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weixuldo · 11 months ago

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Baby Fever

Anakin x f!reader

This is based off of number 2 of this list :)- I havent really delved into kink writing s sorry if this isnt the best haha- think of the reader as a padme- type figure

After seeing you interact with a lost child- Anakin thinks it’s time you had your own baby to look after…

warnings: P in V, smex, ani has a mean breeding kink, multiple orgasms, mentiond of pregnancy

________________

Floods of invigorating politicians and citizens exited the large Coruscant city center after a successful senate meeting. You had just finished pitching a plan that would excel the economy while also protecting labor’s rights.

You smiled as you stood from your podium once the majority of the crowds had exited- the whole public eye thing was a bit new to you.

For the longest time you worked behind the scenes helping other politicians with similar goals; it wasn’t until a few months ago that you, yourself, were appointed as your district’s senator.

You fixed your dress as you exited your booth and headed for the dimly lit corridors of the massive building. Most of the clamor had moved outside into the city square so the halls were mostly empty.

As you turned the corner a small smile found its way onto your face once you saw a familiar figure leaning against a marble pillar. Unmistakable robes and lightsaber clipped to the man’s belt.

“I wasn’t aware Jedi had any interest in politics” you said with a smirk as the man snaked a gloved arm around you before you could pass.

He pressed his face into your hair as he hugged you tighter to his chest, “We don’t, but you know all of my interest belongs to you”.

You sighed as he pressed a passionate kiss to the column of your neck.

“Ani- not here” you almost whimpered.

He quickly twirled you around to face him before holding your face in his hands, “why not?” he asked with a charming smirk- “we should let them all know”.

He glanced out the large windows down at the crowds of excited civilians- from up here they looked no larger than ants running for a sugar jar.

“They all love you, so why can’t I?” Anakin asked with a pout.

You sweetly smiled before placing a tender kiss to his pretty lips, “you can, and you do- you know the ramifications Anakin, you know we ca-“.

Anakin cut you off with another deep kiss before releasing you and playfully slapping your ass.

“Yeah yeah, I know” he huffed, “but they don’t know that”.

You rolled your eyes at your lover’s childish desires before leading him out of the building.

To avoid the spotlight and attention of the crowds, you dawned a hooded cloak before exiting the center.

Anakin followed closely behind; a hand already on his saber just in case. Thankfully being in public with Anakin seemed normal to some degree because you had become such a public figure- Jedi were often tasked with protecting political officials.

So Anakin looked no different than a routine bodyguard.

The crowds were easier to navigate now that you had some practice under your belt. You had almost made it to your reserved speeder when you felt a small tug on the hem of your long dress.

You smiled once you realized the tugging was coming from a small child, probably no older than four.

She looked up at you with wonder as she mustered up the courage to speak to you.

“Senator?” She finally asked.

You nodded with a smile before turning to her. A wide grin settled onto her small face as she looked you up and down.

“Pretty” she giggled.

Anakin stood a few feet behind you, trying to see what was going on over the people standing in the way- he became anxious when you dipped from view.

The Jedi quickly weaved through the remaining people to see you crouched down speaking to a small child. His expression immediately softened as he watched you interact so sweetly with the girl; making exaggerated faces at the child’s comments, pointing out her cute accessories to make her giggle, picking her up to shield her from oncoming pedestrians-

Anakin never really thought about having kids- of course he wanted them someday; he wanted to create life with you and wanted to raise his children with a childhood he never got to have. But it never seemed like the right time.

The two of you had been careful when engaging in those activities to avoid an unexpected surprise when you still hadn’t quite figured out how to navigate your secret relationship.

But each time Anakin fucked you he got closer and closer to giving up on the unspoken rule; he got closer and closer to cumming deep inside of you without any intention of pulling out.

You knew Anakin was a passionate lover but you never considered that your sweet, respectful Jedi lover fantasized about locking you into a mating press while he fucked his children into your fertile womb.

Anakin had no timeline of when he wanted them, but he knew you’d make a great mother no matter how long (or short) he waited.

Though seeing you interact in real time just made him want the fantasy to spring to reality.

_________

“Hello sweetie, where are your parents?” You cooed at the small girl in your arms.

She giggled and shrugged, making you frown.

“Well that’s not good, they’re probably worried about you” you said, scanning the crowd for anyone who held any semblance to the tiny child in your arms.

She, on the other hand, had no interest in finding her guardians- instead she was focused on the shiny tinsel that had been put into your hair prior to your speech. Innocently, she flipped your hood off and began to touch your face as she admired your beauty in childlike wonder.

Before you could react, Anakin was by your side; he gently placed the cloak back over your head to protect you from interested onlookers.

“Ani! You came out of nowhere” you giggled lightheartedly as he guided you off to the side of the still buzzing city square.

“Who’s this?” He asked with a smile as the little girl in your arms hid her face in your shoulder.

“It’s ok baby, he’s a Jedi- he’s very strong and he’s here to protect us” you whispered to the little girl in your arms.

“Jedi?” her green eyes brightened as she became excited at the title.

She continued asking you questions but all Anakin could focus on was how beautiful you looked interacting with such a young child. How natural you looked.

Is this how you would interact with your own children? With his children?

He couldn't help but adjust his pants as he felt them becoming increasingly tighter.

Soon the overexcited child had fallen asleep in your comforting arms; shortly, you began cautiously walking around in hopes to find her parents. The jedi beside you watched as you subconsciously brushed the girl's hair and gently bounced her on your hip.

Before long you finally stumbled across two very worried adults calling for who you could only assume was fast asleep in your arms.

“Oh Maker! There she is!” the woman gasped as she reached for her baby.

The Man she was with breathed out a sigh of relief and quickly joined her as you handed her the sleeping child.

“Thank you so mu- Senator!” the man’s eyes widened once he realized who it was.

“We are so sorry to have troubled you- please forgive us for our carelessness” the woman bowed.

“No, no! It was no trouble at all- you have a beautiful daughter” you smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair away from the girl’s face.

“Thank you, thank you so much. We loved your speech- you are just what this city needs” the mother offered before turning to her husband.

You bowed and met the silent figure watching from the sidelines; “Sorry Ani, we can go now”.

Anakin just nodded silently and trailed you with an uncharacteristically dazed aura.

Once you were in your speeder, Anakin hopped in the driver’s seat and jetted off towards your apartment; his strong jaw clenched as he imagined you full with a child.

He flinched as you placed a tender hand on his tensed thigh, “Ani- are you alright?”.

________________________

A cacophony of moans and groans ricocheted off of the walls of your penthouse bedroom as your lover continuously plunged his cock in and out of your abused hole. He had been at it for two hours already and had already cum once (while you came thrice).

Once you entered your private apartment, all of his carefully crafted will-power snapped and he went feral; the natural urge to breed you, hit him like a bus.

He was all over you; your lips, neck, breasts, cunt- you were his and he was going to make damn sure it stayed that way.

“A-Ani! S-slow down!” you cried as he jetted his thick cock in and out of you.

“S-Sorry baby, C-can’t- I gotta- gotta fill you up” he winced as he fucked you through his own overstimulation.

His heavy balls slapped against your ass and a ring of foam from your combined juices formed at the base of his cock.

He already came inside of you once, what more could he want?

“Baby- t’s too much! You're-spilling all over”.

“N-no, not enough- gotta fuck a baby into you” he grunted against your bruised neck.

His confession had your eyes snapping open, “What?!”.

“Looked too damn good with that baby on your hip- I-I wanna see you with my child on your hip in-instead” he babbled as he pulled you flush against his chest and rutted his desperate hips into yours.

So that's what this was all about.

Admittedly you didn’t mind his desires, deep down you wanted the same thing… you wanted him to reach so deep that he fucked one into you on the spot.

“Oh Fuck Ani- I wan- I want your kids” you admitted ad you raked your long nails down his toned back.

“Shit babe- squeezing me so tight” he whined as he gripped onto your hips with a caging grasp (surely you would be bruised tomorrow).

He slammed his hips flush against yours with intense force as he felt the coil in his stomach begin to snap- this was it, this was the orgasm that was going to give you a child.

He just knew it.

“Ahh c-cumming! Gonna give y-you a child- Shit! i-i ‘m going to fuck my baby into you” he babbled as he felt his hot, thick, warm seed shoot out of his oversensitive tip into your gushing cunt as your own orgasm washed over your like a crest-fallen wave.

“Ani!” you cried as your legs began to shake from the overpowering climax mixed with your exhaustion.

You clawed onto him so hard that you swore you drew blood. Anakin, on the other hand, dove down and captured you into a tight embrace; his mechanical hand making you gasp at the sudden coolness.

His body shook with pleasure and overstimulation as he struggled to rut his hips into you to push the last bit of spend further into you with shaky breaths.

Once you came down from your high, you were so tired that you couldn’t even bother to ask Anakin to clean you up; you half expected him to fall asleep inside of you based on how tired he also looked.

“Gonna make you a mommy- you’ll look s-so good- so round with our child” Anakin mumbled into your neck before slowly turning over so that you were on top of him (his dick still inside).

You hummed in contempt before drifting to sleep as he gently brushed your hair with hsi flesh hand.

“The two of you should get some sleep now- I love you” Anakin whispered before drifting right after you.

You would have giggled at Anakin’s addition of “two” when speaking to you and your hypothetical baby, but as usual your lover was right.

The famed “Jedi perception” was affirmed 9 months later when you cradled not one, but two small bundles of joy. You sat on your couch as you fed your children and Anakin couldn't help but smirk at the scene before him, this is just what he wanted… he couldn’t wait till you could have another one.

***

(a/n: ngl im not crazy big on kids but breeding is hot 🤭🤭 hope this lived up to the idea on the list :0)

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aethercoreheart · 3 months ago

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rafayel | 9:40 PM

"What's wrong? You've barely touched your pasta."

Rafayel's question comes out in a mumble, his mouth filled with food. You try not to scowl at him, but you feel that your gaze carries a bit of heat. You push the food on your plate around with your fork, and you make a show out of stabbing a piece of gnocchi.

"Nothing," you reply, trying to keep your tone nonchalant. "I'm just not feeling this place."

Rafayel raises an eyebrow at you. "What is it? The food is good, the wine is good. The service is excellent. What's the problem?"

You try to discreetly glance over to the area where the servers are hanging out. They're glancing back at your table, although not so discreetly, some of them giggling behind menus. Throughout the night, they've been checking in on your table constantly, even bringing over free dessert, which Rafayel is currently scoffing down. He's halfway through the tiramisu already, and you had refused a single bite of it. The entire night, the servers had been ignoring you, but had obviously been fawning over your date. You had tried to endure it because Rafayel had recommended the place, but they were starting to get on your last nerve.

Rafayel sees where you're looking and looks over as well. He catches the servers trying to make eye contact with him and he flashes them a smile. You hear them burst into giggles and you feel your eyes roll so hard, they feel like they're going to get stuck at the back of your skull.

"You're entertaining their flirting!" you hiss at Rafayel.

Rafayel looks taken aback for a moment, then you see the glint in his eyes, his lips slowly morphing into a smirk. "Oh? Are you jealous?"

You stab another piece of gnocchi, then slam your fork down. "You know what? I'm going to go wait in the car. Get another drink. Take as long as you want."

You rise from the table, but Rafayel catches your wrist, and tries to pull you back towards him. You glower at him, but don't pull your hand away.

"Okay," he says gently. "Let's leave. I'll just take the rest of this to go."

He glances at the dessert, then at the server's station, then at you.

"On second thought, I'll leave it. I can get something else on the way home."

---

You try to reach for the driver's side door, but Rafayel beats you to it. Actually, he lets you get to it before he pushes in past you and swipes the car keys from your hand.

You stare at him inquisitively.

"What?" he chuckles. "Just because I prefer it when you drive, doesn't mean I actually can't."

You narrow your eyes at him, but then head to the passenger's side door. He rushes past you again, reaching for the door, and opening it for you. You roll your eyes, but can't stop the smile from tugging at the corners of your lips. Rafayel makes his way to the driver's side again, and before you can even buckle your self in, he starts the car and takes off, making you lurch back into your seat.

"Jeez, Rafayel!" you gasp, grasping at the seatbelt. You hurriedly clip yourself in.

"Sorry," he laughs, sheepishly. "Just got excited to drive. I promise, I'm good."

One of your hands grips the handle above the door, and the other is gripping the seatbelt. After a few minutes of driving, you start to relax - it's evident that Rafayel knows what he's doing.

The ride is mostly silent, with the radio softly playing as background noise. You stare out of the window, watching the street lights blur past. Rafayel continues driving, missing the turn he was supposed to take to bring you back home. You turn in your seat and start to protest, but he shushes you.

"I know where I'm going!" he insists. "Just enjoy the ride. We'll be there soon."

---

The car stops at an empty parking lot, facing the shoreline. There are no street lights around - there weren't any for the last few minutes of the drive towards wherever this was - but the entire place is illuminated by the half moon in the sky.

"Where are we?" you ask Rafayel, peering out of your window.

"Stay there," he instructs, getting out of the car. Within a few seconds, he's at your door, pulling it open, his hand extended out to you. You take it, and let him lead you out of the car.

"Come on," he tells you, pulling you along. "I have something to show you."

Both of you head down to the shore, his hand tightly clasped around yours. You make your way to the boardwalk, which extends past where the tide is coming in. Rafayel leads you down, towards the end of the boardwalk, where there is a railing, facing out to the sea. You stop at the railing, watching the moon's reflection rippling on top of the waves.

"Look up," Rafayel whispers, your hand still in his. "Tell me what you see."

You turn your gaze upwards and see a sea of stars, painted across the sky. "I see... the stars?"

"How many?" he asks you.

You shake your head. "Too many to count."

"Yes. That's how many people are going to try to flirt and get my attention while we're together."

You consider tossing Rafayel over the edge of the railing and into the water, but you opt for a dramatic turn and storming back towards the car instead. You're considering leaving him there and just taking the car home without him when he grabs at your wrist again. He pulls you in, and wraps you in an embrace, so tight that you can feel his muscles tensing underneath his jacket. He holds you, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other around your shoulders. His cheek is pressed against yours, and you feel his breath brush against your ear, warm and ticklish. For a few moments, you're both still, locked in this embrace, and you feel his heart pounding against your own chest. Then, he speaks in a gentle whisper.

"And that's also how many times I'm going to reject and ignore them. That's how many times I'm going to choose you. It's you and it's going to be you, over, and over, and over again."

#love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel fluff #rafayel x you #rafayel x mc #rafayel fanfic #rafayel x reader #lads x mc #lads x reader #lads x you #lads fanfic #lads fluff #ae.rafayel

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fantasydreamland · 8 months ago

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Fun Wife

aegon targaryen x fem lannister reader

Summary: (For the sake of the story Aegon never married Helena) You’re betrothed to the new king who is not too pleased about it. He assumes you’ll turn your nose up at the way he behaves and having a wife will just be a nuisance. He quickly discovers how beautiful and fun his new wife is.

Notes: 18+ ONLY!!! Smuttt, loss of virginity, p in v, public x, getting caught, fingering, oral (f&m), masturbation (m), some fluff, spoilers maybe.

Word count: 4.3k

This is the smuttiest story I’ve written so enjoy lol

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“I do not wish to marry.” Aegon says firmly.

The small council meeting had dragged on and everyone, especially his mother, had been pushing for him to marry as soon as possible. Amongst themselves they decided on a bride as if he weren’t even there. He was the king and he should be able to choose when and whom he marries. He did not want to marry some Lannister girl he had never met. And he certainly did not want to marry so soon.

“She is an excellent match Aegon. You must marry.” Alicent insists.

“This is the best way to solidify our relationship with the Lannisters.” Another said.

“I am the king.” Aegon said stomping his foot like a child. “If I do not want to marry right now I should not have to.”

“Yes, Aegon. You are the king.” Alicent says in a calm tone. “And that is why you must marry. You need to produce strong heirs as soon as possible.”

Aegon lets out an obnoxiously loud sigh. He knew his mother was right. He would have to marry but at least he could avoid his wife if he wanted to and just visit her chambers occasionally to try for an heir. He loathed the idea of it all.

**********

A couple weeks later you arrive to kings landing. You were filled with excitement of your wedding, of becoming queen of the seven kingdoms. You had been warned by multiple people of Aegons depravities but it did not phase you. If anything, it made him more intriguing.

Aegon watches from a window waiting for your arrival. He did not want to greet you right away but wanted to see what you looked like. His breath catches when he sees you exit your carriage with your bright blonde hair and beaming smile. He was caught completely off guard. He had obviously hoped you would be attractive, but he never expected you to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

As gorgeous as you were he was still annoyed with concern that you would be uptight and judge him. He did not expect a happy marriage but he could not help but picture the beautiful bright haired children you would make together.

**********

You finally meet at dinner. Aegon could no longer avoid you. He stood from his chair when you entered the room and walked over to greet you.

“Your grace.” You curtsy low. “It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, my king.” You smile brightly at him and hold your hand out to him.

You were even more breathtaking up close. He was surprised by how genuinely happy you seemed to meet him. Your (e/c) eyes sparkled brightly at him making him forget to respond until your eyes darted around awkwardly, your hand lingering in the air.

