look at that? I guess the universe really is some unstoppable force, except when it comes to you, it bends for you I guess, like you've got some magic powers? But nothing will stop how I feel for you. You are mine. Alllll mine (hearing Stingy saying "mine mine mine"). Sorry I'm clingy, you know I am though and sometimes you tell me that I need to let go a little bit, which is okay, I can give you a little space sometimes, but I'm still stuck to you like a leech, head over heels! My final resting place will be just in your arms, perfect just how I wanted. God, this is like a school essay. Sorry, this is supposed to be romantic, but maybe it can be funny too? I don't know, sorry, I'm being stupid & silly with you but I think you don't care so it doesn't matter anyway. We are so different but we are so good together yk? Two peas of a pod...except maybe we are two different peas, maybe I'm spike-y, lol! Or no, you're probably the spike-y one, okay I'll stop. But my lovely, I'm glad to talk to you. You're such a good friend to me, how do you put up with me? I'll never know, I can barely put up with myself. Have you ever heard that humans think they're ugly because they get used to themselves and their faces? Maybe that is me, maybe I'm just insecure and you see something magical in me, just like I see it in you. Maybe you feel the same way about yourself and you don't tell me, which makes me sad, but you know you can tell me and I wont push it. I love you ok? stay hydrated and things, do the work, have fun, live your life, whatever bye.
okay i'll give you a proper goodbye, a hug and a kiss on the cheek, a proper smooch maybe? no? okay fine. bye my love, see you in the afterlife... JK!!!! I'm not dead hehe>>, okay sorry bye. nonon wait, okay never mind yeah I'm done now, bye." *phone click*
They have a hard time saying goodbye to you, they never want to stop talking to you. I remember another reading on here (sorry I cannot remember which one or who) describing someone as a "down bad loverboy/girl" and that's what I'm getting for you (if someone knows which reading I'm talking about, please send it to me so I can link it here !!). they are cute. you guys might be long distance in the beginning, which is why i got the phone click. but whatever it is, they love uuuuuuu ok? "to the moon and back."
pile 3
"Hello. (I hear a very deep masculine voice here, very prominent) If I've ever seen such a beautiful soul, no soul could be no more beautiful than yours. No sun could shine brighter than the way your eyes light up, nothing can take that away from me- that appreciation I have for you and your beauty. You radiate, you know? I love that. You radiate like the sun, shining brightly and me being the humble man I am, simply adoring you from below. They say that if you look into the sun, you will go blind, but I would gladly go blind for you my love, because you are blinding and I would rather have you seared into the back of my eyeballs and in my mind as the last thing I've ever seen than to never see you again. Everything is for you, always for you, just for you. Why did you go so soon? We barely had begun our journey and you were off again on your great quest for such knowledge I can never give you. I wish I could give you everything but I cannot, only you can do that for yourself and I will let you- I mean, I don't control you. You're free to do whatever you want, I support you, I just miss you..a lot. more than I admit it. Come home safely, bring me a souvenir? The pretty kind, the beautiful kind, but none will be as beautiful as you are; they're only beautiful because they've been touched by the hands of the angel on earth.
hands I am glad to hold one day, hands I will gladly hold forever.
yours,
fs."
Once again, I got very masculine energy from the beginning. They may be very masculine, I'm seeing mostly a male here. It can be the other way around, or really any gender, but that's what I'm seeing here. They're very....formal? Cut edge, straight to the point. They're good with words, they like using them (I just heard "In more ways than one" :I, that was meant to be sexual but I don't do 18+ readings so they can shut it, haha!). They like you a lot, they think you're amazing and personally lovable (lovable just for them and only them, perfect match, a match made in heaven). They encourage your adventures and your thirst for knowledge, the need to explore, although they may not be able to come with you. They root for you on the sidelines though and may provide financial assistance for you to accomplish your dreams. I'm getting older businessman vibes from this, specifically getting a white older 'gentleman' with brown hair and a very thick beard? that might be someone's person, their name might be Micheal with their last name beginning with an R, very specific.
pile 4
TRIGGER WARNING; d3ath, self-loathing, overall a very depressing & heavy energy.
If you aren't comfortable with these things, here is a quick overview minus the heavier topics.
Your future spouse is going through a lot right now. They may be in a depressed and detached state, they might be a player but it isn't something they enjoy. They need time, they don't believe you exist at this moment. Their energy is very sad and dark, although if they don't change, someone else will take their place as your future lover. The lessons they need to learn are important and you should also take your own lessons seriously.
"introducing... you, my beloved lover!
one of three, hehe. or maybe not, maybe you are the one. i don't know why you would think i am the one, did i make you think that? I'm not that good of a person, you know? people toss me to the side and use me like a puppet, toy on a string. i want you so badly...no, i just want someone. have you ever seen those cute movies with cute couples doing cute things? i would love that to be me and someone, someone out there maybe. but maybe I'm not meant for that, I'm not sure. maybe I'm meant to be a plaything and a lesson and eventually end up in a dumpster somewhere (wow wtf?), not from dying though, just being trash i guess. i'd rather not die. i mean, i don't know anymore. if you're real, can you come get me? pick me up? carry me away, safe in your arms? but there's no guarantees though, I'll probably kick and thrash and be toxic and make you feel lonely for a while and I'm sorry. but i promise I'll be yours one day, let me just get it out of my system. or maybe you don't care? i don't know. I'm tired of people pretending to care, if you don't actually care, maybe it's your actual emotions about me. maybe I'm projecting, I'm sorry. i love you. but this is empty. empty love, no cup to pour from. maybe there's someone else for you out there, maybe i need to find myself first.
-someone new."
oh, this got sad and dark :(? sensing that this is current energy, they're in a bad place. sorry for the sad reading pile 4,if you were expecting something happier & lighter-hearted. i hope you can love your fs in the future for all of the shit they have to go through. they'll be better when they get to you, the universe will make sure of it and if they aren't then someone new will come and take their place for them, they're willing to let the spot go because they know you deserve the best.
they do want you to know that lessons are important.
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➜ Simon Riley x gn!reader
➜ 990 words, breakup angst
➜ finished an old piece real quick, it is very unedited but lets not talk abt that! Also unrelated but does anyone else feel like music videos have died...idek if that makes sense.
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You wanted to erase him from your mind. Make it as if he’d never existed and spare yourself the heart renching pain that burned your chest as you stared up at the ceiling blankly. The little memory’s of the two of you seemed to project themselves onto the dimly lit white plaster. Each one flashed in your mind like a slideshow. It felt as if someone was reaching into your chest and crushing your heart in their hand with each scene.  
This feeling of heartbreak was foreign to you, you’d never been so devastated over a breakup. So what made him so different?  
You didn’t know how to deal with this nauseating, gut renching pain that seemed to explode from every inch of your body. Your face was swollen from crying, eyes blood shot as they stung with fresh tears. Your body trembled in exhaustion, heavy sobs turning into pathetic whimpers.  
