#Work That Flight Ring

[jasposeyblog]

This year’s seasonal commission of mine is from @gregfoxstudio again. He and I wish everyone who celebrates it a very Happy Kwanzaa! To help with this, here is Tyroc holding a kinara to light the seven days, each candle represents one of the seven principles.

The seven principles of Kwanzaa are:

Umoja

Unity, or striving for unity in the family, community, nation, and race

Kujichagulia

Self-determination, or defining, naming, creating, and speaking for oneself

Ujima

Collective work and responsibility, or building and maintaining the community together and solving problems together

Ujamaa

Cooperative economics, or building and maintaining businesses together and profiting from them together

Nia

Purpose, or making the community the collective vocation and restoring the people to their traditional greatness

Kuumba

Creativity, or exploring and expressing unique talents and gifts to leave the community more beautiful and beneficial

Imani

Faith, or maintaining faith in shared values and the possibility of a brighter future

Kwanzaa begins on December 26th this year and goes for seven days to end on January 1st.

[chrometheraptor]

TMA DOODLE DUMP UPON YE ALL. It is. Mostly Michael. Bc it is my favorite <3 BUT there is an eel Jon for mermay and a Gerry <33

Ordered from oldest to newest!!

[colorfuldragons]

astral magister [outfit=2679796]

[mahtariel-of-himring]

Introducing an OC of mine

Since the very first years of the first age of the sun, a rumor wandered around the mortal world. A myth, of sorts.

A tale of a lone being, that wanders the known world, face shrouded by grief and magic.

Some claim he is an elf, having strayed from light.

Others say he is a creature beyond what is known, perhaps even a Maia.

During the first age these tales were but rumors, but as the years progressed, and the second age came, they turned to legend.

Stories of a being wandering Middle Earth, watching over specific elves, spread swiftly throughout the land.

No one ever did see his face, but some heard his voice.

Clear as a melody, they said. Soft and gentle, they said, claimed it brought comfort and peace upon whoever heard it.

Most didn’t take these tales seriously, and wrote them off as children‘s nonsense, or imaginations run wild.

None knew the true tale of the wandering elf, for that was what he was.

An elf.

Older than any who sailed from Valinor all those ages ago.

And in grief shrouded he was, for he had lost all he held dear. Some early on, some when he thought they were finally free.

He was an elf born beneath the light of the trees, yet he had found no comfort beneath the gaze of the Valar.

He had been unwanted, too weak for his labour family, a burden upon their house.

His profession was the one of a scribe, for through words and texts he had found a voice that had been denied him so long.

And through that love for literature, he had met the elf that he would dedicate his entire life to.

Fëanor, the Prince of the Noldor.

The ambitious elf had taken young Tarion as his scribe, and from there on, a friendship unlike any other had bloomed between them.

Not a day would go by where the citizens of Tirion Palace wouldn’t see them side by side, Fëanor voicing thoughts out loud, and Tarion scribbling everything down.

They became inseparable, and over the years, more and more trust was put in Tarion.

The young elf went from simply writing down what was said, to drafting documents, plans, even official royal letters. He began joining council meetings, on his Prince‘s request, and eventually got as far as to reply in Fëanor‘s name.

The royal smith trusted his scribe more than anyone else he knew. For Fëanor knew that Tarion‘s loyalty to him was undivided, the scribe was devoted to his Prince alone, answered only to his call, and took orders only from him.

All of Tirion knew, not even the Valar could bend Tarion‘s loyalty.

For Tarion was Fëanor‘s alone.

So when that fateful day came, and Morgoth attacked, Tarion, alongside his Prince, found their King slain on the doorstep of Formenos.

The scribe wept with Fëanor, and held his new, official Sire as he grieved the loss of his only surviving parent.

And so Tarion came to share his new King‘s hatred, it wasn’t hard, for he had been deemed imperfect long ago, rebelled against the gods, and joined the Noldor in the flight.

Though, one must attest that Tarion never raised a blade against his kin, nor a torch to the ships. He remained innocent in light of the Noldor‘s crimes, beyond rebellion itself, and has so to present day.

When the day of the attack came, Tarion pleaded with his King to be patient, to plan before following the enemy, but his King did not listen.

And then, when word reached their camp, that Fëanor had fallen, slain by the enemies fiery demons, Tarion, grief struck, fled the encampment, weeping for his King.

He ran into the woods, weeping, screaming and wailing in sorrow, until he eventually stumbled, and fell to the ground in midst of unknown terrain, and remained there.

Tarion cried long, crying out for his King, even though he knew there would be no answer, that there would never be an answer again.

Fëanor had always come.

Fëanor had always cared.

Fëanor had always protected.

But Fëanor was gone, and would never hold his beloved scribe again.

For day‘s Tarion laid upon the forest floor, weeping, grieving.

Or had it been weeks?

He no longer knew, time seemed meaningless now.

Once he had no more tears to shed, and his eyes were dry and red, Tarion began to curse out the gods who had driven them so far, who had ignored his King‘s pains, had brushed him off, and not listened all the way from when he wept for his mother to when he wept for his father.

They had never cared, had never looked after them, not truly. They, who did not fit the perfect mold, who‘s hearts were not untouched by grief and pain.

Tarion never returned to camp, not that he had wanted to abandon his kin, but that he, for once, did not know the way, and could not handle the idea of returning to an empty tent.

So he wandered. He wandered this new world as his King had wanted to, mapped it out, recorded flora and fauna, met the divers species, and scribed the history that had been and was to come.

Over the span of five centuries Tarion went from place to place, met the second born, as well as fellow elves, who had stayed behind.

But never again did he happen upon his own.

Never again did he see his King‘s son‘s, nor his grandson.

Tarion, ever the wise one, knew the Oath would only bring pain and bloodshed, but could not get himself to step in between.

He could not do that to the boys he had come to love as his own, could not force them to go against him as well.

So he stayed away, even though it pained him greatly, to spare them further pains.

Tarion knew when they began to fall, having seen every last one of the Prince‘s born, and having helped raise each and every one, he could feel when their fëa left the mortal world.

He wept for them, put up altars, and wrote memoriam‘s, so he could remember them as who they had truly been, not who the war and oath had made them into.

When the war of wrath happened, and Beleriand sank, Tarion wandered into Middle Earth.

He began writing a history book, which he later published under the title of 'A history of Noldor'.

For long he wandered this new world, still alone.

And when the second age as well came to an end, and he heard of his King‘s kindhearted grandson‘s fate, he pulled away further.

With Sauron‘s downfall, came a new goal for the ancient scribe.

After all these years, he had only felt six fëa pass on.

And so he finally had a new purpose.

He would find his King‘s remaining son, and at least for him, he would do anything in his power to lighten the burden, to help, to keep safe, give comfort, and perhaps, hopefully, even heal.

[infestedslime]

Oh shit I didn't notice they added a poison mothflight type ash of war for rot! I can finally do disease builds in elden ring!

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

Girl all this fuss about Taika's marriage, wait until you people find out about Minnie Driver

[mortalityplays]

talking about impenetrable accents/dialect just reminded me. when I was in Milan a couple of years back I was staying in this little rathole hotel and I had the biggest fucking migraine, so I was like non c'è problema I'll just go buy painkillers. of course every pharmacy on the map in a three block radius was closed, so my stupid ass just starts wandering around trying to figure out on the fly if you can get OTC from supermarkets in italy.

I walk into this little everything store (to my foreign eyes the kind of place that back home could sell you a bunch of carrots, a 6-pack of beer, pantyhose, bleach and a screwdriver set) and I see some household basics in the back but not what I need. with the confidence of a person who is only in the city for 3 days because he got bored and packed a bag and booked the cheapest flight available the week before (<= MENTAL ILLNESS), I was like no worries I know some italian, I can just ask.

I grab a bottle of water, walk up to the counter, and I'm like Ciao, hai il paracetamolo? And the guy is like che, and I'm like paracetamolo. Per la mia testa. And he's like che?

This is where I would have said 'aspirina' except I can't take aspirin for medical reasons, or 'antidolorifico' except I don't know that word and I've got no phone data for google translate and also I'm stupid. So in my fucked up leith-glasgow-italian accent I'm like paaa-ra-cetta-mollll-ooo. He's like ohhh bene, bene, and he calls another guy out of the back and asks him to go get something. Other guy then walks out of the store into the street, and before I can be like hey, che la fuck, he comes back and hands me a huge bundle of herbs.

At this point I'm like okay this entire interaction has been a bust, but these guys have been very nice and patient and they're both smiling happily at me because they've been of service, so I'm like ahh perfetto, grazie, pay them a couple of euros and leave.

EVENTUALLY I find a pharmacy that's open, and my head is fucking killing me, and my phone still isn't connecting, and now I have this small shrubbery poking out of my coat pocket, so I don't even bother looking around the shelves. I just walk straight to the counter and I'm like uhh ciao, scusi. And hearing my nightmare of an accent the guy answers in english and I'm like thank christ, do you please have paracetamol. Not aspirin, I can't take aspirin. And he's like yeah yeah hold on, goes into the back, comes out with what I need.

Only when he comes out he gives me this look, and then he starts laughing. And then he pretends he's not laughing and rings me up and I pay, and as I'm leaving I can see him losing it. But I don't care, my head is going to explode, I'm going back to the rathole to close the blinds and fall comatose for four hours.

When I get back to my hotel room I take off my coat and remember the huge bouquet of herbs in my pocket. They smell amazing, and I'm like I'm pretty sure this is parsley in which case I can just get some tomatoes and mozzarella later and make it work. but since I have no idea what that interaction was, I want to make sure. I bring out my phone to get a visual reference of what parsley leaves look like, and because I was using it for google translate earlier I put 'parsley' in the wrong box like a dope and translate it to italian.

prezzemolo

I wish I could have been the pharmacist in the moment he looked at my tired pissed off anglophone ass, heard me say 'paracetamol' in my fucked up accent, and turned around saw what was in my pocket. I'd have lost my shit too.

[rejectkanojo]

!!!

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ darry rings - are limited to one per lifetime, emphasizing that love should be exclusive and irreplaceable. true love verification ensures each customer can only buy one ring.

includes: itoshi sae! x reader. 0.9k wc. fluff hehe

you are unable to believe the outrageous actions of your boyfriend. this time, his doings were diabolical to the point of no return. “get out!”

you push itoshi sae out the door in a fit of frustration. his sigh is so loud, it feels like it’s echoing in your head, only making your irritation worse.

“this is my bedroom,” he deadpans, as if stating the obvious will reverse his sudden eviction. it doesn’t work. you’re already diving into the duvets with a determined scowl.

“what are you even doing?” he asks, his tone tipping into annoyance. he narrows his eyes when you march a little closer and throw his pillow into his arms.

“you’re sleeping on the couch,” you declare, voice firm, matching his now sour expression. “and actually, that pillow is way too nice. hand it back.”

he blinks, baffled, before the "too nice" pillow is snatched away and replaced with a sad, flat one that looks like it’s seen better days.

sae stares at the new pillow and then at you. this is so absurd, so far removed from the usual luxurious facade of his life, that the ever-composed itoshi sae actually laughs.

“you’re forgetting something,” he says suddenly, catching your wrist and pulling you closer.

“sae! let go!” you yelp, squirming in his grasp.

“are you seriously this upset over that cheap ring?” his tone is somewhere between exasperation and amusement, as if he should've expected such a reaction.

“it doesn’t matter if it was cheap; it was mine!” you hit his chest with a fist, glaring up at him. “and you hid it!”

“because i got you a better one,” he says, his eyebrows raising slightly, as if that explains everything.

“well, you could’ve just said that!” you huff, shoving his arm. “i was freaking out, thinking i lost it!”

"why do you even like that ring so much?" sae asks, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s debating whether this argument is even worth his energy.

"because you gave it to me in high school!" you snap back, arms crossing dramatically. "i've spent more time with that ring than with you!"

he freezes, the weight of your words sinking in. the usual sharpness in his expression softens, and for a moment, he just looks at you—really looks at you. his gaze lingers on you, quiet and heavy with a mixture of guilt and something unspoken.

it's true. he knows it. he knows just how many times he’s failed to be present for you, how many moments he’s missed, how many nights you’ve spent waiting for him to come back—both physically and emotionally. each time, each goodbye felt like he was leaving behind another piece of you. your glassy eyes were all he would remember during those long flights.

but that's exactly why he's been wanting to do this for a while. because, although he might not make it obvious, itoshi sae is more attentive than you think.

he reaches into his pocket. the movement catches your attention, and when he pulls out a small velvet box, your breath hitches.

“is that...” you begin to question, even though the answer is obvious.

he opens the box, revealing a sleek, elegant darry ring. it gleams under the soft light of the bedroom—intricate, expensive, but graceful instead of loud, the kind of thing only sae could choose.

“i didn’t hide your ring to be an ass,” he says, a rare gentleness lacing his tone. his firm hand captures yours and slides the perfectly fitted ring on your designated finger.

"i wanted you to have something better," he brings your jeweled hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss. "something worthy of you."

"i wanted to sign my name to you."

you blink, your chest tightening, and before you know it, you're rushing forward to throw your arms around him in an impulsive, tight hug.

"you're an idiot, sae!" you voice, sound coming out teary-eyed.

a moment passes without either of you saying anything. he just holds you tighter, as if making up for every moment he couldn’t be there. then, he chuckles softly, a low, soft sound that fills the space between you.

you pull back just enough to frown up at him, your hands resting on his chest. "you're laughing?!"

sae, with that trademark smirk, tilts his head slightly. "do you like it?" his voice teasing but with that edge of sincerity you know so well.

you scoff, still holding on to his shirt, a little stunned. "are you seriously asking me that right now?" you mumble, though your heart is already swelling.

"i love it," you finally smile, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "i love it, sae."

he leans forward, the tug of his smile remaining. "yeah?" he inches closer, grabbing you, leaving no room for escape. "how much?"

"so much.." you manage to whisper against his lips before he fully dives in for a kiss.

his lips move gently against yours, tasting the words you just spoke, savoring your happiness. it’s soft and tender, and deliberately slow, as he prefers.

when he finally pulls back, you're left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. you glance up at him, suddenly shy, feeling a soft blush creeping on you.

"you're still sleeping on the couch," you point and smile, face full of mischief.

sae shrugs, his expression slipping into one of playful indifference. “fine. but you’re joining me.”

before you can even protest, he scoops you up effortlessly, your squeals of protest only providing him amusement as he holds you securely in his arms.

"okay, okay! you can sleep on the bed!"

a/n: me ignoring my 1k wc essay to write a 1k wc sae fic 👍🏼

[finelinefae]

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

this is part 1 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things. 

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 

She read his bio beneath. 

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message. 

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really? 

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 

. . . 

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi. 

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered. 

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 

. . . 

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . . 

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled. 

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

[screampied]

❛ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ HARLEYS IN HAWAII ❜ g. satoru

☆ sum. it’s been almost a year with your sugar daddy and as a candied sweet surprise, he takes you on his private yacht. although—the thing that’s even sweeter is the ‘love’ chocolates you both try just for fun. after all, satoru’s always had a sweet tooth.

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), unprotected, aphrodisiac chocolates, marathon séx, praise, dirty talk, overstim, dry humping, feral gojo, fīngering, cervīx mentions, cunnilīngus, spīt, hair pulling, size kink, premature ejac, breedīng, petnames.

➤ sd!gojo masterlist.

“ah ah, no peekin’ sweetheart,” a husky voice purrs near the nape of your neck. your plump lips curl into a pout as he’s making you drag your feet toward wherever he was taking you to. the air felt coolly warm, so much so that it was humid. satoru told you to wear something comfortable and warm, specifically a sundress. “there we go, jus’ a few more steps. good girl,” and the rubber bottoms of your flip flops stomp against something hard—you’re assuming the rising platforms were stairs. your ears perk and twitch a bit at the sound of crashing waves and you start to grow curious.

“are you—”

“shhh, quiet baby,” he shushes you, and you feel various designer cold band of his rings dance against your skin. again, once you step into what seems to be some wooden platform, he stops you from walking, turning you to face another way. big hands cover over your eyes and your own hands before he gives your cheek a soft chaste kiss. “m’kay, ready to see your surprise?”

with a nod, he removed his palms from your face and your eyes widen at the revealed sight. a yacht, not just any yacht though, but a private one — the satoru gojo yacht that was probably worth millions. it was huge in person, and you don’t even realize the two of you are both in the middle of the ocean until seconds later. “satoru,” you sheepishly say, feeling a wave of butterflies thump through your heart. the older man’s got the cheekiest grin and he takes off his sunglasses, putting them over your face. “when you said ‘surprise’ i thought you meant like new earrings or something.”

“i can always give you those too,” he strokes your cheek, watching as you fail to maintain direct eye contact. despite having the tinted expensive lenses protect your eyes from the sun, it still shined bright—making you squint a little. satoru’s voice pitches low before he playfully lifts you up, fixing the back of your sundress. “but sweetheart, this weekend’s just about you ‘n me,” and once your arms cling onto him, he starts walking near the lower part of the rumbling yacht. “besides, i have one more surprise to show you. felt like spoilin’ you a bit more today.”

you were quite literally living in luxury. .

as if the outside of the yacht wasn’t breathtaking, just wait until you saw the master bedroom.

despite how you were slowly starting to get accustomed to this lifestyle, his lifestyle—you couldn’t help but be amazed at such royalties being given to you. his yacht was even prettier inside, but this was the norm for satoru. and with him, he had no problem sharing his luxuries with you, his favorite girl.

just for you and no one else.

but you couldn’t think but get trapped in your mind at certain thoughts plucking through your brain. you started to wonder what would have happened if satoru was never a passenger of first class when you used to work as a flight attendant.

you’d constantly wonder the what if’s, but of course you were always always grateful. it’s one of the many thing’s satoru liked about you, how you were always thankful without even saying it. you’d show it, even going far as to giving him gifts.

“imagine we lived here,” satoru hums, leaning back against the satiny cushioned pillows. the entire room was spacey, with rose-gold paint covering the walls. he brushes a thumb over his cocktail glass as he sits on the burgundy sofa. the slick floor’s a sheeny beige color, and in the background, played some old vintage noir.

‘sunset boulevard’, one of satoru’s favorites.

he preferred lots of silent films and adored more than anything when the two of you would watch them together. he’s got on a silk red robe, twirling a bit of his white shown chest hair with a finger. “life on the water. sounds romantic, yeah?”

“what if we drowned, ‘toru,” you mumble, stepping out of the bathroom. the floor was made of slick glass crystals that made up the smooth texture, and you then pause—staring at the white haired man. he’s pretty, manspread and laid back with his hair slickly parted. ever since he’s met you, he grew his hair out a little and it slightly flows near his shoulders a bit. still unkempt and parted, it gives him a more maturely modern look.

his dimples poke near the inside of his cheeks before he simpers. “princess, we won’t drown,” and he sets aside his glass. satoru’s bright eyes linger toward your sundress—one of the many he’s bought you within in the past month.

it fit perfectly, it’s a cerulean blue color that almost matches his eyes.

if it was anything he liked, it was to pick out your outfits, and of course—he’d let you do the same for him. “phew,” he whistles, eyeing you carefully. “you look gorgeous. like always,” he murmurs, averting his eyes away from the screen and now giving you his uninvited attention. your plush thighs cling together before you feel the room of the yacht grow abnormally warm. “oh, right. the other surprise i wanted to show you, c’mere.”

“okay,” you mumble, making your way toward him. satoru slouches back against the cushioned sofa, spreading his legs even wider. slut, he knew what he was doing with his robe slit halfway open, exposing his growing chest hair. a snowy white curl of hairs glue against his chest and you gawk further down toward his lengthy happy trail. god, you found yourself swallowing thickly the more you stared and you could see the smug grin forming against his thin lips. “what . . is it?”