“Forgive me.” He clears his throat. “The pleasure is all mine, lady Lannister.” He smirks as he kisses your hand and holds eye contact. He swears he could see a flicker of fire behind your eyes.

You give a blushing smile as he lets go of your hand. Everyone begins to sit down to dinner. Alicent sat across from you while your father was beside you, and Aegon sitting on your other side at the head of the table. Alicent made most of the conversation, asking you various questions. Aegon watched you as you talked, seemingly intrigued to learn about you, but he never spoke a word or asked any questions. Alicent found it strange that her usually loud mouthed son was being so quiet.

When supper finishes everyone begins to leave to their chambers for the night.

“Aegon?” Alicent begins, “Why don’t you escort lady Lannister to her chambers.”

“Certainly.” Aegon nodded, the idea exciting him.

You simply smile and take Aegons arm as he leads you down the hall in an oddly comfortable silence, neither of you sure what to say. When you reach the door to your chambers he kisses your hand.

“Goodnight, my betrothed.” Aegon smiles.

“Goodnight, your grace.” You smile back as you curtsy. “I know this was perhaps not how you planned to be wed… but I promise to be a good wife to you, my king.”

Your words touch Aegon and the way your eyes connect you both feel an undeniable spark. He says nothing else but smiles and kisses your cheek before he leaves to his own chambers.

Aegon pleasured himself to the thought of you that night. He never expected to be so infatuated with his new bride to be but you were the definition of perfection. Now he could not wait be wed to you and bed you. The thought of what you looked like under that dress pushes him to the edge as he groans out your name.

**********

The day of the wedding quickly came and you were both filled with excitement. Aegon smiled ear to ear during the entire ceremony. Once you pledge your love to one another you seal the marriage with a kiss.

The moment your lips touch you instantly feel transported to another world where you are the only two people that exist. The only thing that matters in this moment is you and him. Your eyes connect in an intense gaze once your lips part. The cheer of the crowd snaps you out of your daze before Aegon leads you to the feast.

The feast was fun and lively as everyone enjoyed the food and drink. Aegon drank his fill of wine but still asked for your hand to the dance floor. Your drunken bodies pressed together as you danced, causing your heart to race.

“Your cheeks are so red.” Aegon says teasingly as he brushes your cheek with his fingers.

“Oh, yes, well… likely all the wine.” You blush, causing your cheeks to darken even more. “The wine and… you.” You say lowly.

Aegon smirks and places his fingers on your chin, turning your head to the side.

“I quite like the sight of you looking flushed, my queen.” He whispers against your ear causing goosebumps on your skin.

“My king…” You breathe, trying to remember you were not alone but in the middle of the dance floor.

“Hm?” Aegon hums against your skin and lightly kisses your neck.

His eyes meet yours and he also comes to remember how many eyes were on the both of you.

“I want to go to bed.” You say quietly.

“Oh, are you tired?” He says with a hint of disappointment in his tone.

“No.” You whisper, looking at him with fire in your eyes.

His smirk returns and he takes your hand before leading you out of the feast. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat as he led you down the halls to your shared chambers.

You enter the room filled with nerves as you approach the large canopy bed. Aegon comes up behind you and begins kissing your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He wanted to take his time with you but the wine fueled his desperate desire to have you. He had been with many women but he has never wanted anyone this badly.

He begins unlacing your wedding gown while pressing the occasional kiss to your shoulder. You just stand there, letting him have his way with you. Your breath grows heavy as he gently pulls off your gown and it falls to the floor, leaving you only in your thin shift.

You turn to face Aegon and he slowly scans your figure. His eyes linger at your chest before he meets your eyes, staring at you like you were a glass of the finest wine he was about to drink every last drop of.

Aegon pulls off his wedding clothes until he’s left in just his trousers. He captures your lips again and leads you toward the bed. He moves his lips to your neck as he slowly pulls off your shift, leaving you completely bare for him.

“My king…” You whisper as your fingers lightly pull at the hem of his pants.

“Aegon.” He mumbles against your skin.

“Aegon…” You say shyly as your eyes meet again.

“Not so fast, little one.” He moves your hand off his pants. “I need you to be ready for me first.”

You give him a questioning look as he gently pushes you back onto the bed until you’re laying flat. He climbs on top of you and grinds his covered hardness against your bare core, making you whimper. He kisses down your neck before moving down to your breasts where he takes his time licking, sucking, and rubbing your sensitive nipples as you squirm under him.

“Have you ever… touched yourself?” Aegon asks in a whisper.

You nod, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Good.” Aegon smirks.

He kisses down your stomach and settles between your thighs. You groan with anticipation as he kisses and nips at your inner thighs. He stops to watch your face as his fingers lightly graze over your most sensitive area. You gasp as he continues to make slow circles with his fingers.

“Does that feel good, wife?” He says almost arrogantly.

You could only moan in response and he chuckles. He removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth to taste you. Your entire body lights on fire from the sight. Just as you are about to beg for more his mouth is on you. You gasp even louder as your hands find his hair. You had never felt anything like this. It was nothing compared to your own fingers. He slowly slides one finger inside you and you scrunch your eyes from the pressure.

“Does that hurt, my love?” Aegon asks, kissing your knee.

“No.” You breathe. “Don’t stop.”

He smirks and begins to move his finger in and out slowly, causing you to arch your back. He continues expertly working his tongue on you as he slips in a second finger. You yank harder onto his hair as your breath grows heavier. He groans in response and the vibrations against you bring you to the edge. You let out a long moan as you reach your peak.

Aegon strips off his pants and your eyes widen at his size. Before you have time to overthink he lines himself up at your entrance. He asks if you’re ready before slowly sliding into you. Aegon groans loudly from how tightly you clench around him. It takes all of his strength not to start fucking you hard like a common whore. You are so much more special to him, his wife, his queen, his heart.

You breathe heavily through the pain as Aegon moves slowly in and out of you. As soon as the pain begins to fade you crave more of him. You pull him closer against you and whisper for him to go faster. He speeds up slightly but the movement is still agonizingly slow for what you craved. It was agonizing for him too, to be this gentle with you until you were ready.

“Aegon…” You groan in frustration. “Please… just fuck me.”

Aegon does not hesitate before he begins pounding into you. You could tell how much he had been holding back. Moans fill the room as you both get closer to the edge. You wrap your legs around his hips forcing him deeper into you.

“Gods, you are so fucking tight.” Aegon groans in your ear.

His words spur you on and you dig your nails into his back as your second orgasm begins to creep up on you. Aegons thrusts become sloppy as he reaches his own peak. He did not want to finish before you but the feel of you was too overwhelming.

“My love, I think I’m gonna-“ He pants.

“Me too.” You moan.

Your words trigger his release as he thrusts deeply inside you and moans loudly against your neck. This draws out your own orgasm and you finish in sync as you hold him tightly to you.

He remains inside you and your eyes meet.

“I think I am in love with you, (y/n).” He whispers, brushing your golden hair from your face. He never thought he would say that to anyone.

“I think I am in love with you, Aegon.” You smile widely.

Aegon places a kiss to your nose before rolling off of you. He pulls you in close for a cuddle and wraps his arms around you. You sigh peacefully, but as you begin to doze off you feel something poking against your backside.

“I am not finished with you yet.” Aegon whispers in your ear, creating goosebumps on your skin.

**********

You wake the next morning as the sunlight peers through the window. You look up to your handsome new husband peacefully asleep and press a kiss to his chest. He stirs in his sleep and you press another kiss to his stomach as an idea crosses your mind. Your clothes still laid discarded on the floor from last night. The only thing covering his now hardening manhood was a thin sheet. You gently pull the sheet down and reveal him in all his glory. You watch his face as you lightly grasp him with your hand. He quietly moans and squirms under your touch but does not wake.

You continue to watch his unconscious reactions as you place a kiss to his tip, then a lick, then a suck. Finally, you take him fully into your mouth and he groans as he finally wakes up. He looks down at you with surprise in his heavy lidded eyes. You smirk up at him as you continue to work your mouth on him. He threads his fingers through your hair and gently pushes your head further down. The gagging sounds you make quickly pushes him to the edge. You swallow his release as his fingers tighten in your hair and he groans your name.

“You are incredible.” Aegon huffs, still panting.

You giggle at him while you take a sip of wine. The sheet now hung low just barely covering him.

“I am not finished with you yet.” You wink and lean forward to kiss his lips.

Aegon cups your cheek and deepens the kiss as you move to straddle him. You grind against him through the sheet between you. You moan against his mouth when you feel that he’s already hard again.

You quickly pull the sheet down and he gasps into your mouth as your fingers wrap tightly around him. You hold intense eye contact as you slowly slide down onto his cock, watching every face and noise he makes.

You move your hips testing out this new position and Aegon groans and reaches up to grab your breasts. You grind faster along him and you both begin to moan louder. He grabs your ass to aide your movements, his fingers hold on so tightly they were sure to leave bruises.

You get closer and closer to the edge before Aegon sits up slightly and starts pounding into you. He relished at the sight of you above him. Your perfect tits bouncing as your beautiful pleasure etched face let out desperate moans for him, he had never seen a more heavenly sight.

He presses his fingers on your most sensitive spot and you cry out as you come undone for him. He fucks you through your orgasm before quickly finding his own.

You collapse onto the bed beside him, both panting heavily. Aegon turns to you with a boyish grin on his face which you could not help but find adorable.

“You are incredible.” He breathes.

“You said that.” You chuckle and brush his snowy hair from his face.

“I meant it.” He leans up and kisses you.

The kiss was meant to be quick but you pull each other closer again as your tongues dance together. Aegon pulls back with a pained expression.

“I wish I could stay here all day with you.” He says looking at you with pure adoration. “Really I do.”

“I know.” You softly kiss his lips. “But the king has important matters to attend to, I understand.”

He presses a final lingering kiss to your lips before leaving bed and getting ready for the day.

**********

You did not see Aegon for the rest of the day as he attended important matters. By the time he joined you in bed you were fast asleep. He slipped into the sheets quietly before pausing to admire you. The way your hair and milky skin seemed to glow in the moonlight made you look completely ethereal. He watched you as your breath lightly rose and fell. He could not believe how head over heels in love he was in a marriage he had nearly refused.

The next morning Aegon was gone again before you woke. You sigh and get dressed before going out to search for him. You hadn’t had a moment to speak for an entire a day now, and you were also missing him in other ways.

Aegon was alone in the small council room focused on a pile of parchments in front of him. His head shoots up when you knock on the open door and his firm expression quickly softens.

“My love… what are you doing here?” He puts the papers down and stands from his chair.

“I have not seen you since yesterday morning. I simply miss my husband.” You shrug as you walk over to him with a smile.

“I have missed you too wife.” He pulls you in close by the waist and you wrap your arms around his neck.

You press your lips to his and the kiss quickly becomes urgent and wanting. Aegon lifts you up onto the table and kisses you deeper as his tongue dips into your mouth. His hardness pressing against your core makes the need for him unbearable. You begin to pull at the laces of his pants.

“My love wait… we should not do that here.” Aegon murmurs against your lips but makes no attempt to stop you. “The doors are wide open.”

“I don’t care.” You respond in a raspy voice that lights a fire in him.

He kisses you again hard and begins frantically pushing up your skirts. You finish unlacing his ties and release him from his trousers. He wastes no time lining himself up to your entrance and plunges deep inside you causing you to let out a yelp.

“Shh.” Aegon smirks against your neck.

You bite your lip as he quickly pounds into you, legs dangling loosely around his hips. There was no time to ease into things when someone could walk by the open doors at any moment and catch you both in such a state. Although you did not actually want to be caught, the thrill of it made your heart race. You feel your peak coming faster than ever before.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Aegon rasps in your ear.

“Gods, Aegon I’m-“ His words tip you over the edge, your orgasm overcoming your senses.

He quickly covers your mouth as you cry out against his hand, still alarmingly loud given the location. Your orgasm triggers his own and he grunts into your neck as he comes deep inside you. You quickly come down from the table and fix yourselves as you’re still catching your breath.

Nearly seconds after Aegon tucks himself back into his pants a member of the small council enters the room. Had they come in only a minute ago you would have been caught.

“Your grace, my queen.” They nod to you both. “I had matters to discuss with you, my king.” He glances to you, a silent way of asking you to leave.

“Yes, of course.” You say as you excuse yourself from the room.

You turn back to Aegon as you head to the door and you realize his hair is now a mess from your activities. He gives you his devilishly handsome smirk and you give a smirk back before leaving the room.

**********

You tossed and turned, unable to sleep. It was nearing the hour of the wolf and Aegon had still not returned to bed. You huff as you throw on a robe and go off in search of him. He was not in the small council room where he spent most late nights. You were beginning to worry until you heard his laughter echo down the hall. You followed his loud voice to the throne room where you see him sitting leisurely on the iron throne and drinking with some men.

“Ah! My beautiful wife!” He exclaims when he sees you.

The gentlemen mumble “my queen” to your arrival. You simply look at Aegon unimpressed and cross your arms.

“Uh oh gentleman.” Aegon smirks drunkenly to the other men. “It seems my wife is upset with me. You best give us some privacy.”

The men chuckle at Aegons antics before leaving you alone in the room. Aegon looks to you with a smirk still painted across his face, unphased by the stern look on yours.

“Why do you look so serious, my love?” He says teasingly.

“Do you have any idea how late it is?” You walk towards him sitting on the throne, arms still crossed in front of you.

“I am afraid I simply lost track of time, my darling.” Aegon shrugs as he takes another drink of wine.

You scoff at his response.

“Fine.” You shrug back. “I will just return to bed then… alone.”

You turn to leave the room with annoyance burning through your veins. Aegon quickly stands and grabs your hand. He pulls you to him and wraps his arms around your waist so you could not pull away, although you try briefly.

“You shall not return to bed alone, my darling.” Aegon says as he kisses your neck causing goosebumps along your skin.

“You did not seem to care for me a moment ago… while you drank and laughed with your friends.” You tried to hide the desire laced in your angry tone.

“On the contrary.” Aegon pulls back to look at you. “I was telling them all about my beautiful new queen.”

He begins to kiss your neck again and you could not help but melt into his arms.

“My bold queen.” He kisses your chin. “My kind queen.” He kisses your cheek. “My perfect wife.” Finally, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss.

You do not hesitate to kiss him back, the desire for him burning within you. He parts your lips and when you think he is about to lead you back to your chambers he swiftly picks you up and leads you over to the iron throne.

“What are you doing?” You ask in a panic as Aegon places you down on the throne and gets on his knees in front of you.

“What does it look like I am doing?” He smirks as he pushes the skirts of your robe and nightgown up to your waist.

“Aegon we cannot-“ The words die on your tongue when his tongue is on you.

He quickly gets annoyed with the crown slipping from his head so he yanks it off and places it on you. He smirks at the sight of you, legs spread in front of him, sitting on the iron throne with his crown sitting upon your head. He places a kiss to your knee before diving back into you.

Your hands bury into his white hair as he expertly licks your bundle of nerves. You try not to make too much noise but soft moans pour from your mouth. He slips his fingers inside you and you cry out too loudly before slapping your hand over your mouth.

Suddenly, a rustling of armour pulls you out of your daze and a knight appears before you. You tap on Aegons shoulder rapidly and he stops his actions and looks to the knight.

“I- Please, forgive me your graces...” The knight stammered as he averted his eyes away from where Aegon still sat on his knees in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” Aegon demands.

“Forgive me, your grace. I heard a scream and came to investigate.” The knight responds, his eyes still on the ground awkwardly.

“Well, that is understandable.” Aegons tone softens. “However, in the future if you hear screams of that nature you can assume that is just the queen.” He say arrogantly.

You playfully slap Aegon on the shoulder.

“Yes, your grace... I will not make that mistake again. Forgive me.” The man bows and rushes out of the room still keeping his eyes to the floor.

“Well that was mortifying.” You say as you go to stand, your heart still racing.

Aegon shrugs and firmly holds your hips in place. “Please excuse the minor interruption, my queen.”

He places a quick kiss to your lips before dipping his head back down again. It takes you no time to come undone as he eats you like a man starved and pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“Oh… gods!” You do not bother to hide your moans this time as you reach your peak.

Aegon does not cease his actions until you push him away from overstimulation. He looks at you with his classic boyish grin while his face glistens from your essence. You lean forward and capture his lips again, tasting yourself on his tongue. When you pull back Aegon cups your cheek and looks into your eyes deeply.

“You are the most perfect wife I could have imagined.” He places a kiss to your lips. “A fun wife.” He smirks.

You smile at him and place a kiss to his forehead. He moves to stand before lifting you up and carrying you all the way back to your chambers. You spend the entire night making love. Your heart felt so full with hope of a fun future with your new husband.