Your hands came up to cover your face as the tremors in your body amplified as another wave of grief hit you. 
He was only one person who could quell the pain you felt, but he was also the cause of it. All you needed was to hear his voice. That alone would be enough to soothe your broken heart. You were sure it wasn’t appropriate to call him. You knew very well it wasn’t. No one calls their ex. 
But your hand seemed to have a mind of its own though, leaving your face to rummage around your nightstand table. You barely heard the loud clatter through your cries as you pushed various items off your nightstand in a desperate search for your phone. Your fingers grazed over it shortly after pushing one of your perfume bottles over, and you greedily grabbed at it, renching it off the charging cord to unlock it.  
You have to squint against the harsh glare of the blue light, your tears obscuring the images displayed as you swiped onto his contact. You’d never hit call so fast in your life, clutching your phone like a life line as your mind begged him to pick up. You knew he wasn’t asleep, he rarely slept much to start with, and when he did he’d doze of around two or three am, never earlier. It was still only twelve.  
Time seemed to stretch on excruciatingly slowly with every ring, your whimpers becoming desperate and the tears flowing faster.  
Finally, after what felt like an eternity the ringing stopped abruptly and your phone beeped to signal he’d picked up. Your raw sob was ripped from you as you heard his gruff voice filter through the speaker.  
“Hello?” He sounded groggy; voice laced in exhaustion, but you couldn’t care.  
“Simon,” you choked out, your chest heaved, relief washing over you at the sound of his voice. 
From the other side of the phone his eyes widened, all hints of exhaustion leaving him in an instant. He sat up, fully alert now.   
“Y/n?” He asked incredulously. You replied with another sob, this one much louder than the last. He was frozen, unsure of what to do as you cried, it hurt him to know he was the cause of your pain but the rational part of him knew you were better off without him. The sounds of your cries tore him apart, and your next words hurt even more.  
“It hurts so much Simon,” You cried, “and it’s all your fault. I hate you so much.”  
“I know love...” he whispered, speaking more to himself than you as hiccups began to break your pained wails. “It’s for the better though.”  
There's a pause of wordless silence, only filled with the sound of your tears. His heart thumps in pain, spreading the poison of guilt through his body, pumping it into his veins. It’s as if you’re trying to make him feel worse about this than he already does as you try to gather enough strength to speak through your sobs and translate the garbled screams of thought going off in your head.  
“No-” hiccup. “No Simon, you don’t get to say that-” hiccup. “Because there is nothing better about this,” you don’t have to specify what ‘this’ is. He knows exactly what you mean because he feels it to. He hears it with every sob, and cry, he feels it with every pang of his heart and word spoken to you under such circumstance. Circumstances he caused.  
You continue, “and you can sit there, in your stupid plain apartment, and go out with your stupid friends and you can pretend that the last year meant absolutely nothing to you but I know that at the end of the day, when your lying in bed waiting to fall asleep in a cold, empty bed, it hurts you just as much is it hurts me.”  
Simon doesn’t cry, you’d never seen a single tear even build in his eyes. You’d even used to joke about how there was no heart under all that military gear, but at this moment he feel his eyes sting with the foreign feeling of tears, and his throat tightens. He swallows heavily at your words, blinking rapidly.  
“Why’d you call me sweetheart?” You’d say the nickname makes you sob even harder, but you're not sure that’s possible. You’re too hurt to lie to him.  
“B-because I needed you Simon,” you want to scream at yourself.  
“Even though I’m the one who hurt you?” he questions idly, throwing the covers off himself and rushing to grab his car keys. A half laugh leaves you and it almost brings him to smile, but its quickly followed by another sob.  
“Even though you’re the one who hurt me,” you repeat back to him in confirmation, and for some odd reason he feels his heart swell with love. He slips on his shoes quickly, and opens the door, you can hear it creek on the other side of the line.  
“I’m on my way sweetheart.” 
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bangtanfancamp · 1 year
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Headed to the Mountains |KNJ
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•one shot
•Masterlist
•pairing: songwriter Kim Namjoon x oc with chronic pain
•word count: 3,465
•genre: escapism, hurt/comfort, smut, established relationship
•rating: MATURE/ 18+
•warnings: current event commentary, somewhat anti- American sentiment (I live in Texas so I see a lot of mess first hand 🫤 it’s my country but my god, it’s messy), stress, chronic pain, high sensitivity, sensory issues, first person voice, smut smut smutty smut, oral (female receiving and male), tandem oral, smex, doggy style?, Namjoon’s big brain during smex, smut with feelings and a lot of thoughts (as usual) ((all my air sign placements really coming out to play
•a/n: idk what this is, besties, besides extremely unedited and wildly indulgent. I may change the voice out of first person and all the “i’s” to “you’s” but it’s up the way it’s up for now. 🤷🏽‍♀️The world is just a horrifying place right now, especially in the US, and I just wanted to write something that felt like a small refuge, spend a little time some place that felt better, so we’re back in Namjoon’s living room. Also, who better to escape into the woods and away from reality with than the founder of namjooning himself ((also also, that bit about Pennsylvania was 100% true. It’s wild here, man))
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“I cannot get comfortable for the life of me,” I huff grumpily.
It’s a Monday night, late in March. The threat of rain has been looming for hours. Despite its sudden absence in the forecast when I check the weather app, I can still feel it in my bones. In the raw, creaky way my joints scrape against each other. The way the inflammation in my body burns like fire ants beneath my skin.
Namjoon is quick to notice from across the room.
“This weather’s been making your body feel like hell this spring.”
“Yeah, I hate to begrudge it though. Winter was even worse.”
“Gosh, it really was huh?” He frowns at the laptop screen on his desk. He’s got the tiniest beanie shoved on his very big head but somehow, it works. The tips of his hair peak past the beanie’s brim, brushing the mussed hair of his furrowed eye brows. “God, I can’t stand to stare at a screen a second longer.”
He peels his gold rimmed glasses off his nose, rubbing the little indentions they've made along the bridge and pressing his fingers into his closed eye sockets. I can tell he’s exhausted and miserable too about how much energy life seems to require of him these days.
“I’m going to scoop you up and make you the most comfortable woman in the world, I promise. Just give me like three minutes.” He tips back in his desk chair, the spine of it sliding out to a wide reclined angle as his long legs stretch out in front of him.
“Why did we spend so much money on a couch that’s not even comfortable, joonie?” I whine, shifting once again.
“Because the last one was even less comfortable than this one,” he reminds me, “and at least this one is cognac leather,” he shrugs. “It’s comfy on the eyes at least”
“Well I need it to be comfy for my bones.” I grunt, shoving yet another throw pillow out of your way. “Maybe we should pick up and move to the shore, like in a regency novel. I think the air would be good for me. I wonder if American healthcare accepts existential dread and deep chronic pain as enough of a reason to just financially support us until I turn to dust.”