“i remember a few weeks ago you said you wanted to try tabs chocolate,” satoru mumbles, and you watch as he pulls out a thin black cover of rich chocolate. your eyes widened.

he remembered?

you stare at the pricey covered casing, already smelling the cocoa from the wrap. it was true . .

you teased satoru about wanting to try tabs chocolate one day, just to see if it was really real. you were curious on if the chocolate really could help invigorate and arouse people in the bedroom. satoru shrugs, glancing at the cursive writing displayed on the candy. “. . so, i got it for us both. i don’t think it really works, by the way.”

with an eye roll, you plop down on his lap. a beefy arm snakes around your waist before you grab the slim package. “i checked the ratings online. ‘m pretty sure it works, satoru,” and he gives you a complacent nod with his hands raising teasingly. calling your bluff quietly, he watches you tear the plastic all the way open. his eyes follow your fingers and how they swiftly drag away at the nearly wrapped material. once everything’s removed, it’s an entire dark chocolate bar with three perfectly attached squares. even the smell was arousing. “do you wanna try it at the same time?”

“how ‘bout you feed it to me,” satoru coos, and you feel what you think is his leg prodding underneath you. “i’ll feed you yours, sweetheart.”

damn, even his sentences sounded vaguely dirty.

you felt a lump grow in your throat before you blink thrice, holding up the bar of candy. “f. . fine,” you huff, and you watch as his perfectly parted lips sprawl apart. at the same time, you both slowly feed each other a small bite of the chocolate. the moment the rich taste of maca cocoa and sugar falls onto your salivating tastebuds, you let off a soft hum. it’s sweet, but you remember reading online that the effects would take a good twenty to thirty minutes to kick in.

satoru chews it, swallowing it and he scoffs. “honey, i think you just got scammed. nothing’s happening—”

famous last words. .

because not even thirty minutes later, satoru finds himself dived nose-first right between your legs.

he’s feral, on his knees for you and all. usually, satoru would shower you with lots of foreplay, kissing down your neck, your thighs, every part and inch of your body — but now, he couldn’t.

not when he felt so hot, his body felt like it was it was scorchingly on fire. and of course, satoru being satoru just had to lick your fingers after you fed him his single piece of chocolate.

you’re laid up on the sofa now, whimpering with a hand digging through his shaggy white locks.

satoru’s the most deranged he’s ever been, and you’ve seen him feral for you in more ways than you could count. he’s laying his tongue flat, lapping up your sweet folds, still tasting the chocolate on his tongue with the mixture of your own slick.

“f- fuuuck,” he’d huff, feeling his heart beat thump through his ears. it was barely even a big bite and he was like this. you couldn’t help but imagine how he’d be if he ate the entire bar.

you’re moaning, glancing out the window and taking in the breathtaking view of the dancing choppy waves staring right back at you. a pretty serene canvas of rotating waters—you found yourself getting lost at the sea, gazing at how the waters would violently crash against the bottom of the yacht. it’s a mesmerizing view. after a while, your eyes move back down toward satoru who’s still between your legs. he’s lowly groaning, slowly rutting his hips into the edge of the sofa. “ ‘s like the candy makes you taste sweeter.”

“don’t stop s- satoru,” you moan, making sure to keep a firm grip on his head. his pretty lashes were closed shut whilst he’s swirling counterclockwise circles against your puffed clit.

fuck, you felt a gasping shriek snatch out from the back of your throat once you felt him starting to suck. he was always messy - always.

tangled strings of saliva would dribble down past the corners of his lips, flopping onto your sweet cunt. satoru had the kind of tongue where you’d feel him everywhere.

he flicks it around everywhere, spelling out every letter of his name before spitting on it, licking it up directly afterwards. a palm smears his bubbling saliva before he laps it up again, thrusting his tongue in and out. “ooooh,” you’d squeal, feeling him wrap his mouth around your pussy. you’re twitching inside every few seconds and he feels your cute dramatic pulses. beryl blue eyes that blissfully shine against the sunlight flicker up at you briefly and he’s got that same smug grin again.

“mphm, pull on it,” he grunts, and you whine once he traps your swollen clit between his teeth, holding your throbbing nub hostage. satoru can feel himself getting more and more hard, all because of the sweet melodic sounds that left from your lips.

both lips, on one end you’re hysterically moaning and the next, you’re squelching repeatedly.

his favorite thing to listen to—satoru’s favorite place out of all the places he’s taken you to, had to be between your thighs.

at his words, you weakly give him a soft tug, grabbing a nice handful of his perfect locks and he gets tugged forward. “good girl,” he huskily grumbles, resuming to lick two long stripes up and down against your cunt. forever more, he’s savoring your syrupy taste that lingers on his tongue and dribbles from the chin down, moaning from the aftertaste of the chocolate that just won’t go away. “god, this view’s even prettier than the ocean,” he licks his lips, and you feel yourself pulsate once he breaks away for a split moment to catch irregular breaths.

satoru swipes a thumb over his naturally glossed lips, whistling against your pussy just to feel your sensitive nub throb on his tongue even more.

“oh, she’s a cutie,” he rasps, white brows pursing together. he pulls out two long fingers, preparing to delve them inside. “so pretty ‘n all soaked just for me,” and you moan, your thighs curling around his shoulders. squiiish, the moment he’s easing his lengthy thin fingers inside, you gush out a bit right on him. you were indeed wet . . sopping.

you were already a bit drenched from before, and with the chocolate, you felt even more aroused. it felt like being on a rush - a sugar rush.

satoru huskily coos, delicately curling his fingers further inside before he reaches your g-spot within just two inches of a stretch. “there it is, there’s my other favorite girl.”

“sato—fuucckk,” you drag out your pathetic words, gradually moving his head to side against your sopping cunt with one hand. he’s got his mouth full, stuffed, and his entire face was just flushed from being squished between your thighs. “like that, s- suck my clit, baby.”

“baby, huh?” he mocks your sudden pet name, feeling your fingers comb through his messy frosted strands. embarrassment washes over you and he chortles, finding your reaction to his teasing downright adorable. you whimper as he’s still vigorously scissoring long twin digits inside of you. as your stomach submissively caves in, you start to gnaw on the bottom of your lip. “aw, don’t be shy. i like bein’ called petnames too, y’know,” he whispers against your cunt, watching how easily you soak up both fingers.

your folds couldn’t help but drool. streams of your own slick cascade down between the crevices of your thighs and coat the entirety of his fingers.

with a rosy flat tongue, he slurps you clean, taking every few seconds to pull his fingers out - only to push them right back in.

as your eyes squeeze shut, you start to feel your teeth clench and shatter together from the rhyming pressure.

there, once the fat tips of his fingers poke against your g-spot again, and again, and again. .

that was all it took for you to let off a cute three second shriek. abruptly, a sharp twisting coil snaps within you and he feels your thighs turbulently shake within his feeble grasp.

“fuck, fuck,” you whine, feeling his lukewarm breath continue to ghost against your clit. you couldn’t stay still for the life of you—it was as if every muscle in your body snapped once you came, your jaw dropped and your eyes widened.

“ohmygodohmygod,” you ramble, and satoru’s still flicking his tongue against your sobbing slit.

you’re making a mess out of him and he’s eating it up - like always. his pointed chin’s got such a pretty glimmer of shine all thanks to your glimmering slick running down. with a echoing ‘pop’, he slides his fingers out of your cunt, stretching his digits further apart just to see how your sap glues against them. “ngh, s- satoru you’re so nasty.”

“only nasty for you, sweetheart,” he cheekily whispers, leaning further in to give your cunt one single kiss.

it’s a soft passionate smooch that makes you throb against his lips. only satoru gojo could make out with your pussy right between your thighs. you’re speechless—you could feel yourself still shaking from your recent orgasmic release, the ringing in your ears never subsiding.

satoru’s pretty azul eyes remain fixated on your wet cunt before he gives it one final suck of departure. “mmph,” and his growing white stubble starts to drench even more all because of your sweet slickness that smears against your the lower part of his face. “fuck, ‘m still hungry. ‘s not enough.”

as your legs twitch and remain spread apart, you’re gasping for air as you watch him take breaths of his own to collect himself. “don’t pout,” he huffs, sitting up to close the distance between you both. with his hair all ruffled and tangled—he grinds himself into you. “oh. you want a taste too, pretty?”

“y- yeah,” you nod with droopy eyes, feeling the same amounts of sheer heat.

satoru’s flushed just as much as you, and it seems like as he’s leaning into you, he’s moving in slow motion. once his lips crash onto yours, you moan into his mouth.

he wastes no time shoving his tongue down your throat, pulling on the straps of your sundress. you feel a wolffish grin curl against his lips once his tongue delves even further into your mouth, feeling you part your own away. satoru can’t help but grind against your warm body, feeling your legs hook around his waist. even the touch—the skin against skin makes you both even more hotter. it’s like static rubbing off against each other, and you were about to feel yourself short circuit any minute.

“fuck, ‘toru,” you whimper between sultry sloppy kisses, loud teeth smacking and clashing together. you slowly drag a hand down his hairy chest, twirling a frosty strand around your finger.

the taste — it’s candied sweet.

the rich cocoa still lingers on both twisting tongues and you moan, feeling him nip his teeth near your lip. “you’re perfect,” he gruffly purrs, his voice having its same deep rasp. his kisses become more and more filthy and rough and he playfully licks underneath your chin. “mhm, woman you drive me crazy.”

satoru was still very much hard though—very.

you could feel his boner poke from his robe, it must’ve felt painful.

he was so hard, it outlines against the silky woven fabric the more he grinds into you. satoru couldn’t keep his hands off of you. he’s leaving an invisible trail of kisses all down the slope of your neck, sucking against your tender exposed skin. you always tasted sweet than any chocolate he’s ever eaten.

but it’s to his surprise once you lightly push him back against the cushioned sofa.

“hmph! hey,” he falls back, white strands sticking across his perspiring forehead. satoru eyes you with a bewildered look, wondering what’s with the sudden bratty glint shining in your dilated irises. “that was rude, princess. oughta—”

“lie back,” only two words and he was at your very command. satoru couldn’t lie, whenever you had the audacity to give him orders . . he found it hot.

even if it didn’t last that long,

the white haired man slouches back at your command, roving his eyes down your body. he studies the pretty sundress that hugs against your curves and the way you move.

satoru ogles openly as you made your way on top, straddling him before slowly throwing your arms over his broad shoulders. “relax satoru,” you’d breathe, and he groans the moment electrifying friction kneads against his lap. all because of your hips swerving on his raging boner, you cause a spark that ignites within you both. to say you were a ‘mere’ tease was an understatement. “like that, hold my hips baby,” and his big hands gradually move toward your rocking waist. you start to jerk against him real slowly, casually grinding yourself on his lap. you swerved around, guiding his hands to where you wanted them to go.

“oh, s. . sweetheart,” he choked out a nervous laugh, his boner steadily arising underneath his robe.

for a moment, the two of you forget that you’re both on a yacht, surrounded by nothing but smooth pretty bodies of water. it was as if it was only you and him in the entire world. time stood still. it was like you were moving slow, and the more your body moved, the slower time got.

satoru stares at the way you playfully sway your hips against his. he groans, the cloth from his robe that protects his hardened cock continuing to rub against his skin. “you’re killin’ me here. let me touch some more at least.”

“ask nicely,” you lean in closely, pressing a kiss near the left side of his cheek. satoru shivers from your touch, his jaw feeling heavy. such a tease, but that’s what he got for spoiling you rotten.

with a near pout, satoru grumps. “please, sweetheart,” and his big hands glide toward your active waist anyway. “let me touch my pretty girl while she’s movin’ her cute hips on me,” and his playfulness returns within a blink of an eye. you hear the cheekiness in his voice and he leans in to nip a kiss near your neck. “fuckin’ brat.”

“then do something about it.” you whisper with a coy grin, resuming your salaciously addictive movements against his lap. satoru grunts, his brows contorting together in frustration before he grabs your wrists, pinning them up.

satoru’s now got you in a secure grasp and a hand snakes down your waist, giving your ass a soft squeeze. a jiggling nice chunk goes into his palm before he seductively licks up your neck. “i plan to, little girl.”

and he did.

one second you’re on his lap—the next, you’re lightly being slammed on all fours, cheek smushed ruthlessly against the padded sofa.

you squeak out a tiny gasp, feeling him practically tear your sundress apart. satoru groans, staring at your bare ass cheek that’s peeking out of your loose clothing. you’ve got a bratty smile twirling against your lips but it soon fades away once you feel that.

his fat tip—satoru brings it up towards the opening of your sopping cunt, smacking it three times against your folds. “you’ve got some nerve, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, hearing your broken whimpers return.

god, even your pussy felt warm against him. fiery electricity surges through you both and he hisses, watching as your pulsating pussy desperately tries to swallow his cock wholly.

he’s so big, you knew it and you didn’t even have to face him directly. all you had to do was feel.

his tip was round and thick, reddened with a rosé flushed color. satoru tosses his head back, feeling your pussy twitch against him as a sloppy greeting of its own.

“heh. she’s so excited,” he breathes through clenched teeth, already breaking a sweat. the yacht continues to slowly create distance in the background but at that point, no one was even thinking about the yacht. “so. fuckin’. wet.”

he smacks his weighty dick against the outside entrance of your pussy, hearing the sloshing whines squawk out of your poor needy folds. as he’s hitting his tip against your cunt, he purposely punctuates his words with tap.

“satoruuuu.” you’d moan, desperately aching for him to just go in already. you wanted it, and the searing heat you felt coursing through your veins just from the chocolate made you throb ten times more.

“i know, baby. i know,” he coos in a rough voice, talking over your whiny babbles. panting heavily,

satoru glances down once his leaking tip finally disappears inside of your drenched cunt. you let off a shaky breath, even going so far as to wriggling your ass back against him just so he could hurry the fuck up.

“tsk. so impatient,” he snickers, velvet straps of his robe skimming against his skin. satoru’s got a bulbous fat curve and with a single hand, he gives his cock a few stroking pumps.

one, two, three . .

he groans once a bit of loose skin from his coral colored frenulum peels back. as he’s stroking himself every few milliseconds, a prodding vein pokes against his palm. bristles of white hairs that glue against his thickset base tickle against his skin.

“mhm, gonna take my time with you. now let’s see that cute arch. just like we practiced.”

moaning, your back raises slightly with your knees cowardly burying themselves into the sofa. “mmph,” and he lightly pushes your head further into the cushion. his tip was so close.

he’s hitting you from behind with his thrusts slowly, on purpose.

he wants to hear those sweet sounds cry out from your lips. satoru grunts once he’s finally going in, thick cock stretching around your elastically stretched walls.

you’re so soft — sweet gummy flesh compressing around him with such ease, wringing him tight like a vice. satoru groans, giving his chiseled hips a single shimmy before pursing his lips together.

“thaaat’s it, hngh. this pussy knows it’s place,” he grouses, and your eyes widen once you feel his plumpish tip delve further between each corner of your slick cunt. he’s fucking thick, and within seconds later he was already inches in.

once his flushing crown disappears inside of your cunt, you whimper once he gives you one single thrust that causes your entire body underneath him to quake. “fuck, ‘s so sensitive,” satoru nearly whines, still feeling tingly from the saccharine flavored treat. he’s panting heavily, mouth dangling open and all. “how’s it feel, sweetheart? ‘m not going too rough, yeah? talk to me.”

“good. feels good, ngh. don’t stop, ‘toru. harder,” you beg, a hand of yours reaching from behind, crawling near your ass. you eye satoru through your blurred peripherals as you turn slightly around and he flashes you a sleazy grin.

that’s the look he makes before he’s about to fuck you stupid,

that’s the look where his eyes were hooded and half lidded, panting heavily like a dog with multiple thin strands of white hair sticking across his forehead.

you were fucked, literally. .

“hah, wasn’t gonna,” he moans, feeling his cock grow insanely sensitive. it was in a way he couldn’t explain—so hot, his head swells up once he starts to move.

as he’s trying to create a decent rhythm with his hips, he’s oscillating deeply into your core. sloppy thrusts pound into you with such carnal vigor that he’s basically humping against your cunt.

every few elongated seconds that dragged out, his tip mercilessly smacks against that target buried deep inside your cunt, striking a perfect bullseye.

‘x’ makes the spot, and his dick always knew where to locate your clit — every single time.

it doesn’t take long before satoru loses it, and he’s losing his momentum. his movements consisted of want and ache.

the head of satoru’s cock was turgid, slowly dragging in and out of your puffed clit as you damp up his entire length. you whimper, feeling the legs of the sofa rattle and jitter from underneath you both. he’s got mean deep strokes that leaves your jaw dropped, toes curled, tummy churning all from how good he’s hitting you.

you’re cutely smothered into the pillows with your mouth just pried open, forming a small gasping ‘o.’

every stroke, every hit, every smack against your ass, you felt like you were on cloud nine - the lewd dirty version no one ever talks about though.

satoru’s got a big hand tracing down the curvature of your waist that later trails down toward your ass. he can’t help but feel against the thin fabric of the sundress, tempted to just rip it off it you. he’d be happy to buy you dozens more anyway.

“fuck me, fuck me satoru,” your eyes roll crisscross, and your entire body feels itself repeatedly ringing from the merciless slaps of skin hitting against each other with determined might to reach his well awaited potency.

he’s bucking his hips against you, watching as tears of sweat start to race down the cracked valley of your ass. “fuck, ‘toru, satoru—ah!”

“heh, sweetheart the walls aren’t soundproof,” satoru playfully bonks the back of your head. your moaning falters, and he chuckles mid-thrust. “aw, don’t be embarrassed,” and you let off a soft gasp once he presses his sharp hips all the way against you. a beefy arm wraps around your neck in a safe hold before he grunts in a husky whisper right up against your ear canal. “ ‘m sure the captain won’t mind, be as loud as you want.”

“s- shit,” you whimper, already starting to feel your thighs struggle to stay afloat. satoru towers over you completely, rutting into you from behind with irregular toe-curling hits.

he’s meanly jackhammering you further into the sofa, the screeching sounds of the seagulls outside growing louder. the loud reverberating claps of skin that roughly ricochet against skin makes your ears ring like bells on a wedding day.

as he’s feeling his cock tighten inside of you, he’s now got you in prone bone. he’s so close to you, hovering his weight behind you with his sculptured hips glued to your ass.

satoru’s thrusts now go slow, slow but deep, making sure you feel, savor, and devour every single inch. “ugh, that spot ‘toru, right fuckin’ there. ‘m close.”

a hand goes over your mouth and you let of a muffled, ‘mmph?’ as he’s still fucking you raw.

satoru’s popping his bulbous crownhead in and out of your stuffed pussy before lowly groaning once coolly air briefly sets against his skin.

“watch that mouth,” and you whimper, feeling his free hand grab near your neglected breasts. you lean into his touch, feeling a bit of your own saliva dribble onto his palm. a thumb of his swipes against your perked nipples that poke through your sundress and you let off a muffled moan. “such a filthy pretty mouth. ‘s a shame,” and he leans in more, licking a stripe near your neck. “i don’t think girls with colorful mouth’s should cum. do you think they should?”

as if on cue, your head raises up and down, doing a cute attempt of a nod as he’s still got your mouth covered. satoru’s still thwacking his fat cockhead into your g-spot continuously until your brain’s short circuiting.

“awww, yeah?” he hums, pressing a kiss near the back of your head. and oh, he’s cocky again, deepening his hits against your core. removing his arm from around your neck, he raises your hips up just a little bit for a more better and thorough angle. “too bad, because i wasn’t talkin’ to you, silly girl.”

and you moan even louder once a rude buck of his hips snaps into you at such untamed speed. you gasp right away, your entire body trembling beneath the sofa. “talkin’ to her,” and as his hand drags down your back, he maneuvers a few circles against your stuffed clit.

you’re whimpering, occasionally glancing out the window. the waves continue to crash against the port side of the yacht background — beautiful.

you’d never get used to the view. the salty smell of the sea wafts against your flaring nostrils as you’re literally being stuffed full of cock, eyes rolling back with your back completely arched. satoru’s so big, splitting you open with his vast mushroom tip so easily. “god, she’s got so much to say today, listen to her cute ‘lil sentences,” and he briefly pulls out, hearing your cunt ‘pop’ out a word or two, wetly squelching from the continuous thrusts.

satoru’s throbbing cock drooled from the sides with seeping white droplets of pre-cum and he groans once he feels himself tightening yet again.