—

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surrender-souls · 2 years ago

Text

went on letterboxd and somehow discovered batman’s top 4 films according to the writer who decided he should have a letterboxd

the crow

rear window

memories of murder

in the mood for love

taste, just taste all around

#i havent seen the crow yet but ive seen and ADORED the rest.#like these are all solid lifechanging movies. like i wasnt the same person after watching them.#ok maybe not rear window for me but it is QUITE the excellent movie. but in the mood for love and memories of murder?#i never recovered. theres me before i watched those. and me after. he has TASTE.#i speak #dc #batman

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blueberrybirdsworld · 30 days ago

Text

Plus one 5/9

Summary : When Lando Norris realizes he's the only F1 driver attending the Monaco F1 movie premiere without a girlfriend, he panics and convinces Oscar to help him find a last-minute plus one.

Author note : I get this story idea after the private projection of the F1 movie with all the drivers in Monaco (also can we imagine they weren't wearing their team kit and actually did dress up).

Genre : pure fluff

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The second they stepped out of the venue, Lando exhaled.

The Monaco night wrapped around them like a sigh: cool air, soft streetlight glow, the hum of a distant scooter and the faint music still drifting from the rooftop they’d just escaped. He felt his shoulders drop for the first time in hours.

Y/N walked beside him, holding her clutch under one arm as she turned to him with a smile.

“So,” she said, “any cravings?”

“Honestly?” he glanced at her. “Anything that doesn’t require a silver spoon or come with truffle foam.”

She laughed. “Italian?”

“That’s dangerously close to romantic.”

“Lucky us,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I know a place. Not far. Tiny. Looks questionable from the outside. Excellent garlic bread.”

“Sold.”

They strolled through the quiet streets, away from the glitz, through narrower lanes where vines crept over balconies and the air smelled faintly of sea and basil. Five minutes later, she pointed across the street at a little trattoria tucked between a closed bookstore and a florist.

“Here,” she said proudly. “No dress code, but lots of candles. So it still counts as a vibe.”

And it did.

It was dim and warm inside, strung with fairy lights and mismatched chairs. The smell of tomato, oregano, and melted cheese was instant comfort. They were seated near the window with a bottle of water and menus. Perfect.

He leaned forward, grinning across the table. “You know what I still can’t believe?”

Y/N looked up, eyes wide. “What?”

“That you have a crush on me.”

She groaned immediately. “Oh my God.”

“I’m serious!”

“Lando.”

“No, no, no. You said it. I’ve held back all night thinking I’d misread every signal and that you were, like, just being friendly because you’re nice and you felt bad.”

“I am nice,” she muttered, hiding behind her menu.

“And now I find out you’ve had a crush this whole time?” he leaned back dramatically. “I think I’m owed a little compensation.”

She peeked over the menu. “Compensation?”

“For emotional damage.”

“Oh my God,” she said again, half laughing, half dying. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re blushing,” he grinned.

“I am not.”

“You are! That’s the second time tonight. I’m keeping count.”

Their food arrived: two bowls of pasta, steaming and fragrant, and a little basket of bread placed between them like a peace offering.

Lando twisted his fork into the pasta, then glanced at her curiously. “So, wait. If you had a crush on me… does that mean you actually watch the races?”

She blinked, a bit caught off guard. “I used to. A lot, actually. My dad and I would watch every Sunday. It was our thing.”

He smiled, genuinely touched. “That’s sweet.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I loved it. But once school started getting intense, I stopped keeping up. It just got… hard to make time. Assignments, work, studying. Watching practice sessions and races wasn’t exactly a priority anymore.”

Lando nodded. He knew the feeling: too much to do, too little time to breathe.

“But,” she continued, “when Oscar made it into F1, I started watching again. At first just to see how he was doing, but then I got back really into it last year. And I actually ended up going to a few races. With Lily.”

Lando froze, fork halfway to his mouth. “Wait. You were at some races?”

She laughed. “Yeah. Not many. But a few. One or two last season. One this year. Just in the paddock with Lily, not like, grandstand tickets or anything.”

He put his fork down, looking stunned. “How did I not see you?”

She shrugged, smiling. “I don’t know. You were probably busy being famous.”

“No, but, seriously, which races?”

She thought for a moment. “Silverstone last year. Zandvoort. And I came to Australia this season. So technicly I saw you win 2 times”

He stared at her, floored. “That was you?”

“What was me?”

“I remember Lily had a friend with her that day. But I didn’t even catch your name. I think I said hi and left to change helmets or something.”

Y/N grinned. “See? Missed your moment.”

He sat back, looking betrayed. “Oscar knew you. He could’ve introduced us properly.”

She tilted her head, teasing. “Well… he kind of did eventually.”

“I’m gonna have a word with him later.”

“To be fair,” she added, taking a bite of pasta, “Oscar’s so clueless with this stuff. He probably had no idea I liked you. He’s not exactly a mind reader.”

“Lily definitely told him,” Lando muttered.

Y/N laughed. “Lily absolutely told him. She for sure pressure Oscar to make this happened.”

“And now it all makes sense,” Lando said, shaking his head. “They plotted this.”

“Well,” she said softly, “it worked.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her, tucking her hair behind one ear, eyes shy but warm, cheeks a little flushed from the wine or maybe the teasing.

He smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “It really did.”

The dinner plates had been cleared, the last sips of wine gone warm in their glasses, and outside the restaurant the streets of Monaco had grown even quieter. The kind of quiet that felt intimate, not empty. A soft hush between tall pastel buildings, with streetlights casting pools of golden light along their path.

They were walking slowly.

Neither of them had said it, but they both knew, neither of them wanted the night to end just yet.

“You cold?” Lando asked, glancing sideways.

Y/N was hugging her arms lightly to her chest. “A little.”

Without hesitation, Lando shrugged out of his jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders, his hands lingering there just a second longer than necessary.

“There,” he said, like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Can’t have you freezing. Would be a bad first date review.”

She smiled, tugging it around herself. It smelled like cologne and fresh air. “Chivalry looks good on you.”

He gave her a mock bow as they turned a corner.

“So,” he said, hands in his pockets now, “you’re staying with Lily and Oscar?”

“For the weekend, yeah. I figured I’d crash there instead of going back and forth.”

“Wait,” he said, hopeful. “Does that mean you’ll be at the race?”

She nodded. “Oscar got me an invite.”

His face lit up like he’d just won a trophy. “Good. I won’t ignore you this time.”

Y/N laughed. “I didn’t think you ignored me last time. You were just... busy being Lando Norris.”

“Well, this time,” he said, bumping her lightly with his shoulder, “if you want, you can hang out on my side of the garage.”

“Oh?”

“You know. The best side.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “I’ll think about it.”

He grinned. “Take your time. No pressure. But the snacks are better and my engineers are funnier.”

They kept walking, side by side, shoes clicking against the stone, shoulders brushing now and then. There was something so easy about it. So normal. And yet it felt anything but ordinary.

Y/N glanced at him, the corners of her lips tugging upward.

“I don’t know what this is,” she said quietly. “But it feels... different.”

He looked at her. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Like...safe. Familiar. And new. I’ve never felt like this with someone. Not this fast.”

He stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“It’s like... I already know you,” she said, “but I still want to know everything else, too.”

Lando’s heart tugged at that. Because he felt the same. Like he’d just stumbled into something real without even knowing how much he’d been needing it.

When they reached Lily and Oscar’s building, she paused by the front steps, turning toward him.

He stood a little stiffer suddenly, hands half in his pockets, clearly unsure of what to do now. His eyes flicked to her, then away, then back again.

Y/N noticed. All of it.

To ease the tension, she gently reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his. Her skin was soft. Warm.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft and honest. “For tonight. It was… great.”

He smiled. “Messy. But great.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

They looked at each other then. Really looked.

And everything stilled.

The air was thick with something unspoken but loud. He was searching her face like he didn’t want to miss anything. Her eyes dropped to his lips just briefly. And that was all he needed.

He leaned in, slowly, cautiously, giving her every second to back away.

She didn’t.

His forehead gently brushed hers, breath warm between them. Then, with one last glance into her eyes for permission, he kissed her.

Soft at first. Tentative.

Then more.

His hands found her hips, pulling her a little closer, and she leaned in too, her hands resting on his chest. The kiss deepened, gentle but electric, like every word they hadn’t said was spoken between them in that moment. Like they'd been waiting all night, maybe even longer.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and close, her forehead still rested lightly against his.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he breathed, smiling. “Wow.”

Neither of them moved.

Because maybe this was where something really began.

And neither of them wanted to rush it.

Texts messages

Oscar:

where did you go

Oscar:

I swear if you left me alone with the Sky report guys again I’m gonna lose it

Oscar:

Zak is looking for you

we were supposed to do press pics

he asked me “where’s the other one”

like you’re a lost suitcase

Lando:

I left

Oscar:

no shit

where?

Lando:

taking her on a real date

Oscar:

HER???

Lando:

yes, her

Y/N

Oscar:

you what now, how ???

Lando:

I confessed

she blushed

I teased

we kissed

Oscar:

what do you MEAN you kissed

Lando:

I mean I kissed her

or she kissed me

I don’t really know

we were very close and then it just

happened

Oscar:

I go get a drink

and you go fall in love??

Lando:

seems like it

Oscar:

you actually did it

Lando:

I did

Oscar:

you

the most hopeless man alive

kissed the girl you’ve been panicking over all night

Lando:

I was not panicking

Oscar:

I cannot believe you actually did it

this is huge

I’m proud of you

still mad you let me suffer through Zak’s passive-aggressive “where is Lando” rant

but proud

Lando:

I was having a movie-worthy kiss in front of your building

I had bigger issues

Oscar:

you are the most annoying person I know

but I’m happy for you

you were a lost cause

Lily and I did god’s work

Lando:

oh I know you did

speaking of which…

Lando:

so she admits she had a crush

which Lily apparently knew

which means YOU knew

and still you introduced us, like, only NOW???

Oscar:

👀...

Lando:

I’ve literally cross pass her at races

you’ve literally brought her around

AND NEVER SAID ANYTHING

Oscar:

you weren’t ready

Lando:

I was very ready

Oscar:

you were not emotionaly ready

Lily's words

Lando:

I’m going to yell at you in the garage tomorrow

Oscar:

that’s fair

but worth it?

Lando:

yeah

worth it

Y/N:

LILY !!!!

HE KISS ME

lando norris KISS ME right in front of the door

Lily:

you’re home???

Y/N:

YES

just walked in

I haven't even taken off my shoes

Lily:

wait

start over

kissed where??

Y/N:

ON THE MOUTH

with his hands on my waist

like a real kiss

Lily:

YOU’RE KIDDING ??

Y/N:

I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO SAY GOODNIGHT

AND THEN HE JUST

LOOKED AT ME

AND I JUST

DIED

AND THEN HE KISSED ME

AND I DIED AGAIN

Lily:

okay wow calm down tell me everything

start from when you LEFT THE PARTY WITH HIM???

Y/N:

we went to get pasta

like actually just wandered into this tiny restaurant

he was so sweet

he gave me his jacket

we talked the whole way back

and then he walked me to the door

and he looked all nervous

so I held his hand

AND THEN HE KISSED ME

Lily:

I can’t breathe

you actually did it

Y/N:

LILY

HE SAID I COULD COME TO HIS SIDE OF THE GARAGE THIS WEEKEND

“THE BEST SIDE” HE SAID

I THINK I’M IN LOVE

Lily:

you’ve BEEN in love

I’ve known for months

Y/N:

WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME HE FELT SOMETHING TOO

Lily:

because he didn’t

until he met you tonight

and then it was VERY obvious

Oscar and I have had bets about how long it would take

Y/N:

I HATE YOU

I LOVE YOU

I’M GOING TO PASS OUT

Lily:

go to bed

sleep in

you have a boyfriend now

Y/N:

LILY

Lily:

ok fine

“maybe-boyfriend”

but that kiss sounds like a pretty strong maybe

Y/N:

I can still feel his hands on my waist

what do I do with my body???

Lily:

sleep. dream about him. will be here when you wake up

Y/N:

I actually might cry

he was so soft

and funny

and awkward

and perfect

Lily:

yeah

he’s kind of the best

especially for you

Y/N:

okay

shutting up

going to bed

but if I wake up and it was a dream I’m suing you

Lily:

you’ll wake up and he’ll probably have texted you first

Permanent taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa, @sideboobrry11, @l3thal-l0lita, @lorena-mv33, @ispywlittleeye-blog, @lesliiieeeee, @sageskiesf1, @adynorris, @curlylando, @rebelliousneferut, @justcharlotte, @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies, @emneedshelp, @lando-505, @yukimaniac, @sashisuslover, @f1norris04, @hi26loveie, @bunnisplayground, @nina481, @reallifemermaidprincess, @cars-and-frogs, @delululeclerc, @txmhxllqnd, @lydia-demarek, @destinyg237, @rhaenyrasversion, @sarascabiosa, @readz4u, @tvdtw4ever, @mynameisangeloflife, @teti-menchon0604, @suns3treading, @op814kitty, @prettyboyroseberg, @willowsnook, @ariesandwolves, @clarksgf, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @pinklemonade34, @fat-meh, @tiaajosephin, @mercrussell

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sugarushwriting · 2 months ago

Text

stalker! obsessed! jake sim x f reader

classmate jake being obsessed with you

there is/will be a less um extreme version.

ADULT CONTENT FEATURED read at your own discretion!!!

warning: jake is a nasty nasty boy 😛

you sat peacefully on the plaid blanket beneath you, your head tilting up towards the sun as it warmed your skin. your palm held your place in the book you were reading, as you tried to enjoy more times like this in nature.

well, until you felt a bug crawling on you, “ah!” you yelped and swatted at the bug. arms flinging, book flying, highlighters going every which way.

from a few feet away, a small laugh escaped thick lips from an australian boy who watched on from behind his thick dark sunglasses as he studied from his text book.

he sat at the picnic table of many, in the courtyard of the college campus, opting out of the grass like you and many other students.

you huffed and stood up abruptly, feeling stupid for trying to be one with nature. “stupid bugs.” you understood you were in their territory, but why couldn’t they leave you alone for at least an hour or so, to let you read in peace?

you stuffed your belongings in your bag, dusting off any remaining dirt from your shorts and legs, and walked towards jake.

jake swallowed nervously, quickly ducking his head into his textbook, eyes shielded by the dark frames. he bit his lower lip, hoping you hadn’t caught him. hope you hadn’t been on his trail.

he breathed a sigh of relief as you walked past him as if you had no idea he existed.

“are you just gonna always stare at her like a fucking creep?”

jake shook and jumped with surprise, being startled by his friend’s voice. he looked up seeing jay and sunghoon staring at him with a knowing look.

“i don’t stare at her like a fucking creep.” he mumbled.

“then what do you call that?” sunghoon asked, one hand gripping his backpack strap gesturing between jake and you.

jake shrugged, “she looked cute being startled by the bug.”

jay rolled his eyes. “if you don’t make your move, i will.”

jake scoffed, “please, you’re worse than i am when it comes to girls.”

“youre doubting my abilities to woo a girl, sim.”

“you both suck at wooing girls.” sunghoon chuckled.

“oh shut it sunghoon, you’re no better than us!” jake narrowed his brows. “remember eunjin?”

sunghoon’s lips went into a thin line, jay laughed, jake smirked, and mockingly added, “hawaii? i’m fine, thank you!”

“three, two,—,”

jake took off running, leaving his belongings as sunghoon dropped his bag, taking off after jake.

jay yelled after them, “we have class in ten!”

thankfully, they all were on time for class, alongside their other friend, heeseung. heeseung was also pretty nerdy in ways like them, introverted like sunghoon, but more athletic than the other three. heeseung excelled in almost all sports. jake claimed to excel in all sports, but that was up to debate.

you were already sat in your seat for criminal evidence, an elective for your forensic biology major. the classroom was set up to where there was a projector in the front of the class where the professor stood, and rows of tables that sat up to 4 chairs of students at once. there were 4 columns, each had 4 rows. so all together, the classroom could fit up to 64 students, but the class only has 48 students. (mainly due to drop outs last minute).

the classroom had big windows on one side and on the other side, two main doors for entering the class. you sat in what the professor named, “column 1, row 3, seat 1,” near the window.

jake stared at you as his sunglasses sat on top of his head, his brown eyes shinning. you were staring out the window, paying jake no mind, but then you looked over to jake as he walked side by side next to jay and your eye caught his. he smiled shyly, he quickly looked away, his cheeks and tip of his ears going red. you smirked, and your hand went over your lips to hide it.

jake sim was cute. if not all, most girls on campus had a crush on jake sim. he was handsome, smart, athletic, and funny.

you sighed to yourself. out of all the girls on campus, why you? he’d look at you, think, ‘yeah she’s cute,’ but then he can look at another and go, ‘fuck she’s hot.’ every girl knows there’s a difference and it hurts.

jake and his friend, jay, took their seats behind you, jay directly behind you, jake adjacent. his other two friends, heeseung and sunghoon, sat in the same row as you. sunghoon directly beside you, heeseung next to sunghoon.

the professor tried to keep the front seats open for trouble makers, or to keep her extra supplies for class spread out. sometimes if she played a movie or show, she would sit down her self to watch it with you all.

everytime during class you felt eyes staring at you. you always brushed it off though, you had classmates sitting behind you.

however, it wasn’t your paranoia. jake loved to observe you. your cute habits during class he should say. your eyebrows knitting together when you don’t understand something. the way your face falls when you finally start to realize it. the way you play and twirl your pen when concentrating. it’s cute when you do it. it’s annoying when jay does it.

the way sometimes you will fall asleep resting your cheek in your palm if you’ve worked a late shift at the cafe you work at trying to earn extra cash for some fancy things that catch your eyes.

jake could only think, ‘if you were with him, you would never worry. he would buy all the things you want and more.’

jake didn’t like when you would work extra shifts or late shifts at the cafe, even if it was only a 5 minute walk to your apartment. at 11 pm it’s dark outside and no telling what kind of creeps stalk around at night.

watching. waiting. stalking their next prey.

he felt betrayed (jealous) when you allowed your coworker and supervisor at the cafe, ni-ki, walk you home that night because you had stayed a little later than usual to help him clean the cafe. ni-ki didn’t have class the next day, but you did.

jake saw red when you smiled at the boy, showing your dimples, the boy playing it cool, with a smile, waving you goodnight politely, telling you to sleep soundly.

don’t tell her what to do! jake wanted to scream.

it didn’t matter you didn’t see ni-ki in that way. it didn’t matter what you thought of ni-ki. all that mattered to jake was that you let another man walk you home. that you smiled at another man. gave another man your attention. the only thing stopping him from going overtop and revealing him from the shadows was you didn’t invite ni-ki up to your apartment.

when you and ni-ki departed, jake had two (really three) choices; follow ni-ki or you. he followed you from afar. up to your apartment. since your apartment was older, it didn’t have the automatic locks. you were naive enough to not lock the door either. you dropped your bag, and slipped off your shoes at the front door that night, going straight for the bathroom as you had to pee and wanted to shower the grime off.

jake had slipped in quietly behind you. watching your every move, eyes sparkling with excitement. that night he watched you for the first time, your silhouette outlined by the glass of the shower door.

he couldn’t get out there fast enough.

and he rubbed one out to the thought of you for the hundredth time since he first saw you, however this time, he had a better visual of your body.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

class ended an hour and some minutes later, your mind feeling like jelly and liquid at the same time. when the professor dismissed, you stretched with a sigh, your shirt riding up, jake not missing a single inch of your skin. jay had to elbow him before he started drooling.

