#Disadvantages Of Alcohol

[fizzytoo]

auto-selecting camp supplies should automatically choose enough to equal 40 and not whatever fucking number is higher than that

[churchyardgrim]

rolls around on the floor in a pile of 2e lore

whyyyyyy did they stop having race-specific vampire variants. and intricate lore for natural vs infected lycanthropes. why is every werebeast affected Only by the moon and vulnerable to Just Silver now instead of having the option for cooler thematic triggers and weaknesses. why did 5e take so much from us.

[mxfortune-teller]

We’re doing a one-shot campaign and the DM rolled us all random characters.

We are starting the game in a festival. One of my flaws is a weakness for alcohol and temptations. I asked to drink at the festival.

The DM is now mad at me for playing in character.

[needtricks-blog]

Beer A Toast to Its Upsides and Downsides

Beer A Toast to Its Upsides and Downsides. Ah, beer. The frosty beverage that’s fueled conversations, celebrations, and countless hangovers for millennia. But is it a liquid friend or foe? While the answer ultimately depends on your body and lifestyle, let’s raise a glass and explore the advantages and disadvantages of this beloved brew. Continue reading Untitled

[glitchdollmemoria]

i google how to feel less sick from cigarettes i open quora "first, stop smoking" stop being fucking patronizing. stop it. i know i shouldnt be smoking. i am fully aware of the dangers and it is not enough to stop me because addiction runs deeper than logic. just give me the home remedies and stop acting like addicts are suddenly going to stop just because you tell us drugs are bad for us, as if we havent been bombarded with that information, as if we dont carry shame from engaging in something harmful when we know the harm it causes. stop acting like addiction is a matter of moral and intellectual failure instead of a disease stemming from underlying problems that need to be addressed in order for anything to actually change. stop being patronizing and tell me what tea will make me less nauseous. this is fine to reblog but if anyone tries to fucking lecture me about my life choices im blocking you immediately

[utilitycaster]

I really like Taliesin elaborating on the inspiration from the 90s LA punk scene, in which he said a lot of the people he knew were just people looking for hope in a world that has been incredibly unfair to them. It's a very empathetic view towards people who, as he said, often are dealing with injustice and disadvantages.

He also mentions that many of these punks were dealing with drug and alcohol problems (and while he did not want that to be central to Ashton's character and wanted to focus instead on chronic pain for a number of reasons, including personal, Ashton definitely relies on alcohol for palliative reasons). More generally, we see Ashton look for hope and answers in a lot of places that end up being extremely incorrect. The most obvious one is with the shard of Rau'shan, which, after multiple people advised them against taking it with very clear warnings, they decided to still attempt to absorb, with nearly-fatal results; but there were flashes of this with their earlier cynicism towards Eshteross vs. a much more begrudging acceptance of the transactional worldview of Ratanish or Jiana Hexum.

Ashton often places his own pain in a position of honor, and in doing so can discount that of other people. He's been remarkably unlucky, to be clear; I think that's part of it. We as the audience know that their statement that no one in that room has felt helpless in their lives is demonstrably false about pretty much all of Vox Machina and their allies, as well as the Bright Queen. He says Keyleth maybe does know, not realizing that of Keyleth and Vex, one has been a homeless runaway rather like himself, and it's not the one he's saying knows helplessness. In a way, to hold on to that hope, they find themselves telling themselves a lot of lies because otherwise they have to face the truth that their suffering did not make them more qualified or better; it was just unfair and it might still keep happening. He blames the gods because then at least there's a reason and not just absolutely random chance that he was born to a self-important cultist, happened to survive a long-shot ill-advised ritual and wake up in the desert of another continent, happened to be the one thrown out the window of Hexum Manor, and happened to be saved with a Potion of Possibility. To be clear, they've since made a name for themself on their own merits, but a lot of who they are, both in terms of the traumatic and difficult elements and in terms of what now makes them special was dumb luck, good or bad.

For Ashton, for those LA punks Taliesin knew, for the Vanguard and for Ludinus and for countless people in Exandria and in our actual world, a lot of grasping for hope becomes grasping for a meaning for pain and suffering. I'd argue that this is a pretty major theme Taliesin explores with all his characters. However, just because the pain is real doesn't mean the conclusions one comes to as a result of it are inviolate and above reproach. It is possible to have extremely valid pain and trauma and to be incredibly wrong about its source or what it means, or to deal with it in ways that will either make it worse or that will inflict pain, even inadvertently, on others. And I think the theme of the campaign is very much that; what happens when someone either chooses to or must let the decisions they made to deal with a moment - or a life - of pain be writ large on both themselves and the world?

[bigfatbimbo]

I love you like an Alcoholic

2.1k words,, Bill x Reader

a/n — You did it, you saved the town.

warnings — NSFW, dom!reader, sub!Bill, toxic relationships, book of bill time era, orgasm denial, ambiguous superpowers, NOT PROOFREAD**

summary — Bill goes to his incredibly powerful (moreso than him) business partner, you, to try to get him out of theraprism. Things take a turn.

“I had to pull a lot of strings for this Bill,” you cross your legs and lean back in your thrown. 

Bill straightens his bow-tie, “Well toots, what if I told you I can make it worth your while?”

You breathe and then get up from your chair, “I’d tell you to stop floating in my lair. It’s distracting.”

Snapping your fingers, a bar appears in your otherwise empty room. While pouring yourself a drink, you can feel Bills eye-roll from across the room.

With a tip of his hat, his more human form appears, and sits down at the bar stool next to you. “Better?”

“Could do with more abs.”

He laughs but doesn’t change his appearance, “So, y/n. We go way back, right? I’m not gonna sugar code it, you’ve always been one of my favorites to do business with, doll. Wanna know why?”

“The fact i’m always so interested in what you have to say?”

His eye practically twitched at your indifference. Your attention was never payed in full. “Ha! Don’t flatter your self, pal. No, i’ll tell you why: did you know out of everyone in the galaxy, you’re the only equal I do business with?”

Your eyebrow arches, “equal?”

“Humor me,” he doesn’t give you the chance to reply before continuing. “Now, given my current position in ‘necessary therapy’—“ he makes a point of doing obnoxious air quotes, “—I don’t have much to occupy my days. And we both know i’d be of better use to you out here, right?”

You took another sip of your wine before getting up from the bar and walking over to your throne. The bar disappears behind you, leaving cipher ass-flat on the ground.

“Oh come on—“ His open eye turns red momentarily, before he dusts himself off, “Look, it’s hard being a god, y/n, I know that much. With that responsibility, I think a business partner would do you good. And all you’d have to do is bail me out, that’s practically no downside for you at all, buddy.”

Your patience had been wearing thin, and without further consideration you let out a larger grown from your chair, “Cipher, you’re a liability. I don’t want you. I’m honestly struggling to find enjoyment in sharing a drink with you, despite our history.”

A flick of your hand lifts him off his feet and brings him over to you, “Thought you had a no floating policy, eh?” There’s no fear in his voice, but there is in his eye. He’s losing.

“I’m gonna make this clear to you. You’re gonna take your disgusting human form, and you’re gonna march your happy ass back to theraprism, and you’re gonna stay there. Want my advice? Stop being so damn pathetic.”

A portal opens to take him back and he struggles in your invisible grasp, “No, wait! Please, I’ll do anything, just wait!” 

A human form was already a disadvantage, one he’d accepted in order to strike a deal, but a disadvantage still. And he hadn’t had any contact in a long time, aside from various psychiatrists telling him what’s ’wrong with him.’ 

So, you being someone he has history with could have contributed to his annoyingly human problem. Maybe it was the excitement, your attention or the lack there of, but something terrible happened at that moment. 

“Jesus, Bill. You really have hit rock bottom,” You murmur to yourself as you pull his floating body closer to you, your fingers dance around the bulge without touching it.

“Hey, hey, watch it— Your the one that made me have this stupid fleshbag, anyways— cut that out!” He struggled in the air, finding that he just couldn’t turn back into his normal form. You’re doing, he’d assume. 

To his dismay, you giggle and lean back, “Well now i’m enjoying myself. Now this I could help with, Cipher,”

“Ah, ah pass! Just get me down from here and—“ Back to prison? He’d have to swallow his pride on this one. And besides, it’s not like he wouldn’t like it… “Whatever you want, doll. I’m here all night.”

You examine him further, “Is that so?” 

Before he can answer, you drop him to his knees in front of you. “Ow! Careful with the merchandise, sweetheart. I’m not in mint condition these days— ah!”

Your foot presses down lightly on the bulge in his pants, and your fingers grab onto his chin, “Been a minute since we’ve done this. Huh, Cipher?”

He nods, going to say something, before you interject, “So i’d be good if I was you, baby.”

You press down on his hard-on with more pressure, watching Ciphers face flicker, biting his lip, before letting on a whimper. 

Despite not being his first encounter, so to speak, with you of this nature, it never failed to eat as his pride. And furthermore, despite this, it felt good. If Bill was anything, he was selfish. He could admit he was letting it happen for himself, instead of in spite of himself. So it can’t be that humiliating?

But in this position, there’s always shame.

“Y/n — give me a break—“ He breathed, eye twitching. 

You rolled your eyes and snapped your fingers, with that, his pants were gone and his dick was exposed. That’s another thing he could do without: your unpredictability 

“Next time, say please. Asshole.” You say, lifting him up with your powers once more.

“Wow, buddy. I’m not the one being the jerk here—“ It came out quick, as Bill words often did. But these ones he regretted immediately.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Tough crowd?” He felt a sensation tugging at the base of his dick, indicating the start of mind games that wouldn’t end anytime soon.

He backtracked. Play it off. “Yeesh, you’re a tough crowd! Did I say jerk? You heard me wrong, I meant lovely— Ah, wait! Wait!”

A wave of pleasure flooded his senses abruptly, followed by a short pinch of pain, similar to what a mortal feels when they prick their finger on a piece of metal. Does that happen a lot? They’re all so clutsy, can’t be that out of the ordinary—

“Smooth talk your way out and maybe I’ll lighten the blow, yeah?” You smile cruelly, hand dangling out, flexing as if teasing what you could do to him.

“I— I know we’ve had our disagreements but I— augh!” A spike of pain, his eye rolled back a bit, “You— I’ve always admired your work— Yes! Respected you even, you’re an idol, sweetheart, ah, yes!”

With each compliment a burst of pleasure would go through him, landing at his unnatural dick, now leaking with precum. He was nearly babbling, but he was as aware of that as he was aware of the fact it was dearly encouraged.

“Very good, Billy. You’re too sweet, really.” Your voice was smooth and you bit your lip, watching him writhe with pleasure mid-air.

“A-anything for you, toots! Ah, more, more!”

He didn’t notice he said anything wrong this time until it was too late, but your face had noticeably darkened at the statement. 

“That’s awful demanding for someone in your position, dontcha’ think?” You weren’t actually mad, of course you weren’t. But you loved to you with him, and you took every opportunity. One of the reasons Bill tried to avoid you when he could; you were far too similar people, dealing in cruelty for the sake of entertainment.

“Wha- No wait!” The attention to his dick ceased to exist, and he was left with only aching for attention again, despite the fact you never gave anything physical in the first place. 

All mind games. “That’s- That’s not fair!”

“I’d watch who you were talking too, baby,” You flick your hand, spreading out his body parts mid air, hard leaking cock protruding out, crying for any kind of sensation. 

“You know what I can do. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you,” You sigh expectantly.

Bill tried to speak to defend himself, to talk his way out, but he found his ability to gone.

“I can make you do what I want, Cipher. Can make you feel whatever I want. Extraordinary pain—“ He cries out for a split second, eye flashing with fear, “—Or overwhelming pleasure.”

This time his eye rolled back, and he moans in wonderful agony, unable to move expect for wriggling his body parts weakly. His dick twitched.

“You like that feeling?”