“fuck mee,” and he takes a second to stare at your pretty cunt that’s got your folds slobbering with so much honeyed glistening sap. “aw, she said no,” he teases, dragging a sleazy thumb down your pleading saturated entrance. your mess quickly soaks against his fingertips, making him just as wet as you. satoru feels you writhing against his touch, begging for him to finish and he chuckles. he tsks, wrapping a hand around his shaft before another hand wraps around your neck. hmm. does the pretty baby deserve it? after that ‘lil stunt you tried to pull on me?”

“s- satoru, please,” you moan, feeling your weak legs gradually buckle against the fuzzy furniture. you swallowed whatever pride you had left, feeling your mouth suddenly grow dry as the anticipation grew.

you were so close - right there. practically. gnawing on the bars of your enclosure.

he knew had to tease you, keep you on the edge of your toes. with your ass cutely trying to raise up and move back against him, you let off a sobbing moan. “lemme cum, please. ‘m sorry.”

“no you’re not, sweetheart,” he whispers. aligning himself again between your sniveling slick slit, his wide pink tip leisurely starts to stretch throughout your gummy walls yet again. oh, that part. the way his hefty hanging curve twists its way inside, you felt like you were tasting literal ecstasy. “are ya?”

“no,” you moan, still having a bit of brat left in you.

satoru snickers, the expensive band of his watch gliding against your hip as he holds you in place.

“at least you’re honest,” and you shudder, feeling him lick a long stripe up your sensitive jugular. his girth was so broad and wide, you feel him dip every inch inside of your cunt and you were sure you were gonna break.

he treated you like a doll—specifically a rag doll, tossing you and fucking you where it hits good.

but, fuck was satoru was ruthless.

he’s unapologetically sloppy with his thrusts, making you grind back into his pivoting hips. as his sack hangs back against his loose skin, he smears his lax lips together, groaning at how effortlessly you were squeezing against him.

“fuck, you’re gonna make me cum too, sweetheart,” and as his body’s still pressed right against yours, he hoarsely grunts lowly against your ear. “give it t’ me, make a mess on ‘toru, baby.”

his words poured into your ears like silk, smooth like honey. each sentence he spoke had an effect on you, more than the love chocolates ever did . .

you felt your pussy sporadically convulsing just from his raspy out of breath tone alone.

satoru’s rotund cockhead continues to bruise against your cervix, sloppily kissing around each spot until you’re practically screaming out his name. “louderrr,” he purrs, kissing down your neck once more.

the coarse smacks of skin continue to echo against the walls of the spacious yacht bedroom and satoru grunts.

oh, he’s whipped.

his hips start to slow down by each second, and you feel that pressure within you finally snap. “that’s my girl, thaaaat’s it,” and he talks over your whimpers yet again, creating a wet trail of kisses down your shown shoulder blade. “atta girl, atta fuckin’ girl.”

the both of you groan in unison and after a while, he shortly follows. satoru’s cock was so full, he’s snapping his hips into you at such a wicked speed that you could barely keep up. his stamina was simply unmatched.

you let off a whine and so does he—seeping his teeth into your neck. “hngh, fuckin’ shit.” and as he grabs both of your hips, slowly reeling you back into him - he’s cumming, hard.

thick ropes slowly spurt into you, spraying right near your womb and he lets off the sexiest moan.

it lasts for a good seconds, and it’s like he got defeated — your pussy being the opponent. .

satoru’s washboard abs flex beneath his rope as his head tosses back. it’s an almost growl that leaves his lips. his sensitive tip locks into your tightening entrance, still feeling ribbons of satiny ropes dribble into you at such a snail like pace. it’s so much.

he’s staring to pant more and more as globs of sweat pouring down the sides of his forehead. satoru’s cock shrivels up inside of you and he gives your ass a soft spank. his sweltering hot crown stills itself inside of your cunt as he stays still, lavishing in the sensitivity of both slick mounds enjoy the sticky feelings of fluids combining in lewd felicity. both bodies rut against each other and now it was his turn for his eyes to roll back.

“s- satoru,” you quietly whimper out, feeling the bubbles of creamy wads ooze down between the fat crevices of your thighs.

a lustrously white ring forms around his tender base before he gradually starts to pull himself out. you’re still reclined, feeling your entire body heat up even more. your sundress was still pulled up to your waist and he groans, tugging at the fabric with one hand, another touching his own mess he just created that’s spilling down your thighs.

“such a sloppy girl,” he huffs, out of breath. even still, he’s cumming inside and merrily fills you up to the very brim.

you moan once he slides back in, only to pull his aching tip right back out out. it’s another loud ‘pop’ that resounds through each of your twitching ears.

holding a sharp breath, satoru’s cock slathers itself against your drooling pussy before smacking it against your folds yet again. “look at that, ‘m never gonna get tired of that sight.”

satoru ends up fucking you stupid for hours on his yacht.

in all positions—any position, he moved you toward the bed, folding your poor limbs like a pretzel while his cock continued to massage through your walls by stretching you open. satoru made sure you never forget the barrage he made inside with his lengthy length.

satoru was always whipped for you, but it’s like with the addition of chocolate, it made him ten times more feral. ten times more feral for you.

he’s hungry, you could see the look in his eyes. how his pupils were blown, how he made sure to give you romantically deep yet nasty strokes.

his body would rock against you in sync against your own while the yacht that carried you both continued to judder in the background.

he pumped you full—stuffing you entirely again, and again, and again . . simply put, he was virile.

like he said before, you drove him crazy, and he was starting to think to himself, maybe . . just maybe, you weren’t just his sugar baby anymore.

each time he’d spray a generous amount of cum inside of you, he’d let out a loud guttural groan. he’s weak from how warm you feel from the inside, and your moans for him to keep going only fueled him. satoru’s a literal animal, manhandling your body and fucking you everywhere he possibly could in the master bedroom.

the sofa, the bed, the wall, against the mirror. .

his favorite,

he loved to wrap a hand around your throat, making you stare at your lewd facial expressions right with him. the way your glossed lips would part and your eyes would widen once he makes you stare at the slight bulge that pokes against the lower part of your tummy. he’d serenade something to your ear in a purring deep voice like, “feel me there, sweetheart?” making you touch the exact spot he was hitting.

a pearly stream of his seed dribbles outside of your folds and now, he’s got you in nothing more but an intimate mating press.

“eyes up here,” he rasps a soft panting tone, gently prying your hands away from your face.

he’d just coaxed you through yet another orgasm, and your entire body felt like it just ran a marathon. you were sure by now the effects of the chocolate had worn off for the both of you - it did.

but with satoru, he looked like those many rounds didn’t even faze him. not one.

he’s still lodged inside of your cunt, his tip spitting out thick ropes for the nth time of the night and he groans. your eyes glance down his snowy happy trail and glance at his sharp v-line that’s tensing up from the stimulation. “you . . took me so well,” and he leans in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

“mmf—” your arms wrap around him, entrapping his skin waist with your legs. his toned body rocks itself into you for just a few more times before he steadily pulls out. his flaccid cock rests against your bare tummy and you moan, tasting the last few remnants of sugar that lies on his tongue.

satoru’s heart beats rapidly, and once he opens his eyes to stare at you, he knew you were dangerous.

tresses of white hair glue against your skin once his forehead lightly pressed against yours. within seconds, after he found himself pulling you into another deep kiss, something was different. this time, out of all the kisses you shared with him, you think this one meant something more.

it was far more slow and passionate, his body rocks against yours and he groans in your mouth, feeling your hands scratch down his soft skin. you leave a painting of scratches all down his back, a canvas he can’t wait to look at later.

as your tongue continues to tangle with his, strands of spit form into translucent cobwebs before he starts to suck on your tongue. “god, woman you drive me insane,” and he pulls away, completely out of breath. his pretty lips were all glossed and swollen, and he cups your face. “sweets, i—,” he cuts off, locking eyes with you.

his heart was pounding,

telling him to say it - just say it.

but the way you gave him that look . . your arms remain wrapped around him, limbs tangled with each other and he lets out a soft sigh. delicately, he pulls out and watches you let off a soft moan once you were now clenching around nothing.

“ah,” he shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss against the corner of your quivering lip. “i . .” and a lump gets caught in his throat.

you strum a thumb against his undercut, a simple gesture that you knew would always soothe him.

the white haired man leans into your touch, his heart practically yelling at him to just spit the words out before he speaks against your lips, slowly lifting up your leg, kissing your ankle.

“i think . . i think ‘m in love with you, sweetheart.”

[mattsstarlet]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 — 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

sugardaddy!matt loves to spoil reader.

warning: this prompt includes cheating.

contains: smut, age gap, mentions of alcohol, oral (female receiving), p in v, daddy kink, slight dumbification, bigdick!matt, softdom!matt.

you had perked matt’s interest the second he laid eyes on you in some shitty bar. infectiously laughing and sipping on your fruity drink, enjoying the night out with your friends. he waited for the right moment to make his move, ordering a drink and sending it off your way, biting down his smirk at the way your eyes lit up at the sight of a cold martini.

excitement filled your body when you glanced over at him. he looked a bit older than you, dressed nicely with an open collared shirt, a silver chain gleaming underneath the light. his hands were wrapped around a cold drink, adorned with rings. you instantly thought he had taste— really expensive taste.

he bought you many drinks that night, flashing toothy grins and letting his hand linger on your lower back. he almost treated it like a date, wanting to know more about you and what interested you. then you somehow spent that entire weekend in one of his many houses, more so tangled in his sheets.

he took you out, taking you to places you’ve never been before, buying you highly expensive clothes and designer bags. he took pleasure in seeing you spend his money on whatever made you happy. however, there was a big issue— he was married.

it should have rubbed you the wrong way, you dared to never mess with a taken man but he was like a drug that you slowly became addicted to, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting more.

you haven’t seen matt for over two weeks, it was all just text messages and bank deposit notifications. he was busy with work and his personal life, but he never once took you out of his head. so on his break, he booked two flight tickets, rented out a penthouse suite for a total of three days, and came up with a shitty excuse his wife bought.

which is how you ended up here, in the middle of a master bedroom, slipping off your heels after a long day of walking around the city, shopping for expensive things.

matt walked in after ending a call from which you assumed was his wife, unclipping his watch and setting it down on the dresser. unbuttoning his shirt he walked over to you, stopping behind you.

“you have fun today, sweetheart?” he muttered, brushing your hair off to the side and lightly kissing your neck, planting his free hand around your front.

you smiled sheepishly, fluttering your eyes closed and letting his lips attack your skin, feeling his growing cock against your ass. “i had lots of fun, daddy.”

he chuckled deeply, shaking his head in amusement. he patted your ass, indicating you to lay on the cushy bed, in his favorite position.

you slipped off your dress, leaving the maroon lace matching set on as you crawled onto the bed, resting your cheek on the fluffy sheets while you arched your ass, grinding in circles against his crotch.

“atta girl.” he held your hips with a tight grip, stilling your movements before he bucked his own, letting you feel his thick bulge. “someone’s missed you.”

he slid off his shirt, tossing it onto the floor before pulling you closer to the edge, grinning at the tiny giggle that left your shiny lips. his finger ran along your clothed slit, feeling how warm and damped your panties were. he hooked his finger along the crotch area, moving it to the side, exposing your bare cunt.

“please—” you choked on a gasp, igniting a deep groan from matt as he pressed his lips against your wet core, kissing your pussy. his tongue ran through your folds, sending a shiver up your spine, fingers curling around the sheets.

“sweetest pussy ever.” he mumbled against you before inserting his pink muscle into your slick hole, drawing circles inside your gushy walls. he lapped at your cunt once more, slurping and closing his lips around your bud, sounds of his lips smacking echoed through the giant room.

you were a whining mess, your eyesight blurry, forming bubbles of tears. he pulled away, the view of your sloppy, dripping heat, fascinated him in ways he couldn’t describe. he leaned in once more, giving your drooling hole a kiss.

“god, i love this pussy.”

as you mewled, he tugged down his pants along with his boxers, pooling at his feet and stepping out of them. he kicked them off the side, wrapping his palm around his throbbing cock, pumping himself before brushing his tip along your puffy cunt.

“ready, sweetheart?” you nodded, squeezing your eyes shut once the head of his cock paused at your entrance, slowly forcing himself in your tight walls. you cried, wincing at the burning sensation ripping through your inner thighs while he hushed you, his palms soothing over the tense area.

“i know, baby, i know.” he coos, a devilish grin plastering across his lips, his gaze locked in on the way you sheath his cock. wet, plopping noises coming from your intertwined bodies each time he deliberately pulled his hips back just to roughly plunge back in. “fuckin’ take it.”

you slipped out a squeal once he picked up his pace, the wooden bed frame thudding against the grey colored wall, the legs screeching on the cold floor.

“s-slow down, t-too big, matty”

“slow? but you’re grippin’ my cock so tight, sweetie.” he taunted, watching you get lost in your head, rolling those desperate puppy eyes back and becoming a blubbering mess all over the black sheets. “see? my dumb little girl likes daddy’s dick in her belly.”

he didn’t miss the way your spongy hole clenched around his cock, instead he let out a groan, harshly smacking your ass cheek. “spoiled fuckin’ girl.”

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

note ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ slowly getting back to writing after being sick and just not feeling well :( sorry if this was shitty.

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[pleasureable]

Star Shopping !

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ in which you’re asked to star in Thanos’ new music video

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you were a well known Instagram model, with your career being launched after you had posted a random selfie of you taken on your digital camera

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the virality of your picture practically launched you into virtual stardom with you gaining a pretty big following after that

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ your followers loved you for your beauty and style, as your instagram page was littered with pictures of you posing in clothing items such as big fur coats, mini skirts, leather tops and bottoms and bikinis

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you were pretty popular amongst rappers for some reason, with some even asking for permission to use your pictures in promo for their music

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you had been familiar with Thanos for a little while now as you had seen his performances a couple times—more specifically his performance at Rolling Loud fest. you liked his music and you thought he was pretty cute but you had never really interacted with him before

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Thanos was practically obsessed with you, though. he would always like your posts, even commenting “😍😍” on some of them—of course, fueling some rumors of hidden romance between you two

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he had finally messaged you one day, his name popping up in your dms

@thanos

u down to be in my music video, pretty ?

@y/n

sure why not lol

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ after a few days of exchanging messages you finally booked a flight (that he, of course, offered to pay for) to L.A—where the video would be filmed

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ once you had landed and settled into your hotel room a bit, you and Thanos had met up for coffee—he explained the vision he had for the video, as well as telling you what he wanted from you in terms of your appearance in it

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “I’m thinkin’ of like, just having you as the main focus of the video” he said. you were incredibly flattered, how couldn’t you be? a big, hotshot rapper like him wanted to plaster your face all over a piece of his work. “main focus?” you asked, a touch of uncertainty in your voice. you had been in some music videos before, but just as a background character, never the lead girl. “Of course, I wanna showcase your beauty as much as I can.” he responded.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ your nerves were at an all time high as you drove to the filming location the day of the video shoot. once you got there the makeup artists began to work on you, minimal makeup, just as Thanos had earlier requested (he did want to showcase your beauty, after all)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the on-set costume designer had chosen to dress you in a tight, mini white dress—a ushanka style hat being placed on your head to finish the look

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the music video idea followed two lovers who spend the night recording each other on a camcorder, engaging in stupid shenanigans around a mansion, showcasing and capturing carefree moments of each other

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ walking onto set, you could feel thanos’s eyes all over you, admiring the way your body fit your dress and how the ring lights placed on set perfectly highlighted your facial features

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ once actual shooting had begun, the romantic chemistry between the two of you was undeniable

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the romantic poses you were placed in by the director and Thanos himself obviously weren’t doing anything to dampen the atmosphere

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ nearing the end of shooting, you were scripted to be holding the camcorder while staring into Thanos’s eyes, an implied kiss taking place before the screen would go black, thus marking the end of video

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ though, once you got close enough to his face to the point where the tips of your noses were touching, the sexual and romantic tension had gotten unbearable. you had been very much aware of Thanos’s attraction to you prior to him asking you to be in his video, and you never quite expected you and him to be in the predicament you were in now.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ without even thinking, Thanos smashed his lips against yours—to your delight. pent up frustration causing the kiss to be slightly lewd, though you both quickly pulled away before you got carried away

“that definitely wasn’t scripted mr. Thanos.”

“Of course it wasn’t, pretty.”

[pkg4mumtown]

All-Inclusive Obedience

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You and Hotch are volunteered to go undercover as newlyweds on a couples retreat suspected of hiding something more sinister. Emotions, tension, and your giant crush on the man are all running high.

Content Warnings: alcohol, GN!reader (no Y/N), strong language, first person POV, canon-typical injuries and violence, cults, knives/guns, blood, newlyweds, voyeuristic surveillance, SMUT, drugging, kidnapping, human trafficking, fluff, hurt/comfort

A/N: My entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Criminal Minds Undercover Challenge No art this time, I dropped a longer fic than I intended to 😂. The Spotify playlist for it is below the break. Heed all warnings, please and thank you.

Also available on AO3

Intro

Going undercover wasn’t necessarily a new experience. Going undercover as a newlywed, however, was. It was made worse by the fact that Hotch and I were volunteered to go on the assignment together.

Me.

With my boss.

As newlyweds.

My boss.

Who I'd had more than one wet dream about since I'd been on his team.

That boss.

The BAU was gifted a case by Violent Crimes that they simply couldn't crack and Hotch reluctantly took it under the expectant glare from Strauss that he wouldn't fuck it up. The case revolved around an exclusive couples service catering to the ultra-wealthy—a place where high-profile clients would be sent on an all-inclusive trip with their partner in a reinvigorating retreat. It was the perfect match for affluent couples looking to reconnect with their partners.

The FBI was called in when some of these couples had begun to disappear with their assets drained and their whereabouts unknown. After weeks of investigation after the case was given to us, we suspected a trafficking ring where these couples were ending up either sold to the highest bidder or outright murdered. Some of the couples who survived were discovered on surveillance in countries far removed from where they disappeared, yet others came back home with no issue. It was never consistent and the BAU worked tirelessly to figure out what made the unsubs choose one couple over the other.

We checked flight logs and identification of passengers, seeing patterns of a few faces on multiple trips. That one important aspect continually brought us back: if couples were going missing, why were previous attendees returning? Were some of the couples in on the trafficking ring? Or were they ignorant of the happenings?

There was really only one way to find out.

After much research on Penelope's part, we discovered the only safest way was as an affluent married couple. The cover story came together easily: we were looking for a secluded honeymoon getaway hoping to enhance our relationship through one of the service’s elite couples’ retreats—one that many of the couples disappeared from.

As we signed up—well as Penelope signed up for us—we saw how the entire process was too good to be true.

I wasn't one to complain about a semi-dangerous free vacation, though, it might have been less stressful without my attractive boss.

Our only line of communication with the rest of the BAU would be a satellite phone that Hotch was bringing, locked and hidden discreetly in a Faraday cage. The retreat was strictly no-phones, so finding a place to hide it had been a challenge. The team would be on a nearby island monitoring the situation, gathering as much information as they could over there, and ready to extract us at a moment’s notice.

Hotch and I went over briefly what we would be expected to do on the trip: sleeping in the same bed, kissing, various public displays of affection, and if it came down to it—faking a sexual encounter. It was obviously the most nerve-wracking one, one, because of the subtle realism required to make it believable and two, because of the automatic implication that we would both have to be nude. Most things had to be on the table—within reason—for this to be both believable and a success.