“so, are we having our marathon tonight or what?” you heard heeseung say to the boys and you looked over to them with interest.

“what kind of marathon? like walking or running?”

sunghoon laughed and shook his head. “no. since we’re all forensic biologist majors, we like to watch shows or movies centered around it.”

“like bones, criminals minds, csi miami, dexter,”

“do you all actually watch it or crucify it?” you scrunched your nose.

“what’s the difference?” heeseung asked, his bambi eyes looking confused.

you smiled softly. jake frowned seeing how you smiled at his friend. why were you smiling at heeseung like that?

you answered heeseung, “the difference is, if you’re crucifying, you’re not watching to just watch for fun. you’re watching it as if you’re doing homework.”

“why don’t you join us then? make sure we don’t do homework.” jay smiled and you nodded.

“sounds like a plan then. what time should i arrive and what should i wear?”

jake’s pants started to feel tight at the thought of you wearing nothing. showing up in a skimpy pajama outfit. his hands went into his pockets as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“come by 5, and anything that makes you feel comfy. we’ll handle the snacks.” jay smiled with a slight smirk. if jake wasn’t gonna make his move, jay was either going to make jake do it or jay was gonna pounce on you.

and knowing jake and his obsession with you, jake wasn’t letting you go.

jay quickly added you to a new group chat with them 4 titled, “future csi,” and promised to send you the address later.

you smiled to all 4 boys and bounced away with your things, with a smile. should you actually wear something cute and sexy or something comfortable for tonight? suddenly your mind started to over think this. crap!

you whipped out your phone, texting your friend.

to manon-moo: quick im having a movie night with boys should i go cute and sexy pajamas or comfy

from manon-moo: is that even a real question?

to manon-moo: ur right, cute and sexy it is!

from manon-moo: don’t think you’re off the hook yet. we need to unpack the fact you said movie night with boys—as in PLURAL. txt me later for safety babes 😘

your cute and sexy pajamas were creamed color pajamas shorts that had pink hearts on them, and a matching tank top with thin straps. you added an oversized dark hoodie in the meantime and black plain flip flops, to keep it casual and comfy. you quickly grabbed a small tote bag, and added your favorite lip gloss.

at least your pajamas wasn’t your favorite old school shirt and boxer shorts you stole from your male older cousin years ago during a family trip (they were clean).

when the address and pin location was sent in the group chat, you realized it was only a 15 minute walk from your apartment, so you grabbed your headphones and started your journey, enjoying the warmth of the evening sun.

little did you know, jake was right behind you, making sure you got to their house perfectly unscathed. he needed to make sure his girl, his obsession, was okay. he would’ve offered a ride, but knew you would’ve declined and would have said there was no point as it was only a short walk.

but maybe later tonight he can offer that ride. his mind turned and he smirked, laughing to himself. maybe he can offer a ride in more ways than one.

his phone dinged:

from jay p: r u following her??

to jay p: mind your business

to jay p: and yes. need to make sure she gets to us safely. i will walk in a few minutes after her with a good excuse.

soon you arrived to the light blue 2 story house with white shutters, walking up the few steps to knock on the door. their college house was cute. it was in a historic part of downtown like much of the campus so it made sense.

jay opened the door with a smile. “glad you could make it.”

you smiled with a nod. “me too.”

“jake will be here soon, uh he had to, run an errand.”

“okay,” you said and walked into the living room seeing heeseung and sunghoon already setting up the small living room to be cozy for movie night.

plenty of blankets, pillows, 3 pizza boxes, 4 boxes of different flavors of boneless wings, cheesy bread, and different types of drinks.

it didn’t take long for jake to walk through the threshold. he nearly tumbled over himself, too excited to see you, wondering if you already had revealed your pajamas to the boys. he couldn’t help but stare at your ass from behind as you walked.

he wondered if the cotton of your shorts was as soft as they seemed. “sorry, im late, i uh—,”

heeseung and sunghoon stared at the boy wondering what kind of excuse he was going to come up with. jay stood beside you, arms crossed.

you looked at jake worried, as he looked so out of breath, his hair messed up, “jake are you okay? you looked like you ran from something frightening!”

“oh yeah, um,” he swallowed, taking in a deep breath, “whew, got chased by a dog.” he chuckled showing off his smile.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

5 hours.

five.

FIVE freaking hours of the television marathon of different shows and episodes and not once did you think about moving.

you sat comfortably on the couch next to jake, jay on a recliner to your left, sunghoon on the one to jake’s right, heeseung sprawled out on the floor in front of the tv inbetween that and the coffee table.

food gone. drinks nearly empty. stomachs hurting from laughing and the food. minds spinning from talking about different scenarios and guessing. it was fun, and these boys were cool.

jay was unintentionally funny and you couldn’t stop laughing at him.

jake didn’t like it one bit.

jay wasn’t that funny.

you yawned with a stretch. “it’s getting late, i should go.”

“why don’t you sleep over?” jake asked before thinking.

your eyes went wide and jay and heeseungs eyes went wide as well, sunghoon’s body went still.

“are you sure?” you asked not wanting to overstay your welcome. “i don’t want to intrude.”

jake quickly shook his head, “you won’t! you can sleep in my bed, and—,”

“jake will sleep on the couch like a gentleman.” heeseung finished for him.

heeseung stood up from his spot narrowing his eyes at jake. jake was going to offer to sleep on the floor next you like a gentleman, but that wouldn’t be far enough.

after a few seconds of thinking, you nodded, and jake smiled, internally squealing. he would have to make sure he kept those sheets once you were done to keep your smell on them.

thankfully, he changed them when he came home earlier so there were no old come stains in sight on his bed sheets.

jay slept on the first floor, so he said goodnight and went to his room, as sunghoon and heeseung followed you and jake up to jake’s room.

jake turned around, “we don’t need a babysitter.” he frowned.

“we just want to tuck you in.” sunghoon teased, crossing his arms.

“boys that’s sweet, but im fine.” you laughed.

hesseung laughed, sunghoon’s ears going red. “oh, i meant jake.” sunghoon chuckled.

“oh, right.”

“but i can tuck you in, if you want.” jake smirked.

you looked at jake with a smile that could make jake melt, “i’m fine, go to bed,” to playfully pushed his shoulder.

it may have only been a littler after 10 pm, but you all were tired from endless television watching and classes earlier in the day.

“extra toothbrush is under the sink!” jake shouted before being pushed out of the room by heeseung.

before sunghoon shut his door behind him, he caught a glimpse of you taking off your hoodie. the one you kept on all night, keeping him from looking at your delicate and delicious skin.

“cock blockers.” jake huffed, shrugging heeseung off.

“have a normal conversation with her for more than 5 minutes, then maybe we’ll let you try to get in her pants.” heeseung scoffed.

heeseung and sunghoon bid goodnight to jake and went to their separate rooms, shutting their doors behind them.

jake lazily walked down the steps back to the couch in the living room, taking place were you sat all night, your scent still lingering.

jake’s face fell to the side, his nose inhaling your scent deeply, like he’ll never smell you again. before he knew it, he was taking his cock out of his pajama pants, it already stiff and leaking precome.

just the scent of you alone got him hard. he slowly began to use his palm to tease himself, running his thumb over his tip, trying to pretend it was your fingers, your hand, your skin on him.

how you would look so innocent with his thickness in between you. how you would mumble, and moan, and groan, and gasp. you may even giggle, or cry, or whimper. oh he would love to hear you whimper for him.

his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, adding pressure, as he added speed to his strokes, wishing it was your hands around him. wishing it was your pussy around him.

he was getting close to coming. ‘fuck,’ he whispered out your name with a long and low groan turning into a moan. it didn’t take long for ropes of white come to paint his hand and stomach, his free arm over his eyes as he had just came on the couch, shamelessly with you just right upstairs.

he fell asleep soon afterward, still holding his cock, semi-hard.

he next woke up around 4 am, cock hard once again, being startled from a very wet dream about you. fucking you on all fours in the back of his car, windows fogged, in the middle of the mall parking lot as he took you on a shopping spree. that was your thank you to him.

he had to pee, and peeing with a hard on was not the most sought out option. the half bath toilet downstairs was broken, so he had to use the upstairs hallway one. after a painful pee, and being quiet as possible, he finished his pee, and was still hard thanks to you.

maybe he would just peek and check in on you? make sure you know, no monsters have gotten you.

he opened his door slowly and quietly, seeing you laying still, breathing even. you laid on your back, one hand under your head, the other laid across your face, your nose and lips out.

the covers rested comfortably below your chest, jake smiled seeing the dark hoodie laying on one of his chairs beside his desk. you kept it off.

with a deep breath, he looked behind him, then quickly slid in his room, closing the door softly, tiptoeing closer to you.

his breath stuttered in his chest seeing your skin, your beauty, up close. you so still. he always wondered how you looked while sleeping.

he never had the balls or guts to break into your apartment while you slept. he tried it once, got the lock opened, but a neighbor opened her door then he chickened out and never tried again.

you looked so peaceful, innocent. your lips were parted slightly as you slept. he could just imagine your lips wrapped around his cock which was aching for you now.

he reached his fingers up slowly, and pulled the covers back gently, exposing your top, goosebumps rising to your skin, but you didn’t move. jake pulled the covers all the way down to your knees.

your shorts had risen up a bit, now closer to your cunt than before.

jake’s breathing halted for a moment. he could literally come in his pants.

his fingertip of his right hand traced your skin on your thigh up to your stomach, forcing the tank top up to expose your belly. so soft.

his fingertips traced over your curves, over your chest, your body filled with goosebumps, but you didn’t move an inch.

you were in a deep sleep. such a good girl for him.

he kneeled down by the side of his bed slowly, so his nose came close to your thigh. it’s like he could smell you, see a wet spot forming where your cunt met your underwear and shorts. just a taste—,

he was calmly and quickly ripped from you by the back of the neck, you still unfazed and asleep. he didn’t see who interrupted him until he was dragged out of his room by his neck and out in the hallway.

he whipped around to heeseung staring daggers. “what the fuck are you doing man! trying to catch a fucking charge?”

jake scoffed, scratching the back of his neck, “i wasn’t doing anything! i was just looking, i wasn’t going to touch or—,”

“looking is bad enough! while she’s sleeping! what the fuck is wrong with you!” heesung snapped.

on the other side of the door you felt cold, you took the hand off your face, reaching up to grab the blanket jake had slowly slid down your body.

panties wet, and you irked of frustration, maybe next time heeseung wouldn’t be around to interrupt.

uh so yeah wrote this while at work — so definitely not proof read | part two perhaps? 🤔

leave comments, thoughts, replies, reblogs, suggestions, send me messages!!! all of it!! 😚🩷

my inbox is lonely send me ideas 💌

thanks to anon who sent in the request AND sent ideas. hope i cooked something good for you and made you proud (you also said trust me a lot to make something good so a wee bit nervous!!) 💙

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techalertr · 1 year ago

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cbeargyu · 2 months ago

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Hiii if reqs are still open can I ask for a coworker Doyoung finding out you're an onlyfans model....😭✋♥️

miss erotica

summary: you and doyoung are coworkers who maintain a strictly professional relationship… until he accidentally discovers your secret life as a lingerie model on onlyfans. tension builds, desires unravel, and when the truth finally comes out, you make him a filthy little offer he can't refuse.

pairing: coworker ! doyoung x coworker (of model) fem! reader

genre: smut, coworkers to lovers, slow burn tension, light dom!doyoung, lingerie kink, secret double life reveal.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, explicit sexual content, thigh riding, lingerie modeling, unprotected sex, rough sex, oral fixation (male receiving implied), cumshot on stomach/lace lingerie, cumshot on face (briefly mentioned), possessive behavior, light praise/degradation, slight overstimulation, photo taken for onlyfans post, doyoung jerking off alone at the end

wc: 3,6k

notes: omg, incredible request anon, i hope you enjoy it! thank you all for your requests, remember that they’re open, though it might take me some time to get to them due to my schedule🩷

working with doyoung had always been... easy. despite your desks being placed directly in front of each other, just a breath apart, the relationship stayed strictly professional. you weren't sure if it was because he was a workaholic who barely lifted his head from the screen, or if it was simply the nature of two people who lived parallel lives — polite, distant, untouched by anything messy or personal.

you knew the basics. he was single, lived alone, probably married to his job. you weren’t that different either — renting a cozy little apartment not far from the office, sharing your space with your two cats: milo, a silver tabby with a mischievous glint in his eye, and luna, a cream-colored ragdoll with lazy, half-lidded stares. you had exchanged bits of your life over small talk, shallow conversations at best. never more. never deeper.

what you didn’t know, what nobody knew, was that doyoung had a secret obsession — paying for content on onlyfans. not just any content. he was a loyal subscriber to a certain "miss erotica", a woman who never showed her face but showcased her body in ways that blurred the lines between art and temptation. he didn’t tell anyone. how could he? it was his private addiction, the one thing he allowed himself outside the endless deadlines and excel sheets.

then, one morning during a rare group breakfast at the office, the conversation drifted to pets. casual, harmless. you, smiling, pulled out your phone and showed a picture of your cats lounging by your living room window. milo, sprawled like a king, his silver fur shining under the sun; luna, tucked next to him, her cream coat like a spilled glass of milk against the dark wood floor.