“You and your TikTok algorithm both know as well as I do that America will do no such thing,” Namjoon chuckles with his eyes closed.
“I know…. But they should take at least some culpability. God knows most of my health problems probably exist BECAUSE of them.” I slide the strap of my bra and shirt off my shoulder, not because I want to be a seductress but because the elastic is cutting into my throbbing right trap muscle and if I don’t get some of the tension off of it, I might scream.
“Right? Did you hear about the latex spill in the Delaware river yesterday? The entire city of Philadelphia doesn’t have usable drinking water right now. My friend there literally got a text message about it from the city strongly recommending every use bottled water only until
Further notice. One and a half million people woke up to that text Message! It’s insane.” Namjoon pulls his oversized hood up over his beanie as he looks up at the ceiling, ankles crossed beneath the desk.
“Lord, haven’t we lived through enough of this? I’m so tired, joonie.” I can hear how pitiful I sound. To his credit, he treats me just the same as when I sound intellectually astute and strong. I’ve always liked that about him.
“If the world is going to hell in a hand basket anyway, maybe we should look into a- moving internationally and b- signing up for a payment plan on one of those YouTube influencer mattresses,” Namjoon tips his head my way, and suddenly my heart feels a little more light.
“Ooo, the helix?“ I smile, for perhaps the first time tonight.
His dark eyes twinkle in the low evening lamplight.
“ I actually did some research and found one made out of avocados.”
“Is that as close as I can get now that my body has decided it’s allergic to Avos?”
Namjoon’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “God, your body would find a way to betray you like that wouldn’t it?”
“It’s not my fault I’m too delicate for this world,” I shrug.
“I forget you were born inside a flower that protected you from the world with its petals until it bloomed, thumbelina.”
“If I could take a nap inside a peony right now, I’d do it in a heartbeat…. The pollen might be too much though.” I sigh.
“Come here,” Namjoon laughs, standing from his chair and extending his hand toward me.
“Where are you taking me?”
I slip my knuckles between his and knock against his shoulder with my head.
“To my bumblebee. Take you on a spin around the block” he winks.
“I’m surprised you didn’t say take a ride. It’s like the only lyric you use these days” I snicker, bumping the curve of my hip into his.
“You’re supposed to write what you know,” he shrugs.” It’s not my fault your hips are your area of expertise.”
He winks at me and god, if he took every piece of clothing off of me right now, I’d ride him in a heartbeat.
Shit. Knowing him, he can probably feel my response to him without even looking at me. Sure enough, he looks down, smiling until his dimples dip in his cheeks, and damn it, I’m so captivated by the focaccia dough dips in his face that I stumble into the corner of the wall. My hip catches and I yelp, more embarrassed than in pain.
“Shh, hey, I got you.”
That calm voice of his is so low right now as his palm curves around the dip in my hip that got nicked by the wall. I tip into his long, warm torso and let him guide me into the bedroom. I’m clearly too disoriented and agitated to make it here without careening into something else and frustrating myself, so I’m happy for the assistance. Besides, being scooped up in Namjoon’s substantial hands is never a bad place to be.
“Thanks, baby. I needed that.”
I press my temple into his chest, kiss his ribs. Marvel at the resistance of muscle I feel beneath his soft green shirt. I press my nose into the fabric and let the warmth of him calm me. His other hand strokes soft knuckles along my jaw. His touch is so light and sweet - I feel my shoulders drop as he does it.
“Pick me up?” I whisper, eyes lifting softly to look up at him from where I’m pressed into his chest.
His hands slide up my sides, palms pressed into my waist as he lifts me. The soft grunt he makes as my thighs wrap around his ribs makes something in my brain feel a little fuzzy. Life is better like this, I think. Our faces nuzzled cheek to cheekbone, his hands fitted beneath my thighs, mine trailing softly through the silky bits of his hair peeking out of the back of his beanie as my arms drape over his shoulders like fabric. I can feel the knot of tension in the middle of my spine begin to untie itself as I melt into him. God, I’m so happy he exists.
“Where would you like to go, princess?”
Namjoon kisses the top of my ear, and that fuzzy tingle in my brain is back.
“What are my options?”
I press my lips softly to his throat in light, meditative kisses. They’re more like delicate exhales. My tongue barely tips out to taste his skin. Just a touch. Just a taste. Sleepy and slow because that’s all I have the energy for. His eyelids do that hazy half flutter that tells me he likes it enough to pretend he doesn’t so that I’ll keep going. I smile as he gently tips his head to the side, as if waiting for my answer, but really he’s just giving me more room to access that spot behind his ear that likes my lips. Let’s humor the man.
“We could go to the bed, the shower, the bath…” he gasps a little on the last word, the ah sound coming out too airy as I gently mouth at his pulse point and his grip on my thighs gets tense. “Or there’s a ….counter right here.” His head tips toward the half bath in the hallway as his fingers dig into the meat of my legs.
When I look up to meet his eyes, they’ve gone serpentine. Deep and dark and heavy as he holds me close. I can feel how shallow his breathing is becoming and I smile, sleepy and soft as he watches me.
“Take me to bed, Joonie.”
He’s kissing me before I can even finish his name.
He tips the door open with one of his feet before squeezing us both through the threshold of it. With his eyes closed and his tongue between my lips, he’s bound to crash into something and he does. He thunks an elbow, I knock my head, but in seconds, he’s cradling it where I’ve bumped the wall, spilling “sorry, I’ve got you, sorry,” onto my tongue as he pulls me in closer.
The spell doesn’t break.
He’s big and he’s bulky but he’s careful with me as he lays me on the bed and climbs over me. His mouth doesn’t leave mine even as he peels off each piece of my clothing. His movements are slow, his touch tender as he does.
Namjoon has learned how to soothe my body when it’s alert like this. Knows the cool air feels refreshing and crisp when my skin is hot with pain and sensitivity so he gets me naked with a deft touch. He knows the feel of his skin is grounding for me so that soft green shirt of his hits the floor. Knows I love his hair so the beanie goes next. Knows I love the strength in his thighs so his shorts are next as he tugs my hips down beneath his to let me wrap my legs around his slim waist.
I'm so wrapped up in the warmth of him that I don’t realize he’s tugged my silk pillowcase beneath my head. It’s cool when my head falls back and I smile, toothy and wide, as his plush lips sink into my skin. He’s at my collarbone now, then the volume of my breasts. His breath is warm, the air is cool and his substantial hands grip me firm like dough he’s being careful with as he kneads.
His cock brushes against me between my legs and the bright feeling it sends sparkling through me makes my breathing stutter.
“Joonie,” I shiver, and I can feel him smile against my skin. See his eyes flash up at me in the dark.
“We do too much, baby.” He breathes, voice smoky and low like the dragon he is.
I don’t know what he means. My critical thinking is losing its sharpness as he suckles warm and soft at the dip of my ribs.
“Too much?” I can feel my brows crumpling, but his tongue is so warm on my stomach that my hands dig into his shoulders without my consent.