-

Day 1

From the moment Hotch and I got in the car to the charter plane which was provided by the service, it was game on.

The driver had asked for our names, which Hotch provided the aliases for without hesitation. Hotch played the ever attentive new husband, taking the luggage from my hand and tossing our luggage in the trunk. We slid in the cushy car, Hotch automatically throwing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me close. It was automatically understood that seat belts were a suggestion in a car like this.

The driver was attentive, a little too much, continuously looking at us in the rear-view mirror. It meant that Hotch had to be handsier than we both anticipated right off the bat.

“Relax,” I felt Hotch's lips brush the shell of my ear, pressing his lips against my cheek.

It would be easier to relax if I wasn't so attracted to him. Frustrated with myself, I forced my body to relax. I slumped into his body, smiling up at him. His eyes flicked down to my lips, a sly smirk that I couldn't tell real from fake spreading over his features.

Biting the bullet, dropped a hand to his exposed thigh, clad in tan shorts and a flowy white button-down, and trailed it high up his leg, tilting my head up until my lips brushed his. It was brief and I pulled away almost immediately like I was teasing him.

“I cannot wait to get you alone,” he muttered just loud enough for the driver to hear. “Waves crashing, fucking you as loud as I want.”

I bit my lip, the butterflies his words caused being all too real. I hummed, smiling at his words and pressing my lips firmly against his.

So that was what it was like to actually kiss him, I vaguely wondered as his teeth scraped over my lip.

The plane trip had a reasonable flight time, shorter than many of our domestic flights with the team, taking us somewhere off the coast of Florida near the Bahamas. The plane ride itself was a blur as drinks were poured, accompanied by a few other couples and more “undercover” kissing than social interactions.

“So, h-how long have you been mm-married?” one of the wives slurred, leaning forward with her third flute of champagne. She had introduced herself as Becca, here with her husband, Leo.

They were one of the repeat couples.

I sipped on my own drink, having discreetly tested both mine and Hotch's for any drugs with an invisible polish on my pinky finger. Satisfied that nothing had come up, I shrugged and toasted his glass before taking a long swig.

“We just got married last month,” I answered, leaning forward toward her and gushing with her.

“Oh, newlyweds,” Becca cooed, clasping her hands together.

One of the partners from a different couple, Avery, who wasn’t as inebriated spoke up, “That’s wonderful! So, what made you decide to come on a retreat so soon after tying the knot?”

I gave Hotch a quick sideways glance, curious how he’d handle this one. He didn’t hesitate.

“We travel a lot for work,” he said smoothly, resting a casual hand on my knee. “It’s been…hard to find time to just be together.”

I smiled as if this were an inside joke between us, letting out a soft laugh. “And my sister swears by couples retreats. She and her husband went on one last year—oh I forget what company—but they came back glowing.” I widened my eyes like I was just so desperate to recapture that newlywed bliss.

Avery's partner, Quinn, was more reserved, simply holding their drink and not interacting much. I thought that maybe they might be like us, new to the experience, especially considering I didn't recognize them from our repeat attendee list.

Across from us, Leo gave Hotch a look that was half camaraderie, half warning, “You’ll be pushed outside your comfort zone, that’s for sure. The exercises can get…intense.”

I leaned in conspiratorially, grinning suggestively, “Intense how?”

He only chuckled, shaking his head, “You’ll see. It's all worth it.”

I shot Hotch a secretive look, as if we were about to be in over our heads—but in reality, I was watching for his reaction. He remained unbothered, simply lifting his glass in a toast, “To new experiences, then.”

I tapped my glass against his, our fingers brushing. I licked my bottom lip, watching the liquid pass his lips effortlessly and his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

He gave me a smirk over the rim, playing into the sultry looks I was giving him. It wasn't even pretending on my part, resisting the urge to shift too much in my seat and tell on myself about how aroused I was.

-

Upon landing on the island, there were several other planes already landed on the small airstrip. We were driven a short distance to the resort, consisting of lavish architecture weaving around the tropical foliage on the way in. The grounds were a typical beach haven, with bungalows lining the pristine beach. Workers covered every inch of the grounds, stopping and waving as the SUV passed, with wide, welcoming smiles.

Chills ran through my body as I made eye contact with one of them.

We were greeted immediately by a man who introduced himself as Trent, the Day Manager. The resort staff poured out to grab the bags of the couples, even to our light protest at being okay to carry our own luggage. More drinks were thrust into our hands as we were directed by Trent to a check-in desk—each couple assigned to a different staff member's desk.

“Welcome to Twin Palms Resort, we hope your travel accommodations exceeded your expectations,” the woman smiled stiffly, watching us for any type of complaint.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” I leaned into Hotch, smiling up at him.

“I’m pleased to hear that. Before we assign you your room, we do need a few signatures,” she slid a document and a pen across the table.

“Non-disclosure agreement,” stood out in bold letters at the top.

Interesting.

I leaned forward, picking up the pen and giving her a smile. Hotch put his hand on my wrist, halting me with light pressure and prying the pen from my fingers gently.

“One second, sweetheart,” he murmured, picking up the papers and skimming over them with a relaxed expression, not wanting to come off too tense or calculating.

I feigned tiredness, resting my head on his arm and glancing at the text every so often. It was painfully vague, talking the resort up about how it’s for an exclusive selection of people and that a level of discretion was warranted. And—did that say loyalty incentives and disciplinary actions? My eyes drifted to the staff member who was writing something on her side of the desk before looking back up to scrutinize Hotch. A lot of the verbiage wasn’t even in “legalese”, considering I wouldn’t need Hotch to translate some of it later. It was vague but self-explanatory, if not a little aggressive.

The very end made me grimace internally.

“By signing, you commit yourself wholly to the experience.”

Hotch gave the woman a smile and set the paper down, scribbling out his alias’ signature effortlessly.

“Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t signing my yacht away,” he winked.

The woman barely cracked a smile, “Of course, sir.”

I signed with my alias after and snuggled back into Hotch’s too comfortable warmth.

The staff member got our room keys sorted, actual physical keys, not plastic cards.

“Your luggage will be taken to your room, shortly,” she stated and stood. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your accommodations.”

Hotch nodded, grabbing his drink in one hand and taking my hand in the other. I walked loosely, keeping up my appearance of having one too many drinks on the plane while scoping out the place. My ears tuned into a conversation Avery and Quinn had with their staff member in regards to the NDA.

“Disciplinary action? What the hell does that mean?” Quinn, who was so quiet on the plane, spoke up, agitation in their voice.

Cameras littered the resort, starting to feel more like a cult compound than a freeing topical resort. Some were hidden in foliage and some were out in plain sight, but it was clear that they were covering their bases.

We approached the end of the path we were led on, where the concrete ended and sand began. Hotch toed out of his very expensive looking loafers, while I stumbled trying to get my shoes off. His arm wrapped around me to keep me steady, sighing happily as it finally popped off. He bent down, faster than me, and picked all four shoes up off the floor, tucking them under his arm.

“Come on,” he smiled gently, pressing a sweet kiss to my mouth and guiding me to the sand.

The staff member stood off to the side waiting and writing like before, waiting for us to catch up. The view from the beach was breathtaking and I groaned internally because we were here to work, not play.

“You'll find everything you need here,” she said while opening the door to the bungalow, the inside looking modern and immaculate contrasting the wood and straw outside. “Everything,” she stressed with a smirk.

We got the hint.

Sex stuff. Yep. Got it.

“Please don’t hesitate to let any staff member know if you need anything else. Your schedule is on the desk. Do try to be punctual to the highlighted events. Everything else is at your own leisure,” she gave us one more tight smile, leaving the keys on the desk and leaving us alone, shutting the door behind her.

“Alone” was a generous word.

We couldn’t be certain if there were bugs or cameras, not yet anyway. Our scanning devices were hidden in Hotch’s bag with his satellite phone.

Hotch tossed our shoes to the floor, sending bits of sand that stuck to the tread bouncing across the floor. I took Hotch’s glass out of his hand, setting both on the table and turning back toward him. Both of my hands trailed from his shoulders down to his chest, giving him a gentle shove until the back of his knees hit the bed.

He bounced on the bed with a “oof” escaping his chest. He propped himself up on his elbows, then his hands. His brows were questioning, but I only smiled and kneeled between his open, inviting legs.

“You said you wanted me alone.”

“I did,” he confirmed, eyes following me as I crawled up his body until he was looking up at me.

Using my hand to push him all the way back down to the bed, I covered my mouth with his, letting out all the pent up arousal from the beginning of this trip.

To him, I might just be a superb actor.

But, there was very little acting being done as I moaned into his mouth and blindly found the buttons of his shirt. As I ground my hips down against his while his hands trailed down from my back to my ass.

This operation was going to be rough.

Before I could completely unbutton his shirt, two knocks sounded on our door. I pulled away, dazed but not from the alcohol. From him.

He looked equally mussed, eyes still trained on my mouth until two more knocks sounded. I got off him hurriedly as if we were about to get caught by our parents. His shirt hung open, skin on display as he answered the door.

A different staff member stood on the other side, bags in hand.

I stood up to help Hotch, “Sorry about that, I can’t keep my hands off him,” I directed to the staff member, a younger man who simply smiled and blushed knowingly.

“N-no worries,” he stumbled, nearly tripping over himself.

He must be new.

After he left, we threw our luggage on the bed, unzipping them and taking out some of the contents. Hotch glanced at me, subtly getting my attention and flicking the small luggage lock he had on the bag that had been cut. I nodded, and took more things out. He fumbled in the bag for a moment before coming out with his toiletries.

“Mind putting those in the bathroom?” He handed the bag to me gingerly.

I felt the dent of the scanning device inside and grabbed my own toiletries to check out the bathroom for bugs. It was unspoken that Hotch would check over there.

The device lit up in only one spot of the bathroom, just under the mirror by the sink. Should be easy enough to drown out with the shower and the sink on.

When I came back, Hotch’s bag was just about empty, with one drawer left open for me. He made eye contact as I came back in.

I winked at him. One.

He blinked at me twice. Four.

“Look in the nightstand,” he grinned.

I hesitantly opened it, seeing it filled with condoms, lubes, dental dams, and factory sealed toys. Holy shit, she wasn’t kidding.

One.

“This drawer has the same,” he laughed. “I guess I didn’t need to bring so many.”

Two.

I put more of my clothes away, “Guess we can’t be too prepared.”

“Oh! You think we can catch the rest of Shark Week out here?” he pointed at the TV.

Three.

“You really want to watch sharks attacking people when we’re at the beach, babe?” I laughed, throwing a pillow at him.

“It’s educational.”

“Mhm,” I shook my head.

He stalked toward me, a smirk on his face. He backed me up against the desk, pushing the glasses and keys aside and lifting me onto it. He stepped between my legs kissing me breathless.

Four.

“Babe,” I moaned, torn between bringing him closer and pushing him away. “I’m not done putting my stuff away.”

Hotch groaned, feigning annoyance, “Hurry. They have a whole welcome thing in two hours and I have been dying to fuck you all morning.”

My jaw just about dropped to the floor at the words that came out of Hotch’s mouth. My brain was short circuiting. What twilight zone had I gotten myself into? Undercover Hotch was so different. Flirty, smiley, attentive, and kind of a slut.

I loved it.

“Yea?”

“Mm, I was ready to take you on that damn plane, the way you were looking at me.”

Internally, I was screaming.

Screw this.

I pulled Hotch back in, moaning as I felt his hips press into mine. I dug my heels into his ass, hearing him grunt and groan in response.

“Fuck me now, then,” I grinned, nipping at lips.

The fact that he was playing into the scene so hard told me he had something he needed to say or else he wouldn’t be so urgently pushing. I pushed myself off the desk, ripping my clothes off roughly as Hotch shrugged the rest of his shirt off and remaining clothing. I didn’t dare look down, shoving our luggage off the bed and pulling him down with me.

I ignored the hot press of his cock against my stomach. Both of us had a silent understanding that it would look strange if we pulled the sheets back when we were supposed to be so desperate and considering we weren’t supposed to know about the potential for bugs and cameras. I hoped it would be convincing enough.

I heard him dig through one of the drawers to locate lube to make it more believable. I didn’t expect him to flip the cap open and pour some out; wiping most of it on himself. Hotch groaned, adjusting himself until I felt his cock slide against my ass, the lube providing much needed relief from chafing where we met. He took a deep, shaky breath with his hips pressing forward mimicking pushing into me.

Hotch hid his whispers with groans and I did my best to help him, “Alarm clock has a camera. I think. Mirror, too.”

He kept his sentences short and in between breaths, “We can’t half ass this,” he muttered into my ear and I squeezed his shoulders in understanding.

“Cameras everywhere. Outside,” I responded against his mouth.

Hotch nodded, pressing his face into my neck, “NDA was fishy. Felt like a cult.”

I moaned in agreement, "Right there,” I hoped he understood the double meaning.

His hips slammed faster, his pubic area providing delicious friction with every writhe and thrust.

Don’t cum. Don’t cum.

Hotch made a passing glance at the alarm clock and I followed his eyes, “Still good on time, don’t worry,” he panted, making a show of lifting my hips and thrusting harder.

I moaned his alias’ name. It felt strange to call him anything but Hotch, especially when I’d dreamed of this moment—well it would be going much differently, but still. I did my best to breathe through the impending orgasm, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable until I felt his fingers dig desperately into my arms and torso as his orgasm snuck up on him. His hips stuttered and stilled, his chest still heaving as he breathed rapidly into my neck.

My ass was slicker than before, his cum coating my skin.

I was surprised; almost sad I hadn’t let myself cum, too.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into my neck. He sounded distraught, concerned, and embarrassed all wrapped into one package. “I’m sorry.”

My feelings immediately shifted and I felt bad, not considering how he’d feel. The post-coital realization hit him hard despite actual intercourse not taking place. I reassured him with a squeeze of his torso, letting my hand brush the hair at the base of his neck. He pushed himself up after a beat, looking at me with a satisfied smile for the camera but the most apologetic gaze I’d ever seen.

“Feel better?” I asked, bringing him down for a languid kiss.

Hotch nodded and sat all the way up, groaning as he did.

“We have time for another,” I bit my lip, reaching out for him.

He laughed, taking my hand, “I don’t want to sleep in a sweaty, crusty bed tonight.”

I pouted.

“Shower?”

He cocked his head toward the bathroom in an invitation, so I pushed myself up and followed him in.

“I thought you said you were too old for shower sex,” I joked on the spot.

“That scotch worked its magic. I’m pain free for another hour at least,” he laughed.

As soon as we entered the bathroom, I tapped his wrist, subtly pointing to where I had found the bug. Tapping the faucet, I pointed to him, then myself, then the shower. I held my hand out, telling him to wait and opened the shower. With one hand on the faucet and one hand counting down to him, we turned them on simultaneously.

“Holy fuck, this shower is huge,”I looked back at him.

He made a noise of interest, coming over to me, invading my space. As tempting as it had been, I still didn't look down and kept my eyes carefully trained on his face.

“Wow,” he commented. “Plenty of room for…activities.”

I let my laugh float around the bathroom.

Unsure of where to put his hand, he held my upper arm, murmuring lowly, “I'm really sorry, I didn't me—”

“Relax,” I stressed. “It's natural, considering what we were literally doing. Stop feeling bad,” I brought my hand to his shoulder comfortingly. “You probably needed it,” I joked, pushing his shoulder.

He barely cracked a smile, still looking like someone stole his favorite cufflinks.

I stared at his embarrassed, pinched look, “Oh my God,” I gasped, clapping my hand over my mouth. “I knew you were a giver. You're embarrassed because you came and I didn't.”

His face was beet red and though he could explain it away as the steam filling the room, I knew better.

“Well, come on, you can make it up to me. There's two shower heads in here, too.”

Hotch looked conflicted, on one hand—it was only fair, but on the other hand—this would be as ourselves rather than an act.

It would be on purpose. And that left room for danger in regards to returning back to normal life after all this.

Truthfully, I didn’t think he was going to step into the shower. I stepped back to take the pressure off of him, letting the warm water run over my head as I washed off our travels and the cum. I didn’t hear the shower door close softly over the spray of the water, my only indication that he had joined me being the skimming of his fingers on my abdomen as they traveled to my sides, and then my back.

My eyes flew open, obstructed by water, but I didn’t need to see as we came together. Our mouths moved surprisingly slowly, a stark contrast to the urgency not long ago. His tongue dipped into my mouth as his hand wormed between us, finding my sensitive skin still aching for release. How his hand managed to be slick with the water beating down on us—I didn’t question it (though my nose told me it was something scented). His mouth left mine, trailing down my neck while his hand and fingers worked several miracles.

I gave him one more out.

“You don’t have to,” I moaned loudly after as his hand moved just a bit faster with more pressure, letting my head drop back against the shower wall. His free had plastered against my back to keep me upright.

Hotch’s teeth scraped my neck.

It was enough of an answer.

He brought his face out of my neck, water dripping from his hair, down his nose, and beading off his eyelashes. His lips parted in concentration, watching as I came apart under his touch. His tongue swept out, gathering drops of water along the way making his hooded gaze more sensual if it was even possible. I could feel when the slick substance started washing away, Hotch letting me go shortly after.

I whined pitifully, clutching shoulders and digging my fingers in out of frustration, “Please.”

Without a word, my hips were pushed firmly against the wall and Hotch was on his knees.

He was so going to feel that later.

“Wait—you do—,” I moved to protest both the position for his own comfort and the fact that I didn’t intend for him to have to use his mouth.

He didn’t react to my fingers in his soaked hair, only glancing at me and blinking water out of his eyes. It took half a second before I was covered by his hot mouth, sucking, licking—

My mind went white and fuzzy.

My back pressed into the wall as my hips arched involuntarily toward Hotch, “So good—y-yes—mmm.” The pleasure coiled in my abdomen, tighter and tighter, “Fuck, I’m gon—”

It didn’t take long for my body to tense, feeling Hotch’s arms hold me tighter as I trembled so as not to slip. Bliss coursed throughout my body, making my fingertips clench against his head and my toes tingle. Hotch took everything in stride, not stopping until I was practically begging him and pulling him off me by the hair.

My chest heaved as I fought to catch my breath. Hotch didn’t care, covering my mouth with his and stealing my breath all over again. I tasted myself on his tongue, sending a new wave of excitement through my body.

Finally, he let me breathe, forehead pressing into mine as he still helped to keep me upright.

“Did that make you feel better?” I laughed softly, brushing my lips against his for a second.

“Surprisingly, yes.”

I dreaded having to leave his arms and stand on my own. I dreaded more, the idea of having to wash myself instead of letting my eyes slip closed in his arms.

But, we had a job to do and a schedule to follow.

Groaning, I planted myself more firmly on my feet, “Thank you.”

He hummed, releasing me from his arms.

I almost wished he had said “any time”.

We toweled off and dressed shortly after, needing to make up for wasted time.

“Wasted” was subjective.

The mirror was still partially fogged as I checked my appearance, Hotch at my side combing his hair and fixing his collar with practiced ease. He looked relaxed and comfortable like we were getting ready for an actual date and had done this a million times.

“I gotta say, honey,” I mused, dragging the word out and adjusting the back of his collar for him. “For a guy who hates shower sex, you sure were dedicated to it.”

He flicked his eyes to me in the mirror, a small smirk gracing his lips, “Nothing a little scotch can’t fix. You know I don’t half-ass my work.”

“Clearly.”

He turned to me, extending his arms out for approval on his outfit.

“Hot,” was the only word that tumbled out.

Hotch shook his head, pressing his lips to my forehead, “You look perfect.”

It was for show. It was for show. But damn, he really looked like he meant it. He was too good at this.

I rolled my eyes, patting the buttons on his chest, “God, you’re annoying.”

“You’re welcome.”