"they're beautiful," someone cooed.

doyoung looked at the screen. and froze.

something pricked at the back of his mind. the silver tabby with the green collar... luna's cream fur... it looked familiar. almost too familiar.

he had seen them before.

but not here.

his heart stuttered, his throat going dry. he stayed silent, watching as you scrolled through more pictures, laughing, showing off your babies to the group. you didn't notice the way his eyes stayed glued to your screen, how his mind reeled.

because in one of miss erotica's most memorable posts — a shot of her ass in black lace panties, arching perfectly against a leather chair — there had been a cat in the background. a silver tabby. with the exact same green collar. and another fluff of cream lazing by a window.

doyoung’s stomach twisted.

no, it couldn't be.

he hadn't saved the picture. it had been months ago. it could be a coincidence. right?

he spent the rest of the day distracted, replaying the image in his mind, trying to grasp at details, trying to reason with himself. people had cats. cats could look similar. it didn’t have to be you.

and he almost let it go.

almost.

until summer came.

you traded your usual long-sleeved blouses for casual short-sleeve shirts, your skin kissed golden by the sun, the curve of your arm now exposed to his line of sight. that day, when you leaned across the desk to pass him a file, the hem of your sleeve rode up. doyoung’s eyes — traitorous, hungry — caught something.

a tattoo.

small, delicate.

a slender vine of wildflowers, curling around the back of your arm, the ink fine and dark against your skin.

he stared.

he knew that tattoo.

he had spent hours tracing it with his eyes on his screen, had memorized the way the petals twisted, the slight flaw in one of the leaves. miss erotica had that same tattoo. he had noticed it countless times while she modeled those sinful sets of lingerie — crimson silk, ivory lace, black leather.

doyoung’s heart slammed against his ribs. it wasn’t just a theory anymore. it was you.

he looked up slowly, meeting your eyes across the desk. you gave him a small, polite smile, unaware of the war raging inside him.

he swallowed thickly, his hands curling into fists under the desk.

fuck.

you were miss erotica.

and now, he couldn't unsee it. couldn't pretend he didn't know. every time you bent over slightly to pick up a file, every time you tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, every time you laughed low and sweet — it all layered itself with the filthy, burning images he'd paid to see at 2 a.m.

it was you.

doyoung hadn’t just stumbled across your profile. he had been looking for something — something specific, something that scratched a very particular itch deep inside him. lingerie. but not just anyone posing in cheap lace or overexposed shots. he liked the slow burn, the tease, the art of it. miss erotica was perfect. you had perfected it.

your content wasn’t explicit in the obvious sense. no faces, no messy, desperate angles. it was the suggestion of sin, the elegance of a body wrapped in silken temptation. intricate corsets, delicate garter belts, sheer stockings stretched over soft skin. sometimes, he thought the way you positioned your hands was even sexier than nudity — subtle, knowing. you wore lace like it was a second skin, posed in ways that made his mind work, made him imagine peeling each layer off inch by inch.

he had a thing for thigh-high stockings. for black lace that hugged curves and hinted at forbidden places. and miss erotica — you — had a way of making every single photo feel personal. like you were posing just for him.

he had spent too many nights gripping the sheets in frustration, whispering your name under his breath, not even realizing it. miss erotica. miss erotica. it was stupid how deep it went.

and now...

you were sitting across from him at your shared desks, tapping away on your keyboard, completely unaware that the woman who had made him lose sleep, made him ache with need, was breathing the same office air as him.

it felt wrong.

it felt so good.

he was drowning in it.

the realization clung to him like static electricity. he watched the way your fingers danced across the keys, slender and sure, the same fingers he had imagined curled in the waistband of delicate panties. he watched the way you tilted your head slightly when you read something intently, exposing the soft line of your throat, the same throat he had dreamed of marking.

he couldn't focus.

he couldn’t fucking breathe.

you had no idea.

the days after the realization were torture.

doyoung tried to act normal — professional, polite, like he hadn't spent half the night with your photos burned into his eyelids. but it was impossible. now he noticed everything. the slight sway of your hips when you walked past his desk. the way your fingers sometimes absentmindedly played with the hem of your blouse. the shape of your mouth when you sipped your coffee. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fucking fair.

he needed a release. he needed you.

so one evening, as you both packed up your things, the office mostly deserted except for a few lingering coworkers, he cleared his throat and said casually, "hey, y/n... you doing anything tonight?"

you looked up, a little surprised — it was rare for doyoung to initiate anything that wasn’t strictly about work. "not really," you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "why?"

he shrugged, forcing nonchalance. "thought maybe we could grab a drink. just... you know, decompress a bit. long week."

you smiled — a soft, genuine smile he didn’t usually get to see — and nodded. "yeah, sure. that sounds nice."

it was a simple moment.

ordinary.

but his pulse hammered against his ribs like he had just won something forbidden.

the bar he picked wasn’t far from the office. dimly lit, cozy, tucked away enough that no one from work would accidentally stumble in. he watched you under the low lights, the way you peeled off your jacket, revealing more of your arms — more of that tattoo — and he felt his mouth go dry.

you ordered something sweet. he ordered something strong.

conversation started off light. movies, weekend plans, the weather.

but as the drinks flowed, the distance between you seemed to shrink. your laughter got a little looser. your glances lingered a little longer. he leaned in, elbows brushing yours on the tiny table, and he could smell the soft, clean scent of your shampoo. he could imagine burying his face in it, breathing you in as he pressed your body against his.

"so," he said after a pause, voice a little rougher now, "you live alone, right?"

you nodded, swirling the ice in your glass. "yeah. just me and my two little troublemakers."

"the cats," he said, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"mhm." you tilted your head, curious. "you remembered?"

he chuckled lowly. "hard to forget."

especially when those cats had haunted his fucking dreams alongside your lace-clad body.

you leaned in a little closer without realizing it, your knee brushing his under the table.

doyoung’s hand twitched, desperate to touch, desperate to confirm that you were real, that you were here, that he wasn’t losing his goddamn mind.

"you ever feel like people don’t really know you?" you said suddenly, voice soft, almost vulnerable. "like... you have this whole side of you no one even sees?"

you didn’t know what you were doing to him.

or maybe you did.

he set his glass down, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"i think," he said slowly, voice dropping, "some sides are meant for only a few lucky ones to see."

the air between you crackled, thick and heavy.

you swallowed hard, heart beating too fast.

you hadn’t realized how close you had leaned in. how close he was.

or maybe you had.

the space between you buzzed like an invisible wire pulled too tight. every time you shifted, his eyes flickered down, tracing the subtle lines of your body. you were painfully aware of it — of him — of the way his fingers curled against the edge of his glass, the way his jaw tensed whenever your knees brushed under the table.

you sipped your drink slowly, tongue darting out to catch a drop at the corner of your mouth. his gaze followed the movement like a man starved. you could practically feel the heat rolling off his body in thick, stifling waves.

the conversation faltered. it didn’t need words anymore. everything was felt.

"y/n," he said finally, voice low, rough around the edges.

you looked up, heart skipping.

there was something dangerous in his eyes. something that told you he wasn’t going to play pretend anymore.

"those cats of yours," he started, almost casually. "i swear i’ve seen them somewhere else before."

you smiled, slow, almost coy. "yeah?"

he leaned in, his breath brushing your cheek. you could smell the bourbon on him, feel the warmth of it seeping into your skin.

"yeah," he murmured. "in a... very specific place."

a pause. a deliberate, loaded silence.

you set your glass down carefully, the ice clinking sharp in the quiet. "where, doyoung?" you asked, voice sweet, teasing. but your heart was hammering against your ribs, adrenaline and arousal twining together into something electric.

he watched you, pupils blown wide, fingers flexing like he was holding himself back from reaching across the table and dragging you into him.

"onlyfans," he said finally. barely a whisper. a confession.

the word hung between you, scandalous and heavy.

you didn’t flinch. didn’t look away.

instead, you tilted your head, a slow, sinful smile curling your lips.

"miss erotica," he said, the name coming out like a prayer he had whispered a hundred times in the dark.

you leaned in, so close your knees were fully pressed together now under the table.

your voice dropped to a purr.

"so," you breathed, "you’re a fan of lingerie, huh?"

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"yeah," he rasped. "fuck, y/n... more than a fan."

the confession hung in the air like smoke, sweet and thick.

you let the moment stretch, savoring the way his body tensed, the way he shifted like he was seconds away from snapping.

"lace?" you murmured. "stockings? garters?"

he nodded, unable to look away from you, like you were the center of his whole fucking universe.

"all of it," he said, voice almost breaking. "i... i can’t get enough."

you licked your lips slowly, leaning back just a little to give him a view of the curve of your body under your blouse. teasing. tempting.

his fingers twitched like he was holding onto the last shred of his self-control.

"poor thing," you whispered. "must be hard, wanting something so bad and not being able to touch it."

his hands fisted in his lap, knuckles white.

"y/n," he warned, voice wrecked, pleading.

you smiled, wicked and soft all at once.

you leaned closer, so your mouth was right by his ear, your breath warm against his skin.

"what if," you whispered, so quietly it was almost obscene, "i modeled for you?"

he sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body shuddering like he’d been struck.

you pulled back just enough to see his face — the desperation there, the hunger, the need.

"real life," you said, your fingers ghosting along the hem of your skirt under the table, just enough for him to catch the motion. "no screens. no distance."

he was trembling. you were trembling.

the world outside the little cocoon of the bar didn’t exist anymore.

there was only this — the heavy beat of your hearts, the unbearable pull between you, the promise of something dirty and sweet hanging in the air.

"you’d model for me," he said, disbelieving, wrecked.

"if you’re a good boy," you teased, wicked and tender all at once.

he let out a low, broken noise, half-growl, half-whimper, and you knew — you knew — that tonight was going to change everything.

you barely made it through the door before he was on you.

doyoung kicked the door shut behind him, hands everywhere, breath hot against your skin as he pressed you against the wall.

"fuck," he muttered against your neck, voice low and trembling with restraint. "you drive me insane."

you laughed softly, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

"patience," you whispered. "you still want me to model for you, don't you?"

he pulled back, eyes dark and wild, chest heaving.

"yeah," he rasped. "fuck, yeah. show me, baby. show me everything."

you slipped out from under him, sauntering toward your bedroom with a slow sway of your hips, feeling his gaze burning into you.

you could hear him curse under his breath, could hear the faint clink of his belt as he adjusted himself, trying to keep it together.

you left the door slightly ajar, just enough for him to peek in as you changed.

slowly, languidly, you stripped down, sliding the soft fabric of your blouse over your head, shimmying your skirt down your thighs.

you chose one of your best sets — a delicate black lace bralette and matching thong, the garter belt hugging your hips, sheer thigh-high stockings clipping into place with a soft click.

you posed in front of the mirror for a moment, adjusting the straps, making sure everything sat just right, teasing yourself as much as you were teasing him.

"come in," you called sweetly.

the door creaked open and there he was, standing there, jaw clenched, eyes practically black.

his hands fisted at his sides like he was seconds from losing every ounce of control.

you turned slowly, letting him take you in — the curve of your ass in the sheer lace, the tight lines of the garter straps, the soft swell of your breasts barely contained by the delicate fabric.

"holy fuck," he breathed, voice wrecked. "you're gonna kill me."

you sauntered up to him, slow and deliberate, your fingers trailing up his chest, feeling the tremor beneath your touch.

"sit," you commanded, voice like velvet.

he obeyed without hesitation, sinking onto the edge of your bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets.

you climbed onto his lap, straddling one strong thigh, feeling the hard muscle flex beneath you.

your soaked panties pressed against him as you started to rock your hips, slow, grinding motions that sent sparks shooting up your spine.

his hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, guiding your movements as you rode his thigh like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

"fuck, look at you," he groaned, tilting his head back, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back to you, dark and hungry. "so fucking pretty, so fucking wet."

you rolled your hips against his thigh, your soaked panties dragging delicious friction along the hard muscle beneath you.

doyoung watched you with a look that was pure hunger, his hands locked on your waist, controlling your pace, forcing you to grind harder, deeper.

"fuck, baby," he rasped, his voice a wreck of desire. "you’re fucking yourself on my thigh like a desperate little thing."

you whimpered, grinding harder, feeling the rough fabric of his pants rubbing right against your clit through the thin lace.

"please," you gasped, not even sure what you were begging for anymore — more, faster, him.

he growled low in his throat, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you onto the bed in one smooth, desperate motion.

"can't wait anymore," he muttered, tugging his shirt over his head, undoing his belt with trembling fingers. "need you. now."

you spread your legs eagerly, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes as he shed the rest of his clothes, his cock thick and leaking, curving up toward his stomach.

he crawled over you, one hand sliding up your thigh, tracing the garter strap, hooking his fingers under it and snapping it playfully against your skin, making you gasp.

"keep it on," he ordered, voice dark and low. "i wanna fuck you in this."

you nodded frantically, hips canting up toward him, desperate for any kind of friction.

he lined himself up and pushed in slowly, groaning deep in his chest as he filled you inch by agonizing inch.

"so tight," he breathed, forehead pressed against yours. "so fucking good."

you clung to him, nails digging into his back, moaning brokenly as he started to move — slow at first, grinding deep inside you, savoring every second.

the lace scraped lightly against his skin, the garters tugging with every thrust, the whole thing messy and desperate and perfect.

he fucked you like he couldn't get close enough, couldn't get deep enough, like he wanted to crawl inside your skin and live there.

then he slowed, grinding deep instead of thrusting, fucking you slow and filthy, making you feel every inch of him.

he pulled back just enough to look down at you, his cock still buried deep inside, his hands rough on your hips.

you cried out, legs trembling, the pressure building fast and brutal.

"wanna see you cum," he growled, fucking you harder, faster, making the bed creak beneath you. "wanna feel you."

your orgasm hit like a freight train, ripping through you with a force that left you gasping, clinging to him as you shattered apart.

his voice was low, almost a growl against your ear: "where do you want it, baby? tell me."

you whimpered, meeting his eyes, feeling the heat of your own desperation mirrored in his gaze.

"on my face and... my lingerie," you whispered, voice shaking with need. "i want you to ruin it."

his eyes darkened impossibly further, his thrusts turning erratic, brutal.

"fuck. fuck, you’re gonna kill me," he muttered, pulling out at the last second.

he pulled out quickly, fisting his cock with a few rough strokes, and then he was painting your face with hot, sticky ropes of cum, groaning your name like a prayer.

you moaned softly, licking a drop from your lip, watching him through hooded eyes.

but he wasn't done yet.

he stroked himself back to hardness almost immediately, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach.

you arched your back for him, showing off the perfect view — the lace barely covering your ass, the garters framing your curves beautifully.

he jerked himself hard and fast, the obscene sounds of slick skin filling the room, until he came again, thick and messy across your lower back and ass, the cum soaking into the delicate lace.

you stayed like that for a moment, panting, letting it drip down your skin.

you watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, heart hammering, feeling every hot splash land on you, branding you, claiming you exactly the way you asked for.

he collapsed onto the couch beside you, chest heaving, watching you with a dazed, satisfied grin.

you lay there for a moment, catching your breath, feeling the slick mess cooling on your skin, the ruined lace clinging to you obscenely.

and then, with a wicked little smile, you reached for your phone. you angled it perfectly — the sticky, creamy mess glistening across your stomach, the black lace sheer against your flushed skin.

click.

you uploaded it to your onlyfans with a simple, filthy caption:

"he made me a mess tonight."

hours later, doyoung sat on his own bed, phone in hand, heart pounding.

he opened your page and there it was — your body, still trembling, still glistening with the evidence of his obsession.

his cock twitched violently, already leaking, already aching.

he groaned low in his throat, unable to stop himself from palming his cock roughly, needing relief, needing you all over again.

he came in seconds, harsh and hot across his stomach, your name a broken whisper on his lips.

and he knew.

he was never going to survive you.

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dreamauri · 2 months ago

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♪ — 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗙 lewis hamilton x fem! genz! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . You never meant to fall for a man twice your age, but somehow, Lewis Hamilton makes thirty-something age gaps feel like background noise. In a world of fast cars and faster headlines, you become the softest scandal on the grid—his controversially young girlfriend (2.3k words)

( my master list | more of lewis hamilton ) ( requests )

You spot him across the room like a plot twist in a book you didn’t mean to start reading—one of those late-night, one-more-chapter choices that end with your sleep schedule in ruins and your heart a little dented.

He’s standing by the bar like he owns the concept of cool, leaning one elbow against the counter, glass in hand, dressed like he just got off a jet and into a Vogue spread. Chunky rings flash with every movement. A silver chain rests on his collarbone like it was born there. Sunglasses inside—normally a red flag—but on him? It’s working. Unreasonably well.

He doesn’t look real. He looks curated. Like someone who’s used to being watched. Someone who doesn’t have to try to be interesting, because the world already decided he is.

And the weird part? You don’t know who he is.

Which makes him fair game.

You down the last of your drink like a dare, swipe your thumb across your bottom lip in case there’s gloss out of place, and march toward him like the protagonist of your own little fever dream.

“Hey,” you say, voice dipped in confidence, grin hooked to one corner of your mouth. “Quick question. Are you this hot all the time, or is it just the lighting in here doing community service?”

He turns his head slowly, like he knows he’s about to be entertained. Looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses with those lazy, almost amused eyes. Then lowers them altogether, letting you see the full scope of his expression.

Blink. Slow blink. Smile.

Then—laughter.

A warm, surprised kind of laugh. Like you just opened a window in a room that hadn’t been aired out in a while.

“You don’t know who I am?” he asks, head tilting, eyebrows raised.

“Nope,” you chirp, popping the ‘p.’ “But judging by that look, you clearly think I should. Celebrity? Secret agent? CEO of Hot Men, Inc.?”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he lifts his drink to his lips. It’s whiskey, neat. Of course it is. “I like you.”

“Obviously,” you reply, deadpan. “So, what’s your name, mysterious man with excellent bone structure and suspicious levels of swagger?”

“Lewis,” he says. It rolls off his tongue casual and smooth, like he’s said it a thousand times to people already impressed.

You repeat it slowly, like a sip of something expensive. “Lewis. You got a last name, or are you trying to stay mysterious on purpose?”

“I’m trying,” he says, smirk tucked behind his glass. “But now I’m curious. How old are you?”

You narrow your eyes in playful suspicion. “Why? You tryna check if I need parental permission to flirt with you?”

He laughs again, and it’s even better this time—less surprised, more like he’s starting to settle into the rhythm of you. “Just making sure I’m not getting arrested.”

“Relax, officer,” you reply, pressing a palm to your chest with mock innocence. “I’m twenty-four. Legal, unproblematic, and only occasionally unhinged.”

But his smile shifts—just slightly. A flicker of something cautious flashes behind those honey-brown eyes.

“Damn,” he mutters, not unkindly. “I’m too old for you.”

You arch a brow. “You can’t be that old.”

He gives you a small shrug. “I’m forty.”