He reaches up to brush one hand over mine.
“Shhh, easy. We’re trying to relax you, not tense you up.”
He’s smiling. I can barely see him but I can feel him and I know his grin would only dissolve me deeper into the mattress.
“We do too much, we deal with too much. God, your skin is too motherfucking much,” he squeezes me, latches his soft mouth onto my waist and tugs at the skin. I can feel the bruise blooming there, but he’s off and on to the next before I can even get words out. “Your body is always trying to process all of it, but it’s too much. Let me take care of some of it- let me help.”
When His tongue slips between my legs, his strong hands push my legs wide, press them down when he feels me buckle. His breath is so warm, his mouth is so molten, his nose on my clit is so gentle- it all leaves my body in an exhale. Tension drops off like melted wax and I feel myself go supple in his palms as I let him do what he wants with me.
“There’s been so much chaos. So much to deal with. So much to do. I just want to run away from it all with you.”
His tongue is languid as it works on me. The rush of warmth undoes the aches in my body better than a hot bath ever has.
“Then let’s go, Joonie. Where do you want to go? I’ll follow you anywhere.” And I mean it. They’re not lusty rambles. They’re not hollow words. I’d follow him to the edge of the world.
He puts that plump mouth of his over my clit and the gentle way he slurps me up melts my bones into soup broth and clears my head.
“You’ll let me take you anywhere?”
He looks up at me, his mouth never leaving his post, working me slowly as he waits for my reply. His mouth is so wet, his eyes are so sharp and my body is just another piece of music he’s learned how to perfect. I nod, bottom lip bit between my teeth and relax as much as I can as he composes a symphony between my legs. His smile folds the crinkles around his eyes, and his aura flickers between lovingly soft and steadily authoritative as he doubles down, wrapping his arms around my legs to scoop my hips up into his face and pressing into me, deeper, faster, harder.
I arch up when he does, gasping as my shoulders lift up, my fingers twist in the bedspread, my jaw goes slack. He’s really doing a number on me and all I want to do is say thank you and let him continue.
He slides up my body then, one hand behind my head bringing my forehead to his as the other grips my hip with enough pressure to split it apart as he tips his cock inside me in a way I didn’t know I needed. The sound is squelchy and wet and he smiles as his nose bumps against mine.
“You’ll follow me?”
He sounds cocky in a way he hasn’t in a while and a little piece of me loves it. His hips are fluid as his cock rocks in and out of me. All I can do is nod wildly, disoriented as I clutch him close to me. My legs are folded up, feet along his hips for purchase with my knees butterflied wide. I’d laugh at how much I must look like a frog if this didn’t feel so good. He’s got a hand beneath my bum, lifting my hips off the bend and gliding his cock so deep into me that surely my organs are all shifting wide like the Red Sea to make room for him.
“Wherever you want to go,” I hum, arms falling slack. I’ve lost the energy to hold on to him, but he’s got me held up so precious and tight that we’re still more intertwined than two fibers of thread in a tight knit sweater. I’ve fused into him and now every breath is in tandem.
“I’m gonna take my girl away from here.”
His thumb brushes my bottom lip and I feel myself flush at his tenderness.
“Yeah?” My eyes are wide, following his. He hovers above me, furrowed face sculpted with intensity and aggression as his body works mine into ecstasy. I’ve really acquiesced to the fact that I’m nothing more than a soft lump of clay in his hands that he’s working with precision. I’ve always wanted to be a work of art.
He slips my breast into his mouth like a lychee jelly, moaning at the feel of me tightening around him when he does it. Pumping harder, faster, deeper, only to pull out and dip his long fingers into the mess he’s made. He slathers it over all my sensitive bits, caressing with finesse as sparklers crackle in my vision.
When He pulls me up and into him, my face is pressed between his pecs and god, I can’t keep it together. I kiss them furiously as he works, clutching onto his arms, dragging my fingers down his abs as he slides his glossy fingers over my clit like he’s casting a spell. I can’t breathe… I can’t breathe… I can’t….
But I can because I have to- Namjoon won’t ease up until he gives me the sweet oxytocin of release by his hands and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So I dig deep and exhale slow and controlled, whimpering as he rockets past that orgasm to send me into preparing for the next one. He smirks like I’m his plaything and I comply with no resistance. I’ll have as many rounds as he gives me. I’m a big girl. I can handle- Oh!
At least, I thought I could handle anything. Naive me, I suppose.
I smile into the sheets when he tips me over onto all fours. He kisses my shoulders, kisses along my spine, brushing his thumbs on the folds on my hip, all tender and kind and syrupy sweet as the behemoth between his legs tips ever so slowly inside of me despite my incredible tightness, and I don’t know whether to breathe or scream so I press my face into the bedding and giggle like there’s something wrong with me.
“Take you somewhere quiet,” he slides in deeper. “With no noise,” he thrusts. “No news.” He thrusts. “Just nature.”
My chest feels tight with affection but my body feels limps like a rag doll as he pumps me silly. His gargantuan hands holding up my hips are the only thing keeping me from sliding off the bed and melting into the floorboards.
“Joonie, i’d- I’d love that,” soft puffs of air leave me with each fluid roll of his hips. The snap at the end of the graceful flourish knocks my skull a little loose but I don’t mind. Thinking so little is really quite nice.
“Take you for walks, lay with you in nature, fuck you like this in an outdoor bath tub while we watch the stars.”
His hand glides down my spine as he paints beautiful pictures with his words. My heart and my body don’t know which way is up.
“Escape all this chaos. At least for a little bit.” He smirks. I catch a glimpse of it as I look over my shoulder, reach back to hold his hand.
“I might never let you drag me back to the real world.” My smile is gooey, fond and so is his now. His dimples have come out - all his sincerity and heart on display, as his hips still even as he still fills me up.
“I can write poetry in the wild,” he shrugs. “My music would probably be better for it.”
He looks bashful and soft. The juxtaposition of his strong body and sweet face make me dip forward. He slides out of me, watching with confusion as I guide him to stand beside the bed.
When I flip onto my back, letting my head loll backwards off the bed in front of him, he arches a brow at me. I just chuckle and pull him forward by the back of his legs.
“Come here. I want to make my own music.”
I take the length of him into my mouth and he topples over, hands bracing on either side of me on the bed. He groans so sweet and low that I smile as I take him deep. His knees buckle when my nose tips softly against his balls as I suckle him slowly and it takes everything in me not to laugh at how happy I am.
His hands travel my body as his mouth occupies itself. He makes a meal of my breasts, takes a drink between my legs, holds my throat to lighten my breath. When we cum in tandem, he collapses to my side as we catch our breath in silence.
The night is still, the air is cool and rain is finally trickling against the windows.
Our bodies are spent and our plan is set.
We’ll run away soon enough.
But now, cradled breast to breast, we sleep knowing our world is just the smallest bit brighter.