He nods weakly, eyes fogging up, letting a small whimper escape.

“Don’t want me to hurt you?” Another nod, “Want me to make you feel good? Think you deserve it?”

“Ah— y/n, I need…” He swallows, revising his words in his mind, “Please, I need this.”

It’s true, Bill had never reached such a low in his entire existence. And he wasn’t sure if this interaction was pushing him further down or making him feel better. Now, however, he was struggling to think.

“Aw, baby. You have taken your punishment well? Been having a rough time too..” Your tone switched to something softer, almost to a condescending note.

His pathetic appearance did him justice, he pretended this was on purpose. 

Either way, a whine slipped from his throat and he shut his eyes, playing into it. You cooed in response, bringing him closer to you in order to run your hand along the side of his cheek. 

A spurt of pleasure shoots through his dick once more, and now he can’t help but yearn for something more. “Touch me— I need it— Please.” He threw in, trying to help his chances, despite the struggle at forming a coherent thought other than need.

“Hm,” You consider. Finally you reach out, running a finger along the base of his cock, to the tip. “You really want me to?”

He nodded desperately, mouth falling open to let out a small whine. Swear bedded his hot, red face, and dripped down, make his multiple chins glisten. Ugh, you preferred him further away. His already greasy looking hair was now slick against his forehead, and his eyes were glazed over. 

You slowly shift all of your fingers onto his shaft and then saintly drag them up and down for the first few strokes. A gutteral whimper falls from Ciphers mouth, “Oh, yes!”

“What do we say, baby?” You ask, grip tightening suddenly as if to bring him back to reality, but not too tight. 

“Ah— Thank you!” He’d almost forgotten to detest you for making him say that. And he’d almost forgotten to remind himself to be mad after he was done feeling good.

He used to daydream about taking you down after these sessions. Rising to power and having you at his feet. But now he only wants to keep your attention on him. Now it’s all he can think about. 

You continue to stroke his leaking cock, leaning in to kiss his cheek fat, “Good boy.”

He moaned, “Don’t do that-“

“I’m not patronizing you. I mean it, you’re acting better than usual and i’m glad. Maybe you’re more desperate, or touch-starved, but you’re doing good. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Ah—“ He would have came right there if he could. And in the most literal sense, he couldn’t. You weren’t letting him. “Please, let me come. I can’t do this, have mercy, I’ll do anything—“

“I don’t know, I’m having a good time. Why should I?” Another desperate need to release wipes over him, an uncontrollable need that was actively being controlled. 

Despite himself, he teared up. His fingers rose to touch his face, which he realized, was now damp with falling tears, “No, no, no! I can’t- I’ve never- Human bodies— I need to. Please!”

You look at him and smile. 

“I’ve been good,” He reminded you.

With that, you have in. Your other hand moved away to snap your fingers, a gesture that wasn’t need to carry out the action, but to show that he’d earned his reward. 

“Yes! Thank you! Oh gods— Oh-“ He leaned back, finally having the orgasm that was being withheld from him. And god, it felt good.

You felt good, and he hated that. 

[randombush3]

cool about it

alexia putellas x reader

summary: you can't find inspiration for your play

notes: this was rotting in my drafts and then i got drunk and finished it lolz

i refuse to read it back so have fun

The first time Alexia sees you, you are with your friends; sleeves rolled-up, wide smile on your face, a pool cue in your hand as you wield it like a weapon the minute one of the women beside you opens her mouth. She is drawn into observing, craving the knowledge of what you are being told; what is making you blush so furiously. She sees your mouth open, a blackhole that draws her in without mercy, and she barely survives the sound of your loud, raucous laughter

Suddenly, in the universe of football and media events and her little sister’s embarrassingly active love-life, you appear. Like a new star, burning bright, big and hot and… “You’re staring,” says Mapi with a smile. She knows not to tease, and she treads lightly. “You’ve been staring for a while.” 

“They’re speaking English.” It’s an incriminating sentence, but it would have been futile to deny Mapi’s accusation anyway. 

“I saw her at the bar. She spoke Spanish then.” 

“You’ve been stalking her.” 

Mapi nods, and holds Alexia’s drink in a silent push to get her over to the pool table. To you. “Because you’ve been staring. I was only making sure she wasn’t a psycho.” 

“Thanks,” she scoffs, but, in truth, she is grateful. 

As she saunters over (a newly regained skill, months down the line from her traumatic ACL reconstruction surgery), her confidence a believable façade, she decides that she is going to be Alexia Putellas. She is going to be cool about it, and she is going to impress you, and she is going to make you laugh so that she can hear that sound again. 

Again, again, again. 

“Yeah, sure, you can take over for Soph,” you say, nodding towards the woman who had been on the receiving end of your light prodding with the wooden stick all of friends regret allowing three-drink you to be in charge of. “So you’re spots, I’m stripes. I’ve got two left until I can pot the black, and you, er, you might be at a disadvantage here.” You rub the back of your neck as you peer at the balls on the table, almost all of them left behind by Soph’s inability to play pool. “How about we just, um–” 

“Está bien.” Alexia pretends to understand a lot more of what you said than she really does, regretting her choice to approach you in English, but she gets the jist. And, although you make her feel as though life has only just begun, she remembers her competitiveness very, very clearly. “Voy a ganar,” she scoffs. 

She holds in her celebration as you break out into a grin, immediately rising to the challenge, glad your friends have tired of the pool table so that no one can interrupt the battle you are about to commence. A battle with a very pretty woman, you must admit. 

You lose. 

You blame it on Alexia – she tells you her name as she pots three balls in a row – and try not to acknowledge the taunts from your friends at the bar, most of them having watched the entire game from afar to have something to talk about tomorrow. “You win,” comes your pitiful concession after a brutal defeat. “So, what will your prize be?” 

It’s an easy answer. 

That morning, throat hoarse from the cries that left it the night before, eyes red and tired and way too sensitive to light for you to consider drinking a drop of alcohol ever again, you wrap your arms around the warm body in the unfamiliar bed, finding the intimacy to have lived on longer than it should for a one-night-stand. Barcelona is warm and sunny, the day one to be enjoyed, and the company the best you have had in a while. 

It isn’t just that Alexia is a goddess. It isn’t the Amazonian ridges of her stomach and the firmness of her thighs, nor the softness of her hair or the deft movements of her fingers against your scarred skin. No, that is not what has, in just one evening, made you fall in love with her. (You bite your lip as you are overcome with emotion, chest filling up – with which feeling, you do not know –, heart pounding into your bones as the rhythm of your desire to be in Alexia’s life sets into the very framework of your being.) No! How could it be that? How could it be that when there is more? 

The coarseness of her determination; the slippery confidence, delicate and sharp, as though it is both the petal of a rose and the thorn that will prick you. Her humour, mistranslated at times, but always ready to make fun of idiots (most often, a specific idiot with a neck tattoo, as you come to realise). 

Personally, you believe it to be unfair that Alexia, Alexia Putellas, is simply ‘all that’. 

Getting to know each other fails to feel awkward, though you spend a lot of time waiting for the tension to appear. 

She discovers who you are, how you have moved to Barcelona for inspiration, finding that very thing lacking in dreary Leeds (the most depressing place on Earth, you could argue). She learns of your dream, although you label it as your ‘plan’: to write a play and to see it on the stage, preferably a grand theatre in the West End. Or in Stratford, where upon lies the greatest soil from which a playwright can grow. 

You show her your empty pages, devoid of black print marks. White and white, that goes on until it is clear that you have tired of pressing the ‘enter’ button as though it will ignite a story within. A story that hasn’t yet come, mind. 

“Do you think it will work?” she asks you, her accusation carrying nothing but curiosity once you see past the abrupt manner in which she interrupts your lengthy monologue about your severe case of writer’s block. 

Maybe you intend to be a little vague, for the sake of your racing heart and your delicate emotions, because you only shrug. You have already found your inspiration, not that you are going to tell her. 

Alexia is forward in the sense that she checks how temporary your presence is in her city before asking you out on a date. Your answer of ‘however long this shit takes’ is enough for her to be sure that she wants a second. A third, too. 

Then, before you know it, it has been a year. 

A year of Barcelona, a year of Spanish sun, and, excitingly, a year in which you have been cured; fingers blessed with movement and ideas and words on the tip of your tongue that run free in Alexia’s ear as you talk and talk and talk. She listens and listens and listens, and switches into the focus of your pairing when you go with her to watch her team play and play and play (why the fuck does football have so many matches?!). The final stage direction, all curling italics and sentimentality, sits at the bottom of the page. 

The end of your play. 

It is finished, it is done, and, soon after you have revised it one last time, it is sent to your producer friend with a nervous click of the ‘new email’ button and the hope that he is thankful for the times at university when you cared for him when he drank himself so silly that he barely made it to his lectures two days after the night-out. 

“It feels good,” you tell Ingrid, the girlfriend of the idiot with the neck tattoo, beaming as she inquires about your work. “I feel like I lived through it to get to this moment, you know? All that’s left to do is for him to read it and decide whether he’ll pick it up. Then, table reads and funding, of course. I’d want to direct, but, also, I’m not going to sell this one. Leasing it and taking a percentage of the royalties will make me loads more, because, Ingrid, this one is the best thing I’ve ever written.” 

There is a moment, usually, that comes after you have finished writing. A brief, sharp sort of panic, where you question your worth and your talent; you wonder if you have been lied to your whole life, and that your version of the same twenty-six letters of the alphabet, jumbled up on a white canvas as though you are (after a sleepless, usually) Picasso, is terrible. Or, worse, bad. 

Bad. Bad is so… plain. If it is just ‘bad’, you have failed as a writer. If it is not outrageous or unbelievably horrible, or, as one obviously hopes, incredible and amazing… if it is just ‘bad’, well: “Alexia, I’m terrified.” 

Alexia kisses your neck (you do not feel the finality of it, or maybe it is that you do not want to) because she knows it isn’t bad; she is more than aware that your play, your new creation, is really rather good. Brilliant, even. “Tranquila, mi amor,” she murmurs in your ear, bringing her arms to rest on your tense shoulders, a hand closing your laptop on its journey. “Le va a flipar.” 

“You think so?” 

“Sí.”

“Are you saying that because we’re together and you love me?” Your voice is small and unsure, and its teasing lilt is thrown off-kilter by the croak of your anxiety. “Or do you mean it? Please, I hope you mean it.” 

“I mean it.” She hates that she does. “Yes, of course I mean it. I love you and I am proud of you.” She hates it, she hates this, and she hates the talent your mind wields; something that is going to rip you from her grasp. It was bound to happen.

Your phone rings; soft, electronic trills dancing in the space between you and the coffee table it has been placed on. “I think that’s him,” you whisper, the volume you had intended to speak at smited by the nervous lump in your throat. Alexia nods mournfully, but you are too busy accepting the call to see.

“Let’s do this,” he says. 

…

The first frost of London comes that January. It’s unusual, the locals claim, because the city exists in its own polluted microclimate, but their statistics do not stop the layer of ice from freezing onto the windshield of your car. You are glad London feels just as cold as you do. 

Your play is beloved by the actors who speak your words, and the critics amongst your friend group, who for once, have no criticism to give. There is promise here. It is going very well. 

You drive to the theatre, ready to sit in on another rehearsal. Though your original intention had been to direct, you pawed off the role to an old school friend upon her return from Broadway. Your decision, you tell her, comes from a lack of experience in direction. You pretend to have had an epiphany: you only want to write the plays. 

In truth, this is a lie. 

Of course it is a lie. 

But how can you direct such happiness, such love and romance, if you know that the very thing that inspired each line has ceased to exist? 

Alexia feels like she has ceased to exist. 

On the outside, she seems relatively fine. She trains well, plays well, makes appearances where she should, says what you’d expect of her, hopes to make the world a better place. She walks Nala as though the Pomeranian does not whine for you to hold her leash, and she visits her mother and sister even though they continue to ask her why she did what she did. 