There’s a beat.

A pause long enough to pour another drink in.

Your jaw drops. You step back, press a hand to your mouth in mock horror.

“Wowe,” you gasp. “You’re a fossil. How were the dinosaurs? Did you ride a pterodactyl to school?”

He throws his head back and cackles, catching the attention of the bartender and a couple people nearby. It’s not just amusement—it’s delight. You got him.

“Ruthless,” he grins at you.

You shrug, unapologetic. “What can I say? I like my men aged like wine and slightly traumatized.”

He raises his glass. “Well. You might be in luck.”

You clink your empty glass against his full one, eyes never leaving his.

Somewhere in the background, a bass-heavy track starts to play. But the real beat is in the space between you—charged and golden and humming with the promise of something very, very interesting.

You’re not supposed to be here.

Not in the paddock. Not wearing borrowed sunglasses and an oversized McLaren jacket that smells like someone else's boyfriend. Not sipping on a bottled water like you belong, casually trying not to gawk at multi-million-dollar cars or the people walking around like they own oxygen.

But you’re here.

A friend’s plus one, a last-minute invite when her PR-boyfriend flaked on escort duty. So you tagged along—because hello, free food, hot people, shiny cars, and maybe the chance to flirt with a driver or two. You figured worst-case scenario, you'd leave with a selfie and a new screensaver.

What you didn’t expect was to see him again.

Lewis.

Mysterious Lewis from the bar. GQ-cover Lewis. Ring-wearing, chain-glinting, forty-year-old fossil Lewis who made you laugh so hard you almost forgot your own name.

He’s walking through the paddock like he’s parting the sea. Everyone moves around him like he's made of something sacred—crew nodding, fans whispering, someone with a camera backing up just to get the shot. He looks… different today. Like he’s not just dressed cool, but armored in it. Like confidence stitched into a race suit.

Your jaw almost hits the gravel.

You don’t even think—your feet just move.

“Lewis!”

He turns.

Sunglasses again, of course. But when he spots you? That smile. Slow, warm, like he knew you'd show up eventually.

You grin, planting yourself right in front of him, toe to boot.

“Okay,” you say, breathless but smug, “you cannot turn me down this time. This is clearly fate.”

He laughs. It rumbles in his chest, head tilting like he’s trying to drink you in without making it obvious.

“You really didn’t Google me, huh?” he says.

You raise a brow. “Should I have? Wait, are you, like, a famous pit crew guy or something? The energy drinks guy?”

He just smiles. The kind of smile that hides a hundred secrets and a thousand wins.

“I gotta go,” he says, stepping closer for just a second. “But I’ll see you on the podium.”

You blink. “What podium?”

But he’s already walking away.

Helmet under one arm, swagger turned up to eleven, disappearing into one of the Mercedes garages like some kind of very sexy magician.

You look to your friend. “What podium?!”

Your friend is pale. “You don’t know who that is?”

“Should I???”

“That’s Lewis Hamilton.”

You snort. “No it’s not. His name is just Lewis. He didn’t even give me a last name.”

“BECAUSE HE’S LEWIS HAMILTON. SEVEN-TIME WORLD CHAMPION. THE GOAT. LITERAL SIR.”

You freeze. Fully buffer. Brain spinning like a car on slick tyres.

Cut to three hours later, and you’re in the Mercedes unit, watching on the big screen as the man you once called a fossil overtakes two cars and wins the freaking British Grand Prix like it’s casual.

The crowd explodes.

Your heart does too.

You're on your feet, half in disbelief, half in awe. You just watched a man drive like a myth, and all you can think is: he told me he was forty and I made a dinosaur joke.

And just as you start contemplating crawling into a hole forever, he finds you again.

Post-race glow. Hair half-flattened from the helmet. Fireproof suit half-unzipped to reveal that chain you remember from the bar. Sweat and champagne still clinging to his skin like stardust.

He looks at you with that same grin.

“Still think I’m someone’s manager?” he teases, voice low, eyes shining.

You gape at him. “You won. Like, you—won. Your name’s on the trophy. That podium. That—your home race??”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Must be fate. You show up, I win. Gotta say… you might just be my lucky charm.”

Your brain short-circuits. “I—I called you a fossil.”

He laughs. Full, delighted, Lewis-laugh. “And you humbled me before I got cocky. We make a great team.”

You bite back a grin, cheeks burning. “So… you celebrating tonight, or what?”

“Obviously,” he says. “You’re coming.”

it’s supposed to be a quick trip. A flash visit, blink-and-you-miss-it, in-and-out kind of thing. You’ve been swamped—deadlines, drama, flights rerouted like bad karma—but something in you ached to be there. For him. For Lewis.

So you made time. You chose time.

And now? Now you’re stuck in Austrian traffic, inching toward the Red Bull Ring in a car that’s doing more idling than moving, hair frizzing in the heat and hands white-knuckling your phone.

You press it to your ear. “I swear to god, if I miss your race because a literal cow is blocking the road—”

Lewis laughs on the other end, warm and fond. “A cow?”

“A cow, Lewis. Just standing there. Living her truth. Meanwhile, I’m two bad songs away from losing it.”

“You sound stressed, babe.”

“Gee, what gave it away?” you snap, then sigh. “Sorry. I just wanted to be there before lights out. Front row, proud girlfriend, full ensemble.”

His voice softens. “You’re here. That’s what matters.”

“Barely.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still my lucky charm. Even if you’re watching from the parking lot.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “Go win something, fossil.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He gets P2.

You watch the final laps on your phone screen, pressed against the parkinglot gates, heart in your throat and hands half-numb. The crowd erupts. Flags wave. You swear you can hear the champagne pop all the way from the parking lot.

And then—

There he is.

Striding out from the gates like he owns Austria, still in his suit, curls damp under his cap, smile already loaded like a secret.

“Hey,” he calls out, just loud enough for you to turn.

You do. And then you forget how to breathe.

Because Lewis Hamilton kisses you like the cameras aren’t watching. Like the whole world doesn’t know his name. Like you didn’t just call him a fossil two weeks ago and now you’re wearing his hoodie like a badge of honor.

You pull back, dazed and pink. “That was… public.”

“Could’ve made it more dramatic,” he teases. “Want a dip next time?”

“You’re so cocky for a man who came in second.”

He grins. “I’ll take second if it means I get to see that blush.”

You're about to fire back��something witty, something flirty—when someone from Mercedes runs up, breathless. “Lewis, mate. You need to come back to the unit. Now.”

He frowns. “Everything alright?”

The guy looks between the two of you, eyes wide. “George got disqualified.”

You both blink.

“What?” you say, at the same time Lewis mutters: “No way.”

“Track limits. Deleted laps. It just came through.”

Which means—

“You’re P1,” you whisper, eyes wide.

Lewis turns to you, slow and stunned. Brows raised. Smile blooming like he knew.

“Guess you really are my lucky charm,” he says, low and gleaming.

You shake your head, biting back a grin. “I didn’t even see the race.”

“Didn’t have to,” he murmurs, already pulling you into his arms. “Just had to show up.”

Thursdays are usually soft-launches. Media day. Press conference drip. Everyone pretending they’re not sizing each other up, that they’re not itching for Sunday, that they’re not clocking every outfit and wink and subtle little flex.

But this Thursday?

You walk in and the whole paddock blinks.

Because Lewis Hamilton—Sir Lewis Hamilton—is already waiting by the entrance like a man on a mission. Like the sun rises wherever you land. And he’s dressed like a dream dipped in platinum, silver shirt half-buttoned, rings glinting, pants tailored within an inch of heaven.

But it’s the way he looks at you that melts reality a little.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmurs as you reach him.

You grin, a little breathless, fixing the collar of his shirt even though it’s perfect. “You’re overdressed.”

He eyes your outfit—slick and sharp, Prada shades and knee-high boots like you own the grid—and hums, “Nah. We’re matching.”

And you are. Silver and black, sleek and dangerous. A walking power couple with zero subtlety. Someone snaps a pic. Then another. Cameras start clicking like popcorn.

He slips his hand into yours. Casual, confident. Like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything.

And then the tweets start.

You scroll a few of them while waiting outside hospitality, phone buzzing like a feral bee. You snort-laugh at the “get it grandpa” one. Lewis peeks over your shoulder and raises a brow.

“They’re obsessed with you,” you say, smirking.

“They’re obsessed with you,” he corrects, tugging you closer by the waist. “You okay?”

You shrug, leaning into him. “I mean, people think I’m either your niece or your mid-life crisis.”

He snorts. “You’re my win.”

Your smirk falters—just for a second—because god, he’s so earnest. So warm. Like a damn sunbeam with abs.

You recover quick, flicking your sunglasses down. “Damn right I am.”

He laughs loud, head tipping back. “There she is.”

All day, people stare.

Team members smile politely. Fans whisper behind phones. Media pretends not to mention it while asking if you're enjoying your "first F1 paddock experience" (you’ve been to three, thank you very much).

You pose for a few pics. Kiss Lewis on the cheek when he heads into the garage. Sip your overpriced iced coffee like nothing rattles you.

But every so often—when it’s quiet—you hear the whispers again. About the age gap. The headlines. The way you don’t look like you belong next to someone as legendary as him.

So when you catch your reflection in the hospitality glass—twenty-four and glowing but clearly young—you take a breath.

And then you smirk at yourself. Flip your hair. Take a selfie.

Caption it:

“idk i just think i’m a slay.”

And Lewis? He reposts it.

voice notes 🔊. . . ( im so writting a p2 for this when he moves to ferrari and the disqualifying in china )

#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lh44 #lh44 fic #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n

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babyleostuff · 1 year ago

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passenger princess(es)

𝜗𝜚 fluff, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 idol!seungcheol x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 wc: 894

・ ❥ ・ there is nothing that could stop cheol from taking care of his passenger princess(es)

„hey baby, can you pass me the water bottle?” seungcheol let go of the wheel, so he could grab the bottle from you, not tearing his eyes from the road for a second.

cheol was a great driver, excellent even in his humble opinion - he has never gotten a ticket in his life, and people told him on multiple occasions how safe they felt with him behind the wheel. he was also very much aware of how hot he looked driving, something he often used against you. with the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up (which accentuated his yummy biceps even more), the expensive watch around his wrist and, for dessert, his other hand resting on your thigh - you had no other way out than to totally thirst over your unfairly sexy boyfriend.

there were times when you found yourself staring at him with no shame, he was that hot. not that seungcheol cared, if he did he wouldn’t flex his biceps on purpose while grabbing the wheel.

but while he was (obviously) very careful while driving, it seemed that his protective instincts kicked in on a higher level when you were sitting next to him.

that’s why when you didn’t answer him, or gave him the bottle, he made sure to grab the wheel with both of his hands before throwing a glance at you.

„my love, did you h-,” words stuck in his throat when he saw your closed eyes and your head resting against the window. cheol knew that sooner or later you would fall asleep anyway, no matter how hard you insisted on not sleeping. “i want to keep you company,” you pouted angrily, and grabbed the AUX, “don’t want you to feel lonely.” it was on the tip of cheol's tongue that there was no chance he would feel lonely, even if you were sleeping. not to mention your little white fluff ball in the backseat that always kept him company.

„you see, told you mommy would fall asleep,” he laughed, looking at your precious baby in the rearview mirror. kkuma seemed to have the best time looking at the passing cars, barking at some of them, and wagging her tail at others.

seungcheol sighed with a smile, as he grabbed your hand that was resting on your tummy. „ah, what am i going to do with you, my silly girls.”

to be honest - he couldn't have been more content. you spent the whole day together on the beach, with kkuma running into the waves (she ended up looking like a wet mop), eating food from the seaside food stalls, walking along the shore, and finally ending the day with a swim together. days off were the best.

suddenly, his daydream was cut short when he felt you shiver. cheol wouldn’t have been that worried (you sometimes got those shivers in your sleep, which he always found really cute), but you grabbed his hand tighter, as if you were searching for more body heat. he frowned as he ran his hand over your arm, feeling the goosebumps on your skin.

„why didn’t you just tell me you were cold,” he muttered, half annoyed, and half worried. your hair was still wet, and your clothes damp after you put them over your swimsuit, so if the AC was too low you could get sick - something seungcheol wouldn’t let happen, even if it meant he’d have to fight the illness himself.

fortunately, there was a gas station a few kilometers away.

he parked right next to a small field of grass so he could also let kkuma out for a moment, and opened the trunk in search of a blanket he could cover you with. cheol also found his sweater and decided that two layers wouldn’t hurt.

to avoid any neck or back cramps, seungcheol gently repositioned you in your seat so as not to wake you up, but still let you sleep peacefully without straining any muscles. technically he could just turn the heating on, but he just let you freeze for the past god knows how many minutes - he had to bundle you up. „my pretty girl,” he stroked your cheek, leaning in to kiss your nose, before covering you with the sweater.

„c-cheollie?” you suddenly mumbled, and raised your hand to rub your eyes. your boyfriend couldn’t help but laugh at your slightly confused expression.

„i pulled over, baby,” he said softly. „you were sleeping and you were clearly freezing, which by the way, please let me know next time if you're cold, so i stopped to cover you up.”

you looked at him with big, sleepy eyes like you were still trying to figure out which planet you were on - you were clearly still too tired to understand. „’s okay, go back to sleep.”

some people were afraid of sleeping in cars, after all, there were so many situations that could lead to a catastrophe - what if the driver fell asleep or did not notice the approaching vehicle?

but you were not scared at all, not in the slightest. if you had to pick one person on earth that made you feel the safest, you’d pick choi seungcheol without a hesitation. in a car or not - you knew he’d protect you no matter what.

that's why, without thinking, you nodded and closed your eyes, falling back asleep.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot

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kiwriteswords · 3 months ago

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You can hear it in the silence [Aaron Hotchner x Reader]

Masterlist|| Ao3||Word Count: 5k|| AN: After the gifset, I needed to play around with storyline! I tried to remain as sensitive to the topic as possible, so I hope it is seen as an exploration into Hotch's characterization and not as an attempt to glorify or mislead anyone on the topic! Tags/Warnings: female reader, hearing loss, hard of hearing, Hotch losing his hearing, spoilers to season 4, hearing aid, age gap, established relationship, mentions of sexual themes, canon typical themes Summary: As Hotch struggles with gradual hearing loss from an old injury, you stand by him through his stubborn pride and hidden vulnerability, guiding him gently toward acceptance, healing, and a deeper love.

You tucked your legs beneath you, sinking into the plush corner of Hotch's sofa. Warm, golden lamplight spilled across the room, softening the otherwise sharp angles of his apartment.

There was something intimately peaceful about the quiet--

The muffled rush of cars passing outside, a faint echo of jazz filtering from his speakers, and the occasional tap-tap-tap of raindrops against the window.

He stood near the kitchen, sleeves rolled carefully to his elbows as he stirred the simmering sauce, the spicy, hearty aroma drifting pleasantly toward you.

Watching him cook was an indulgent pleasure you'd grown quietly attached to. Hotch cooking felt both endearingly domestic and intensely personal, a side of him few had ever glimpsed.

He glanced up and caught you staring, and you didn't look away. Instead, you raised your eyebrows slightly, a playful smirk ghosting your lips.

"What?" His mouth curled into a soft smile, his dark eyes glinting in quiet amusement.

"Nothing," you teased gently, resting your chin in your palm. "Just admiring the view."

He chuckled softly--

A rare sound, warm and rich.

The low hum vibrated pleasantly across your skin, drawing heat to your cheeks. "Dinner will be ready soon. Think you can survive until then?"

"I think I'll manage," you replied, stretching lazily and shifting your gaze toward the bookshelf behind him. "But it wouldn't kill you to hurry up. I'm starving."

"Careful," he said, deadpan but with unmistakable warmth, "I might be tempted to slow down just to teach you patience."

You hummed lightly in response, content in the easy banter. Moments like these--

Unhurried. Quiet.

They made everything else disappear.

With Aaron, you felt profoundly safe.

Secure, in a way you'd scarcely dared hope was possible.

Hotch turned slightly away, and you watched curiously as he tilted his head just slightly, brows knitting in brief confusion.

It was subtle--

A momentary lapse in his carefully composed expression.

"Everything okay?" you asked gently, your voice cutting through the silence.

He straightened, expression immediately smoothing over, shoulders squaring. "Fine. Thought I heard something."

You studied him quietly, unconvinced but choosing not to press.

Yet, somewhere deep in your chest, a faint unease flickered. It wasn't the first time you'd caught him reacting that way--

Tilting his head. Eyes briefly distracted as if straining to listen to something faint or far away.

You pushed the concern aside, smiling softly instead. "You know, if you're losing interest in my excellent company, you can just say so."

His mouth tugged upward again, but his eyes remained slightly guarded. "Never."

"Good," you breathed softly, allowing your playful tone to smooth away the subtle tension lingering in the air. "Because you're stuck with me."

He moved closer, placing two bowls carefully onto the coffee table, the steam drifting upward, mingling with the cool air. He eased onto the sofa beside you, close enough that your knees brushed.

Warmth radiated from him--

Soft and reassuring.

You reached instinctively for his hand, feeling the slight roughness of his skin as his fingers wove through yours.