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obitohno · 2 years
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the masseuse
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suguru geto x reader
synopsis ⤸
geto gives you a little more than what you paid for.
themes ⤸
fem! reader, 18+, masseuse! geto, virgin! reader, masturbation, foreplay, vaginal fingering, raw sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, choking, breath play, the dragon, creampies, squirting, role-play, cnc, dubcon
word count ⤸
3.7k (unedited)
a/n ⤸
this was supposed to be a thirst, but it turned into a one-shot instead, oops. i’ve been feral for masseuse! geto for a while now, n i just couldn’t get the idea out of my head, so this is the result after me thirsting after him all day whilst writing this. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing it ♡
reblogs are appreciated ~
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it’s after an exhausting week at work when you relent to your colleague’s repeated invitation to an evening at the local spa, begrudgingly agreeing to tag along when you’d much rather head home and dive into the safety of your bed. 
you’d given in, mostly to get them to stop asking, and now here you are, bleary eyed and head feeling as if it’s made of lead. you’re so tired that you’re not actually concentrating when you tap your index to the first option on the menu, wanting to get this over and done with in order for you to rush home as quickly as possible. 
the receptionist offers what you suppose is an encouraging smile, before asking for your name, date of birth and after a quick glance at your i.d and bank card, she’s tapping away at the computer, prettily decorated acrylics click, clacking away at the keyboard as she books you in for the evening. 
‘all of our other masseuses are fully booked until sunday, but luckily for you, geto has had a cancellation, so i’ll book you into his free spot,’ she’s telling you, glancing at you to gauge your reaction. 
you offer a polite smile that is twinged with a bout of reluctance. 
you hadn’t even looked at the list properly when you’d chosen a service at random, but you suppose that a massage isn’t the worst thing that you could’ve chosen. 
and so with an encouraging pat on the shoulder from your colleague who is grinning a little too widely for your liking, you’re scrawling your signature at the bottom of a contract that you barely have the energy to skim read. the receptionist is kind enough to point you down the hallway, and your colleague promises to meet with you later, and so, hoisting your handbag further up your shoulder, you’re following her instructions, newly acquired key in hand. 
it doesn’t take long to locate the room that has been designated to you, gaze lingering on the kanji for ‘geto’ that is engraved into the grain of the wood. you hesitate for a moment, loitering by the door before you finally reach to twist the key into the lock with a nervous tremor shaking its way down to the tips of your fingers. upon entering the dimly lit room, you see that a bench has already been prepared, placed directly in the middle of the room. 
to the left, a cabinet is pushed against the wall, and upon the surface, there is a tray full of oils and incense sticks that have been placed next to a neatly folded stack of towels that have been arranged by size. next to this, there’s a large lamp that has been placed in the corner of the room, but you see that it is unplugged by the wall, because this geto clearly favours the natural light that is emitted from the array of candles that have been placed around the room, the shadows of their flames dancing a glow up the walls. to the far right, there is a finely decorated partition board that stands towers the opposing corner, and next to it, a very comfortable looking sofa bed that has been folded away so that it is functioning as a seat, rather than a bed. this is where you make a beeline for, careful to not knock the partition board over with your handbag as you do so.
relaxing against the organised mess of cushions, you heave a sigh, eyes darting toward the door as you await the masseuse’s arrival. from somewhere above you, there is the quiet chime of what you suppose is the relaxing sound of a piano, although you aren’t able to determine exactly where the sound is coming from. 
perched on the edge of your seat is where geto finds you upon his arrival. 
you are just able to make out the sound of his knuckles gently rapping on the wood, and when he pushes the door open to reveal his abnormally large frame, you swallow, hard. 
now, you aren’t all that stupid. you’d guessed from the name on the door that he was male. however, you aren’t prepared for him to be so mind-bogglingly attractive. he’s all height and very little else, the short sleeves of his dress shirt stretched wide over the bulging of his biceps. you’ve never particularly favoured men with long hair, but it’s a style that suits him unfairly so, and you have to drag your eyes away from the length of his ponytail when you realise that you’ve looked at him for a second too long. 
closing the door behind him, he crosses the room in order to offer you a handshake, which you stand to return with as much gusto as you can physically muster, and he then points to the key that is still grasped tight within the palm of your other hand. you’re already dropping it into his open palm, before returning his greeting with a murmur of your name. 
‘i’m geto,’ he grins down at you, all teeth and squinty eyes, before he turns to place the key in the lock and twisting it shut. nerves churn at your stomach when his gaze meets yours, and he asks, ‘first time?’
‘ah,’ you scratch at your cheek with a fingernail. ‘is it that obvious?’ 
he hums, but doesn’t deign to answer, another smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. you try your best not to stare as he crouches down to tug open two of the drawers within the large cabinet, tugging free a neatly packaged robe, and a small basket that he then offers to you. you must look a tad bewildered, because he huffs a small chuckle, and you swallow down the low baritone of his voice with an exhale. 
‘box is for your clothes,’ he points to the partition board, ‘you can get changed behind there—just step out whenever you’re ready.’ 
and with a lump that is quickly forming at the back of your throat, you follow his instructions, shuffling your way to the opposite side of the room, your body disappearing behind the board. you gently drape the robe over the edge, box placed on the floor, and then your fingers are working their way through the buttons of your blouse, folding the material before piling it in the box. on the other side, you can hear the soft tinkling of jars of oil clinking together as he moves around the room, before there’s the tell-tale noise of a lighter sparking to life. then, the gentle scent of vanilla and honey is filling the room, and you pause the unbuckling of your belt to inhale deeply before quickly ridding yourself of your shoes, trousers and bra. 
they join the pile in the basket, and you are soon clad in just your underwear, and it is then that you pause, before calling out, ‘uh… geto?’ 
‘hm?’ his voice sounds a tad closer than you’re expecting, and for a reason unknown to yourself, the knowledge makes your tongue fumble in your mouth. 
your thumbs trace the hem of your underwear, hesitation lacing your tone as you dare to ask, ‘my—uh… am i supposed to be… um, you know, naked, naked?’ you clear your throat, rushing to clarify, ‘i-i’ve never done this, see, and i—’
the low chuckle that floats through the air has your stomach in knots, and your mouth instinctively snaps shut. 
‘yes,’ is his answer, short and laced with something that isn’t quite amusement. 
you’re a little bewildered, but you blindly trust his answer, thumbs tugging at the waistband of your underwear until they’re pushed down your thighs and dropping to bunch around your bare ankles. behind you, there’s a loud clang that has you jolting with surprise, and you crane your neck over your shoulder, only to remember that the partition hinders your sight. 