The moment settled around us, familiar and teasing.

I could get used to this.

-

The welcome dinner was a stunning display of wealth and indulgence, with chairs and tables perched neatly in the pristine sand. The tables were round, dressed in white linens, and encircled a stone and cement patio that overlooked the ocean behind us. Lanterns swayed gently from the trees and the ocean breeze, casting flickering golden light over the guests as the sun set. Laughter from the tables blended in with the rhythmic crashing of waves. Some hidden speakers played tranquil music softly in the background, the music almost having a lulling effect.

That or the orgasm really did more than I expected.

Hotch sat beside me, his arm draped lazily over the back of my chair, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against my shoulder. It was an easy, affectionate touch, one that made it appear as though he simply couldn’t keep his hands off me. It was a simple performance and a silent form of reassurance, a way to remind me he was there and that we were in this together.

At the front of the gathering, Trent, the charismatic day manager from earlier, stood beside a polished mahogany podium. He tapped a spoon against his champagne flute, the chime ringing out over the guests, drawing all eyes on him.

“Good evening, everyone!” he beamed, his voice practiced and smooth. “On behalf of Twin Palms Resort, I want to extend my warmest welcome to our newest guests, as well as our returning couples.”

A smattering of applause followed, though something about it felt performative, not unlike myself and Hotch—rather than genuine excitement.

“This retreat isn’t just an exciting getaway for you all. It’s a transformation,” Trent continued, sweeping his gaze over the attendees. “Here, you will learn to surrender completely—to your partner and to the experience. Only when we let go of our fears and inhibitions can we discover the depths of true connection.”

I felt Hotch’s fingers press just slightly against my shoulder, the tiniest acknowledgment that he, too, had caught the unsettling wording.

From across the table, Becca, one of the repeat attendees, let out an airy sigh and lifted her champagne flute, “To surrendering.” She murmured dreamily before taking a sip. Leo echoed her sentiment, his gaze flicking briefly to Hotch, as if gauging his reaction.

Hotch only smiled, raising his own glass in an effortless toast, “To new experiences.”

The moment passed, but not without leaving behind an undercurrent of something unspoken.

Waitstaff moved seamlessly between tables, refilling glasses before they were even half-empty, their presence almost ghostly in how little they disturbed the atmosphere. The meal was plated with precision and was undeniably delicious, clear that they spared no expense when it came to reeling couples in and retaining them. I took small, deliberate bites, acutely aware of how dangerous it was when we couldn't test the food. We had tested our drinks earlier, but there were more ways to manipulate people.

At our table, the conversation meandered between pleasantries and oddly pointed questions.

“So,” Becca said, resting her chin on one hand and swirling the last of her wine with the other. Her glassy eyes trained on us, “Have you two decided which exercises you’re most excited for?”

Hotch let out a soft chuckle, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. He had been swirling amber liquid in his short tumbler and blinked in thought, “We’re trying to go into this with open minds,” he said smoothly, moving his hand from my shoulder to rest on my knee. He hesitated just a beat too long, then let out a quiet, almost bashful chuckle. “Truthfully, we uh—” He cleared his throat and glanced at me. “We didn’t really take a second to…look.”

His meaning was clear.

Becca gasped in delight, while Leo let out a knowing laugh, clapping Hotch on the back. “That’s the spirit! Didn’t even make it past the threshold, huh?”

I bit my lip, feigning embarrassment, and nudged Hotch’s knee under the table. “We were just—” I exhaled a soft laugh and shook my head, letting the implication hang.

Across the table, Quinn shifted uncomfortably, while Avery gave a tight, uncertain smile. “Well,” Avery said, “there’s certainly a lot to look forward to.”

Leo grinned, “That’s one way to put it.”

I let my fingers skim absently over the back of Hotch’s hand on his knee, as if it were second nature. Hotch glanced over at me as he took a sip from his glass.

Across the table, Avery looked distinctly uncomfortable, their grip tight around the stem of their glass. Quinn, even more reserved, barely touched their plate, only offering nods or small smiles at the conversation around them.

Before I could pry out of sheer tipsiness, the murmur of voices died down as a figure moved into the periphery of my vision.

An older man had appeared at the edge of the gathering, where the glow of the lanterns met the darkness beyond now that the sun had fully set. He wore a darker version of Trent’s uniform, leading me to believe he was the Night Manager to compliment Trent. His posture was ram-rod straight, hands clasped neatly behind his back. He did not speak, nor did Trent acknowledge him from where he stood in the back. His assessing gaze swept over the tables, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was cataloging us, memorizing each new couple.

Hotch shifted just slightly beside me, enough that his thigh pressed against mine. He gently tapped my leg to get my attention, not realizing that I’d been too focused on the Night Manager as his gaze was about to come our way.

I forced a small smile, turning toward Hotch and kissing him.

The rest of the dinner was uneventful minus the watchful gaze of the Night Manager as Trent handed off the festivities to him.

We slowly made our way back to our room, doing our best to not look like we were in a rush despite needing to get back and update the team. Becca and Leo were walking near us and still in earshot, their bungalow not far from ours, so we had to be careful.

“Think we’ll be able to sneak out and skinny dip?” I held his hand, turning and walking backwards through the sand to face him.

“If you were more quiet maybe,” he smirked.

The couple made eye contact with each other, Becca nudging Leo.

“Hey,” Leo got our attention. “They’re kind of strict around here about not wandering at night. It’s a safety thing I think with the water and premises being pretty dark, they don’t want anyone drowning or getting lost.”

“Oh, thanks,” Hotch nodded, offering them a wave. Hotch tilted his head at me, making a mental note to mention that to the team.

We got back to the room, tossing myself unceremoniously onto the bed.

“Tired?” Hotch chuckled.

“Mhm,” I moaned softly, burying my face into one of the pillows.

He let out a soft breath of air through his nose, pressing a kiss to my head, “Get comfortable and pull the covers back, sweetheart. I'm just going to run to the bathroom real quick.”

I grumbled at the thought of getting up to undress and get under the covers, but did anyway. Hotch took a bit, likely sending a message to the team in as much detail as he could with just the satellite phone and no ability to call with all the bugs.

The toilet flushed, Hotch coming out in only his underwear with the rest of his clothes rolled up to hide the satellite phone.

He let out a groan, “My stomach did not like something at dinner.”

Hotch safely stored the phone again and joined me under the covers, where my eyes were nearly shut.

“Mm, you okay?” I mumbled.

“All good now,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.

-

Day 2

I woke to the sound of the gentle lapping of waves to shore, my sinuses filling with the scent of salt and whatever harsh detergent they used on the bedding.

Inhaling deeply, I startled as I felt a tickle on my leg. I jerked my leg back and turned, only to remember—Hotch.

Oops.

His eyes were still shut and I couldn’t tell if he was awake or not but knew I needed to not act weird to the cameras, so I curled myself into his side and rested my head on his bare chest. Early morning light streamed in through the thin, flowy curtains, casting a glow across our bodies half covered by sheets.

I pressed my lips to his chest.

No reaction.

Maybe he was actually asleep.

I pressed my ear more firmly to his chest, hearing a slightly elevated rate and smiled to myself. I let my fingertips trail lightly down his abdomen, tickling the skin with the rough edges of my fingers. His heart rate picked up more.

I looked up at him, eyes still shut but the corner of his lips had pulled up ever so slightly.

“I know you’re awake,” I let my hand slip lower.

His abdomen tensed under my hand, his eyes blinking open and finding my gaze immediately.

“You were just going to lay there and let me have my way with you?” I smiled, pushing myself up to press my lips to his jaw.

“It’s called acting,” he murmured.

“Mm, so you can make your heart race like that on command?”

“Mmm,” he stretched his legs and arms, “no comment.”

As he brought his limbs back to his body, Hotch spared a glance at the clock on the nightstand.

“Oh, shit,” he sat up quickly, even with the weight of my head and torso on him.

“Wh—”

“The first exercise starts in ten minutes,” he whispered, frantically pulling on clothes.

“Shit.”

I jumped up after him, getting dressed and moderately fresh in record time. Running through sand was not my ideal cardio for the morning, especially on a not-vacation with my very hot boss.

-

We made it to the gathering on the beach with either thirty seconds to spare or five minutes late. It was impossible to tell.

A staff member we hadn't met yet introduced themselves as the leader of the exercise and started immediately.

“Good morning, everyone, My name is Celeste,” she greeted with a serene smile, her voice carrying easily over the soft rush of waves behind her. “I hope you all had a restful first night.”

Some of the couples murmured their agreement—more so the couples closer to her—while the ones in the back near Hotch and I looked just as disheveled as we did.

“I’ll be guiding you through this morning’s exercise,” she continued, clasping her hands together and scanning the group. “Today, we’ll be exploring trust—learning to rely on your partner even when you feel vulnerable. This is all about surrendering and allowing your partner to be your guide. You will be placing your complete faith in them, allowing them to lead you without sight.”

A table was set up next to her, neatly arranged with blindfolds. A murmur passed through the crowd of couples upon seeing the display. Becca shot me an excited look, while Leo leaned in to whisper something to her.

I touched Hotch’s wrist, prompting him to look at me and give me a squeeze in response.

“The exercise is simple,” she continued. “One of you will be blindfolded while the other partner leads. You’ll guide your partner through a short obstacle course using only your voice. Then, you’ll switch so both partners have a turn. This isn’t about your partner controlling you—it’s about letting go and trusting them.”

The phrasing sent an uneasy prickle down my spine.

Couples looked at each other with nervous excitement and stepped forward to grab a blindfold. We exchanged one more glance before Hotch reached for a blindfold after I hesitated for a second too long under the watchful gaze of Celeste.

Celeste smiled as if she didn’t just ask us to surrender ourselves entirely, “Take a moment to decide who will lead first.”

All of the couples looked at one another, Hotch glancing at me with a subtly raised brow in question. I could barely take him seriously with his face adorned in stubble from not shaving in our haste to leave earlier. I didn’t mind it, though I’m sure it drove him insane to have. The flecks of white on his face amidst his natural color was endearing and made him look softer than when he shaved.

“Can I lead first?” I asked nervously, touching the material in his hand.

“Are you sure?” He murmured, his thumb moving over my fingers soothingly.

“Yea,” I nodded. “I already know you’ll lead me perfectly.”

Something flickered in his eyes at my words. Pride? I couldn’t exactly tell, but he gave me a small nod as his expression melted into something fond.

“Alright,” he murmured, surrendering his grip on the blindfold. “I’m yours to guide.”

The words made a strange warmth spread through my chest, one I ignored as we turned into Celeste as she guided the group to the sand. Small obstacles were placed in a course, wooden beams breaking up the smooth sand, wooden platforms giving higher obstacles, and even some ditches in the sand we would have to avoid.

It wasn't anything too crazy. Nothing like any of the courses we had to run at the academy. It was more focused on communication than anything.

“We’ll be sending couples out every minute so it’s not so crowded. Go ahead and line up for me,” Celeste got the couples in somewhat of a line.

Hotch and I watched the couples start, seeing a lot of people tripping, peeking through the blindfolds, and touching their partners when they’d get frustrated. Staff had to verbally reprimand them and remind them of the rules several times.

Soon, Hotch and I were at the front as the couple in front of us went. I tied the blind fold over his eyes, adjusting it so it was snug but comfortable.

“Can you see?”

“No.”

I reached for his hands, steadying him as he shucked his sandals off.

“Trust me?” I laughed softly next to him.

“I do,” he squeezed my hand before dropping it.

I swallowed, pushing down the unexpected weight of those words. Celeste instructed us to start with a hand tap on both of our shoulders.

Hotch took careful steps on to the sand, trusting my estimations of distance to the next obstacle immediately. I walked next to him like we were simply taking a stroll, not wanting to confuse him by walking backwards in front of him or behind him.

“Pause,” I stopped him. “You’ll take a step over and it's just sand on the other side. Good…the next one is a little higher.”

We continued on, keeping my voice steady and calm even when he veered off too far to the right, almost going out of bounds, “You got it, just hear how close I am to you.”

Using his ears a little better despite the laughing and frustrated groans around us, he walked with more and more confidence with each passing step. It was intimate in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

“Stop,” I murmured. “You’re done.”

I reached up, untying his blindfold and watching his eyes blink to adjust to the light again. His eyes immediately focused on mine with a soft smile.

“Good job, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning in for a quick kiss.

He took the blindfold from me and tied it around my head, plunging me into darkness so we could continue the course.

“Ready?” Hotch’s voice was low, but close, meant just for me.

“Always,” I took a deep breath, nervous all of a sudden as I only focused on his voice.

His voice was just behind and to the left of me, taking a slightly different approach than me.

“Step forward, slowly.”

I followed his instructions, relying entirely on the warm, grounding tone of his voice. Each of my steps was tentative and careful, the sand shifting unpredictably under my feet to add another layer of uncertainty.

“Little more to the left, listen to my voice,” he murmured. “Good, baby. Another step and you’ll step over.”

“I feel like you’re guiding me through a minefield,” I laughed.

“Same principle,” he responded dryly.

Hotch didn’t tell me when I finished, instead winding an arm around my waist and pulling me close to him. I felt his lips meet mine, my eyes involuntarily closing underneath the blindfold. When I opened my eyes, the blindfold was removed and Hotch was grinning at me.

“I think we were the best ones,” he dove back in, smiling into the kiss.

“You might be biased,” I murmured.

“Mmm,” he made a noise of protest, indicating his head to where couples were finishing covered in sand and either mad or laughing at each other.

Staff members lined the obstacle course, clipboards in-hand and writing furiously. I accidentally made eye contact with one, who leaned over and spoke to the staff member next to him.

“What do you think they're writing?” I murmured.

“I don't know, but we need to find out,” his eyebrow twitched in contemplation but his hand trailed up and down my lower back to keep up the charade.

Celeste clapped her hands together, signaling the end of the exercise and gathering the couples together, “Wonderful work, everyone. Remember, this wasn’t about speed or perfection—it’s about learning to trust and communicate. Some of you did beautifully, while others…” she gave a knowing smile as some couples groaned and dusted sand off themselves, “may have discovered a few areas to work on. For now, take a break. Breakfast is being served in the main hall, and afterward, we’ll dive into our next exercise.”

Hotch’s fingers brushed against the small of my back as we trailed behind the other couples toward the dining hall. “We’ll have to be careful about how much we stand out.”

“Yeah,” I exhaled, glancing back toward the staff. “But I still want to know what they wrote."

-

Breakfast was a mix of tired grumbling and overcompensating excitement. Some couples barely spoke, still frustrated over the obstacle course, while others dissected every move they made, analyzing what they could do better. Hotch and I ate in a comfortable quiet, making small talk with the other couples.

“—haven’t seen them all morning.”

My ears tuned into a conversation at a different table, Becca’s chatter becoming nothing more than droning as I did.

A couple was missing already? Looking around at faces I already recognized, I hummed thinking who might be missing.

“Maybe they slept in. We almost overslept,” someone responded.

“Travel will do that,” another response.

“I felt kinda hungover, I don’t remember drinking that much,” another chimed in.

I trailed my hand up Hotch’s thigh, squeezing and leaning toward him with a teasing smile. With my lips brushing his ear, I murmured, “Couple missing. You hear that? Maybe drugging?”

Hotch chuckled, letting his hand come up to the back of my neck, “You’re insatiable.”

It was a simple response but let me know he heard me.

Tuning back into the conversation, I saw his eyes scanning other tables for any one he noticed was missing.

By the time we were called back outside, the sun had climbed higher, heating the sand to an uncomfortable temperature. The next exercise was the eye contact challenge. Simple in theory—five minutes of uninterrupted eye contact with your partner. But as I sat across from Hotch, knees nearly touching on the white sheet draped over the sand, I felt my stomach twist and regretted eating immediately.

No words, no distractions.

Just looking at each other. Easy.

The timer started.

I held his gaze, reminding myself that this was just acting, just another role to play. Hotch’s expression was unreadable. His eyes were dark and searching—glinting amber as the sunlight filtered through his eyelashes just right. It felt like they saw straight through me. The longer I looked, the more I felt stripped bare, as if every layer of protection I built up about my feelings for him was being peeled away. The mask I wore, the careful detachment despite our brief lapse in judgment yesterday—it all threatened to crumble under the weight of his stare.

I swallowed hard. My pulse thrummed in my throat.

Five minutes had never felt so long.

I fought every urge I had to look away but couldn’t help the heat I felt on my face as I licked my lips. And it wasn’t from the sun.

When the time was up, I deflated slightly, taking a deep breath as I recovered from the intensity.

“Okay?”

“Mhm, I forget how intense you are,” I rubbed my eyes.

“You forgot yesterday already? Must be losing my touch,” he teased.

Cocking my jaw to the side, I laughed and shoved his chest, “Oh, hush.”

-

We were put through a few more exercises throughout the day but with not enough time to relax back at our room, unfortunately. It was only after dinner—once the sun had already set—that we were released back to our rooms. Thankfully, according to our schedule, the second day was the most structured day out of the retreat, giving Hotch and I more free time to explore later.

Our missing couple also turned up after lunch, looking lost, not believing that it was two in the afternoon. They insisted that they hadn't been drunk but a couple from their flight—another frequent-flier couple—insisted that the husband had been consuming drinks pretty rapidly. He denied it, of course, but it was up to the listener’s opinion on who to believe. Hotch and I knew something more sinister was happening behind the scenes.

“The hot tub sounds heavenly right now,” I groaned, rubbing my hands over my arms in a desperate attempt to get rid of the feeling of sand sticking to my skin.

Hotch opened the front door and ushered me in, “Then use—”

He paused his movements and stopped speaking as he took in the room.

“—it.”

I looked at the room too to see what he was looking at. The bed was made, which wasn’t all that strange. Then, I noticed my bag wasn’t where I had left it this morning and neither was Hotch’s. Both bags were tucked neatly under the desk with the zippers done up neatly.

“I need to wash the sand off,” I rubbed his back and moved toward the bags.

“Good idea,” he grunted and followed me.

I rifled through my bag, seeing nothing missing, and moved to Hotch’s bag. Luckily, his bag had a hard bottom that hid the hard edges of the electronics inside well. Locating the phone and other electronics with a few quick zippers and Velcro pulled back, I emerged from under the desk with a random tube from my bag for show.

I waved it in front of him before moving my hands to the hem of my shirt, “Join me?”

His eyes followed my movements as my shirt slipped off my body, followed by my bottoms. I smiled sweetly as I opened the back sliding door, letting the night ocean breeze flow through the room. It took a moment, but I soon found the exterior lights and flicked them on long enough to turn the hot tub light on.

I felt him before I heard him, warm skin pressing against my back, “Just one bug in the far corner,” he murmured in my ear.

Hotch’s mouth dropped to my shoulder, peppering kisses for any other surveillance we might be missing. His hands smoothed down my sides, pausing when he expected to hit underwear and didn’t. His fingers tightened on my waist and I waited with baited breath for his next move.

His hands released me, so I took the opportunity to step into the tub. The hot water made me sigh contently as I sat fully, facing Hotch as he stood outside of the tub watching me.

The muscles in his chest jumped as he rested his hands on the edge of the round, wooden tub. His shorts slung low on his hips, showing just the top of his underwear.

“Are you gonna make me sit in here by myself?”

He didn’t respond, still staring like he was warring with himself. Slowly but surely, his fingers came to his shorts, flicking open the closure and hooking his thumbs into the sides. His shorts fell to the floor, underwear staying on as he fiddled with the side of the tub. He soon hummed in success as the hot tub bubbled to life and stepped in with me.

He lowered himself as much as he could until his shoulders were submerged, letting out a groan at the feeling. He, then, sat in the seat, exposing his shoulders and chest to the air again. His feet kicked out across the tub, landing on the seat across from us as his arm draped over my shoulders.

“Thoughts?” He murmured softly, trying not to be louder than the bubbling of the jets in the tub.