At night, she scrolls through social media, fingers always leading her back to you; your life; your work; your experiences that you no longer share with her. She cries, then, usually: a common occurrence nowadays. 

There is a gaping hole in her chest that has been made by her sticking her fucking foot in it. 

She has questions, naturally; each directed hatefully at herself. Why? Why, why why? Why on Earth did she tell you never to come back? Why did she blame you for leaving? 

You were always going to leave! Alexia knows that, hates that she knows that. 

You came to Barcelona because you couldn’t write, and you wrote. You wrote, you made her fall in love with you, and, when you had finished, you discarded the life you had unexpectedly built all because of some stupid, stupid play. 

A play titled–

A play. 

A… Alexia can’t even bring herself to think about it. 

No, all Alexia can think about is how insignificant she feels when you are no longer in love with her. You: sophisticated, intelligent, brilliant, adoring. Her? 

“Lex, you can’t mope if you’re the one who broke it off.” The words leave Alba’s mouth in jest but Alexia recoils as though she has been whipped by her sister’s tongue. 

“I’m trying to be cool about it,” she replies like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

It seems as though the globe has spun a full circle on its axis by the time Alba formulates her response, dumb-struck by such fucking idiocy. 

Alba hopes her sister feels like a fool – she hopes Alexia looks at herself in the mirror and… laughs, at this point. The whole thing has been ridiculous, in her opinion. 

First, her sister claims she is in love with a playwright with no plays to her name (Alba is examining the facts objectively, here, because she did quite like you); then, poof! Like a rabbit in a magician’s hat played in twisted reverse, away you go, and it somehow isn’t even your fault. 

She’d like to hate you, for her sister’s sake, but she finds herself loathing her own blood as it thins and thins until it trickles just like water. 

Okay, maybe she is being a little dramatic there, but she is still annoyed with Alexia. 

Alexia – whose existence as more-than-a-footballer is fading as she loses herself to waves of futile guilt – hates that she cannot hate you. She is plagued by emotional constipation, and though she tries to squeeze the situation for a drop of cruelty from you, she fails to discover a gram of relief.

It would have been kinder for you to have been cruel. Mercy is getting Alexia nowhere, and she would run to you if it were fast enough. Mercy is what renders her in a perpetual state of regret. Mercy is what keeps her up at night, but maybe mercy is what she likes having because it is yours and, in that way, she carries a piece of you with her. 

To confuse herself even more, to skew her mind further onto a path of unconventional self-destruction, she silently begs the mercy you have left behind to disappear so that she can learn to do without it. It’ll become a crutch and she wants it ripped from her grasp so that she can learn to walk on her own. She’s capable of that, she tells herself. 

(It probably isn’t true.)

…

Opening night. 

You’re wearing something far too nice to be comfortable, and there has been a champagne flute in your hand since the lunch held by the investors of the production company. The bubbles have served their purpose, clouding your mind with thoughts that weren’t to do with Alexia and her Alexia life and her Alexia smile and her Alexia way of making an Alexia-shaped cavity in your heart. 

It gushes quite a bit, because Alexia is strong and big and capable of damaging you to this extent. You reckon your surprise is foolish but fuck off, you’re trying your best. 

Comfortingly, not one scrap of red velvet is visible once the audience is ushered inside the theatre. 

It’s beautiful here; small, old. The perfect place to fall in love, just as you did. Or at least, experience the good part through deliciously talented actors and a stellar script (your horn has been tooted enough times for you to give it a go). 

Fear creeps up your legs as you take your seat in the front row, guarded by friends and family and proud English teachers who’d believe in you, but you take another sip and it simmers down. 

“Careful,” whispers your mum, shoulder nudging yours as you place your plastic cup (no glass in the auditorium) on the patterned carpet just as the show is about to begin. “You’ll not remember this if you don’t take a break.” 

And you’re halfway to announcing you don’t want to remember anything at all when the curtain goes up and a woman walks onto stage. 

It’s sobering. 

The audience is restlessly quiet, anticipating the brilliance they’ve been promised with an impatience that demands to be sated, but the actress takes her sweet time. 

She walks from stage left to stage right, then up and down. She’s passively searching for something. 

Someone. 

(It’s the fucking point, and you knew this would happen because you typed out these exact stage directions once upon a time. Alexia had misplaced a sock – a lucky sock, she claimed – and her passion, her desire to discover it, had weirdly morphed into a scene you could see being played out on a stage.) 

“Figure this out later,” speaks the actress with a satisfied smile, folding her arms over her chest. Finally, the audience’s breaths catch, enraptured by the vaguest cop-out of opening lines you could’ve chosen. 

They love it, though; they lean forwards in their seats as they are plucked from London and dropped into the middle of Barcelona. It’s mildly unnerving that you can’t escape the journey, clearly a member of the audience even if you don’t need to be told the story, but you land without the masses in the rows behind you. 

You land right into Alexia’s arms. 

There she is before you, in all her glory, proudly displaying the blue and red that she is so admirably dedicated to. Muscular and tanned, beautiful in the way that she always is, but shining brighter than just that. 

And you fucking hate it. 

When you imagine Alexia, you imagine her crippled and bed-ridden. Cracked knuckles come to mind, too, and she can barely speak without descending into rattling sobs that hack on and on until she somehow falls into fitful rest. 

You come prepared for absolution, expecting to see her dying just as you are, so it’s no wonder that your fists clench at her blasé declaration of “no regrets”. 

(By the way, Alexia’s not really there. You’d been stalking her Instagram and so that’s why she’s wearing her training kit, and… and you’re drunk!)

There are many things you’d like to say to her. 

Alexia had always been apprehensive of your relationship. She was closed-off to new people, and though she was certain of your importance to her, she was untrusting of much else. It happens when you’re famous; there are many wrong turns to take. And she needed to stay on the right path. 

It was impossible to pass Alexia’s test. 

For you, that is clear. Broken up with, told to leave and never come back, and begged to find someone else are not descriptors of the winner, nor she who achieved full marks. You’re a bit of a stranger to failing, but you’re trying to forget about it so that it never happens again. 

You’re breaking a sweat trying to banish her from your brain, barely registering the applause rippling through the theatre as you reach the interval. Trying to get her out of your head is like tugging at your intestines – a hand down your throat renders you dumb, and pains sears through your stomach as you are emptied and left to be a carcass.

“Is it good?” you ask your mum as you head to the bar in the foyer. 

“I wish you had let me meet her.” 

…

Alexia has never been to London outside of football before. She’s played in the north and in the south – she’s won every time – and it’s summery enough right now, but she is still a foreigner in the city. 

It’s fitting, this feeling of being lost, and it’s acceptable to feel it here because she has an excuse. Lost in Barcelona would be ridiculous. 

(But she is.) 

Why is Alexia in London when she could be in Spain? 

Well the only answer is that she has a ticket to a play in a theatre just off the West End that reminds her of someone she once loved. 

She thought it might help, seeing as she hasn’t scored a goal in four weeks with no assists to excuse the drought. Her manager gladly gave her the weekend to recharge, and she escapes matchday seven of Liga F under the guise of illness. 

While sleeping with your pillow, your t-shirt, she must have absorbed whatever the fuck you were on. By osmosis. 

That block. 

And now she has to act like she can’t read your mind. 

Her ticket, acquired last minute by a friend in high places as a massive favour, means that she has a front row seat to a damned play. She is well-prepared for the dread that wrenches her gut. 

The silence settling over her is uncomfortable and impatient, and the lights go down with a sense of impending doom. It’s a bit like being on death row, Alexia thinks. Here she gets to see the good things – a last meal of whatever she would like (you, of course that’s you) – but it is only because of her inevitable execution that this happens. 

The necklace hanging from her collarbones is a noose, the seat is a wooden box about to be kicked out from underneath her, and she needs to make her decision now: does she scream? Should she– 

She’s pulled out of her insanely dramatic spiral by a woman walking onto the stage. 

Her shoulders are hunched slightly and she has that look in her eye; that pang of hunger. 

The actress is recognisable, sure, but that is not the familiarity that strikes Alexia. 

It’s the character. 

It’s you. 

Walking from right to left, towards the back, down to the front, the actress is desperately searching for something. 

Inspiration, Alexia assumes, a smug smile briefly brushing her lips as the opening line breaks the tense silence. 

“Figure this out later,” you say. 

The actress is experienced but she has never read a script like yours before. It moved her to tears, though you claimed it was very happy. 

She lies awake at night, furiously envying those who could love like you do. 

She pities you, partly, because it’s no secret that the story of this love ended when you came here to put the show on. 

She has had to fall in love with someone – method acting, according to the director. 

It’s not quite the universe exploding and stars being born that your relationship must have been, but it’s alright and she is glad to see him in the audience. 

He’s next to a woman who does not seem to be enamoured by the beauty of the plot. 

A woman who seems absolutely fucking horrified. 

Her eyes are wide, fists clenched.

You – the real you – are watching Alexia with curiosity, more interested in her reaction to the play than the play itself. You wonder if she knows the significance of tonight; the reason you are here once more. 

In one month, the set and costumes will be packed up in boxes and taken onto the main street. 

It’s a dream come true. 

You’re here to announce the good news at the end of the show. 

…

“Alexia.” 

She tries not to turn around but she does. 

The night is cool and fresher than she’d expected the London pollution to allow, and the lamp posts are scarily looming over her as she forces herself to not run into your arms. You don’t wear a coat, although your year in Barcelona has borne a certain nostalgia for a warmer climate, but Alexia is wrapped up warm. 

“How… how are you doing?” 

You cringe at how apologetic it sounds. She broke up with you. 

There is a year that will be forever lost to love and happiness, bliss in Barcelona that was always going to be too good to be true. 

There is a year that you will never get back, but there is a breakup you must deal with. 

It’s not a brick wall, it’s a hurdle to jump over. 

Breaking up won’t be the end of your worlds. 

Knowing this, despite the weakness in her knees and the aching of her heart, Alexia lies. For your sake, she lies. 

“I’m good. It’s nice to see you.” 

You’re drowning but you’ll eventually remember how to swim. 

“You too,” you say with formulated sincerity that one day will grow naturally. “Score a goal next time you play, though.” 

[jagruti2020]

[ohthewh0rror]

NOVEMBER.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — A sneak peak into a random day with your boyfriend.

Pairing: Tom R. x Reader / Matteo R. X Reader / Theo Nott x Reader / Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

TOM R.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, giving yourself one final look over. Finding nothing out of place, you stood there and just stared at your reflection for a minute. Today was always difficult for you, a day you both dreaded and looked forward to. Today was the second Saturday of the month, the day you reserved for visiting your little sister's grave. It’s a tradition you’ve held since she passed away 3 years ago.

For a long time you didn’t tell Tom about what you did, not wanting anyone else there while you grieved, but you finally came clean last week. Tom was someone you were very serious about and it was time he knew, you didn’t invite him, and you doubt he remembered, so you didn’t have any expectations of him going with you.

Still, it hurt a little that he wasn’t there. You knew his job took up a lot of his time, but you were hoping he’d make an excuse to leave for the day and be there for you. Swallowing your disappointment, you apparated to your family cemetery, just outside the gates. As the world came into focus you saw that you weren’t alone. There stood Tom, flowers in hand, waiting outside the gates for you. You walked up to him, tears already threatening to cloud your vision.

“You remembered…” your voice trailed off, biting the inside of your cheek to try and keep your composure. Tom gave you a slight smile, holding his hand out for you to take, “of course I remembered, it’s important to you, so now it’s important to me too.”

Taking his hand, you walked in with him, beginning to tell him about her.

DRACO M.

“Give me my shirt back,” Draco's voice sounded defeated as you held the shirt hostage behind your back. I knew this game wouldn’t last long, Draco was much taller, and though you hated to admit it, faster than you as well. Despite being at a disadvantage you couldn’t help but want to tease him.