He lifted his free hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing tenderly across your cheekbone. His eyes held yours, the intensity in his gaze making your breath hitch. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Your heart fluttered, breath stuttering for a moment as his quiet, sincere words settled deep in your chest. You gently squeezed his hand, leaning into his touch, savoring the moment.

Yet, despite the tender exchange, a quiet, uneasy feeling lingered--

His brief moment of hesitation from earlier replaying in your mind.

You'd noticed it happening more frequently: moments where Hotch seemed to drift, as if missing parts of conversations, his gaze slightly distracted.

You remembered briefly overhearing something from Rossi years ago--

A cautious conversation mentioning something about the explosion Hotch had endured, how doctors had warned of hearing loss over time.

How, per usual, he didn’t follow orders, and it bothered him from time to time. And how, most of all, he’d never admit it.

The BAU briefing room buzzed gently with early-morning energy.

JJ and Penelope stood confidently at the front, flipping smoothly through photos and maps projected onto the screen. Beside you, Emily scribbled quietly into a notepad, while Morgan drummed his fingers softly against the table, eyes focused forward. Rossi looked less than entertained watching the slides unfold, and Spencer was rambling on about something.

You settled comfortably into your usual seat, your thigh subtly pressed against Hotch’s beneath the table--

A quiet intimacy in the bright, professional atmosphere.

Hotch sat beside you, posture rigid but composed, pen poised over his yellow legal pad. His suit jacket was neatly buttoned, every hair meticulously in place, but the slight crease between his brows told you something was troubling him.

Occasionally, his knee pressed gently back into yours, wordlessly reassuring, even as he kept his eyes fixed on JJ and Penelope.

JJ tapped the screen softly, her voice measured and clear. "Local PD found another victim early this morning in Annapolis. Same MO: blunt force trauma, wrists bound, no defensive wounds. The unsub is cautious, controlled--clearly experienced."

You glanced at Hotch, noting how his gaze flickered briefly down, brow furrowing deeper, jaw tightening ever so slightly. The subtle shift in his expression was fleeting but unmistakable.

Penelope continued smoothly, gesturing to the screen, voice steady but quiet as she explained something more about the latest victim. Her age, occupation, and the location where she'd been found.

Yet Hotch’s eyes narrowed, head tilting minutely toward his right shoulder, almost imperceptibly angling his ear toward Penelope’s voice.

Something twisted softly in your chest--

An echo of that vague, uncomfortable worry from days before.

"So we're thinking he's escalating?" Emily asked, pen poised mid-note.

JJ nodded slowly. "Yes. At this rate, the window between kills will shorten. If we don't catch him now--"

She stopped suddenly when Hotch cut in, voice clipped but uncertain, betraying an uncharacteristic hesitation. "Wait, JJ--repeat what you said before."

The room fell quiet, eyes briefly flicking toward Hotch. JJ recovered quickly, professionally smoothing over the awkward pause. "The unsub is escalating. The gap between each kill is narrowing, and we anticipate he'll strike again soon."

"Right," Hotch said stiffly, his eyes flickering down briefly to his notes, cheeks faintly flushed with something--embarrassment, frustration, maybe both. "Continue."

Your stomach twisted slightly. Beneath the table, you subtly shifted your knee, gently nudging his in quiet reassurance. Hotch responded almost unconsciously, nudging back, his hand tightening around the pen.

Morgan’s eyes flickered briefly toward you, then Hotch, expression unreadable but concerned. You pretended not to notice, instead focusing intently on Penelope’s continued briefing.

Your mind, however, lingered uneasily on Hotch’s brief lapse.

Was it becoming more frequent, or were you just now noticing how often he seemed to miss bits of conversation?

Penelope wrapped up, clicking off the projector as she gathered her files. Chairs scraped softly against the carpeted floor as the team stood, quietly murmuring.

Emily and Morgan moved toward the door, and Rossi paused to speak with JJ in low, quiet tones. Spencer shuffled out behind with his files and book.

You stood slowly, eyes lingering briefly on Hotch as he remained seated, focused intently on his notes, frustration radiating faintly from the set of his shoulders.

The room had emptied around you both, leaving you together in silence, the quiet hum of electronics filling the tense space.

You moved carefully closer, gently leaning a hip against the edge of the table near him. "Hey," you said softly, voice deliberately casual.

He didn’t immediately respond, still staring down at the legal pad, jaw tight. Then, finally, he exhaled softly, looking up at you with carefully guarded eyes. "I missed something important."

Your heart tightened at the quiet frustration in his tone. "It happens," you said gently, attempting to ease his tension. "You've got a lot on your plate."

Hotch's mouth tightened briefly, clearly resisting the reassurance. "No, I--" He hesitated, shaking his head slightly, eyes briefly drifting downward. "This is different."

Your chest ached at the quiet admission. You reached instinctively toward his hand, your fingertips grazing softly against his knuckles.

"Aaron," you began softly, voice gentle yet firm. "If something’s going on, you know you can talk to me."

He glanced up sharply, eyes intense, briefly clouded with vulnerability, embarrassment, fear--

Emotions he rarely let you see so plainly.

Then he swallowed, clearing his expression quickly, forcing the careful neutrality back into place. "It's nothing. I'm just tired."

You hesitated, knowing he was holding back, but recognizing the stubborn tilt of his chin--

The silent, firm resolve behind his eyes.

Pressing further right now wouldn’t help.

"Okay," you whispered softly instead, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. "But I'm here when you're ready to talk."

Hotch met your eyes again, quiet gratitude softening the hard lines of his face. He squeezed your hand gently, silent acknowledgment passing between you both.

For a moment, you simply stood together, the quiet tension slowly dissolving into something warmer, gentler.

Yet, beneath that warmth, a quiet worry lingered--

Because despite his reassurance, you could sense something deeper brewing,

Something difficult.

Painful.

That Hotch wasn't yet willing to face.

And something, you feared, that might soon be impossible to ignore.

The air was thick with tension, humidity clinging to your skin, pressing in like a tangible weight. It was late afternoon, but thick, gray clouds made the sky heavy, draping the crime scene in muted, eerie twilight. Tall grass swayed gently around the abandoned farmhouse, whispering secrets with every subtle breeze.

You moved cautiously, weapon drawn, heart steady but pulse thundering quietly in your ears.

Morgan was ahead of you, shoulder pressed against the worn, splintered wood of the house's side wall. Hotch stood just to your right, face etched with sharp determination, jaw clenched tightly as he raised his gun.

"Hotch," Morgan hissed urgently, voice tight with anxiety, one hand held up cautiously, signaling you all to halt. "Stand back--there’s movement inside!"

Your eyes shot quickly to Hotch, stomach tightening painfully as he continued forward, seemingly oblivious to Morgan’s hushed warning.

His eyes narrowed, searching the shadows of the building's interior through a cracked window.

Your voice caught in your throat, your heart suddenly seizing in panic.

Then, in a rush, everything unfolded at once. A shadow moved sharply inside. The unmistakable glint of metal flashed--

A barrel aiming directly toward Hotch.

Fear surged through you.

Hot and immediate.

"Hotch, down!" you shouted desperately, lunging toward him.

You collided roughly, shoulder meeting his chest, shoving him forcefully out of the way. His body hit the ground beneath you, solid and warm even as the sharp crack of gunfire echoed violently through the humid air.

Splitting your ears with a painful roar.

You lay there, breathless, heart slamming against your ribs, your body shielding his as silence suddenly descended--

Heavy, deafening.

Then beneath you, Hotch shifted abruptly, groaning in evident pain. You scrambled off quickly, eyes immediately scanning him for injury, chest heaving in sharp, panicked breaths.

"Aaron," you gasped, voice strained, searching his tense expression urgently. "Are you hit?"

He shook his head, teeth clenched hard, eyes squeezed shut briefly, brows knitted together tightly. "No, it's--I’m fine," he rasped, clearly anything but.

A flicker of raw agony danced briefly across his features as he pushed himself up onto one elbow, jaw tense. He winced visibly, a hand instinctively pressing against his ear--

The injured one. The one from the explosion all those years ago.

You watched helplessly, fear tightening your chest as Morgan rushed closer, his voice filled with concern. "Hotch, man, you didn't hear me?"

Hotch's eyes snapped up sharply, dark and defensive, embarrassment and frustration flickering just beneath their surface. "I heard you," he lied tightly, voice strained, glancing toward the farmhouse. "It's nothing."

Morgan's jaw tightened, unconvinced. "Doesn't look like nothing."

Hotch shot him a sharp look, face rigid, pushing himself onto his feet with visible effort. He swayed briefly, fingers still pressed tightly against his injured ear.

You gently grasped his elbow, steadying him, your pulse racing beneath your fingertips as you felt the slight tremble in his frame.

"Aaron," you whispered, your voice filled with quiet urgency, desperate for him to listen. "You need to--"

"Later," he cut you off. Sharply. Voice hoarse, and frustration evident but hidden beneath firm authority. "Let's clear the house first."

You bit your lip, stomach churning in helpless worry, but nodded silently, acknowledging his need to regain control. You stepped back, forcing yourself to refocus, feeling the warmth of Hotch’s gaze linger briefly, heavy with gratitude and quiet vulnerability he wasn’t ready to voice.

As Hotch moved past you toward Morgan, Rossi appeared suddenly beside you, his eyes quietly intense with a knowing look. "He's getting worse."

Your chest tightened painfully, and your voice dropped to a careful whisper. "He won’t admit it."

Rossi exhaled quietly, his gaze following Hotch's tense movements as he tried to regain composure. "Eventually, he'll have to."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of unspoken fear settle deep in your bones. Your gaze stayed locked on Hotch, noting the slight wince he couldn’t fully hide each time a sound echoed too loudly, each sharp voice crackling through the radios.

Quietly, privately, you worried--

More afraid now than you'd ever been.

Afraid not only of what this meant for his job.

But more painfully, of what it meant for the man you loved so fiercely and the future you had quietly hoped you'd share.

You exhaled shakily, gripping your weapon tighter, forcing back the quiet, fearful ache in your chest.

Because right now, he needed your strength.

Your steadiness.

Your silence.

The lights in your apartment were dim, casting comforting shadows across the room. Rain fell softly outside, droplets tapping gently against the windowpane, offering a quiet rhythm that ordinarily would soothe--

But tonight, tension hung thickly in the air.

Stubbornly resistant to any comfort.

Hotch sat silently at the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped forward, head bowed low, fingers clasped tightly in front of him.

His tie was loosened carelessly, his usually crisp shirt wrinkled from restless movements. You watched quietly from the doorway, your heart aching sharply at the sight--

This towering, steady presence in your life suddenly appeared unbearably…small.

You approached carefully, your steps nearly silent across the carpet. "Aaron?"

His eyes lifted slowly, dark and heavy with exhaustion and something else--

Something raw,

Fragile.

Something you'd never seen before.

You gently sank down beside him, your knee softly brushing his thigh, offering a quiet, grounding comfort.

"Talk to me," you whispered, your voice carefully steady despite the tightness in your throat. "Please."

For a long moment, he said nothing, his jaw tight, the muscles beneath his skin tense as he struggled to gather words. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, thick with emotion he struggled to suppress.

"I couldn't hear him," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "Jack...he stood up there, proud and excited, and I couldn't hear. a. single. word."

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerable confession, your fingers instinctively reaching for his hand. Gently lacing your fingers through his.

His hand trembled faintly in yours, and that subtle movement sent an aching, helpless pang through you.

"The ringing," he continued quietly, his voice shaking subtly beneath its calm exterior. "The pain...it won't stop. It's constant. I can't sleep. I can't focus. I've missed things at work, important things--and now..." He swallowed tightly, eyes falling closed briefly as he inhaled sharply. "Now it's stealing moments with my son."

He shook his head bitterly, frustration and shame mingling in his eyes as he refused to meet your gaze. "I ignored it. I thought I could handle it. The doctors warned me after the explosion. Told me this could happen eventually, but I thought--"

"Aaron," you breathed, squeezing his hand gently, desperate to ease the pain radiating from every tense muscle. "This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known it would come this quickly."

"I ignored every sign," he interrupted sharply, voice thick with self-directed anger. "I was too stubborn, too proud. And now--now it’s costing me things I can't get back."

The admission fell heavily between you, laden with quiet agony.

You moved closer, turning slightly so your knee pressed more firmly against his thigh, desperate to offer comfort.

Grounding.

Anything to ease the pain that radiated from him in palpable wavves.

"You can't change what's happened, you whispered, carefully choosing each word, voice gentle but unwavering. "But you can still take steps forward. Let me help you, Aaron. Please."

He finally turned, meeting your gaze fully, eyes vulnerable, haunted by embarrassment and shame he struggled deeply to hide.

His voice was barely audible, weighted with a defeat you'd never imagined possible from him. "I've never felt so powerless."

Your heart shattered quietly at those words, the painful honesty behind them overwhelming you with tenderness and sorrow.

Your hand lifted instinctively, gently cupping his cheek, thumb softly tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

"You aren't powerless, you murmured, voice quietly fierce, unwavering in conviction. "And you're not alone. You never will be, as long as I'm here."

He exhaled softly, leaning subtly into your touch, eyes falling shut for a moment, surrendering briefly to the quiet solace of your closeness. When his eyes reopened, they were softer, the rawness replaced by something tender and grateful.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered, voice cracking gently.

You shook your head softly, heart aching fiercely at the vulnerability of his words. "You deserve far more than you'll ever let yourself believe."

Slowly, cautiously, Aaron leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against yours. Your breath caught, chest tight with emotion as you absorbed the quiet weight of this moment--

His quiet surrender, his trust, his raw vulnerability laid bare.

"I'm scared," he finally admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper.

You closed your eyes briefly, fingers threading softly through his hair, grounding yourself as much as him in the intimacy of this moment. "Then let me be brave enough for both of us," you whispered firmly, gently brushing your thumb across his temple.

You felt the faint tremble ripple through him, the quiet surrender as his walls slowly cracked further open. He drew in a shaky breath, nodding subtly against your forehead, quietly allowing himself--perhaps for the first time--to rely entirely on someone else.

And as you sat quietly beside him, holding tightly onto the man who'd always seemed unshakably strong, you silently vowed you'd help him rebuild what he'd lost.

Piece by piece.

No matter how long it took.

The doctor's office was pristine and starkly clinical--

A sharp contrast to the warmth and comfort of your home.

You sat beside Hotch, gently leaning your shoulder against his as you waited. He had tried earlier to insist that you didn't need to come--had tried to spare you the burden--but you'd met his protests with a quiet, unwavering smile.

"I'm going with you, Aaron. End of discussion."

He hadn't argued further.

He knew better.

Now, sitting quietly beside you in the bright room, Hotch’s knee bounced anxiously, the steady rhythm betraying the nervousness he carefully concealed.

You reached over quietly, fingers finding his, weaving together in quiet reassurance. His grip tightened immediately, as though your touch alone kept him grounded.

The door opened with a quiet click, and Dr. Bennett, an older man with gentle eyes and a warm presence, entered, nodding warmly as he settled onto the small rolling stool in front of you both.

"Good to see you, Aaron," Dr. Bennett greeted him kindly, glancing briefly toward you with an understanding nod. "And I see you've brought moral support."

Hotch's lips twitched slightly, a small, strained attempt at a smile. "She insisted."

You squeezed his hand gently, smiling softly back. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Dr. Bennett nodded knowingly, looking down at his chart, “It seems like you haven’t had your eat treated since,” He flipped through the pages, “2008.” The doctor looked to Hotch, who just kept a blank face,” turning his attention back to the chart before placing it on the counter, "Let's take a look."

The room fell into careful quiet as the doctor gently tilted Hotch’s head, using a slim otoscope to peer carefully into his injured ear.

Hotch remained perfectly still, tension lining every muscle. You watched closely, noting the slight furrow of his brow and the quiet tightening of his jaw.

After a moment, Dr. Bennett leaned back slightly, setting down the instrument and meeting Hotch’s gaze seriously. "There’s significant scar tissue buildup, Aaron. The original injury must have been extensive. Combine that with years of exposure to gunfire, constant travel on planes, and frankly, the passage of time...it's no wonder you're experiencing these symptoms now."

Hotch's expression hardened subtly, a brief flicker of unease shadowing his dark eyes. "So, what does that mean?"

Dr. Bennett exhaled softly, folding his hands carefully. "Realistically? You’d greatly benefit from a hearing aid. It won't restore what's been lost, but it can significantly improve your quality of life. Ease the discomfort, lessen the ringing and strain."

Hotch visibly flinched at the suggestion, discomfort and distaste clear in his tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping quickly to the floor. Your heart tightened in response, understanding immediately the quiet shame and embarrassment threatening to overwhelm him.

"A hearing aid," Hotch repeated quietly, the words thick with distaste, as if saying it aloud made it more rea--

More painful.

You rubbed your thumb gently over the back of his hand, speaking softly. "It could really help, Aaron."

He glanced at you sharply, a faint flush coloring his cheeks, his embarrassment raw and unshielded. His voice was quiet, barely masking his frustration. "It feels...like admitting defeat."