We kept our mouths close to each other's face when we spoke.

“I don't remember seeing them when we arrived but maybe they asked too many questions or weren't compliant enough yesterday? That other couple was gas-lighting them.”

“Mhm,” he sighed, fingers absentmindedly moving over my skin in the water. “We need to see the files they're compiling. They're storing the information somewhere.”

“Might be assessing compliance or weak relationships?”

“Yeah, I think so, too. Did you see the key cards they have clipped to their uniforms? That might get us somewhere.”

“Mhm, I thought it was strange that we got physical keys and they had key cards.”

Laughs and gentle splashing were thrown about in between our speaking to throw off whoever was listening and make it sound more natural than quiet, as well as drown out our words if they were too recognizable.

I stilled as a loud creak and a hushed whisper sounded, not too far from our patio. I listened for footsteps but the sand made it hard to hear movement. Hotch’s eyes squinted in the low light but if I couldn’t hear anything further, then he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to either.

“I think I'm gonna fall asleep in here, sweetheart,” he murmured, arm tightening over my shoulders to put me at ease.

“Yea, you're right,” I sighed unhappily.

“Shower and sleep?”

I hummed in agreement and followed him inside. I made sure the backdoor was locked tightly and followed him to the bathroom. Entering the bathroom, I started the shower and watched as Hotch averted his eyes and unfolded the sat-phone from his shorts to update the team.

I rolled my eyes at his actions, making the number two with my fingers and pointing at the shower. He glanced my way and nodded, holding a lone finger up.

Was he seriously being reserved now? Especially after what transpired yesterday. Or was he regretting it? The thought made my gut churn uncomfortably.

I knew it was a bad idea. But, I was also overthinking the whole thing.

Yesterday was a favor. It didn’t mean anything.

All of the fake affection was bleeding into my ability to think clearly.

By the time I had rubbed my skin raw, Hotch was opening the shower door with his eyes trained on the free shower head. As soon as his side turned on, I turned mine off and stepped out of the shower to avoid making him uncomfortable any further.

At least the towels were soft.

With the interior room lights on, it was difficult to see outside in the dark. I squinted, still uneasy from the sounds we heard earlier but did my best to shake it off.

I pulled on something loose to wear to bed and was laid back with my eyes shut by the time Hotch was done.

I heard him flick the lights off, then softly step over to the bed and slide between the sheets. I could practically feel him watching me in the dark.

“What’s wrong?”

Of course he could tell.

“Mm,” I hummed. “Just tired.”

“Okay,” he whispered over the gentle waves outside. I heard him shift his body closer, feeling the warmth of his hand as it traveled around me. “We can sleep in tomorrow, nothing mandatory until eleven.”

I was half asleep already and made a tired noise in the back of my throat, turning on my side to be more comfortable. I dampened down my feelings as his chest met my back and his bare legs and feet tangled with mine.

-

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep for but the sound of muffled voices nearby made my eyes snap open. I must have tensed my body because Hotch' tightened his arms around me immediately. His voice murmured lowly in my ear, “Don’t speak, listen.”

I was barely able to make out his whisper, but did as he said.

The voices sounded out of breath—like they were exercising, carrying something heavy—as they walked.

“w—t d—we tel—them?” one voice came through. (What do we tell them?)

“t—at th—y—eft early.” (That they left early.)

The distance and huffing didn’t help but I managed to understand the words. Their voices passed closer to the wall our bed was against, the voices much clearer now that they were practically up against our bungalow.

“This batch is going to take longer than expected to break in.”

My heart was racing and I wanted nothing more than to rip Hotch’s arm off of me and help whoever the staff were taking. I couldn’t jeopardize the entire mission. I would have to hope that they were still alive. The voices faded out eventually but Hotch held me still, waiting just in case.

The whine of a golf cart sounded in the distance, a mental note made of the direction it traveled.

“Do. Not. Get. Up,” Hotch murmured. “Can’t help if we’re caught.”

“We don’t even know where they’re taking them,” I murmured back.

“We’ll find out,” Hotch responded.

I clenched my jaw in frustration, ready to shoot back another protest when sounds of shifting sand came closer. They were different voices speaking to each other this time.

“Think they heard anything?”

“Nah, they’re newlyweds. They fucked as soon as they got here yesterday, I doubt they’ve stopped.”

“Yea, but—”

“Dude, pay attention, you’re missing parts.”

Missing parts?

“Sorry, sorry. Wait, so you—like—watched?”

“That’s the entire point of camera duty.”

“Was it hot?”

“Bro.”

“What?”

“Just fucking rake.”

Were they covering the tracks of the other two staff?

My heart rate eventually slowed, but I was still on edge. My eyes stayed open in the dark, my brain creating floating shapes born from my distress.

“Try and sleep,” he sighed.

I wouldn’t be very successful.

-

Day 3

Hotch had fallen back asleep after the events of last night, but I laid there in the dark listening—waiting and helpless. As soon as the sun rose, I wormed out of Hotch’s arms, made myself a coffee, and sat out on the patio. I tried to look for any evidence of the kidnapping we heard, only to see combed sand with footprints stepping sideways rather than forwards. It was still follow-able but I couldn’t very well go without Hotch and risk him getting pissed off.

Or worse—getting myself taken, too.

I tried to follow the tracks back to a specific bungalow with my eyes, squinting as it got harder to distinguish in the distance. It had to be one of the two to our left but I couldn’t tell which.

The resort looked normal like this. Serene and quiet, like a real vacation. Like none of what transpired last night could have happened.

Footsteps around the corner made me tense, my head snapping toward the sound. A staff member trudged around the corner, shoes heavy with sand. Her hands were full of white envelopes that she shuffled through, looking at each bungalow where our unit numbers were indicated on the outside.

She finally noticed me, pausing her movements and making eye contact. She looked startled before blinking and making her way over to me.

“Good morning,” she smiled, shuffling through the envelopes and locating one with our unit number on it.

“Morning,” I smiled back.

“We usually put these on your door but since you’re up…” she handed me the envelope. “This will take the place of your mandatory slot today. Congratulations. We hope you’ve been enjoying your time here with your partner. You two have been a delight to watch—blossom.”

The hitch in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh—uh—thank you,” I took the envelope from her.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile was polite but otherwise unreadable, “Hopefully, you’ve both found the experience enlightening.”

I nodded slowly, fidgeting with the envelope, “We—we certainly have.”

Her eyes flicked to the glass door, where Hotch's sleeping form was visible through the thin, fluttering curtains, “You and your husband make such a lovely pair, so natural together.”

It made me all too aware of how exposed we were at night.

Her smile widened, something darker in her eyes than before, “We love to see couples fully embracing every exercise here.” She tapped the stack of envelopes against her palm, her tone friendly and teasing, “Those who don’t take full advantage of the retreat…let’s just say they don’t always get the same privileges.”

The meaning settled like a weight in my stomach.

She took a step back from the patio, still watching me intently, “Be sure to enjoy each other tonight after this reward. It’s one of our most special ones,” she added, voice lilting as if it were a friendly suggestion, but it wasn’t.

It felt like an order. Like a warning.

“Of course.”

Her gaze lingered a second longer before she turned away and left her tracks in the sand. She went back about her business, moving to the other bungalows. I watched her discreetly, feigning reading the letter as I watched her drop off at every unit except for the one diagonally from us to our left, closer to the shore than we were. That must belong to whoever got taken last night.

I tried to wrack my brain to remember who got placed there when we arrived. It wasn't the couple who had gone missing yesterday, I knew that for sure. It was—

Oh, shit.

I glanced back at Hotch, still tangled in the sheets, surprised that her voice hadn’t woken him. I glanced down at the letter I extracted from the envelope—a couples massage. Though, we wouldn't be getting massages together—no—we’d be giving them to each other.

I fought the urge to groan in protest. I chewed the inside of my cheek and stood, leaving my coffee on the table.

Gingerly, I got on the bed with one knee, throwing my other leg over his hip so I was straddling Hotch.

It was cruel considering what we heard last night but I figured it would help stay in character.

Hotch jumped at the contact, eyes flying open. He was practically ready for a fight, but as his groggy eyes focused on me his whole body relaxed.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” I smiled, running my hands up and down his chest.

He took a deep breath, willing his adrenaline down and blinking his eyes rapidly to focus better.

He rubbed the sleep from the corners of his eyes, “Morning, what’s got you so excited?”

I turned the paper toward him, which he squinted at and tried to distance his face from the paper but his head was blocked by the bed and the paper was blocked by my body.

“Need your glasses?”

Hotch threw me an exasperated look, closing his eyes in frustration and blinking a few times again.

“Read it to me?”

I tossed the paper on the bed, leaning down so my lips nearly touched his, “We have been gifted a couple’s massage.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm,” I pressed my lips to his, then trailed my mouth to his jaw. “It was Avery and Quinn. They didn’t get an envelope on their door and the tracks go that way,” I whispered. I came up speaking at a normal volume, “But we’re giving each other the massages.”

“Yea?” He grinned slyly.

“Sounds kinda fun,” I kissed him, letting my tongue dip past his lips. “I can give you a massage right now, in fact. So, nice and hard for me already,” I cooed, wiggling my hips as if I could feel his fake hard on.

It was insurance to make sure we were worth keeping around, I told myself.

I waited for his approving nod before sliding under the sheets, keeping my movements slow and natural. My hand trailed over his stomach, my nails barely scraping his skin as I shifted between his legs. I smiled to myself as I felt his muscles tense beneath my palm, his breathing steady but elevated.

I wasn’t actually going to do anything to him, but the cameras and microphones didn’t need to know that. I let my head dip low enough so the sheets shifted and moved my shoulders just enough to insinuate that something was happening. My fingers ghosted over his thighs, my palm meeting coarse hair, while my other hand pressed against his hip.

Hotch exhaled through his nose, tilting his head back against the pillow like he was relaxing. The noises escaping his throat warmed me from the inside out, sounding like he was actually enjoying himself.

I had no way to know if the staff watching the cameras were buying it, but I had to assume they were. I let out my own moan as his fingers slid under the sheets and found the back of my head, feeling more like reassurance than performance. I let it go on for an extended amount of time, letting Hotch tell me when it was an appropriate time to stop. His moans grew in volume, keying me into the act. His hips shifted under me as he let out a long groan, hand pushing my head down until my nose made contact with his stomach.

I was so close to where I could see the outline of his actual erection through his underwear, our actions likely having made it appear. I could smell his natural scent this close to him, almost jealous that he’d been able to taste and smell mine and I hadn’t been able to do the same the first day.

After a beat, I slowly dragged myself back up. I made a show of pressing a lazy kiss to his chest and wiping the corner of my mouth before settling next to him.

“It still surprises me how good of a cock-sucker you are,” he hummed.

My face felt like it was on fire at his words despite me not actually doing what he said, just the words alone made me heat up. I hid my face in his neck, away from his teasing grin.

“The person who gave this to you. Lady? Dark hair? Short?” he murmured, pretending to turn and chase my embarrassed face. “Don’t get all embarrassed now,” he said louder.

“Mhm,” I laughed as his breath tickled my neck, pretending to push him away.

“She walked by, stared at me while you were under and smiled,” he hummed against my skin.

His words sent a chill up my spine.

Hotch laid back against the bed and pulled me against him again.

“That wasn’t a smile,” I inhaled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That was approval.”

-

The massage wasn’t until the afternoon, so we had time to kill. Under the guise of breakfast, we got ready and left the room. I took Hotch’s hand, and dragged him to the water first. It was warm enough outside in the late morning that the water felt refreshing rather than shocking.

Naturally wandering down the wet sand, I stared in the direction of Avery and Quinn’s patio. I didn’t see any movement, but squinted through the glare of the sun.

“Trust me?” I murmured to Hotch, who looked like he dreaded what I was about to do.

A muscle in his jaw jumped but he finally nodded. I clenched his hand and took off in a jog toward their patio.

“Avery! You guys up?” I turned up the excitement in my voice, blocking the sun from my eyes with my free hand as I got to their patio. “Quinn?”

I squinted harder, seeing the room pristine as if it hadn’t been lived in. There was no luggage to be seen and the bed was made the same way ours had been when we arrived.

“Hi, there,” a staff member appeared from the other side of the unit, a tight smile adorning her features.

I jumped at the sudden voice. It wasn’t the woman from earlier, but her attitude was very similar.

“We discourage interrupting couples in their rooms for privacy reasons,” she continued.

Privacy? How rich.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I laughed, my hand over my chest. “We had made plans to get breakfast together and I didn’t see them pass by us, is all.”

The woman clasped her hands together, not budging, “Unfortunately, Avery and Quinn had to leave earlier than expected.”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

No.

“Oh—what ha—”

“We can’t disclose that personal information. I’m sure you can understand?”

“R-right, of course. I’m so sorry, again,” I spared another glance at their room.

“Enjoy your massage,” she smiled, effectively ending the conversation and sending us on our way.

-

We ate lunch in relative silence, my knee shaking as I wanted so badly to ask Hotch what he would and wouldn’t be comfortable with during this massage, especially since I fully expected it to be under the watchful eye of a staff member. By the look on Hotch’s face, he knew I had something important to talk about and read me like a book.

As soon as we finished eating, he held out his hand and led me out to the beach away from everyone and hopefully any surveillance. We still had about an hour until we were to meet a staff member at a secluded cabana down the beach. It was both enticing and terrifying knowing we would be on our own.

Hotch stopped near the gentle waves, just close enough for our feet to get wet every so often and hugged me from behind comfortingly.

“Are you nervous?” he murmured.

“Yea,” I swayed with him. “It feels like a trap, but I also can’t get past what she said about this being a reward. We’re obviously doing something right if we didn’t get disappeared.”

“I don’t think they’d do something like that during the day, it’s too brash. Remember, they do need people to come and spend money on the trip regularly.”

“Yea, you’re right.”

“Then, what else is bothering you?” he wondered, his nose brushing the shell of my ear.

“I—I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable if they—you know, make us touch each other for an hour all sexual and shit.”

Hotch laughed, an honest to God laugh, not whatever bullshit laugh he put on for show here.

“I trust you with my life,” he assured me. I opened my mouth to interrupt him, but he gripped my waist tighter, “Let me finish. We’re both professionals and I know we didn’t really talk about the other day but you didn’t make me uncomfortable, I promise.”

He sighed, letting his lips fall to my shoulder, “I enjoyed myself…and I hope you did, too.”

I hid my face from him, groaning at his teasing laugh, “I did, I did.”

“Good,” he paused. “I’m glad it was us on this mission.”

I looked back at him, waiting for an explanation but only saw him looking out at the waves. He blinked and looked at me, kissing me softly and tightening his hold on me. I didn’t know what to do with my arms besides hold on to his forearms.

“I don’t think I could have done this with anyone else,” he murmured.

I did my best not to read into it, knowing he very well could do this with any other member of the team with lives at stake.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, you would have made it work regardless. That’s just who you are.”

“Maybe,” he nodded. “But, it’s easier with you.”

That. That, I couldn’t ignore. By the intensity in his eyes, he wanted me to read between the lines, too.

“Okay,” I nodded.

“Meaning, whatever they have us do? I trust you completely. I promise. And I hope you feel the same.”

“I do,” because truthfully, I’m sure I could have felt safe with any member of the team, but the way I clicked with Hotch? I knew I was in perfectly capable hands.

“Good. Ready?”

I nodded my head, but stopped him from walking by turning in his arms and placing a hand on his exposed chest beneath his loose button down. Out of pure-selfishness and to seal the promises we just made, I used a hand to guide him in for a kiss. One of his hands pressed into my lower back to hold us together, but let us part all too soon for my taste.

Hotch gave me a knowing smile, bringing his thumb and forefinger up to my chin, “We’re going to be okay.”

We set out down the beach, where the invitation indicated, seeing a cabana with huge, white, flowing curtains billowing on each side. They were transparent enough that you could see two people shapes inside but not transparent enough to make out details.

We slowed our steps as we approached the wooden platform. It was surprisingly void of sand, which made me kick my shoes off and leave them in the sand rather than track it on the platform. Hotch held my hand as I stepped up, finally letting my hand go to ditch his own shoes and follow me.

Two staff members, one woman and one young man stood clutching a clipboard each to their hips with their arms straight down. Their smiles felt less sinister than many of the other staff members, but they were dressed in the same white button downs, slacks, and plain work shoes as every other staff member.

“Welcome, we’re so glad to have you,” the woman greeted. “I will be guiding you through this experience and training my associate, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Hotch smiled, reaching out to shake the young man’s hand, recognizing him as the young man who brought our bags on the first day.

The young man seemed a little nervous, earning a glare from the woman but he presented his hand to Hotch after some hesitation.

“We provided drinks for you as well,” she indicated, gesturing to two drinks that they’d clearly taken notes on us ordering often. “If you would like any more, please let me know and my associate would be happy to make you more.”

“Thank you, so much,” I smiled, reaching for mine.

Hotch mimicked my movements, bringing his glass to mine for a small toast. The noise he let out as he sipped the scotch was borderline criminal—a cross between a hum and a moan.

“The scotch you use here is…” he hummed appreciatively again. “…it’s so good.”

He brought the glass to my lips, the little bit that I tasted making me wince both at the strong flavor and the flavor change from my own drink.

I blinked rapidly, feeling like I was breathing fire, “You can keep that.”

Hotch just laughed at me and took a bigger sip.

Realizing we were getting off track, I cleared my throat and turned my attention back to the woman, “Sorry.”

“No, please, this exercise is all about you two to bring you closer. I want to encourage you to be as expressive as you want with your partner,” she smiled, her voice as soothing and serene as the breeze around us.

I nodded, feeling Hotch’s hand come to rest on my waist, “So, how is this working?”

“Well, typically, couple’s massages occur when a couple gets a massage together by two separate masseuses, as I’m sure you’re aware. Due to the nature of this retreat, we want to teach and encourage partners to implement massages to be closer to one another, for use as a form of foreplay, or even as aftercare. To start, you will massage your partner's back side from head to toe before moving to the front from head to toe. You’ll focus on non-sexual areas first. We have different oils you can choose to use for your partner. Take the time to undress one another completely, and when you’re ready and choose who will give first. If you need guidance, I am trained and can offer help without any physical intervention,” she stated with practiced ease. “Do you have any other questions?”

“What’s our time limit?” Hotch asked, ever the planner.

“No time limit, you can take as long or as short as you need. If this experience brings on sudden urges, you may act on them once both partners have gone. We are not here to rush or judge. You’re to treat us as if we’re not here unless you need something.”

Urges.

Sex.

Did she just insinuate we could get busy in front of them? Not that it was much different than the cameras, but…still.

We both nodded at her, then looked at each other.

“If there’s no more questions, you may begin when you’re ready.”

At that, Hotch nodded and tossed the rest of his drink back for some extra courage. I followed his lead and placed my empty glass next to his on the platter.

I smiled as Hotch invaded my space, his fingers finding the edges of my clothes easily.

“Can I give you yours first?” he asked, bringing his forehead to mine so his eyes solely focused on me as if we weren’t being watched or out in the open.

“Yes,” I let my fingers skim over his chest and fall to the buttons of his shirt, starting to pop them open.

With one last brush of his nose against mine, he began slowly dragging my clothes off my body. I stopped him from shrugging out of his shirt, letting my hands move up the planes of his chest to his shoulders to push the fabric off. I guided it down his arms and off one, then the other, until it fell into a pool on the floor with my clothes. My fingertips trailed down his abdomen, meeting coarse hair on his stomach just before I reached the waistband of his shorts. I managed to undo the shorts without looking and hooked my thumbs in both the shorts and his underwear to push them down his legs.

“Lay down,” he murmured.

I didn’t need to be told twice and laid down on the massage table covered in a soft, white sheet. My toes clenched anxiously as I was hyper aware of my exposed skin to the elements as the breeze filtered through the cabana. Hotch’s hands grazed my back briefly as he rounded the table, then made more firm contact. The tension melted from my shoulders at his reassurance.