Was it really so bad to want your shirtless boyfriend to chase after you? You didn’t think so.

“Y/N…” there was a warning in the way he said your name. A warning that you were in for it if you didn’t return his shirt. But, instead of scaring you, his voice sent a thrill up your spine. Your heart raced as you bit your lip, anticipating what was in store for you. You shook your head no, and took a slow step back.

Draco stared at you for a beat before rushing towards you. A high-pitched squeal left you as you turned, bolting towards the door. You’d only made it two feet out the door of his dorm when Draco’s arms wrapped around your waist, flinging you over his shoulder. “N-no! Put me down!” You exclaimed through hysterical laughter, fist hitting his back.

“You had your chance to do the right thing,” Draco told you, walking back into his dorm, the door slamming shut and locking behind the two of you.

MATTHEO R.

Mattheo wasn’t sure what to say to you that wouldn’t further piss you off. He knew you didn’t like when he let his jealousy cause issues, especially on nights that were supposed to be for going out and having a good time. But, when he returned with your drinks and saw a nameless wizard flirting with you, all he felt was the flames of red-hot anger sizzling away any rational thoughts he had.

Mattheo kept his cool as walked up to the two of you. He could tell the wizard was annoyed by his interruption, but the man didn’t say anything to him. Mattheo set your drink down in front of you before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Mattheo could see you about to say something as soon as he pulled away, but before you got the chance to try and ease Mattheo’s anger, he had picked his own drink up, throwing it in the man’s face.

Tightening his grip on the heavy glass mug, while the man was temporarily blinded by alcohol, Mattheo swung and hit the man in the face. The man cried, falling back onto his ass, grabbing his face. Immediately, Mattheo was on top of the man, mug gone, settling on hitting him with his fist. Mattheo heard you yelling for him to stop, before he felt a spell hit his shoulder, knocking him off the man.

Now, after being kicked out and forced to calm down, Mattheo busied himself kicking rocks as you two walked to an apparation point. “Why did you have to do that, Mattheo?!” You sounded pissed, but at least you were talking to him now. “Because he had the audacity to flirt with my wife!” Mattheo exclaimed, trying to defend himself. You stopped, a look of disbelief on your face, “mattheo…really? We aren’t even married.”

“Yet.” Mattheo mumbled, not being able to bring himself to look at you, instead busing himself with pebbles again. You scoffed, walking off, leaving behind.

“Y/N! Wait!”

THEO N.

Theo was a big baby when he was sick. He didn’t get sick often, but you truly hated when it did happen. He was clingy and whiny, wanting all your attention. Which is how you ended up in bed with a sick Theo.

There was no doubt you were going to be sick tomorrow, Theo’s long limbs entangled with yours under the sheets. His head, clammy and hot to the touch resting on your chest, as you played with his soft brown hair. You felt bad as you heard his chest rattling with every breath. “Do you need anything?” You asked him, your voice barely above a whisper. Theo looked at you, chin resting on your chest, “can I have a kiss?”.

It took everything in you not to laugh in his face. That’s really what he wanted? No potion, no water, no soup, but instead a kiss? This man was something else. “Baby, I don’t want to get sick myself,” you told him. Though, you both knew that you were already doomed. Theo laid his head back down on your chest, but his head craned backwards, his lips puckered.

Tapping his puckered lips, teasing you, he waited for you to plant a kiss on him. You let out a laugh in disbelief, but gave in, giving him peck. Content, he cuddled back into you, falling asleep.

He’s lucky you love him.

[hmusunoo]

𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

desc. │ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴏ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰʏ ᴄᴀʙɪɴ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’ꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴛᴇ? ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ.

warnings. │ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴍᴅɴɪ. ᴘᴡᴘ, ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʏᴇᴏɴᴊᴜɴ’ꜱ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ. ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ.

pairings. │ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ꜱᴏᴏʙɪɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

"Come on, Yeonjun hurry the fuck up." You cursed to yourself looking out the window of the small cabin you currently occupied, along side your older brother Yeonjun's best friend Soobin. The most infuriating person you have ever had the disadvantage of knowing.

Your phone was sent to voicemail once again, the snow storm raging outside probably effecting cell towers in the area.

"Still not answering?" Soobin asked, his voice low in an annoyed tone. It made your teeth grind at the sound. You rolled your eyes at him before muttering a "Obviously".

Soon scoffed before putting the phone to his ear in what you assume was calling Yeonjun.

"The storm is affecting the connection" You told him "Its not going to wo-"

"Hello?" Soobin asked into the phone, your jaw fell in shock and annoyance.

"No way he answered" You said plopping down on the couch next to Soobin trying to hear Yeonjun's voice on the other line. Soobin scooted away from you probably trying to annoy you further.

"Stop! I'm trying to hear him!" You whined scooting closer to him again, all the way until he was up against the edge of the couch with nowhere to go. You muffled voices on the other end of the phone but you couldn't quite place what was being said.

"Really?" soobin groaned out in response to something Yeonjun was saying. "What?" You asked impatiently trying your hardest to understand what the hell was going on.

"Ok." Soobin nodded "I guess I can try" He said in an exasperated tone. You were starting to get even more annoyed at the lack of information you were getting.

"Alright I'll see you tomorrow hopefully" Soobin said again. Your eyes widened in shock at his words. "Tomorrow?!" You shrieked out causing Soobin to side eye you at the loud noise. You didn't really care though, he should be filling you in on what was going on instead of being an asshole and completely ignoring you.

Soobin hung up the phone with Yeonjun with the shake of his head. But he gave no leeway to what was it that Yeonjun had said.

"Um" You muttered "What did he say?" The disdain in your voice was evident.

"He won't be back tonight" Soobin said with a nonchalant swag that pissed you off.

"Did he say why?" You asked him, to which he rolled his eyes at furthering your annoyance with him.

"Look at the storm y/nie why do you think he's not coming back?" His voice and the way he said it was pissing you off majorly coupled with the face that you were now stuck in this fucking cabin with him for god knows how long.

"Don't call me that asshole" You snapped at him.

"Y/nie Y/nie Y/nie" He repeated a shit eating grin on his stupid face.

"You're acting like a child" You spit out at him bitterly.

He just shrugged like the smug asshole he was and went back to ignoring you and scrolling on his phone. You let out a huff before getting up to go to the kitchen and find yourself. All you could do is try to make this night as enjoyable as possible and the only way you're probably going to do that is by ignoring Soobin and his jerk ways all night.

Or at least until Yeonjun can get back hopefully tomorrow, you definitely didn't want to be stuck with Soobin longer than you needed to be. You were starting to regret coming to this stupid Cabin with Yeonjun anyway.

It was supposed to be Yeonjun, Giselle, Soobin and yourself but Giselle backed out last minute for family reasons and you weren't able to get yourself out of it.

Yeonjun left to the store to get more snacks for the night and some alcohol to make things more interesting but obviously that didn't go as planned and he ended up getting stuck in the storm that we didn't realize was this bad, otherwise we wouldn't have sent him out to begin with.

You were just hoping and praying he was safe and warm, also a little angry that he didn't answer your phone call but instead answered Soobin's.

You detested Soobin with every bone in your body, you had ever since you were pre teens and Yeonjun brought him home claiming he was his best friend and that they were going to 'start a band together'. You thought they were so cool up until you heard Soobin talking badly about you to Yeonjun.

He claimed that you were clingy and that you were weird to follow them around all the time. It broke your heart, you were old enough to know that you had a tiny little crush on him, and to hear your crush say that you were annoying was too much for your little twelve year old heart.

As you grew older and became adults you couldn't stand Soobin's sheer arrogance and the way he acted like he was a god that you should kiss the ground he walked on. It was gross, the typical stuck up know it all that he was.

After grabbing a snack of peanut butter and apples you opened your phone and started scrolling on Instagram watching reels as you ate your snack. You sat on the couch as far away from Soobin as you can get continuing to scroll with tour volume at a mild setting.

"Can you turn that down" Soobin asked, you rolled your eyes licking the spoon with the peanut butter on it obnoxiously.

"It's not even loud. you'll be fine" You feel like being defiant and you definitely weren't going to let Soobin tell you what to do that was for fucking sure.

"Turn it down" Soobin grit his teeth at you, the annoyance on his face was almost comical.

"Nah" You said childishly, you were aware of how youthful you sounded but truthfully you didn't care. When it came to bothering Soobin you would do virtually anything to piss him off.

"Turn it down"

"No"

"Y/n, im not joking." You shrugged at his attempt at being serious with you, furthering his anger. He Jumped up from his seat on the couch launching at you in a split second. It took you completely off guard when in a half a second your phone was in Soobin's massive hand. He turned it off looking at you with a smirk on his face as if he won.

He may have won this battle but the war was far from over. With a growl of frustration you jumped up and onto soobin reaching for your phone that was now lain in his extended hand, far from you. You reached for it with all you might. Growing angrier and angrier as Soobin laughed from under you, enjoying you torment.

"You jerk!" You yelled continuing your movements in trying to grab the phone from him. "Give it back right fucking now!" As you continued to reach for your phone you felt something hard poke your leg.

In horror you looked down at Soobin, his face beat red at the realization of the situation.

Soobin was...Hard. As you crawled on top of him. In the blur of the movement frozen in place the power of all things decided to go out. Enveloping the entire cabin in pitch black.

In an awkward movement you got off Soobin's lap briefly brushing his hard-on on accident. You cringed at the hiss that came from his lips. "Um.." You mumbled awkwardly.

"We should grab the firewood" Soobin said lowly, his voice scratchy in what I assume was humiliation. You nodded your head even though you were sure he couldn't even see you. "Uh yeah let me turn on my phone flashlight"

After making some light for the two of you, you watched as Soobin gathered the firewood not saying a word to you after what had just transpired.

Finally after a few grueling minutes of awkward silence Soobin decided to speak "Are you going to just stand there or are you going to help me." His voice was full of annoyance. It made you angry.

He was the one that got a fucking hard on and made everything awkward.

"Looks like you got it just fine" You whipped back at him, not interested in his attitude.

"Of course you're just going to sit there and do nothing typical y/nie" Soobin spit out.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean" You were up and next to him at this point, red in the face from anger.

"You don't do anything. You never help your brother out with anything you're such a ... nuisance!" He was just as angry as you now. The light from the fire he started illuminating his face.

"I'm the nuisance?!" You asked in a shocked tone. Truly appalled at his audacity. "You're the one that was complaining that I was following you guys around and being annoying."

His eyes widened in a shock you can only assume was fake. There was no way he didn't know that he said that.

"I never said that" He said shocked, face written in confusion.

"Yes you did!" You shouted at him, you were beginning to get fed up with this conversation. Growing more annoyed every time he opened his mouth.

"I did not, why are you lying? What's your benefit" The back and forth of this conversation was really pissing you off. You scoffed at his blatant lie shaking your head at him.

"I'm not lying Soobin. You told Yeonjun when we were twelve that I was annoying, why would I help you ever?" Soobin's face turned to one of realization.

"Do you know how ridiculous you sound?" Soobin asked, tone softer but still with that annoyed lilt to it. "We were twelve y/n I don't even remember the things ive said two weeks ago much less then many years ago!"

"but you still feel the same way don't you. you still think im annoying so why does it matter." You taunted him. Raising your eyebrows at him.

"I never said that" He said softly "Do not put words in my mouth y/n."

"You did say it."

"Years ago, it doesn't count"

"It does to me" You threw back, waiting for when this argument was going to end, the two of you too stubborn to ket up on the other.

"That's stupid." He rolled his eyes. You stepped closer to him trying your hardest to get your point across. Narrowing your eyes at him you looked at him directly in the eyes trying your hardest to look intimidating. You weren't sure if it were actually working though.