‘e-everything okay?’ 
his laugh sounds a little strained—with embarrassment, you guess—and you hear him clear his throat, ‘just, uh, dropped a bowl. don’t mind me.’ 
confusion and doubt bite at your instincts, but whatever exhaustion you once had is now replaced by the urge to get this over and done with, and so, you bend to reach for your underwear, dropping the flimsy material into the basket. you drape the robe over your body, tying the knot a little tighter than necessary, before exhaling a soft sigh and stepping out from behind the partition.  
he’s waiting by the bench, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiles at you. you can’t help the flip-flopping of your insides when you approach the bench, fingers nervously tugging at the tie around your waist. 
he taps at the bench with an index finger, ‘up you get.’ 
the instruction is simple enough, and you move to sit on the edge of the leather, watching as he holds out a towel for you, arms stretched wide. he pointedly avoids looking in your direction, although a smile still teases at the corner of his mouth. 
‘if you could remove your robe, and then just lie down on your front for me?’ 
anxiety is heating the surface of your skin as your fingers tremble. you shirk your shoulders free from your robe, the silk-like material shimmying to the floor. then, you’re pressing your front to the bench, a freshly washed towel creating a barrier between your skin and the smooth leather. your arms hold under your head, hair pulled away from your neck, and your eyes droop shut as if you can hide from the way that your heart painfully hammers away in your chest. 
the towel that he’s holding is gently draped over the centre of your body, just covering the curve of your rear and your lower back. you swallow thickly, listening to him pop open a jar of oil before his footsteps approach you once more. 
‘’m gonna start with your feet,’ he mumbles, awaiting your slight nod of approval before his fingers ghost over the edge of your left ankle. 
at first, the sensation of his hands working at the balls of your feet feels odd, but when his thumb brushes across the arch of the bottom of your foot, your toes scrunch instinctively. 
‘ticklish?’ he sounds like he’s ready to laugh again, but you can only hum in response, distracted by the way he takes his time with massaging the heels of your feet, the pads of his thumbs tracing over your ankles before slowly stroking their way up the length of your left calf. 
here, he slowly kneads at the muscle, the glide of his hands aided by the oil that he reapplies before moving further up, tickling over the back of your knee to reach your thigh. this is when you begin to recognise the heat that is slowly forming deep in your abdomen. it swirls around and around with each press of the heel of his palm, and when the tips of his fingers ghost over the inside of your thigh, your teeth clamp over your bottom lip in order to smother the soft moan that threatens to escape. it’s embarrassing just how quickly this affects you, fire licking at the space between your legs, your clit starting to throb with interest when his fingers skim just shy of the hem of the towel that protects your modesty. he lingers there, pressing and kneading the expanse of your thigh with an attention that makes your head spin and your pussy clench around nothing but air. 
then, just as a whimper is building at the back of your throat, he’s moving away, and your breath is exhaled from between your nostrils, spine slowly beginning to relax now that he’s moving onto the next leg. 
he starts the process all over again, and this time, it’s harder to ignore the ache between your legs, especially when he pinches the soft skin of your inner thigh. you’re unable to hide the surprised gasp that is punched from your lips, and your eyes squeeze shut. 
a laugh is huffed from somewhere above you, and you struggle to tame the rapid pounding of your pulse that deafens you as it thunders in your eardrums. 
his hands move to your shoulders next, and disappointment twists your stomach into knots. your pussy craves the fingers that are now busy with exploring the length of your spine before working through a particularly sore spot at the base of your neck. his index and middle fingers linger, daring to stroke over the side of your throat. you’re sure that he feels the way that your breath hitches, and your thighs instinctively shift closer together, your clit desperately seeking any form of friction. 
‘huh.’ 
it’s not really a word, more so a sound that is hummed from behind you, and his fingers move from your neck to graze down your spine a second time. 
‘first time?’ 
it’s the second time that he’s asking, but there’s a weight in his tone that wasn’t there the first time, one that you’re quick to understand the insinuation. 
your tongue is heavy in your mouth, and you swallow thickly, eyes remaining shut as you murmur, ‘yes.’ 
‘fuck.’ 
any form of embarrassment that was building in the pit of your stomach is quickly diminished when you feel his fingers sneak under the hem of the towel to trace the curve of your behind. your breath catches on another gasp, his knuckles lowering to brush over your inner thigh once again. you’re unable to hide the shiver that dances across your skin, and your muscles clench upon the sound of him chuckling again. 
‘sensitive, huh?’ 
he doesn’t really care for your answer, not that you’re able to think for one, lost to the heat of his palm hovering over the one place that you want him the most. your hole clenches, and as if he’s able to sense it so, he curses under his breath. his fingers ghost down the length of your slit, your sopping folds parting to allow him to caress at the little nub of nerves that haven’t stopped throbbing since he first touched you. you’re leaking a mess all over his fingers that crook to tease a slow circle over your clit. again, your hole clenches, and you muffle a groan into the bend of your inner elbow. 
‘lemme hear you,’ he all but demands, his free hand suddenly curling around your throat, easily stretching your neck so that your head lifts from the safety of your forearms. your bottom lip trembles, and you release a soft mewl that has him grinning down at you. ‘good girl.’ 
the praise has your stomach tensing with a new bout of arousal. 
when two fingers breach the tight opening of your hole, there is a slight stretch that is unfamiliar to you. his fingers are much larger than your own, and although aided by the oil that slicks his skin, you’re very much aware of the way that your walls widen to accommodate the size of him. 
and it seems that he approves, a low moan shivering its way across your skin when his lips press to the shell of your ear. you answer with a groan of your own, hand coming to clasp at the wrist that holds you in place. despite the slight burn that aches deep inside you, your cunt eagerly sucks his fingers inside, your walls fluttering. your hips shift, rolling against the towel that rubs at your clit. the friction is delicious, and you can’t help but be greedy, seeking more and more, until you’re fucking yourself on his fingers at a steady pace, your breath faltering when his hand tightens around your throat. 
‘shit,’ he grunts, dark eyes glued to the place where his fingers repeatedly disappear from view, your slick arousal slowly trickling down the palm of his hand. his cock jumps, straining against the confides of his trousers, and his fingers withdraw from the scorching cavern of your cunny. the sudden loss of his fingers has a strained yelp of shock escaping you, and when you crane your neck to look over your shoulder, you’re greeted with the sight of him tearing at the belt that is locked around his waist. he makes rapid work of kicking his shoes from his feet, trousers soon following, and you’re pleasantly surprised to see that he’s bare beneath them. 
the sight of his cock has your mouth running dry, and for the umpteenth time today, your hole throbs with unfiltered need. 
the fabric of his shirt is dropping to the floor when he catches the way that your eyes greedily soak in every inch of naked flesh that you can see. but you don’t have long to admire the muscles that ripple beneath the surface of his skin, as he’s hoisting himself up and onto the bench, his weight settling in over yours. he presses in above you, the wet tip of his erection trailing over the length of your thigh that instinctively parts for him. 
he groans his approval, the bench creaking under the strain of your combined weight. for a brief moment, panic flashes with the fear that the bench will give way, but you’re soon distracted by the heavy weight of him pressing his chest flat to your back, his nose nudging to the curve of your cheek. 
his thighs hold yours wide open, and his cock flattens to the curve of your pussy that has swollen with the throbbing arousal that has you keening underneath him when the ridges of his cock slip to drag between your folds, his rounded tip smoothly stroking over your hardened clit. 
he grinds into you, hips circling against the plush of your rear, and with little space between the two of you, your spine arches, his hand curling over the width of your throat for the second time this evening. his touch dizzies you, even more so when he angles each thrust to prod at your clit. you’re unable to muffle the moan that is torn from your throat, the sound vibrating underneath the palm of his hand. his other hand comes to entwine his fingers between your own, and in doing so, his hips withdraw enough so that his engorged tip nudges at your opening. 