You leaned closer, voice gentle but firm, meeting his eyes directly. "It's not defeat. It's choosing yourself--choosing your health and your life. You deserve that, Aaron. You don't have to carry this alone."

His gaze held yours for a moment, quietly searching, vulnerability shimmering behind the carefully constructed barriers. He swallowed tightly, exhaling softly as his shoulders slowly relaxed. You saw the shift--

The quiet surrender.

And the reluctant, tentative acceptance.

Dr. Bennett smiled softly, recognizing the delicate tension between you both, sensing Hotch’s internal struggle. "Why don't you take some time to think it over? It's a significant decision, but an empowering one."

Hotch exhaled slowly, nodding once, his voice quiet and rough with emotion. "I appreciate it."

The doctor quietly excused himself, leaving the two of you alone in the gentle quiet of the room. Hotch's hand trembled faintly in yours, and your heart ached softly, recognizing how difficult this moment was for him--this man who had always been the protector, the authority figure, so quietly proud, now having to acknowledge something he couldn't control or conquer on his own.

"You don't have to decide right now," you whispered softly, lifting your free hand to tenderly brush through his hair, gently soothing the tension in his neck. "But I'm proud of you for taking this step."

Hotch swallowed again, eyes briefly drifting shut, leaning subtly into your comforting touch. His voice was quiet, nearly breaking. "It's hard."

Your chest tightened painfully at the raw vulnerability in his admission. "I know," you murmured, voice barely audible, aching with fierce affection. "But you won't do this alone, Aaron. Ever."

He finally turned toward you fully, his eyes softening, guarded walls slowly falling away. His free hand rose, fingers gently cupping your cheek, thumb softly brushing your skin in quiet gratitude.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, the words thick with emotion. "For being here."

You turned slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his palm, letting your lips linger gently. "Always."

Rain pattered lightly against the windshield, gentle but persistent. The rhythmic sweep of the wipers matched the quiet rhythm of your heart as you watched Hotch from the passenger seat, his expression shadowed, his hands gripping the wheel just a bit tighter than usual.

The streetlights blurred through the rain-streaked windows, painting muted streaks of amber and white across the dark interior of the car.

"You know," he began suddenly, breaking the heavy silence, voice edged with quiet frustration, "I’m not even fifty yet. People in their forties shouldn't need hearing aids."

You suppressed a soft smile, knowing exactly where this was headed, and instead settled comfortably back against the seat, turning your head to face him fully. "Aaron, hearing loss isn't an age thing. You know that."

He made a soft noise, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, shaking his head stubbornly. "Still, a hearing aid. It's something older people need. It's--" He hesitated, clearly struggling with embarrassment. "I don't want you to look at me differently."

Your heart twisted softly, tenderness swelling beneath your ribs. "I won’t," you murmured reassuringly, your voice gentle. "I couldn't."

He shook his head again, lips pressed tightly together. "You're already younger than me. You already look--"

"Aaron," you interrupted gently, placing a comforting hand on his thigh. "I've never cared about the age gap. Why would a hearing aid suddenly change that?"

He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed stubbornly on the road ahead, jaw tight. "Because you'll be standing next to a man who can't hear without help. It just feels...like weakness. I don’t want to be someone you feel you have to take care of."

You softened even further, thumb brushing soothingly across his thigh. "Letting someone care for you isn't weakness. You've been strong alone for so long--you don’t always have to be."

He fell quiet again, the silence filled only by the soft hum of the tires on wet pavement, the steady rhythm of raindrops tapping gently overhead.

You watched him closely, allowing him the space to process his thoughts, knowing his stubbornness and pride needed room to fade into acceptance.

After several long, tense moments, he spoke again, his voice quieter now, vulnerability beginning to edge into the firm lines of his expression. "I just don't want it to change how you see me."

You squeezed his thigh softly. "I fell in love with you exactly as you are--nothing could change that."

He was quiet again, fingers flexing slightly on the steering wheel. Then he exhaled sharply, voice rougher, lower, weighed down with self-awareness. "I can't keep missing things," he admitted slowly, reluctantly. "On cases...with Jack..." His voice softened even more, cracking faintly, "And with you."

Your heart clenched gently, breath catching softly in your throat at his quiet admission.

He swallowed tightly, glancing quickly toward you before returning his gaze to the road, embarrassment evident beneath his careful composure.

"I'm tired of being exhausted," he whispered roughly, almost to himself. "Tired of the ringing. Tired of missing Jack's life. And--" His voice tightened further, vulnerability clear, "--tired of being so exhausted from not sleeping that I can't even make love to you."

His words pierced deeply, the raw honesty stealing your breath and filling your heart with tenderness and quiet ache. You leaned closer, silently offering comfort, your hand tightening softly on his thigh.

"Aaron," you whispered gently, reassuringly, "it's okay. I'm right here."

His shoulders relaxed subtly, tension beginning to slowly drain away. "I know you are," he admitted quietly, finally meeting your eyes briefly at a red light. "That's why I know I can't let this get worse."

"I suppose a hearing aid wouldn’t be the worst thing," he finally conceded quietly, eyes fixed ahead but voice lighter now--almost resigned. "If it means I can stop missing out on the things that matter most."

You smiled warmly, affection surging gently through your chest. "Exactly."

Hotch’s lips finally curled upward, the faintest, tentative hint of a genuine smile. He lifted one hand from the wheel, gently grasping your hand on his thigh, intertwining your fingers carefully.

"And if it means I can properly hear all those sweet things you whisper to me," he murmured, humor and warmth finally beginning to edge back into his voice, "then maybe it’ll be worth it."

You laughed softly, relief flooding your chest at seeing him finally relax. You squeezed his fingers gently, heart swelling with quiet joy. "I promise to speak clearly."

He lifted your intertwined hands, pressing a tender kiss against your knuckles, gaze lingering warmly on yours at the next red light. "I’ll hold you to that."

And in the quiet warmth of that moment, beneath the gentle rhythm of rain, you felt the weight of his worries begin to lift, replaced by something hopefu--

Something stronger than fear.

Or embarrassment,

Or stubborn pride.

Something you knew, with absolute certainty, would carry you both forward.

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wordsofwhimsy · 2 months ago

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Angst, post-breakup blues, eventual payoff tho

Word Count: 2,299

Synopsis: Three weeks after a breakup he can’t shake, Mark finds himself aimlessly nursing milkshakes and regrets—until William drags him out for a night at the club to help him “move on.” But no amount of drinks, dancing, or pretty strangers can quiet the echo of what Mark lost.

Inspiration: 'All the Pretty Girls' by fun.

a/n: i’ve been sittin’ on this for a hot minute and figured might as well drop it in the chat – hope y’all don’t mind 👀

The Burger Mart smelled like fryer grease and teenage dreams deferred.

Mark sat in the booth by the window—the one you two used to claim like it was yours by birthright—hunched over a milkshake he hadn’t touched in twenty minutes. Chocolate. Your favorite. He wasn’t even thinking about it when he ordered it. His body just… remembered.

He stirred it absentmindedly with the straw, head propped on his fist, eyes unfocused. He hadn’t shaved in a couple days. His sweater was riding up just enough for his suit to peak out and show off a stain, probably from when he crash-landed into a taco truck mid-patrol. He hadn’t cared enough to clean it.

William slid into the booth across from him with a heavy sigh.

"Okay," William said, dropping his phone onto the table with a dramatic clack. "I let you sulk. I let you eat your feelings. I even let you cry while watching that one sad episode of Avatar—which was kind of weird but whatever. But Mark, it’s been three weeks. Get your head out of your ex’s hoodie."

Mark didn’t look up. "It's not hers," he mumbled.

William gave him a pointed look. "You literally only bought that hoodie because she said you looked hot in dark blue."

Mark opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but then closed it again. Fair.

William leaned forward, voice softening just a little. "You miss her. I get it. But sitting here rewatching your relationship in your head like it's a Friends DVD collection isn’t helping. You need to get out. Meet people. Let someone buy you a drink. Or at the very least, force you to smile."

Mark scoffed. "I smile."

"You grimace," William corrected. "Like you're doing emotional taxes."

Mark finally looked up, eyes tired but still warm. “I don’t want to meet someone new.”

“Then don’t. Just… let someone meet you.” William gave him a look that was way too sincere for how casual he was trying to act. “Besides, I’m an excellent wingman. And if I can get you out of this mope-fest, maybe the rest of us can sleep at night again.”

Mark sighed. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to feel like he was moving on. But maybe sitting in the exact place you used to laugh across the table from him wasn’t doing him any favors either.

“…Fine,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “But I’m not dancing.”

William grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “You say that now, but we’ll see.”

Mark shook his head, but he couldn’t stop the ghost of a smile from twitching at the corner of his mouth.

—

The club pulsed with bass so heavy Mark could feel it in his teeth.

Neon lights cut across the dark space like strobes, catching on sequins, jewelry, and sweat. He wasn’t sure if the drink in his hand was his third or fourth—William kept handing them to him, and he hadn’t been keeping count. The burn in his throat helped, though. It made everything a little blurrier. A little easier.

He was standing in a loose circle with William and two girls they’d just met—Talia and Jess, or maybe it was Jenna? It didn’t matter. They were cute, confident, clearly into the whole “tall, sad, broody” vibe Mark had going on tonight.

And Mark was… trying. He really was.

He laughed at their jokes, nodded along to stories he only half-heard. His smile was soft around the edges, his eyes still a little distant. But he looked good. Alive. Normal.

“So what do you do, Mark?" one of the girls asked, leaning closer to hear him over the music.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, college. I go to Upstate U. Technically an English major but don’t ask me why—I guess I like pain?”

William snorted into his drink. “This man hasn’t read a single book for class since week two.”

Mark shrugged, flashing that crooked little smile that made people lean in. “My ex was a lit nerd. I thought if I read her favorite book, I’d understand her better.”

“Did it work?” the girl asked, grinning.

He looked into his drink. “Nope. Still trying.”

He didn’t realize what he’d said until the girls blinked at him.

“Oh,” he added quickly. “Sorry. That was—yeah. Anyway.”

They moved on. Kinda. For a minute.

The conversation drifted toward the topic of favorite music, and Mark’s face lit up just a little.

“She used to play this indie playlist every morning while she got ready,” he said without thinking, swaying a little with the beat of the club's current song. “Had this dumb little dance she’d do while brushing her teeth. It was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Another blink from the girls.

William’s eyes narrowed like he was watching a slow-motion car crash.

“So, uh, any siblings?” one of them asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation somewhere else.

“Nah, just me. But her family kind of adopted me for a while. Her dad grilled me every time I came over. I think he secretly liked me, though—he let me have the last slice of pizza once.”

“Mark,” William hissed under his breath, elbowing him.

“What?” Mark blinked at him, genuinely confused. “I’m just talking.”

“You’re reciting your relationship timeline, dude.”

Mark blinked again. His buzzed haze shifted just enough for the realization to land.

Oh.

“Oh.”

The girl—Talia, he was pretty sure now—laughed, trying to keep things light. “Wow, she must’ve been something.”

Mark looked down at his drink again, swirling the melting ice around with his straw. His voice dropped just a little when he answered.

“She is.”

For a second, the noise of the club felt distant. Like the music was underwater and the lights were just colors bleeding together behind his eyes.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d come tonight. Maybe he thought being surrounded by people would help. Maybe he thought he’d forget how your laugh sounded when you were tired, or how you always ordered fries after saying you weren’t hungry.

But he didn’t forget. Couldn’t.

Because none of these pretty girls could measure up to you.

The night had worn on like a pair of shoes half a size too small—just enough discomfort to remind Mark he didn’t belong here.

The drinks had dulled the edges, but not enough. The music was still too loud, the lights too bright, and the ache behind his ribs just wouldn’t shut up.

William had drifted off somewhere—probably flirting with the bartender again—and Mark found himself leaning against the railing by the upstairs lounge area, drink in hand, trying to look like he wasn’t mentally replaying every dumb inside joke he used to share with you.

“Hey,” a voice came beside him. Soft. A little hesitant.

It was her—the girl from earlier. The one with the easy laugh and kind eyes. Jenna. Or maybe Jess. Definitely a J.

“You looked kinda lonely over here,” she said, smiling in that way people do when they’re trying not to scare off a sad dog. “Thought I’d come rescue you.”

Mark blinked. “Oh. Thanks. Yeah, I guess I… wandered.”

She leaned her hip against the railing next to him. “You wanna dance?”

He hesitated. His gut reaction was no, but then he remembered William’s voice in his head, practically begging him to try. Just give it a chance. Let someone meet him.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “Sure.”

The dance floor was slower now. Not as packed. The music had shifted to something dreamier, bass still thumping but with more space between the beats. Moodier. Intimate.

They found a spot under a flickering pink light, and she stepped in closer, hands grazing his arms.

Mark moved with her. Gentle, unsure. Her fingertips slid up to rest on his shoulders. She was smiling, looking up at him with that cautious sort of hope. Like maybe tonight could mean something.

“You’ve got one of those faces,” she murmured, “like you feel everything really deeply.”

Mark huffed a breath, almost a laugh. “Yeah… that’s kinda my curse.”

Her smile widened. “Well, maybe you just haven’t met someone who feels the same way. Yet.”

Mark’s breath hitched. He didn’t mean to think of you. But there you were.

The way you’d look at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. The quiet comfort of your hand in his. That time you whispered “I think I’m falling in love with you” so softly, like you were afraid of the words, but even more afraid they were true.

She stepped a little closer. Her head rested gently against his shoulder. It should’ve felt nice. It did. Kind of.

But not in the way he wanted.

Because even now—this close, this warm, this quiet—all he could think about was how your head used to fit there better.

She pulled back just enough to look at him. Her smile faltered at whatever expression was on his face.

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

Mark didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have to.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually, voice barely a whisper. “You’re… you’re great. Really. I’m just…”

“Not over it,” she finished for him, nodding softly. “I get it.”

He stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have—this was a mistake.”

She touched his arm lightly. “Hey. Don’t beat yourself up. Sometimes we try to move on before we’re ready. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Mark gave her a grateful, sad smile. “Thanks.”

As he turned to leave the dance floor, he glanced over his shoulder.

She was still standing there, watching him go, that hopeful expression faded into something quieter. Understanding.

Mark barely heard William over the music, his head still spinning from the failed almost-something on the dance floor.

“Dude! Where are you going?” William called, jogging up and grabbing Mark’s arm before he could disappear into the crowd. “You said you’d try. That was not trying. That was—I don’t even know what that was.”

Mark exhaled sharply. “I did try. I talked, I danced, I smiled. I mentioned my ex so many times I probably traumatized that poor girl. I’m done.”

“No, no,” William said, spinning him back toward the dance floor with all the force of a drama teacher trying to save the spring musical. “We came here to get your groove back, not to spiral in a parking lot. One more song. Just one. Then you can go do your sad-boy brooding in peace.”

Mark sighed deeply, already halfway to saying no. But William was giving him that look—the one he only used when he meant it. The “I care about you too much to let you rot” look.

“…One song,” Mark muttered, defeated.

“Atta boy,” William grinned, grabbing both their drinks from a nearby ledge. “Now pretend you’re not dying inside and maybe I’ll even buy you fries on the way home.”

They were only on the floor for about thirty seconds before Mark knew he couldn’t do it. The bass thudded in his chest, people bumped into him from every side, and all he could feel was wrongness—like he’d wandered into someone else’s life.

He turned to William, eyes apologetic. “I can’t.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Just pivoted, already pushing through the bodies, ready to find a wall to lean against or maybe just the nearest door—

And then it happened.

He crashed right into someone. Hard enough to stumble. He blinked, startled, ready to apologize—until he looked up. And the world just… stopped.

You.

Your eyes locked with his like magnets snapping together. Your mouth opened a little in surprise, but no words came out.

Mark’s breath left him like someone had knocked the wind out of his chest. “Y/N?”

Your eyes were wide. “Mark?”

He looked around for a second, almost like he was checking the sky for signs of divine intervention. “Are you real? Am I—?”

You gave a stunned half-laugh. “Yeah, I’m real. I came with my friends. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were,” he said, heart beating so loud he could barely hear himself. “Jesus. This is—”

And then, right on cue, the next song started.

Your song.

That one you used to scream-sing in the car. The one that played the first night he kissed you. The one he hadn’t been able to listen to since the day you walked out of his life.

His mouth opened. Yours did too.

Neither of you moved for a second.

But then—like gravity had finally remembered what it was supposed to do—he stepped forward. You did too.

His hands found your waist like they never forgot how. Yours curled into the fabric of his hoodie like it was still yours.

He searched your face, not for permission—he already had it—but for something real. A signal. A yes.

Your lips quirked—barely. Just enough to say, I’m still here.

He kissed you.

And the world, for once, got it right.

The lights blurred, the bass fell away, and the only thing either of you could feel was the truth humming between your mouths: You hadn’t moved on.

Not really.

Because how could you, when nothing else felt like this?

You melted into him, arms looping around his neck, and it wasn’t desperate—it was homecoming. It was the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. It was everything crashing back and still somehow fitting together perfectly.

The song kept playing.

And somewhere behind you, William saw it happen, and just raised his hands to the sky like, Finally—thank god.

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson fanfic

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