"I hate you, and I don't understand why my brother even like-"

I was cut off by his sudden lips sudden lips on yours.

Soobin was kissing you.

Your body had a mind of its own deciding to kiss back vigorously. Your mouth moving against his with heat. His mouth opened slightly giving you a split second to insert your tongue into his mouth. His groan vibrated through your entire body lighting you up from the inside out.

Soon Soobin's hands where roaming your body soaking in the feels of your body against his. The soft moan you let out was barely heard over his heavy breathing. Your hands traveled the expanse of his body reaching for his sweatshirt and lifting it over his head.

"Wait wait" Soobin said disconnecting your lips from his and putting a slight distance from him. "Are you sure?" He asked. Your mind still hazy you nodded.

"Use your words" He said running his hands over your face brushing the hair that was in the way of his view oof you. "Yes I'm sure" You breathed out. All rational thoughts out the window the only thing you could focus on was Soobin and how his massive hands were roaming all over your body.

Soobin lowered your body to the ground the plush carpet underneath providing some warmth along with the blazing fireplace that you were both directly in front of.

You weren't sure how you were going to feel about this in the morning bur right now this was everything you've ever wanted and there was no way you were going back. Soobin must have felt the same urgency as he instantly went back to attaching his lips to your neck sucking on your sweet spot.

Your moan was high pitched and your body arched into his welcoming all his advances.

Using your hands you ran them along the expanse of his body lifting his hoodie up like you had intended to do a few minutes prior. He wore a plain white t-shirt underneath chain hanging from his throat. The cool material was a stark contrast to the burning of your heated skin under his fiery touch. His hands made quick work in getting your top off, your bra a close second.

"Beautiful" He mumbled looking down at your half naked body on display for him. You decided that he wasn't bare enough so you busied yourself by taking his white t-shirt off and his sweatpants followed suit the only thing left was his boxers.

His bulge protruding from his tight boxes had made your mouth water at the anticipation. If you were being honest with yourself you had never really thought of Soobin in such a sexual light before. You had never noticed how truly sexy he was. It was making your brain fuzzy.

Sure you had a crush on him as kid, but that ended quickly you were never able to grow into adulthood with him in mind in this way, it was liberating. It was like seeing the light for the very first time.

As quickly as he was naked he made sure that you were just as bare as him. When your panties were finally off Soobin decided to make the marvelous decision to attach his mouth to where you needed him most.

His tongue was hot against your core, you arched into him breathing heavier as he worked his magic over your clit. His hand traveled up to grope your breast in his hand, reaching up you placed your hand onto of his squeezing it slightly to add to the stimulation.

You felt as if you were on cloud nine. The moans leaving your lips like a mantra had only fueled Soobin along, sucking onto your clit with vigor.

"Fuck, fuck Soobin that feels so fucking good" You breathed out. It was a sound Soobin had truthfully thought about you making many times. If he wasn't already hard he would rock solid by now for sure.

The slurping of his mouth against had you seeing stars closer and closer to tipping over the edge every minute. "I'm going to cum" You panted still holding onto Soobin's hand over your breast. Your eyes were squeezed shut body still arched up.

Suddenly Soobin had pulled away from you causing a whine to fall from your lips. "Wha-"

"Shh" Soobin whispered at your protest "I'm going to fuck you now, is that ok?" He said, his voice husky as he leaned over you chain still dangling from his naked chest.

You nodded your head at him "Yes" You spoke, trying your hardest to not sound too eager.

"I don't have a condom" He spoke, grabbing his length in his hand to pump a few times.

"I'm on the pill" You spoke quickly trying to speed up the process. You needed to feel him now. "You can come inside of me"

Soobin let out a small groan at your words still lazily pumping his cock he neared the tip to your entrance slapping it a few times on your throbbing clit.

"Fuck that's hot" He moaned looking down at where the two of you were about to be connected.

"Fuck me already" You whined, if you had to wait even a minute longer you think you might actually explode.

Soobin let out a little laugh at your eagerness shaking his head playfully before he looked down readying himself to be inside of you. Slowly he pushed himself in, the stretch of his hurt just slightly but was mainly overpowered by the sheer explosive pleasure.

The two of you simultaneously let out a moan the feeling of him inside of you was delicious. Once he was stated all the way inside of you he looked down at you with wide eyes.

"This ok?" He asked running a hand down the side of your face cupping your cheeks with his massive hand.

"Please move" You moaned out running your hands up and down his toned chest. Soobin started thrusting slowly before find his footing and working at a faster harsher pace.

The slam of his hips against yours hand you seeing stars. "So good" Soobin mumbled angling his head down to attach his mouth to your breast lazily sucking on the pert nipple.

"Fuck you're so big" You hissed out your body on fire with his touch and the constant slam of his hips on yours.

"Yeah?" He asked a shit eating grin on his face "You like that baby?" The sudden pet name threw you for a loop. Clamping down on him as a response.

"fuck" you wheezed out "Yes, yes I do" You were chanting, your voice was definitely going to be horse after this. While in your fucked out state Soobin pulled out of you in a quick motion, once again taking your pleasure away without a single warning.

Soobin plopped down beside you motioning for you to get on top of him. Out of breath your maneuvered yourself to rest on top of him. Guiding his cock back into you. You quickly set a comfortable pace atop him.

Bouncing up and down watching as his face contorted in the utmost pleasure. Grabbing you by the hips Soobin planted his feet firm on the floor on the cabin and started rutting into you at a faster pace then when he was on top of you just a few minutes ago.

"Holy fuck" You sobbed, falling forward on his chest as you allowed him to use your body any which way he pleased. "Fuck fuck fuck" You chanted the words falling from your tongue without any real thought.

"You're so fucking tight. Squeezing me so much baby" Soobin mumbled continuing to abuse your hole with his cock.

"I'm going to cum." You moaned out stuffing your face into Soobin's neck. His relentless pace didn't falter, if anything your need to cum only fueled his vigorous movements from under you.

"Oh my god!" You were so near tipping over the edge. Nearly sobbing from the pleasure Soobin was giving you.

"I'm almost there" Soobin said, his thrusting becoming sloppy and un coordinated. Soon you felt the knot that was wound so tight snap and your climax was there. Washing over you entire body like a single tidal wave. Your body shook with the aftermath of your orgasm still lingering.

"Oh f-fuck" Soobin said landing a few sharp thrusts inside of you before spilling his spend inside of you like you told him to do. You collapsed on top of Soobin catching your breath while resting your head on his chest.

After a few minutes of sitting in the silence, listening to Soobin's rapid heartbeat and the crackling fire Soobin lifted his head. "Let me clean you up" He spoke softly.

You rose from your spot on top of him as he got up to grab a washcloth from the couch.

As he came back and helped you cleaned up your mind started too reel. The realization of what had just happened had hit you like a truck. Oddly enough you did not regret it for a single second. You had felt comfortable with him even, all the worries of him finding you annoying washing away.

If you knew anything about Soobin it was that he was not the fuck and forget about it type, whatever happened too relationship after this was unknown but for some odd reason you had a feeling about what was to come.

After cleaning up both Soobin and yourself were obviously tired from all your activities. You had grabbed blankets and made a little bed on the floor next to the crackling fire, that being your only source of heat since the power was still out in the cabin. Cuddling up next to Soobin you had drifted off to sleep no thoughts in your head besides the content feeling you had felt ini this very moment.

"Oh god!" The sound of a voice had awoken you from your very peaceful sleep cuddle up next to Soobin.

Yeonjun was stood in the entry way to the living room staring at the two of you cuddled up together. The reality of what happened last night very evident.

"When I said get along I didn't mean to sleep together!" Yeonjun looked horrified at you both, a ghost of a smile on his face at the fact that finally his best friend and younger sister were finally getting along.

Maybe too well it seemed.

Taglist- @jooniesbears-blog, @kkamismom12 @vixensss, @st1llm0nster @jenos-eye-smiles @shypen @firstclassjaylee @dreamiestay @missychief1404 @blossommi

[leonw4nter]

So High School

RE4R!Leon x GN!Reader

You’d think that you would’ve learned a thing or two from making bets while tipsy and buzzing with liquid courage while intoxicated during your time in university, stupid decisions with their stupid outcomes ingrained in your head every time the tequila started to taste like water, which meant that it’s probably time to pay the tab and try to head home in one piece. A drunk man’s words really must be a sober man’s thoughts, the alcohol doing the final push to make the first move you’ve dreamed of doing towards your mysterious roommate, Leon. Him being gone for most of the time and for uncertain lengths of time gave you plenty of time to get it together and rehearse asking him for a coffee but whenever he was around, in the same space as you, it’s as if you never gathered the courage to talk to him.

“Basketball?” Leon echoed, slight confusion on his angular features as he nursed a glass of whiskey. “You sure?”

“‘Course,” you confidently respond, shooting him a sure grin. “Jus’ because I’m built like this doesn’t mean I don’t know how to ball.”

Leon chuckles, nodding before he shoots what remains in his glass. “That’s a bet. Loser buys the winner dinner, right?”

You throw him a clumsy thumbs-up. He inches closer towards you and holds his hand out for you to shake. “Gotta make it official.”

A handshake seals the deal, along with the fate that will befall you a few days later after he’s finally free from whatever work kept him occupied.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Now you’re digging around your wardrobe, looking for any sports-friendly clothing. You rarely work out or take some time off, very much out of shape so you’re already at a massive disadvantage with Leon. The man probably works out every single day, carrying the heaviest weights they have in the gym. Maybe even Leg Day’s golden boy, seeing how his thighs bulge within the confines of his pants and the way his calves looked sturdy as hell. If he somehow doesn’t know the nitty gritty of basketball and only knows the basic dribbling, you’re still going to be on the losing side because he’s got stamina and endurance that would last him hours, days even. He’s got height advantage too and it’s not that you’re tiny, it’s just going to be impossible to shoot with a skyscraper blocking the ball. Then again, it’s not like the ball will make it inside the ring even if he wasn’t doing anything to block it.

“Why’d I make that stupid, stupid bet?” You hiss to yourself as you finally snag a pair of black cotton fleece shorts. It still seemed to fit you so you threw it on the bed, moving to look for a top and some shoes to pair it with. “I’m going to lock myself in my room if I’m going to drink with him around.”

Taken over by indecisiveness yet still determined to look good while sweaty in terms of outfit choice, you decide to phone your friend for some advice. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. What’s up?”

“I’m going to play basketball in… 15 minutes and I don’t know what to pair with my shorts.” You show it off inside the frame, twirling around as your friend looks on.

“It’s just shorts, you can pair it with anything. Why’s it so hard for you?”

“You don’t get it, man. I need to look perfect, even when I’m sweaty and smelly and tomato red–”

“Are you seeing someone?!”

“What? No! Well, I mean… I think they look good and ya know, I might have to buy him dinner because there’s no way I’m winning this.”

“Buy him dinner? Oh wait, this is the bet thing right–”

“Yeah… I’m never going to drink again, actually. This is the dumbest, stupidest decision of my life.”

“You’ve said that a million times but still drank and got drunk. Look where we are now.”

“Hey! I’m serious this time! And help me plan out an outfit!”

“Well shit, I dunno! A v-neck tee and a pair of Converse sneakers, simple but you’ll look cute. Right! Make the sneakers high cut.”

“Oh my god, thanks! I think I got those–”

A few gentle knocks tap against your door, Leon on the other side. You quickly skip to the door, not opening it too generously in order to block out the sight of your clothes lying everywhere on the side of your dresser.

“I hope you didn’t forget about the deal you made,” he says with a confident smirk. “I’m looking forward to dinner actually.”