‘think you can take me, pretty?’ 
you express your agreement with a soft cry, and your thighs spread wide enough that you feel your muscles aching. 
‘please,’ you murmur. ‘want you… want you to be my first.’ 
his breath falters and he chokes on a hoarse laugh that vibrates across your back. ‘fuck, okay.’ 
the way that his cock bullies its way past your tight opening is anything but sweet. nor is the immediate rough drive of his hips as he spears you on his length. the burning stretch of him makes you squeak, and you can do nothing but cling to the edge of the bench as he fucks into you at a pace that quickly has you panting. the hand at your throat makes breathing a little difficult, and it isn’t long before you’re seeing stars, choking on air when his hand suddenly drops from your throat to shimmy under your chest to pinch at a nipple. 
‘sure you’ve ain’t done this b’fore?’ he groans, nosing at your pulse, the flat of his tongue pressing to your skin to taste the perspiration that is quickly forming on your skin. 
your dribbling walls clamp onto him as you wheeze on a moan, pussy quickly adjusting to the way his girth cruelly fucks you open. he murmurs your name into the space behind your ear, and you squeeze your fingers around his, clinging on for dear life when his cock abruptly tugs free from your cunt, only to snap back forward to claim home inside your gummy walls once more. he repeats this action until you’re sobbing his name between broken, uneven moans, your pussy gushing its release all over him in a spray that soaks his groin and messily splashes down his balls with each thrust that prolongs the aftershocks of your orgasm. the squelching of his cock drilling into you has you trembling with embarrassment, but your spasming walls have him stuttering something incoherent under his breath, his teeth nipping at your throat as he chases his own climax. 
he doesn’t last much longer, and he’s growling the syllables of your name around a chest heaving howl that you respond to with a wail of your own. 
his prick jerks and twitches, his cum scorching hot as it fills you to the brim, excesses of the thick, ropey substance leaking out of your pussy, despite the fact that his cock is still plugged deep inside you. 
it takes a long time for the both of you to catch your breaths, and it is only when your vision no longer swims that you feel him pressing a kiss to your jaw, the loose strands of his hair tickling at your skin. 
‘swear you’re the prettiest virgin that i’ve ever fucked.’ 
with this, the illusion shatters, and you snort an unattractive laugh that has your chest rising and falling in a way that makes your shoulders vibrate. you slap at his forearm, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth when he lifts your hand to fondly brush a kiss to your knuckles. 
‘how was it?’ he asks, and you crane your neck to peer at the smile that traces his lips. ‘think it was spicy enough for ya?’ 
your eyes roll, hips wiggling when his cock twitches inside you once more. another spurt of seed dribbles free, and you grimace when it mingles with your folds. you’re sure that the two of you have a lot of cleaning up to do, but for now, you’re content with the weight of him pressing you into the leather of the bench, languidly stretching your arms as a yawn stretches your jaw enough so that it clicks. geto mimics you, yawning just as widely as you, his arms coming to wrap around your shoulders. he nuzzles into the crook where your shoulder meets your neck, and just as you’re starting to doze, his breath fans over your skin as he asks: 
‘think you could massage me next time? my back’s killin’ me.’ 
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© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works. 
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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 6 months
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🗡️ Clipped Wings: Chapter Two
Clipped Wings: After living a life in seclusion due to an over protective father, you sneak away to experience life as it really is. Slowly building up the woman you always wanted to be, your quiet life is interrupted when you meet a rather elastic boy and his crew. This is just the beginning of trouble and your carefully crafted life starts to crumble around you. The past never really stays in the past, and now it has come knocking. In more ways than one.  
Warnings: Blood, UNEDITED (Ya’ll get the raw until I find time to edit!).
To Note: Dracule Mihawk x Reader, NAMED!FemReader, Some physical features have been given (hair & eye color).
Word Count: ~2.2k
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Your mother’s pocket watch glimmered in your hand as you counted the seconds. It was late in the night, or early, and you were counting on the schedule of guard change to give you the chance to sneak out to the hidden port on the far side of Esmereld Cove. From what you had learned from the maps within the library, your home had two ports. The main one which shipments of goods regularly came in every month and where the Lady Syl was harbored should you and your guards ever need to make an emergency exit from your home. The other was a hidden one at the back of the island for severe emergencies like the island being attacked. It was within a cave system hidden by a curtain of ivy and plant, and wouldn’t be recognized as an opening to a cave unless you were familiar with the island. Your father’s paranoia had come in handy for once.
With an option to escape the island at the back and far from the prying eyes of your nannies and guards, you’d be able to slip free of Esmereld Cove one and for all. You’d spent the last month and a half solely focusing on navigation and sailing, the prior six months on surviving on your own. It had all been under the guise of innocent lady Sylvia wondering how anyone could survive without nannies and guards to care for them and Mel had eaten your wonder up in glee for it kept you in the library. Well the joke was on her because it was she how had prepared you to flee from the island in the first place.
You wondered what they were going to do the moment they realized that you hadn’t just snuck out of your room, but left. Would they inform your father that they had lost his precious daughter? Would your guards search for you in secrecy? Knowing them they probably wouldn’t think that you’d gotten very far by yourself. You’d be long gone by the time they realized you’d hoodwinked them. The hour hand on your watch clicked two and you began moving, slipping down the hall from your room, you darted for the hallway that lead to the servants hall. Bongo was on surveillance of the servants halls tonight, but he was on the other side of the manor at this time while Don and Gopher swapped out duties roaming the grounds and guarding the door to your room.
Slipping into the seldom used passage, you held your side bag against your waist to keep it from jangling around while moving as fast as possible, as silently as possible. In an hour Gopher would be peeking into your room to see that you were still in bed, and he would see that you were… thanks you the hair your chopped off earlier and left tucked against your pillowcase. Sneaking through the area where Alanna and Mel slept, you had a few moments of guilt wash through you as they had raised you, but reminded yourself that you were an adult in your twenties and if you didn’t leave, you wouldn’t be able to see the world.
You made it to the kitchen and paused, by now, Don would have made it to the grounds and begun his rounds. Now you were going to have to wait for him to pass through the gardens before continuing your trek. So you hunkered down by the door and counted the minutes that passed, remaining calm and telling yourself not to rush. Nothing good ever came from rushing, you knew that much. Don walked quietly for a hulking man, especially with his armor and weapons, but you had slowly developed an ear for even the softest of feet. He wasn’t far from the kitchen door and was making his way around the fountain. You waited by the count of his strides and the time it took to reach the other end of the manor, and then went to the window.