“Any scent in particular?”

“Surprise me,” I mumbled.

I heard the clinking of glass for a moment, then felt Hotch’s presence by my head. I bit my lip in anticipation, not having to wait long before I felt his thumbs pressing into the muscles in the back of my neck. The moan that immediately escaped my throat was involuntary but warranted as he dug for every knot he could feel in my back.

I had a lot.

My boss was a bit of a hard-ass, I laughed to myself.

I inhaled deeply as his hands found my lower back, whimpering at a particularly sensitive area near the middle. As he moved onto my arms, I realized he’d picked an unscented oil. I could only smell the alcohol on my breath, the beach, and Hotch. The faintest vestiges of the soap from his shower this morning were overtaken by his own scent and a hint of sweat from the heat.

“No scent? You did surprise me,” I hummed, shying away from his hand as he went over a ticklish area.

His hands didn’t stop their movements, his mouth suddenly by my ear with his nose brushing my neck repeatedly, “I only wanted to smell you.”

I had to fight sleep as his hands bypassed my ass, digging into my hamstrings instead. As much as it hurt, it was relaxing as I felt my muscles unwind for the first time in ages. My feet twitched away from him as his calloused fingers skimmed the bottom of my foot rather than held my foot.

“I’m gonna kick you,” I mumbled, hearing him laugh and finally grab my foot.

The man had magic thumbs. It was unreal.

With my feet happy and pliant, his fingers teasing along the inside of my legs. He wasn’t stopping either, rising higher and higher until his thumb notched perfectly into the crease where my ass met my thighs. I let out the smallest of whimpers, one I would deny until the day I died.

But, Hotch heard it. The environment was quiet enough that there was no way he missed it.

“Can I get another round?” He murmured to the staff members.

The young man was all too quick to make himself busy, placing his pen and clipboard down on the chair he stood up from.

I didn’t realize I could have knots in my ass, but feeling how loose and pliant the muscles were after Hotch’s hands were done with them made me realize my body was in worse condition than I thought.

My breath hitched as this thumb slipped between my ass cheeks, his other fingers reaching forward to tease whatever sensitive skin he could reach. My hips pushed back against his hands, making him laugh softly and retreat his hand.

“Turn over, sweetheart,” he whispered.

I didn’t want to as I felt my body reacting to his teasing rather than relaxing. Whining as I tucked an arm in to roll over, Hotch’s hands helped guide me so I wouldn't fall off.

“Sit up a little,” he murmured, reaching for my freshly made drink and bringing it to my lips.

The ice cold liquid helped to cool my face and wet my dry mouth.

Hotch pulled it away from my face when I was done, easing me back down onto the table. He picked up his own drink, sipped it, and came back.

Before he re-oiled his hands, he brought his fingers to my temples and pressed his fingers firmly into my scalp, moving them in even patterns. Hotch’s hands moved down to my neck before disappearing entirely. Before I could open my eyes, I felt soft lips press against mine twice. They were gone too soon but replaced by freshly oiled hands on my shoulders.

His hands worked down to my chest, only getting level with my armpits before moving to my arms again. He redid each arm, gently placing it back down with a kiss to my wrist. His large hands gripped my rib cage, just under my arms, smoothing over the skin simply to touch. Just like before, he skipped straight to my legs, digging into my quads and calves until they were a loose puddle of muscle.

I kept my eyes closed, knowing what was coming next as Hotch’s fingers skimmed the inside of my thighs again. Bypassing where he knew I wanted to be touched the most, his thumbs happily dug into my hip flexors just above my thighs. It actually felt good but I let out a frustrated moan.

“So needy, sweetheart,” he murmured.

He wasn't much better, I noticed, feeling his erection brush my hand. I behaved and let him be. I let out a low moan as his slick hand finally made contact with my heated flesh, moving in agonizingly slow rhythms just to tease. He didn't tease me long, removing his hand after a couple minutes of torture.

“Shh, shh,” he smoothed his hand over my abdomen and flicked my nipples with his thumb. “Can't have you cumming and getting sleepy before it's my turn, honey. We have plenty of time.”

I nodded, agreeing, though not happy about it.

Giving me a satisfied smile, he pressed a kiss to my pouting lips and let me get up on my own terms.

It took me a second to get my footing, my legs wobbly after being so relaxed. Hotch finished his second drink and sat, brushing his hairy knees against my thighs in the process. He let out a full body groan as he laid face down, shoulders slumping against the table.

“The key here is to not rush,” I heard the woman speak up from the corner.

I nearly forgot they were here.

“Too often we neglect our partners when we’re too tired or already satisfied. Be aware and give him as good or better than you think you received.”

I was actually getting sound advice from a cult. Nice.

Deciding to copy Hotch on the unscented oil, I started much the same as him. The system was efficient, just like him. Why change it?

I let my hands run soothingly over his skin first, admiring the constellations of freckles across his shoulders and back. I fought the urge to gasp as my hands pressed into the muscles at the back of his neck and shoulder. He didn’t just “have knots”, the man was a walking knot. I couldn’t even press very hard without receiving a whimper in response.

No wonder he’d been drinking so quickly. He was trying to relax for this part. How did he exist like this?

“It’s okay, just go. I’m okay,” he assured me. “I’ll feel better after.”

I glanced at the staff member for guidance, not believing I was actually seeking guidance from these assholes.

She nodded, “Just go slow.”

Taking a deep breath, I worked on his back in sections and tried not to pay attention to his pained cries unless he outright told me to stop. Which he wouldn’t, I knew that much. I was relentless on the knots, not stopping until each one unwound and his whimpers eased. The pain in my hands from the effort stopped registering after a while.

I gave his back a break and worked on his arms, paying more attention to his forearms, wrists, and hands than anything because of our job. After paying attention to both arms, I placed my hand at the middle of his back.

“Feeling okay?” I looked his way despite his face being hidden.

He sniffled, releasing a shaky breath, “Yea, keep going.”

I sighed, threading my fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp soothingly. He jumped as I pushed my thumb into one of the erector spinae on either side of his spine. I adjusted my pressure, thinking I had hurt him.

“That part’s just ticklish, it’s okay.”

I continued, enjoying the quiet laughs as my fingers pressed into his sides, surprisingly ticklish there. My thumb pressed into the top of his glute, earning me a grunt.

“Sciatica?”

“Mhm.”

“Is there any part of you that doesn’t hurt?”

“I can think of one,” he lifted his head to look back at me with a smirk.

“I walked into that one,” I murmured and continued.

Thankfully, it looked like he carried most of his stress in his upper back, so the rest was a breeze. He seemed to enjoy the digging of my thumbs into his ass cheeks a little too much, but as long as he wasn’t crying anymore, I’d take it. I put extra oil on my hands as I got to his legs, not wanting to accidentally tug on his leg hair and cause any further pain. The groans he released as I worked on his legs and feet were far more pleasurable and turned me on more than I anticipated.

I still didn’t rush. She was surprisingly right.

The smile on his face as he turned over was worth it.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” I commented, patting his abdomen, not really massaging just yet, just touching.

“That’s what the hot tub is for.”

I shook my head, walking around to his head and pressing a kiss to his forehead. I wrapped my hands under his head as I did, letting my thumbs press into the sides of his neck. Happy hums left his chest as I paid attention to his head, surprised that he didn’t have a million knots there, too. It would be unrealistic of course, but I was still surprised.

Eventually, the hums stopped, his face slacked, and his breathing evened out.

He’d fallen asleep.

I couldn’t do anything but smile, keeping my movements slow and steady to avoid jostling him awake. I pressed my fingers into his chest loosening the taut muscles, especially where they met his shoulders. Not wanting to tickle him awake, I skipped his abdomen and moved to his leg—focusing on those and not his half-hard erection. His foot twitched as I grabbed it but barely reacted as I pushed my fingers into the arches of his feet. The only noise he made was a simple breath releasing from his nose.

I brought my hand back to his abdomen, letting my hand skim down to his protruding hip bones.

I still didn’t look. I—

“Are you just going to stare or…?” Hotch murmured, an arm—one I didn’t even notice had moved—tucked behind his head. His eyes were half open, glancing down to where my fingers teased his hip.

“Are you going to ask nicely?”

He was silent, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. His eyes twinkled, and not with tears.

“Touch me, sweetheart,” he requested, and I was weak to resist the way his lashes made his eyes impossibly darker.

“You’re the one who has to limp back to the room,” I commented, adding a little more oil to my hands. If I had to wait, so did he.

I did my best to not look hesitant as I reached out and teased his cock by trailing my finger up the shaft and pressing the head between my thumb and finger. Wrapping my hand fully around his cock, he was thick and hot in my hand. His hips pushed into my hand at the contact, but I didn’t budge, still moving my hand up his shaft at my own pace. He fully hardened in my hand, and I let go when he did.

“Babe,” he pleaded as his cock slapped against his stomach, leaking precum onto his oiled skin.

“Can’t have you cumming and getting sleepier,” I threw his words back at him.

He groaned, sitting up and stretching his newly loosened back.

“You’re free to use this space,” the staff member spoke up again.

Licking my lips, I looked at Hotch. I could see the hesitation in his eyes but he wouldn’t vocalize it.

The gentle smile on the woman’s face began to vanish.

So, I improvised.

“There’s a toy I found in the room that I’ve been dying to try on him, honestly.”

Her smile suddenly returned.

“We can give you a ride back to your room, if you’d like. I’m sure you’re…impatient…by now.”

“That would be great, actually,” Hotch smiled at the offer.

-

The cart ride back to the room was heated. The woman drove quickly and efficiently while the man sat fidgeting in the front seat. It was stupid of us to be so engrossed in each other rather than paying attention to our surroundings, but Hotch’s tongue was down my throat and my hand was down his pants as soon as we sat.

I don’t even think we were acting.

A clearing of a throat broke us out of our actions.

The cart had stopped.

It took me a moment to realize we had arrived at our room. Removing my hand from his pants hurriedly as the staff members looked back at us, I scrambled out of the golf cart with Hotch close on my heels.

“Thank you!” I called back to where they still sat in the cart.

The woman flashed me a knowing smile.

The door gave way to my key easily. The door had barely shut behind Hotch when I was met with his broad form backing me up against the edge of the bed in a few long steps. My knees just about wobbled at the look in his eyes.

No words were exchanged as we ripped the clothes off of one another that had barely been replaced a few minutes ago. I found myself astride his hips, large hands gripping and plastering my body against his with his cock trapped snugly between us. His cock was aching—practically purple from neglect—and leaking all over his stomach.

“I need you, sweetheart, please,” he whispered against my cheek. “I need you.”

The look on his face was pure desperation. He wasn’t acting. Frankly, neither was I.

“Sure?” I mouthed.

He nodded furiously, “Please.”

I leaned over him, pulling open the nightstand drawer and digging my hand in. Hotch’s mouth attached itself to my chest, licking over the dips and peaks, laving over sensitive nipples. It was a miracle I was even able to grab a toy as I promised the woman. I pulled a small finger vibrator from the drawer along with some lube and a condom. I shrugged, figuring that would do as I looked it over in view of the camera.

I rolled the condom on him with a teasing slowness he didn’t appreciate for a second. Still, ever the gentleman, he slicked two fingers up and wormed them between us, pressing against my entrance.

“I don’t nee—” I moaned in the back of my throat as his fingers pressed deep, stretching and pressing against my walls.

“I know what you need,” he interrupted me, curling his fingers and pressing harder, ripping another moan from my throat.

“I need you inside me,” I gasped, holding his wrist down with one hand so I could raise myself off his fingers.

Lube was spread haphazardly over the condom in our haste. His hand gripped the base of his cock as I lined myself up, hands and fingers digging with bruising grips into the same shoulders and chest I had just healed.

The stretch of him was intense, more than I expected but very little had gone in the way of preparation besides the massage. His hum was satisfied, finally feeling some kind of relief as I worked my way down his shaft. Each groan leaving his throat was wobbly, as if he had to keep himself together to avoid cumming too quickly. Hotch’s hands itched on my waist, eager to urge me along.

I patted around the bed for the little vibrator I’d found, ripping it out of its packaging and thanking the stars that it was charged. I hooked it on my finger and waited for the perfect moment to introduce it.

When I felt ready, I found an easy rhythm. If this was the only time I’d be in this position, I wanted to savor it. Hotch’s feet came up to plant themselves on the bed, giving me more stability with his knees supporting me from behind.

“That’s it,” he praised as I sped up.

One hand left my waist to help me along, using his fingers to tease, rub, stroke—anything. I craned my thumb to switch the vibrator on and brought the finger-shaped device to his nipples, enjoying the gasps that left his throat with each teasing vibration.

“Kiss me,” he requested.

I couldn’t refuse such a pretty gaze, meeting his mouth with a needy whine. I did my best to keep the rhythm, assisted with his hand guiding me every time I faltered. His eyes just about rolled back in his head as I clenched around him. As patient of a man as Hotch was, he was pent up from the massage and the long three days we’d had so far.

His impatience made itself known as he used his hips, feet, and arms to roll me onto my back. Hotch’s hips took off from there, jack-hammering that spot inside me so perfectly I could hardly catch my breath through the moans. His arms hooked just under my legs, lifting my hips off the bed enough to accomplish his feat.

“I’m gonna come, sweetheart,” he panted, hips and abdomen flexing and straining in full view. “Come with me, come with me,” he panted, on the verge of pleading.

I righted the vibrator that hung uselessly from my finger and pressed it against myself, hands shaking as I fought to hold it together and come with him.

“Yes, yes,” I gasped as my toes curled, my body tense and squeezing Hotch in more ways than one as my hands reached out for his arms where they still hooked my legs.

Hotch was dropping my legs and plastering himself against me, grasping at anything he could reach as he came with a few sharp thrusts. He hid his precious gasps and groans in my neck, but I tugged him away by the hair, kissing him and swallowing the vibrations as I purposefully squeezed around him.

I could feel the urgency and adrenaline leave his body, his tongue slow and languid as it pushed past my lips. His body was heavy against mine but slow to move away.

I didn’t mind the weight, happy to hold him as long as he wanted as he came down from the events of the day.

Eventually, his lower back ached from the position, and in an attempt to not regress all of my hard work on his back, he pushed himself up and away, slow and measured like a cat rising from a nap.

I made a noise of discontent in the back of my throat, desperate to keep contact with him after all that.

“One second, baby,” he pressed a kiss to one of my outstretched hands and left to clean himself up, rummaging through a drawer, presumably to update the team considering—we were definitely here to bring this organization down rather than let them convince us to fuck.

When he returned, he produced a damp resort towel for me.

“I knew I married you for a reason,” I smiled, reaching for the towel only for him to bat my hand away slither into the bed next to me.

He brought the towel to my messy, hypersensitive skin; taking care to clean me up while looking at me with more emotion in his eyes than I was used to seeing from Hotch. He pressed his lips to my brow, then my cheek, tossing the towel somewhere unimportant.

“Okay?” he murmured.

I nodded, languid and sleepy after the events of the evening. With care I could have wept at receiving, he pulled the covers back and out from under me, then covered both of us.

“Go to sleep,” he smiled softly,

He reached for the light switch, the soft click being the only noise in the room besides our breathing. His body pressed up against my back, warm and comforting with his arms holding me close. I felt myself slowly spiral into sleep, lulled by the waves outside and Hotch’s gentle breathing.

-

Day 4

When I blinked my eyes open next, I didn’t expect the room to still be dark. I blinked my eyes again.

Why was I awake?

Attempting to move my arm, I felt Hotch’s hand immediately grab my wrist and pin it tight to my body.

“Don’t move.”

“W—”

I didn’t have time to ask my question as a knock sounded at the door, clearly not the first one. I heard a staff member saying our aliases through the door, apologizing for the interruption, then muffled, hushed tones.

“Are you sure they’ll wake up? They didn’t the other nig—”

“Shut up, you’re so fucking loud,” a voice growled back.

“If they wanted us gone, they wouldn’t have knocked, no?” I murmured.

Hotch was quiet, thinking through my question, then made a noise of agreement.

Hotch groaned, making a show of stretching his long limbs, before getting out of bed. I moaned grumpily at the loss, sitting up while he answered the door, not even bothering to cover himself. I flicked on the lamp on the nightstand to help him, letting my eyes drift over his backside for just a second before focusing back on our safety.

Hotch answered the door, greeted by two male staff members, one older and burly, while the other younger was lanky but toned. Hotch’s hair was a mess, eyes bleary and still trying to focus in the low light. The staff members immediately averted their eyes back to Hotch’s face when they realized he hadn’t bothered putting any clothes on.

“Yes?” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his face, feigning an attempt to wake up.

“Good morning, sir, we apologize for the interruption,” the older one spoke and bowed his head slightly. “The night manager has requested an audience with you and your spouse to congratulate you on your achievements the last few days.”

“Right now? What time is it?” he sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“3:35 AM, sir. And, yes, now. The night manager does his best work—well—at night,” the man chuckled to himself.

“Uhm, yea okay. Give us a few minutes? We don’t smell all that great,” Hotch gave them a sheepish smile.

He shut the door, coming to me and bringing his mouth to my ear, “Quick shower to wake yourself up. We’re meeting management.”

My heart pounded as I got out of bed and followed Hotch.

It didn’t take us long to wash the leftovers of our earlier activities off and get dressed. For what? We didn’t know, but decided to dress no differently than during the day. The night air was still warm in this part of the world, so the shiver I expected to hit as we stepped outside never came. Instead, the air was moderately humid causing our skin to feel tacky as soon as we stepped onto the sand. It only added to our discomfort.

The golf cart ride was short, but I wrapped my arms around Hotch’s arm nonetheless, not exactly happy about being awake at this hour. His hand came down to the inside of my thigh, rubbing his hand soothingly to calm both of us.

The cart whined to a halt as we reached the main resort area. The staff members stepped out quickly, guiding us precisely where to go before we could wander off by accident.

“Follow us, please,” the older one instructed, waving his hand in the direction of the younger staff member in front of us.

We entered the main resort building where we’d checked in, but were taken to the opposite side of the spacious lobby where private offices were located down a hallway. The only reason I wasn’t more hesitant as we followed them was the lack of drugging or knocking us out to get us here and the fact that Hotch was with me.

One of the staff members knocked on the door twice before a gravelly voice sounded on the other side, “Enter.”

The office was dimly lit and the angle caused it to cast long shadows as we stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of something harsh—like a cheap cologne and mildew.

Behind a large, immaculately polished desk sat the Night Manager. He was a frail-looking man, almost ghostly pale, with deep-set eyes that rapidly assessed us in the low light. His fingers were long and bony, drumming slowly against the desk as he observed us with an unreadable expression.

“Ah,” he rasped, voice like sandpaper grinding against metal. “Our star couple. Please, sit.”

We exchanged a glance before obeying, sinking into the uncomfortable wooden chairs in front of his desk. I clasped Hotch’s hand in mine, not too desperately so as to give off fear but to give the impression of comfort and love.

The Night Manager leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands together, “I imagine you’re wondering why I’ve called you here at this hour.”

Hotch fell into his role, giving the man a slow smile interrupted with a pretty convincing yawn that he covered with his free hand, “A little. We were told you wanted to congratulate us?”

A slow, thin-lipped smile stretched across the man’s face. It was chilling. Though I was convinced any smile the man gave—genuine or not—would be much the same.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Congratulations. You’ve done remarkably well these past few days. Your commitment to the experience, your trust and confidence in each other, your…affection for one another. It’s exactly what we like to see.”

I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to shift in my seat. There was something off about the way he said it, but it was quickly becoming clear that the Night Manager was far more important to the operation than we thought, given his absence from our initial intel.

“Thank you,” Hotch said smoothly.

The Night Manager hummed, “You see, this resort is an opportunity to test your relationship—one that not everyone is suited for. But you two?” He gestured at us with spindly fingers. “You are exactly the kind of couple we hope to cultivate.”