You wanted to tell him that you were in the process of getting ready, having picked out what you’ll wear. You wanted to tell him that you’ll be ready in a few, bag loaded with a spare shirt and towels slung over your shoulder but the response stays frozen in your mind, unable to escape your mouth; if you tilt your head down and dare to look somewhere south, you’ll first be greeted by two blocks of solid square muscle straining through the black, short-sleeved shirt he wore, the color slightly faded with the amount of times he must’ve worn it. The real magnet, however, was the gray sweatpants he chose to wear. Nasty, filthy images flashed through your head as soon as you caught a glimpse of gray, shaking your head to clear your brain. He topped the look off with a neat pair of gray high top Converse sneakers, the shoes not worn that much since it looked newly bought.

“You didn’t back out, did you?” Leon chuckles, sending you back to Earth. “It’s okay if you did, I don’t wanna–”

“Naw, of course not! I was just about to get ready, sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“Great, I’ll be waiting in the living room. I’ll fill up our bottles while you get dressed, also got the ball ready. Borrowed it from a friend,” he says as he points to the ball kept in the nook of his curled muscular arm.

You give him a thumbs up, closing the door as he turns around to head to the direction of the living room. Skipping to your phone and seeing that you haven’t dropped the call yet, you quickly explain what happened to your friend and end it, chucking it inside your bag as you get ready.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“This outfit has got to be a distraction tactic,” you think to yourself as you walk to the outdoor court alongside Leon, occasionally dribbling the ball. “This man knows that gray sweats are a distraction and I’m going to end up focusing on the ball that is definitely not on his hand!”

If Leon did in fact decide on his current choice of clothing as a form of distraction, it might just work on you and you dislike the fact that it’s already working before the game even began.

“I like your shoes,” he says as he gestures to the pink sneakers you chose to wear in order to contrast the white and black of your upper clothing. “It suits you well.”

You mumble a thank you, also complimenting him. “You look good in sneakers too, I think you should wear it more often.”

His twinkling laughter kicks you in the back of the knee, weak from how fuzzy it made you feel. He nods and takes a mental note before he looks back down at his shoes, glad that you noticed the influence of your fashion choices on him. 10 minutes later, you two reach the court. Chucking your bags to a quiet corner of the court, the two of you head to the middle of the court; Leon passes you the ball, giving you a headstart to try and score your first point.

“I take it that you know the rules?” He asks as he moves into a defensive stance, crouching down slightly with bent knees.

“Yup,” you respond before not wasting any time and running to his side of the ring to shoot the ball. To no one’s surprise, the ball does a little twirl right at the rim before falling back down only to be snagged by Leon’s large hand without warning. “Hey!” you squeal, running after him. He waits for you to catch up with him before he makes a jump shot, sending the ball flying and into the ring as a satisfying thwoop follows the ball's entry in the net.

He easily gains four points ahead, dodging, turning, and expertly dribbling to trick you into thinking that he let the ball out of his sight. You can’t even be frustrated that you haven’t gotten a single point ever since the game started, too delighted in the genuine laughter and giggles coming from Leon; his smiles were sparse, blue eyes an ocean storm each time he came home. A rare smile would leave just as quick you caught one on his face, his face returning to look troubled but this time, he looked free and happier than you usually see him. Now, he gained an additional 3 points and grew even cockier with the wide gap of scores, along with the non-existent possibility of you winning over him. Despite your glee at seeing Leon look relaxed, you wanted to at least end the game with a point to your name. Leon didn’t mention anything about playing dirty and although he didn’t mention it because he assumed that you knew the rules and playing dirty was automatically out of the cards, you couldn’t help but feel a little devious.

Just as Leon softly nudged you, you over exaggerated a bent ankle and fell down, most of the impact centered on the heel of your palms. Though it hurt, it didn’t hurt too badly but Leon still let go of the ball and rushed to your side, the smile disappearing as he saw you sat on the ground.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he assessed your ankle, knee, and hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

You got up and ran after the ball, pushing down the guilt that started to bubble up when you saw the hurt and fear that crossed Leon’s face. Finally, you caught up with the ball and dribbled it as you ran towards the hoop, jumping to shoot it. You expected an effort in vain, the ball to simply dance around the ring before dropping down but fortunately for you, the ball went inside the ring. Satisfied with ending the game at a single point for you, you flop down to the ground as you catch your breath. Leon skips up behind you, sitting by your side before he lays back on the dusty ground alongside you.

“Hey,” he pants as he catches his breath. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Didn’t say anything about playing dirty,” you quip as you tilt your head to face him.

“Played dirty but you still didn’t win, that’s a damn shame.” He says as he also tilts his own head to face you, a small smile dancing on his lips. He seems to have smiled a lot that day, you note. “I won, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Oh shut up, don’t let it get to your head… and, uh… um… thanks for being concerned for me, when I faked falling earlier. Felt kinda bad to be lying to you.”

“Hey, no biggie. I’m thankful that this one’s fake, most people on the ground that I see at work are beyond helping so I’m glad that you’re fine.”

Your eyes widen, his words triggering concern from you. Work? People on the ground beyond helping? Just what is this guy’s job? He doesn’t explain more about his job so you don’t pry for more, waiting for the time that he’s a lot more comfortable around you to share if he wishes to.

“So,” you say to change the subject. “What kinda dinner do you want? Nothing too expensive, though.”

“A dinner with you,” he smoothly responds. You sit up, resting your weight on your arms.

“Huh?”

“I want dinner with you. Anywhere, just take me out to dinner. A date, if that’s what you want to call it. Please.”

You stay silent, taking the time to process his words. He hasn’t shown a sliver of attraction towards you so his words take you by surprise but you’re pleased– very pleased.

“A date,” you quietly echo. “Sure, sounds nice.”

“When are you free?”

“On the 20th.”

“Me too.”

“So… that’s a date then?”

He nods, grinning. He gets up first, extending a hand to you as you both begin the walk back home.

NOTE - Not rlly sure on how to end this so it ended on a meh note 😭🙏 Writer's block got my ass, unfortunately. Anyways, I think I need to get my jaw checked bc the left side of my jaw clicks and hurts when I open my mouth widely to yawn or brush my teeth so yea :3 Almost forgot to mention that the title is based off of "So High School" by TS. I gotta feed my DMC readers in AO3 too so I'll dedicate some time to cooking something for them before returning to posting more Leon fics :3 Found out Laufey has a boyfriend and I fell to my knees as if I had a chance with her in the first place but I'm still very happy that she's finally found love and trusts someone enough to treat her well. Anyways, thank you for reading my fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I <333333333 UUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers (the ones with the heart and star) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[storiesofsvu]

Gorgeous Girl

Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: teasing, alcohol consumption smut, heavy petting, make outs, nothing too kinky this time lol.

For once, being out of town for work wasn’t because you were chasing down some deranged serial killer in a distant state resulting in far too little sleep, far too much shitty coffee and coming home more exhausted than you left. While this week was technically still work, there was far less of it, a week of conferences, an hour or two of speaking and you could dodge all the rest out at a luxury sky resort in Breckenridge, Colorado. Two agents from the BAU were required to attend and you and Emily had pulled the ‘short’ straws (depending how you looked at it, of course). Some members of the team thought a week like that would be absolute torture, others thought it would just be too boring, or that having to socialize with that many other agents while representing the BAU was a walking nightmare. To you, the only disadvantage was that you weren’t taking the jet, the remainder of the team needed it, you’d be flying commercial.

You and Emily, however, were more than well prepared to have a girl’s week together off in the mountains, escaping into the small town to see what kind of fun you could find. You’d even splurged, using a bit of your own money to get a larger suite, one with a hot tub on the private balcony overlooking the mountains. One that you planned on drinking bottles of wine together in while gossiping and trash talking.

Which is why you were so surprised when you rounded the corner to your gate.

“Hotch?” You froze on the spot, confusion taking over your face at the sight of your Unit Chief standing in front of you. “Where’s Em? God, does Strauss think we need a babysitter or something?”

“No.” He chuckled at your instant annoyance, “Prentiss got specially requested for a case in New York.”

“Who has the power to pull that?”

“Her mother.”

“Ugh.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. The surprise was wearing off and you suddenly shifted uncomfortably, pulling your blazer tighter around you, feeling Hotch’s eyes on you.

It wasn’t that the man made you feel uncomfortable, no it certainly wasn’t that. It was that he made you feel absolutely flustered. Nights when you laid alone in your empty bed unable to sleep and your hands danced their way down your body, it was him that you were thinking of, pretending they were his fingers touching you, stretching you out. That it wasn’t a silicone toy but his cock filling you so perfectly while he husked dirty words into your ear. As a result, you generally kept your head down around him, did your work and went about your life. He wasn’t totally sure that if it was that you just didn’t like him, if there was some underlying issue you had with men in power, or if it was simply that you were attempting to respect his authority.

“Sorry,” he suddenly spoke, “for ruining whatever plans you and Prentiss had. I know the two of you are close.”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, staring out the airport window “s’okay.”

“When we get there I’ll see about upgrading, try and get adjoining rooms or something.”

“Already did that.” Your eyes flicked back to him briefly, “got one of the larger two bedroom suites that close off with like, French doors or whatever. We were planning on,” your cheeks flushed suddenly, realizing you were about to admit to your boss that you were going to play hooky, “taking…advantage of as many amenities as we could.”

“Hmm.” He chuckled, watching the way you quickly looked away so you could watch the planes drive around on the tarmac, basically refusing to look at him, “I’m sure that was all Prentiss’ plan.” That earned a huff of a laugh from you but you still didn’t dare look him in the eye, “do you have any idea how many of these things I’ve been to over the years? Guess how many times I’ve ditched out on them.” He smiled softly when your eyes flicked back to him, “places like this always have the best scotch, and the bonus is that it’s free.”

You swore he winked at you, a grin on his face that sent tingles shooting through your body and you were incredibly thankful when they suddenly announced boarding. At the very least, you and Emily had also upgraded to business class, you wouldn’t have to worry about minimal personal space for the flight, there’d be a barrier between you and Hotch. While you were distracted with your phone, he’d managed to disappear and you weren’t entirely sure where to, but you took the opportunity to open your text messages.

‘I cannot believe you.’

‘Oh come on, like I’m happy about this either. A week with my mother?! Who’d they end up sending?’

‘Hotch…’

You didn’t have to imagine Emily’s laughter, you could practically feel it through the phone as the three little dots popped up, disappeared and then popped up again. She, of course, was the only one who knew about your crush on Hotchner, she’d been planning on teasing you about it all week, hoping that maybe you’d find some other brooding FBI agent to get under while out of town.

‘Maybe that’ll work out for you. You can enjoy the view and the hot tub with him, have a nice romantic weekend.’

‘I fucking hate you.’

*

The first two days of the conference were fine, you stayed out of Aaron’s way, went to the presentations you were speaking at and did the required amount of socializing. You found that he was usually gone before you in the mornings, but there was always fresh coffee in the pot waiting for you. He made sure to respect your space as much as he could, if he swung by the suite to change in the afternoon and you were there he wouldn’t linger, and he’d make sure to change in the bathroom.

Day three was a little more on the tedious side, sitting through a lecture you would have rather slept through, one that was meant more for younger agents but they’d asked someone from the BAU to sit in and help with the question period. You ran into Hotch at lunch and he inquired about your plans for the rest of the day now that the mandatory attendance parts were done, asking if maybe you wanted to explore the mountain town, maybe grab some dinner outside of the resort. You laughed awkwardly, praying your cheeks weren’t as hot as they felt and politely declined, he shrugged, teasing that you would be missing out, but to enjoy your night in. You were incredibly glad he wandered off after that, the butterflies in your stomach nearly too much to handle as you got accustomed to the more casual version of your boss.

Dinner was spent with an old friend from the academy, laughing as you caught up over multiple courses and a bottle of wine. You said an early goodnight to them, making your way back to your suite, happy to find it empty and your eyes drifted through the balcony window, lingering on the hot tub. Figuring there was no better time but the present you quickly stripped, changing into your bikini before swiping a bottle of wine from the fridge and a spare wine glass.