Both Mel and Alanna allowed a thick layer of rust to build up upon the doors of the manor. No one could sneak in that way. So if you wanted to slip out unheard and without evidence, you were going to have to slip out through a window. They weren’t large, but on the controlled diet run by Mel, you had a thin frame that could easily slip through the tight spaces of the tall windows. Cracking the window, you pushed it open just enough for your body to slip through and slipped free from the manor. You returned the window to closed by pushing back in place firmly until the latch clicked on the inside.
Now you had exactly three minutes and forty two seconds to get to the edge of the manor grounds without leaving behind any traces. You’d stolen a pair of Mel’s cushy shoes to lesson the sounds of your footsteps and leave little to no evidence. They didn’t fit, pinched your soft feet (because what lady had foot callouses?), and hurt were they rubbed… but if they got the job done you’d bear it. You were by no means glamorous about your sneaking across the grounds, paranoid about being caught and general lack of knowledge of having to sneak around certainly didn’t help your case, but you made it to the edge of the jungle woods without causing any alert or alarm.
You checked your watch again. You had exactly five hours and forty three minutes to be long gone before you were roused by your nannies. It would take half an hour to reach the hidden cove and another ten minutes to prepare the ship for departure.
“Must make haste,” You murmured to yourself as you began your trek into the jungle wood. You knew it well by now, but even then the jungle wood was slow going without using the secret tunnel from the manor to the hidden harbor. The problem you’d discovered was that the entrance to the tunnel was directly in front of your room behind a fountain which your guards stood in front of. It hadn’t been an option in your escape plan.
Sweat was trickling between your shoulder blades and down your back by the time you were halfway through the jungle wood. Worse, your feet were beginning to slide in Mel’s shoes which meant your skin had already broken. Troublesome and irritating. Leaning against a mossy tree trunk, you slipped the shoes off and flexed your feet. The pain was sharp and stinging, but not unbearable. You were also on a time schedule.
“You can fix that later,” You told yourself, lifting your gaze and continuing to follow the mental map you’d made. Making it to the entrance to the cave, you slipped through the bushes covering the opening and stepped onto cool rock. That actually made your sting feet feel better. Almost there. You ran towards the ship hung over the water in a dry dock. There had been doubts about whether you’d be able to put the ship in the water alone on your mind, so you had figured out how to use some weights and momentum to turn the wheels.
So your first task was to lock the weights onto the wheel and get it moving. You’d spent nearly two weeks trying to figure out how to move such heavy weights, then you realized there was cart that could do it for you. Grabbing onto the cart, you pushed it towards the wheel, thankful that all your activity in the last few months had gotten you strong enough to pull off a stunt like this. When the cart was at the wheel, you took the tope attached to the weights and tied it to one of the wheel rungs using a knot you’d learned about and practiced. Secured, you lifted the cart up as best as you could (which wasn’t much because you were still very much weak and turned it in the direction of the cliff where the ship hovered.
“…really need to work out.” You growled, pushing the cart bit by bit to the edge. It teetered for a moment before fully tipping, they the weight sunk like it should and the wheel behind you began spinning fast. The suspended boat dropped to the ocean water with a violent splash and bobbed for several seconds. That was one task down. Boat in the water, you skirted the cliff and used a hanging rope to swing yourself onto the deck.
Landing in a tumble, you laid on your back for a moment and coughed. That hurt more than you thought it would. Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving. You rolled onto your side and got to your feet. Now you just had to wait for three sixteen when the tide would drag the water out and get you to where you could catch the winds with the sails. You checked your pocket watch, two forty two. That gave you enough time to focus on getting yourself ready. You dragged yourself to the stash of boxes and items you had hidden on the skiff hanging from the much larger ship and pulled yourself into it.
Your feet were bleeding and roughed up by your trek, so your first priority was wrapped them up. There was a minimal supply of medical supplies that you wanted to use only if you had to, but there wasn’t much you would be able to do for yourself if your feet were taken out of commission. So you grabbed several bandages and sat down, wrapping your feet and ankles to give you something to grip. With that done, you grabbed the navigation chart of the East Blue and rolled it flat in front of you.
Your finger rested on where Esmereld Island should lay on the map. It was an unmarked island. Then you looked at the surrounding islands that were in reach of the small skiff. You had chosen one, but it would be close given the supplies you had. Conomi Islands. It was an archipelago in the northwestern region of the East Blue and has several communities to pick from. You didn’t care which one you ended up on, as long as you reached land.
“Conomi Islands,” You mumbled, leaning back on your shins and listening to the lapping water. You’d broken enough gems from your jewelry to sell for money once you made land so you weren’t completely broke, but the start of your new life wasn’t going to be easy.
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The ship had been pulled out to sea as expected and you’d wrested the sails free to catch the wind. It hadn’t been easy, it’s been near impossibly hard, but you’d done it with several curses and many broken nails. You had already laughed at having broken nails because Mel would be beside herself! So you took a small break to catch your breath and pick splinters from your fingers. Esmereld Island was long behind you, faded in the distance and you knew that it was time to take the skiff and head in the direction of your destination.
Your really couldn’t keep sailing a ship this big on your own. It was hard enough for you to figure out how to work the sails on your own. The skiff was small, with only one mast and sail, manageable for you who’d never sailed before. You double checked that you had everything you needed in the little ship before tying the big ships wheel in place so it would continue in the same direction for as long as possible. With that done, you winched the small skiff over the water and climbed on board. It rocked in the wind and you had to steady yourself before using the bully to lower yourself to the churning water below. The moment the first wave caught the bow of the skiff, your little ship rocket bow up and you felt back with a yelp.
Head smacking the solid wood side of the skiff, you were left sprawling and in a daze on the floor as it rocked and rolled in the waves. Your forehead pounded and among the cold splashes of ocean water you felt warm thick liquid run down your nose. Blood.
“Shit,” You grunted, pressing your fingers into the laceration at your hairline. You’d cracked your skin right open and it was bleeding steadily, but you had more pressing concerns at the moment. Sitting up in a daze, you stared at the horizon before twisting in place to see the larger ship plowing behind you just like you wanted. That sight made you slump back and sigh with a grimace. Part one of your plan was officially finished. Now onto getting yourself to civilization.
You sat back up and blindly reached around your something to stop the flow of blood coming from your forehead. There was a strip of cloth you had been using to tie a few bag of goods together with. That would do. Unraveling it, you pressed it against your pounding forehead with a grimace and wrapped it around your head several times. With it tied off you looked to the lone mast which now seemed so easy to figure out compared to the large ship you’d just abandoned.
“I can do this,” You told yourself, shakily getting to your feet on the rocking boat. “I can do this.”
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Date Published: 10/4/23
Last Edit: 10/4/23
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