*

Aaron also ended up running into a couple of old friends while out in the town, friends who had worked this conference in the past and knew exactly where to go for the best meals and fanciest scotch. Free from the responsibility of running a team he had stated to loosen up on this work vacation, a little rougher around the edges, inhibitions lowered and that all remained when he returned to the hotel room. Toeing out of his shoes he hung up his coat before starting to unbutton his shirt as he moved through the room, wondering what was stashed in the bar that he could indulge into now, potentially coerce you into a drink with him at the very least.

He could hear music echoing from the balcony and his gaze got pulled out there where he caught sight of the steam rising from the hot tub into the cool night air. His eyes lingered on you, nestled in the corner of the tub you were fully settled into the padded seat, arms extended across the backs of it, your head titled back with your eyes closed as you relaxed, hair pulled up to the top of your head to keep it dry. He could see the shimmer of water and sweat on your skin and he instantly wanted to lick up the exposed column of your neck. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes sunk lower, not missing the curve of your chest just visible above the water, hot pink fabric clinging to your skin. You were at a complete level of peace that he’d never seen before and he couldn’t help but want to see more of it, want to explore how far he could push your boundaries and began to wonder just how professional he had to remain on this retreat.

Though of course, that had technically been his idea from the start.

As soon as Ambassador Prentiss called, Emily was groaning about how much of a waste it was that she was missing the conference. It only took a raised brow from him to get her to admit the plan was to ditch as much as the two of you could, that you’d splurged for the all inclusive package and a very private balcony and jacuzzi. He wasn’t assigned to take her place, and he didn’t jump at the offer to make it not so obvious, but no one else knew about the extra perks so he simply looked like he was taking one for the team.

Figuring it was now or never he retreated to his side of the suite, changing into his trunks before swiping a bottle of scotch and a glass.

You were more relaxed than you had been in ages, warm water bubbling around your body as the wine sunk into your system. The music soothed through you, pulling you further from reality and honestly, it was pretty nice to not be chasing after some psychopath right now, even if you were still kinda surrounded by talks of crime. You were almost considering calling Emily, checking in on how things were going with the team, updating her on how things were going here, no doubt she’d have mountains of questions and teasing about you sharing a suite with Hotch.

And that was exactly how and why you didn’t hear him come out onto the terrace.

“Think you can warm me up?”

His deep voice shook through the night air and you jumped, water splashing around you as your heart nearly burst through your chest while your eyes flew open.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You swore, chest heaving as you finally took him in, trying not to gulp at his bare chest, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry.” He chuckled, ducking his gaze for a moment, watching the way you sunk further under the water to avoid his lingering eyes, “you mind if I join? Or I can come back later.” He lifted the bottle of liquor in his hand, “just thought maybe we could have a drink.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You shook your head, “that’s fine, come on in.” You shifted further into the corner of the tub, turning your back while Hotch got into the water, wiping your hands on the towel to check your phone, unsurprised to have a couple of messages from Em. Once the water settled, you refilled your wine glass, turning back to face him as you sunk into the seat again.

“This is nice.” He murmured softly, letting out a relaxed sigh before pouring out a drink, “you and Prentiss really have a hack for these conferences.”

“Mmmhmm.” You replied over the brim of your glass, taking a hefty swig.

“You get up to anything fun tonight?”

“Ran into a friend. Had dinner at the steakhouse downstairs.”

Hotch frowned lightly, he didn’t miss the way you’d tensed up a little bit once you’d realized he was there, once he was in such close proximity and under the water with you. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back later? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” You practically yelped, grimacing at how quick you were to keep him there, “I’m fine. Totally fine, promise. I just… you’re… my boss.” Your gaze was redirected into your wine glass, “never really seen you in anything other than a suit and now…” You blindly gestured in his direction and then to yourself with a little laugh, “and I don’t think a pink bikini is exactly business casual and it’s not exactly my classiest one… thought Em would be the only one seeing it.” You muttered and then let out a little gasp, suddenly glancing up, “not that I brought it so she could see it! We’re not… that’s… no… we’re friends, I don’t swing that way.”

This time Aaron laughed, taking a sip of his drink, “it’s fine. You need to relax, alright?” He raised his drink out to you and you timidly clinked your glass with his. “Enjoy this while you can.” He gestured to the view, the night sky painting the mountains in gorgeous colours, “besides,” he smirked across at you, “I’ve seen you undercover and a few of those outfits leave very little to the imagination.”

You glanced up to him, noticing the flush in his cheeks, the smirk on his lips before he took another swig of his drink. There was a gleam in his eye that you hadn’t seen before that you didn’t exactly recognize and if you’d known any better, you would’ve said he was flirting with you.

“Are… are you drunk?” You suddenly asked, nearly regretting it the moment you’d said it and he laughed again, a sight and sound that made your insides weak.

“I think I legally shouldn’t drive anywhere, but I’m still completely in control of myself.” He nodded toward the half empty bottle on your side of the jacuzzi, “are you alright?”

“I’m so sorry sir.” You blushed, ducking your eyes again, “that was inappropriate. And yeah, I’m totally fine, big lunch, big dinner, high tolerance.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His smile softened, “and you can drop the sir, we don’t need to keep up that professionalism right now.”

“Oh..” You sank deeper under the water, taking another sip of your drink. Part of you wanted to disappear while the other part of you wanted to complain you were overheating, pull yourself up onto the ledge of the tub and flaunt your half naked body. The desire to throw yourself at him was only a few glasses of wine away and you knew it. Instead, the two of you sunk into a semi comfortable silence as you continued to drink, watching the night sky.

“You know, your talk the other day was fantastic.” He spoke softly, his voice floating across the water to you, “better than any other profilers have done on the topic.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled quietly, risking a very quick glance up at him before you were staring at the horizon again. Hotch let another few moments of silence pass before he spoke up again, the corner of his mouth curving up when he asked you,

“Why so shy?”

That caught your attention, your eyes flying up to his as you clutched at your wine glass, “what?” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“I’m just saying, you’ve been so reserved, aware, quiet on this trip. You almost seem to make yourself smaller whenever I’m around and I’m not sure if it’s because you only think of me as your boss or if I’ve done something to make you at unease.”

“Christ.” You muttered, “I thought we weren’t profiling this week.”

“Have… I done something?” He asked, near worry taking over his face and you were quick to drain your drink before jumping to action.

“No, absolutely not! Hotch, please, you’re like, the most respectful guy I know. You make me feel… well, a lot of things, but uncomfortable is not one of them.” The words slipped from your lips before you could even think about them and you glanced up, your cheeks burning to catch his eyes widening slightly before he grinned, his hand catching yours, grounding you from whatever spiral you were about to drown in.

“So tell me.” He murmured, his voice silky soft as it hit your ears, his thumb brushing over your knuckles and he gently tugged at your hand after your glass found home on the edge of the tub, “come here gorgeous.”

The pet name nearly made you melt the instant it had left his lips and you felt the fluttering between your legs as you willingly moved through the water when he softly pulled you to him once more. Your breath caught in your throat when he guided you to straddle his lap, one of his hands hesitantly resting on your hip under the water while the other continued to play with your fingers gently.

“Well?” He asked, glancing up at you with a devilish look in his eyes and you let out a low breath, “what do I make you feel?”

“Flustered.” You managed out, your heart ready to beat itself out of your chest, feeling his thumb rub against your bare skin under the water, encouraging more responses from you, “unfocused, distracted…”

“Hmm…” he leant in, pressing a tender kiss to the underside of your jaw, “is that all?”

“Christ, Hotch.” You muttered, your eyes nearly fluttering shut as his hand let go of yours, moving so his thumb and forefinger could pinch your chin softly.

“Aaron…” He insisted, his eyes boring into yours as you opened them and you nodded softly, nearly whimpering at the way his thumb shifted to trace your lower lip. “What else?”

“Absolutely and incredibly fucking turned on.”

“Is that so?” He murmured, tilting your head to the side so he could kiss your neck, his lips brushing across your skin as he spoke, “is that last part just right now?”

“All week.” You replied, your pulse racing as he continued to litter your skin with tender kisses “all the goddamn time…”

“You think about me a lot hmm?” He nipped at your neck and you gasped, your body jolting towards him under the water, “what do you think about me doing?” He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss just below your ear, “hmm?”

“Aaron…” you breathed out, your head tilted back with your eyes shut as his lips continued to dance across your skin. His hand gently pinched at your hip under the water.

“Don’t go shy on me now, tell me.. what do you think about me doing?”

“K- kissing me.” You managed out, unsure whether the heat in your cheeks was from the water, the way you were already putty in his hands or embarrassment of admitting it to his face. A gasp broke free of your lips at the sensation of his hand tracing up and down your spine and you automatically arched toward him, “touching me…” The hand he had under the water toyed with the knot of your bikini on your back, his dry one moving back to your chin, tilting your face back to his.

“I want you to look at me when you say the next one.” His thumb traced your lips, “come on gorgeous girl, I know there’s more you like to think of me doing, what is it?”

“Fucking me…” Somehow you were able to hold his gaze while the words floated out of your mouth, it was likely because your brain was already in a haze, first the wine, then the heat and now utterly intoxicated by Hotch’s touch.

“Bet you think about that one the most, don’t you?” He asked with a grin and you couldn’t help but nod, “when you’re alone at night, touching yourself, pretending it’s me. Picturing me naked, my cock stretching you out until your legs are shaking and you’re seeing stars.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Oh no,” he chuckled darkly, “I’ll have you screaming my name by the end of the night sweetheart, just wait.”

You let out a whimper, it was all you had time to do before Aaron sat forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss that swallowed down any further noise coming from you. The kiss was full of fire, Aaron quickly dominating it and you were completely happy to let it happen, sinking deeper into his arms as yours looped around his shoulders. His dry hand slid up the back of your neck, fingers sinking into your hair while the other hand ventured further south, groping at the globe of your ass. You let out a small moan into the kiss, giving his tongue access to your mouth and he eagerly dove in. You could taste the scotch on him as your tongue danced with his, the smallest hint of a cigar from earlier and you couldn’t help but groan, your hands starting to play with his hair.

He pulled back ever so softly, nipping at your lip quickly before his mouth trailed across the side of your jaw, he left a feather light kiss behind your ear that caused you to let out an airy breath, your head lolling back and he felt himself twitch, hardening in his trunks. His mouth pressed lazy kisses down your neck before he made home in the crook of your neck, alternating between kissing, sucking and biting.

“Oh Aaron…” You shifted in his lap, lightly grinding against his cock and he let out a low groan onto your skin, his hands clutching you impossibly close to him. He raised his face, eyes dark with arousal as he gazed across at you before his lips found yours again and you were moaning into the kiss, grinding harder down onto his lap, a small gasp leaving your lips when you felt him getting harder underneath you.

Aaron couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted more, he wanted all of you, he wanted his hands and mouth everywhere all at once, he was drunk on your kisses alone and craved every inch of you. The lingering of your perfume was wafting through his senses, the way your lips moved against his made his cock utterly ache as you brushed against it. As much as he wanted to bend you over right then and there he would be completely satisfied just kissing you all night, the internal battle doing its best to figure out what he wanted to act on while your fingertips scratched as his head. You only broke the kiss when you felt like you couldn’t breath anymore, gasping for air, your eyes half shut, forehead resting against his while his hands soothed up and down your sides.

“God…”

“Still not the right name.” He teased, pulling a small laugh from you, one that you opened your eyes at, sitting back every so slightly before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. His hands trailed up your arms, coming to rest at the base of your neck, gently tugging at your bikini strings. “May I?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded with a wicked grin while your own hands splashed behind you to undo that knot and Hotch let the fabric fall from your skin, not even noticing it float away in the water as you sat up. His eyes raking down your body and over your chest, letting out a groan at the slight bounce as you settled, the way the water dripped down your tits, nipples hard in the cool air.

“Gorgeous girl.” He murmured, his hands gently groping your chest, squeezing your tits, thumbs flicking over your nipples and you moaned softly. “Such pretty sounds too.” You giggled softly, feeling the heat creeping back into your cheeks as his full attention was on your half naked body. His hands continued to play with your chest, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger while yours came up to cup his face, ducking to kiss him again, unable to get enough.

Moaning softly into the kiss, his hands squeezing at your chest, you ground down onto his lap harder, feeling the bulge building between his legs. Your tongue dove into his mouth, doing what you could to keep control of yourself as he increased the pressure on your chest, pinching your nipples. After a few moments he broke the kiss, eager to duck down and suck a nipple in between his lips, teeth scraping against the pert bud. Your hands wrapped around his head, threading into his hair as you held him tighter to you,

“Fuck Aaron…” You groaned and you felt his lips curve up into a grin against your skin.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He murmured, blowing cold air onto your nipple before swapping to the other side, “say my name.”

“God Aaron,” your fingers tightened in his hair, nails scratching at his head, “that feels so good.”

He groaned in response, teeth scraping against your tender skin before he pulled off your chest, burying his face between them to leave a trail of kisses all the way up your neck before kissing you deeply again. When he finally pulled away this time his hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you while he stood,

“Up.” He instructed, “out.”

“Why?” You half laughed, finding your balance on your feet in the water as his arm wrapped around your waist.

“Well I can’t fuck you in the hot tub gorgeous.” He husked against your lips before picking you up in his arms, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist and he was finally able to get you out of the tub.

Lips pressed against yours, tongue sliding back into your mouth he carried you back into the suite, managing to snag a towel from the back of the chair to toss down onto the bed before he let go of your legs. You let out a whine at the loss of contact, staying up on your toes to not break the kiss and he chuckled into your lips, hands groping at your ass. His hand cradled your face, pulling an inch away from you,

“Lie back gorgeous.” He muttered, stealing another kiss before nudging you back towards the bed, “I want to know how pretty you sound when you come.”

You collapsed down onto the bed and Hotch was quick to gently drop over you, catching himself with his hands as he caged you into the bed, his lips kissing at your skin again. Your arms wound around him, pulling him closer to you as your lips found his, tongue easily sliding into your mouth when he deepened the kiss. You moaned softly against his lips, back arching off the bed as your hips rocked up, eager for more friction. He let out a low groan at the feeling of you brushing against his cock through thin fabric, feeling himself throb inside his shorts. His free hand slid down your body, swiftly untying one knot of your bikini bottoms and then the other, pulling them away from your body while you lifted your hips to help before he was tossing them behind him.

Aaron cupped between your legs, palm rubbing on your clit while his fingers massaged your wetness, pressing against you, teasing you slightly as you whined into the kiss. A finger slid through your folds, spreading your juices around your cunt, dampening his fingers before he brought them up to your clit, rubbing slow circles on it.

“Aaron… please..” You whined, hips rocking up to his touch as you clutched him tighter to you.

He chuckled softly, finger dipping back down before it sunk into your pussy, pumping a few times before he added a second one. “Already so wet for me.” He husked into your ear, crooking his fingers in search of the sensitive spot inside you as he continued to pump his hand between your legs.

“Fuck…” you moaned, your body sinking into the lush bed as sparks began to fly under your skin, pleasure fluttering through you while his lips returned to yours, swallowing down your noises. His fingers twisted and scissored inside you, stretching out your warm walls while they skillfully fucked you. He curled them again and you broke the kiss with a gasp, body shivering against the bed as your eyes scrunched shut. You could feel your pussy pulsing around his fingers and you were sure your juices were dripping down his wrist already at this point. His nose nudged at your chin, giving him access to your neck again, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin while his fingers continued to toy with you. “Please…” you panted, “please fuck me already.”

Aaron’s breath was hot on your neck as he huffed out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your lips before he pulled away, sitting up on his knees between your legs, watching his fingers disappear into you for a few more thrusts before pulling them out of your cunt and sucking them into his mouth. He let out a groan at the taste of your juices, his cock aching at the thought of truly tasting you, wishing that he had more time but you were already whining again and he didn’t want to tease you anymore than he already had. Shifting, he quickly tugged his shorts off and his cock sprung free, hard and throbbing, he wrapped a hand around it, smearing the pre cum as he pumped himself a few times, his eyes falling shut while he let out a heavy sigh before a realization washed over him.

“Fuck.”

“What?” You asked, your eyes flying open, widening slightly at the sight in front of you now that he was completely naked.

“I don’t have any condoms.”

“I’m clean.” Was your immediate response, not wanting to delay things any longer, “and I’ve got an implant.”

“Are you sure?” He asked softly and you nodded eagerly.

“Please Aaron..” you whimpered, “I need you…”

He leant forward, hand guiding his cock, rubbing it through your lower lips, smearing your juices around it as you let out a small gasp before he sunk fully into you and you both let out a satisfied moan.

“God you’re tight.” He muttered, dropping over you again, burying his face into the crook of your neck as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly deep inside you. “Fuck…” He stayed still for a moment, feeling you fluttering around him, he knew if he tried to move he risked coming incredibly early, he was already throbbing.

“Fuck you feel so good.” You murmured, arms squeezing at him gently, moaning when he nipped at your skin and that was enough to get him going.

He set a steady pace, plunging into you with a roll of the hips, cock dragging over every inch of your walls, hitting the right spots with each thrust. You clung onto him, your hips rocking up off the bed to meet his with every push, your moans getting louder as he fucked you, pleasure soaring through your body.

“Fuck…” you whined, “harder Aaron, please.”

He pushed himself up, sitting back on his haunches while he grabbed one of your legs, resting it on his shoulder groaning when he slipped even deeper into your pussy. You gasped softly, your hands clutching at the bedspread while his hips came crashing into yours, the noises leaving your lips more frequent, your eyes scrunching shut.

“Christ,” he swore at the way you pulsed around him, squeezing him tight, the coil building deep inside his gut as he watched himself disappear into your cunt. His hands grabbed your hips, lifting them off the bed as he continued to snap his hips into you and you cried out at the new angle, your pussy clenching down around him. “Gon’ need you to come sweetheart.” He grunted, “m’not gonna last.”

“Don’t stop.” You groaned, fire prickling under your skin as your body shivered, “oh fuck!”

Aaron reached down with one hand, pads of his fingers rubbing furiously at your clit and your body shook, hips jolting as he continued to pound into you. You felt the pleasure burst, pussy clenching around his thick cock, juices dribbling across your skin as you cried out.

“Oh god Aaron!” Your hips jumped in his hands, body shaking, thighs clenching around him as your peak hit, a chorus of his name and breathy swears escaping your lips, floating around the room just enough to drive him absolutely wild. “Fuck… yes! Oh fuck Aaron.”

He didn’t let up, thrusting faster, the pressure on your clit harder as he leant forward, driving into you harder as he started to chase his own peak. He grunted, hips nearly faltering as your pussy continued to flutter around him, his arm winding tightly around your waist, holding you to him.

“C’mon gorgeous. You’ve got one more in you. Come again for me.”

You let out a whine, your hands gripping at his body, nails digging into his skin and you swore you practically blacked out when your second orgasm hit, letting out a cry as you tensed in his arms, twitching as you whimpered. Aaron groaned, fucking into you a few more times as his hips faltered and he sunk into your cunt with one last heavy thrust, hissing as he came, spilling into your pussy.

Panting, he gently collapsed over you, arms winding tighter around you in an effort to solidify this moment into his memory, not wanting to forget the way you looked, the way you felt wrapped around his cock, the noises you made when you came, how your lips felt on his skin, the sweetness of your taste. Under him you were slowly catching your breath, a happy hum leaving your lips when he placed a kiss onto your shoulder. One of your hands gently ran up and down his back and you felt him relax deeper into you, letting out a soft moan. Finally he pulled his head up enough to kiss you, lips moving lazily together until he gently rolled off you onto his side, letting out a quiet hiss as his cock slipped out of your warmth. You rolled toward him, happily accepting the arm he swung over waist as he pulled you toward him again, ducking down to nip at the tender spot forming on your neck before kissing you softly.

“Well that’s one way to enjoy a conference.” You murmured, your lips curving up into a grin and he huffed out a laugh, eyes sparkling down at yours.

“Fuck the conference. Let me give you a reason to stay in bed.”

“Is that an order Agent Hotchner?” You asked with raised brow and he smirked.

“A direct one.” He kissed you again, lips brushing yours as he spoke, “no way either of us is leaving this suite ‘til Friday. That’s why room service was invented.”

“I don’t think that’s right, but I’m not going to argue.”

“Oh but you love to prove you’re right.” He teased, smiling as you rolled him onto his back.

“Yeah, but I can think of a few better uses for my mouth right now.”

*

Aaron’s suggestion was exactly the way you spent the next two days, tangled in each other’s limbs, sheets barely covering bodies while you discovered every inch of the other persons skin. By Friday afternoon you knew just exactly how to touch each other so that you would see stars every single time. Aaron was about to suggest staying the weekend for a few more days of bliss when his phone went off and you were both called back to work. The team was already on the jet, meaning you were flying commercia to California to meet them there.

You were immediately roped into a coffee run with Emily, even if it was only to the breakroom and back, she had to get her complaints out about the days with her mother and honestly, wanted to know how things went being trapped in a hotel with Hotch all week. Scooping up your coffee you snagged a granola bar from the shelf, wandering back down the hall to the team as you caught up, you shoved the bar into your pocket so you could pull open the door and your hand hit something metal, your brow furrowing as you stalled in your tracks. In turn, Emily pulled open the door, propping it so Hotch could step through, no doubt on his way to secure his own caffeine, nodding to the both of you as he said a quick thanks.

“Aaron!” You called after him, having now pulled the item out of your pocket, realizing it was his watch and he turned back to you just in time to catch it as you tossed it to him. His head titled in confusion, glancing up at you as he slid it back onto his wrist, “you left it in the bin when we went through security, I forgot I grabbed it.”

“Thanks.” A flash of a smile crept onto his lips before he turned away, making his way down the hall.

“Oh… my god.” Emily quietly gasped, smacking your arm, “you hooked up and you weren’t planning on fucking telling me?!”

“What?” Your eyes shot to her, quickly stepping through the door to make sure Hotch wouldn’t hear you, “no. Em, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Please. When have you ever called him Aaron before? And I did not miss that hickey on his neck.”

Your eyes widened quickly, remembering how you’d made home in the crook of his neck while riding him, his arms wound around you, squeezing you softly as his cock plunged into your cunt. It was the same round he’d lavished your chest, his mouth barely leaving them, under your shirt you had your own set of hickeys and bite marks littered across your body. The memories were enough to bring a tingling down south, desire beginning to flood through you as heat crept into your cheeks. That of course was enough for Emily to confirm that her suspicions were right, trying not to gape as she attempted to form a coherent response. Before she could though, Hotch came back through the door, already hanging up a call from Garcia.

“Prentiss, take JJ and head down to talk to the family, Agent,” he turned to you, “grab your coat we’re going to the crime scene.”

“Yes sir.” You nodded, your cheeks flushing at the use of the title already and a possessive look shot through his eyes lightning fast, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a very brief smirk that Emily caught and did her best to hold back a laugh. He was back across the room in an instant, handing out tasks to the rest of the team and Emily pinched at your arm.

“Well, get ready for round two in the car.” She teased and you turned to her with a smug grin.

“More like round eleven.”

_____________________________

@alexusonfire @svushots @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks @niyizh @ababanana @tommyriddleobsessed @supercriminalbean @hotchs-bitch @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @emlynblack @ivyflowers13 @ratsnestinmyhair @silversprings-mp3 @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz @ssaaaronhotchnerr @itsrainingreid @speedynana @tgskitten @madamsnape921