Hotch’s fingers twitched ever so slightly in my hand, but his voice remained calm, “How so?”

The Night Manager smiled again, “We pride ourselves on our…special clientele. People come here looking for paradise, for an escape, for a place where the constraints of the outside world don’t apply. But the truth, of course, is that not everyone deserves paradise. Only couples who preserve what it means to be two halves of a whole. Two souls separated at creation.”

He let that statement linger, as if expecting us to piece something together. Maybe expecting us to give up that we knew more than we let on. A test of our true intentions and that our aliases weren’t fabricated.

I kept my face pleasant, an easy smile drawing across my lips, even as my mind raced.

“There are initiates here,” the Night Manager continued. “Couples who need…guidance. They’re uncertain, resistant, sometimes even fearful. But a reassuring voice, a friendly face, a convincing couple—they can make all the difference.”

Hotch exhaled through his nose, “You want to…hire us?”

The Night Manager’s grin widened, his teeth small and yellowed, “In a manner of speaking. Think of it as…helping people find their purpose. Some couples come here hesitant about our methods. But with the right encouragement? With the right examples?” He gestured between us. “They see how fulfilling this experience can truly be. They commit. They invest. And in return, they are rewarded beyond their wildest dreams.”

Hotch tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, “And those who don’t?”

The Night Manager exhaled, as if disappointed by the question, “Not every couple is suited for this level of privilege. Some find it difficult to embrace the experience fully, to synergize with what we offer here. Those who resist? Well,” he gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “Some people simply aren’t meant to move forward with us.”

My stomach twisted at the sneer that came over his face.

“Others,” he continued, his fingers drumming idly on the desk, “have all the potential but… lack harmony. A couple must function as a unit, don’t you agree? If one partner hesitates while the other acts, it creates imbalance. And imbalance, unfortunately, has consequences.”

The implication settled between us like a thick fog.

“And what exactly are those consequences?” Hotch asked, his voice smooth but pointed.

The Night Manager regarded him with something akin to amusement, “Oh, I think you already understand.” He was smart to not say it out loud. “You've already met some of our other star couples who have been instrumental in our work.”

Silence stretched between us.

“Leo and Becca?” I asked.

He smiled—more like a grimace, “Yes, lovely aren't they?”

“Yea, they're great,” I smiled, looking over at Hotch, who smiled in return.

“I hope you don't mind that we’ve done some extensive research on you two. We do with all of our new clients,” he opened a folder containing much of the information Garcia had fabricated for us. “A lawyer and an accountant are also very, very valuable to us as you can imagine.”

Hotch smiled smugly portraying that he was well aware of his worth, “I don't mind at all. Talking about my victories is my favorite pastime.”

“I'm sure,” he grinned. “You're both exceedingly impressive.” Then, as if nothing had happened, the Night Manager straightened, brushing off his lapels. “Now then. Let me show you the true heart of our resort. I think you’ll find it…enlightening to our work.”

He stood, moving with an eerie, effortless grace. Behind his desk, a door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway.

Hotch stood, reaching his hand out to me to help me stand. His hand engulfed mine with a gentle squeeze as we stood side by side, following the Night Manager through the threshold with the two staff members we came with bringing up the rear.

The deeper we went, the harder it would be to leave.

Was it a mistake to follow him? Probably.

But we couldn’t leave now without drawing unwanted attention to ourselves.

The Night Manager led the way, his boney fingers laced behind his back, the soft shuffle of his loafers the only sound in the pristine hallway. The two staff members flanked us, close enough to remind us of their presence.

“There’s another reason we chose you two,” the night manager rasped, barely above a whisper, yet his voice echoed through the cold, sterile corridor. “Most couples come here thinking they’re strong, but you…” He turned his head slightly, glancing at us from the corner of his sunken eyes. “You’ve demonstrated a unique harmony. An understanding of partnership. And that makes you valuable.”

Hotch didn’t react, his facial expression carved from stone. I forced myself to do the same, even as unease curled in my stomach.

We reached a set of double doors, sleek and white, with an old-fashioned keycard scanner. One of the staff members produced it from his pocket and swiped it. A soft beep, a mechanical click, and the doors slid open.

Inside, the atmosphere was light. The air was cool, unnervingly fresh, like a high-end spa. The hallway stretched before us, lined with private rooms. Each had a frosted glass door, obscuring the view inside, but movement flickered behind some. A quiet sob. The shuffle of feet. The hum of a soft-voiced recording playing through speakers.

“These,” the Night Manager gestured with a long hand, “are the Conditioning Suites. Couples who need a little…encouragement. The ones who arrive too afraid to embrace their potential or simply don't synergize well enough. But with time, with guidance, they see the benefits of our philosophy.”

We walked past one of the doors just as a figure moved inside. A woman sat on the edge of a plush, white bed, hands folded in her lap, eyes vacant. A man knelt in front of her, whispering something, his grip firm on her wrist. The door was soundproof, but her lips trembled as she nodded along. I vaguely remembered them from the welcome dinner the first night, but they had been sitting at a different table.

My chest tightened.

“Their progress is monitored, of course,” the Night Manager continued, his fingers lightly brushing one of the frosted panels. “Some take to it quickly. Others…” He made an amused squeak in the back of his throat, his voice trailing off as we reached the end of the hall.

At the end of the hall, we met another set of doors. This time thick metal, with a biometric scanner. One of the staff members pressed his thumb to the scanner while the Night Manager waited.

The doors groaned as they opened, revealing a room that contrasted starkly to the suites behind us.

It was colder here. The sterile freshness of the previous hall was replaced by something stagnant, metallic. The lighting was dimmer, buzzing overhead, casting long shadows against the gray-tiled walls. There were no frosted doors here. Just cold metal, like cages to house animals. Horizontal slots were cut into the cages like prison doors for inmates to receive food.

“This,” the Night Manager said, voice almost reverent, “is where we separate those who are incompatible with the program and from whom you will be generously compensated for your troubles.”

A sharp clang echoed down the corridor. A weak, shuddering cough followed.

The faintest smell of bleach and something coppery. Blood, likely. My fingers twitched at my sides.

“Couples who resist—,” the Night Manager sighed, shaking his head. “Who cannot or will not embrace the beauty of partnership…” He trailed his fingers along the closest cage. It was empty but no less chilling. He, then, turned to look at us with a small, knowing smile. “They don’t last long.”

I fought the urge to glance at Hotch.

“Shall we?” the Night Manager asked, not specifying whether we were done or if there was more.

Hotch cracked a smile, “Preferably somewhere warmer?”

“Certainly.”

The Night Manager gestured back the way we came. As we turned my eye caught a familiar face.

Avery.

Their hands were shackled, skin littered in bruises and cuts. They silently sobbed into their palms.

Quinn was nowhere in sight.

As if feeling my eyes on them, Avery's eyes snapped to me, their breathing quickening as they pleaded for help.

“W-wait! Help me! Please!” their cries echoed. “Don’t leave me here!” I heard them crying out our alias’s names, their voice cracking and straining through the sobs.

A stern bark sounded from across the room with a loud clunk followed by hasty, angry footfalls.

“Come now,” the Night Manager ushered us away.

One of the staff members not-so-gently pushed Hotch forward from his back, my body being forced forward as a result. I tried to catch myself to not stumble, my arm tightening around Hotch’s to steady myself.

The screams followed us until the door shut behind us. Then, blissful silence as we re-entered the Conditioning Suites.

“The couples here,” Hotch spoke up. “Do they return to the beach when they're better?”

“Oh, they get far better than that,” he smirked. “A European getaway for their hard work, and they’re well taken care of. If a couple you bring in graduates to that, you also get compensated.”

The way he said “European getaway” made me feel sicker than I already felt. That had to be the trafficking part of this operation. All the compensation he kept mentioning had to be their stolen assets.

“How lovely,” I cooed. “You still need to take me to Italy, my love.”

“In due time,” Hotch hummed, pressing his lips to my head.

“If you come on board now, you'll have more than enough for an Italian villa by next summer,” the Night Manager grinned, turning back toward us, gesturing vaguely with his boney fingers.

“How does that sound, hmm?” Hotch hummed, nose brushing mine.

“Perfect,” I answered, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and finding comfort in his embrace as we continued walking.

As we entered the Night Manager’s office once more, the door shut behind us with a quiet click and hiss. He waved us back into the seats across from his. The two staff members posted up at the door to his office, as if they didn’t trust us to stay put. It was clear that we couldn't leave until he was done.

“I hope this has been an enlightening experience for you both,” he sighed, groaning as his joints popped as he sat. His eyes searched our faces with an eerie amusement playing about his lips, knowing we didn’t have much of a decision. “I trust you understand what’s expected of you, now, based on your interactions with Becca and Leo?” His fingers were steepled under his chin as he asked us.

I looked at Hotch who nodded to me and took my hand, “We do,” we said at almost the same time.

“In sync as we love to see,” the Night Manager grinned. “Well before I can let you return to your room, I need a show of good faith. Loyalty.”

Hotch blinked, fingers barely twitching on my hand, “What do you need?”

The Night Manager smirked, his eyes flickering between us. The tension between us was making me anxious. Were we going to have to hurt someone? Each other?

His chair creaked softly as he leaned to reach for one of his drawers, unlocking the drawer and pulling out a thick, worn leather-bound ledger. The pages were old and yellowed, crinkled from the moisture in the air, but the contents were easy to decipher. A detailed record of couples on their payroll, those who had pledged themselves—unwilling or otherwise—to this cult. Names, dates, signatures and—blood?

“This book is older than any of us,” he said, running his hand reerently over each page he flipped through. “Everyone who matters to this operation has signed their life to us here. But, ink isn’t quite…binding enough for my liking.”

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small, sharp blade that we both looked at warily.

“Not to worry,” he produced sealed wipes and slid them over with the knife. “We’re not in the business of infecting our prized possessions.”

Hotch reached for the blade first, looking at the Night Manager questioningly.

“Just your fingerprint, dear boy. Right here,” he tapped the page where our aliases had already been written with what seemed to be an ID number. “A proof of your commitment and insurance that you will keep things here confidential.”

I made note of where he’d pulled the ledger from, the DNA evidence in it could be priceless to the investigation and catching any stragglers. When we raided the compound, this would have to be one of the first grabs besides the victims downstairs.

Hotch flicked the blade open, cleaning it and his skin before pricking his thumb. He squeezed his thumb, letting the blood bead up and leaned toward the ledger which was now facing him the right way. His blood joined others’ fingerprints, which were now more brown than red from exposure to the elements.

Hotch handed me the knife and I followed suit, wiping his blood off the blade and cleaning my thumb before pricking my thumb. I cringed slightly, unable to completely ignore the sting. I pressed my own on the space next to my alias, shoving my thumb into my mouth immediately after to lap the drying blood off my thumb.

The Night Manager smiled, satisfied, and snapped the book shut. He tucked it back where he pulled it from and sat up straight once more.

“Welcome to the Twin Path.”

He gave us a final nod, waving at us to indicate we were free to go. As quickly as we were ushered in, we were being ushered out.

“You’ll receive further instructions later.”

I rose from my seat slowly, almost unsure, but was reinvigorated by Hotch standing up casually with a nod and smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt.

“Let’s go back to bed, honey,” he murmured, hand finding mine easily as the staff members opened the door for us.

“I’m excited to have you two on board,” he gave us one final sentence as the door shut behind us.

-

The cart ride back to our little bungalow was quiet, the tension still wound tightly in our bodies though we did our best not to show it to the two staff members. When the cart arrived, we couldn’t get out fast enough, bidding them goodbye and scrambling inside.

We had been with the Night Manager longer than expected. The sun was breaking over the land behind us, shining bright orange across the sky and bringing out the blue of the water sharply against the greyed sand. No one was up yet, the beach around us still sleepy and quiet, with the only sounds being the lapping waves and local wildlife waking up.

Stripping off the clothes I hastily put on earlier, I tucked myself back into bed without bothering to look at the agenda for the day. I heard Hotch rummaging through his bags and head to the bathroom, clearly still coherent enough to work. My eyes fluttered shut, only opening when I felt the bed dip next to me.

“It’s okay,” he hushed, pressing his lips to my head as he slid between the covers. He buried his face into my neck, wrapping his long limbs around me, “Have to hold out for the day so they can get ready. Nothing mandatory on agenda, just sleep.”

I wrapped my arms around him, fighting the way my hands shook from the adrenaline dump.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

I dug my fingers into his back, tilting my head to search for his mouth. His lips found mine, pressing softly; more comforting than anything. The situation had bled dry all the residual sexual desire we might have had from the night before. His hand engulfed the back of my head, pulling me tightly against his body. His unshaven face prickled against my chin, making me grimace but it was a welcome distraction. Hotch pulled away with a sleepy hum, laying on his back and inviting me to tuck myself into his warmth. I admired the way the light outside began glinting against his salt and peppered beard before my eyes finally shut.

-

Sleep didn’t last as long as I would have hoped.

I woke to the feeling of something…not right. Not unlike the feeling of being watched the last few days. I pressed my forehead into Hotch’s chest, groaning as I felt his hands trying to rouse me gently.

I opened my eyes, my body shooting upright and back toward the headboard.

Silent figures surrounded the bed, watching us intently.

Hotch reached out to settle me, having woken up before me and seen them first.

I was terrified at the intrusion but confused given that it was broad daylight. The heat was emanating through the back sliding door, the harsh light outside making it seem unnaturally darker inside.

A shiver ran down my spine as I realized this wasn’t over yet. But, the team was on their way, weren’t they?

“Time for your initiation,” Trent’s voice chirped in a sing-song voice from the doorway, more warmth to his tone than the Night Manager.

This rollercoaster of a morning was not sitting well with my stomach. It continued rolling and churning from the stress, lack of food—not that I’d be able to hold anything down right now—and the sterile but damp musk that still clung to my nose. The only time it had calmed was when I’d breathed in Hotch’s scent.

They’d been pushy about wearing all white and I grimaced at the thought of getting the inevitable stains out if blood was to be involved again. Honestly, after this op, all the clothes I brought with me were getting burned. I’d never be able to wear them again without smelling this awful place.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Trent apologized, turning to face us in the back of the cart, though he didn’t sound like he meant it. “You weren’t answering the door and we were worried. Just one more task to complete and you’ll be fully fledged members,” he grinned, sharp, white canines contrasting his tanned skin.

“No problem,” Hotch smiled, clutching the coffee they provided in his hand, taking a sip after I’d tested it with my pinky. “Had an eventful night, then the meeting at three, so we were beat.”

“Ha, I can imagine. You two didn’t waste any time when you arrived,” his grin was sly and predatory.

Bile rose up in my throat despite the sweet smile on my face. Hotch’s free hand came to the back of my neck, his touch helping to ease my fear as he traced imaginary circles there.

We were ushered back down through the Conditioning Suites into the damp dungeon that re-assaulted my nose immediately. I tried to emulate the same confidence that Hotch presented as we followed Trent down the hall with staff members behind us, only being half as successful as I’d hoped.

The damp air thickened as we descended further. The sound of dripping water echoed in the narrow hallway, the fluorescent bulbs flickering overhead like they were struggling to stay alive in solidarity with the captives just below them. Each step felt heavier, my heartbeat growing louder in my ears. It smelled of damp rot and old blood. The air clung to my skin, heavier than the humidity outside, soaking into my lungs all over again.

The first thing I noticed as we passed through the biometric door was the Night Manager on the other side, waiting to bear witness to…what?

Trent led the way, hands casually clasped behind his back like this was just another morning ritual, “You’ve done well so far,” he mused. “It’s rare for newcomers to be so…committed after such a short time, so we wanted to be sure,” His tone was syrupy and fake.

The Night Manager followed closely behind us like a grim shadow.

I forced a chuckle, “We believe in the process.”

Hotch hummed in agreement, his grip tightening ever so slightly against my neck—just enough to remind me he was right there. That we’d get through this.

Then, Trent stopped.

A heavy metal door loomed ahead. The two staff members behind us shifted, and I felt the weight of their presence, an unspoken warning that turning back wasn’t an option.

Trent produced a key and slid it into the rusted lock. He took his time unlocking the heavy steel door, the clank of metal on metal grating against my nerves. It clicked open with an almost theatrical slowness.

I wasn’t prepared for what was inside. The room was dim, lit by a single bulb swaying from the ceiling. At the center of the room sat—

Avery.

With still no sign of Quinn, though I’d been too distracted to look properly.

Avery was bloodied, restrained, and barely conscious.

I sucked in a breath through my nose, struggling to keep my expression neutral. Hotch, ever composed, merely tilted his head as if assessing the scene with detached curiosity.

Trent gestured toward a small wooden table where various knives and a set of pliers rested. A sick little selection that nearly made me squirm, but my fingers rested on the table for balance.

Hotch reached for a small knife first, inspecting the blade as if considering its craftsmanship. “And?” he prompted, raising an eyebrow at Trent.

Hotch tested the weight of it in his palm as he waited for an answer, the blade not even long enough to clear the length of his palm.

Trent leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, “Avery’s been…more difficult than we anticipated. We need to soften them up. A little pain, a little fear. Nothing lethal. Just enough to remind them of their place.” Trent sighed dramatically, like this was just an inconvenient chore, “Before you fully join our family, we need something concrete.” His grin widened, flashing too many teeth, “A shared burden, if you will.” He gestured lazily to Avery, “We’re not asking you to kill them—just a lesson. A little reminder that non-believers don’t thrive here.”

Avery groaned weakly, their swollen eyes cracking open just enough to see us. And then pure, raw terror filled their gaze.

They thought we were really going to do it. My heart clenched at the thought of them believing Hotch and I could be so monstrous.

Hotch exhaled slowly, spinning the knife in his grip before sighing with an air of casual indifference, “Are you sure this won’t just make them more withdrawn and scared?”

Trent scowled, “They’re failing to adapt. We don’t tolerate weakness here.”

I swallowed thickly, glancing at Hotch.

We were out of time.

Hotch looked at me, still holding the knife, as if we were deciding together. But I saw the way his fingers shifted subtly on the handle. He was stalling, too; waiting for an opening.

Avery let out a weak whimper from between their cracked and bleeding lips, making my pulse roar in my ears.

If we stalled too much, we’d blow our cover. If we played along too well, we’d have to live with it.

And then—

BOOM.

The entire room rattled as something crashed above us.

A heartbeat later, the distant sounds of shouting and pounding footsteps. One of the staff member’s radios crackled for a moment but no one spoke from the other side.

Trent snapped his head toward the door, his scowl deepening, “What the hell—”

I dared to make eye contact with Hotch again. The raid was here.

Before we could fully register what was happening above us, a blast went off; the heavy metal door to the basement blasted off of its hinges. Armed agents barged in through the smoke, trapping Trent, the Night Manager, and the other two staff members before they could bolt. It couldn’t have worked out any better, honestly.

Hotch dropped the knife and we both raised our arms up and kneeled on the ground as guns were pointed our way.

It was easier like this.

One of the other agents used bolt cutters to unchain Avery as we were taken away in zip ties. We passed through the Night Manager’s office again, seeing Reid and Prentiss forcing open the drawer that contained the ledger.

Good.

As we were ushered back outside, we were met with agents sifting through the attendees, separating those on payroll from those who were innocent.

“I’ve got these two,” a voice spoke up, my body relaxing almost instantly hearing Rossi through all the noise.

He led us to a helicopter where JJ was waiting for us already with our belongings packed.

“Good work, you two,” Dave gave us each a pat on the shoulder and helped us into the helicopter.

As we took off, JJ finally cut our restraints. We practically melted into the seats as the stress of the day vanished.

“You two aren’t injured?”

I shook my head tiredly and Hotch gave her a short, “No.”

“We’ll wait for the others at command and debrief on the plane, so you two can rest a bit,” JJ smiled, understanding the exhaustion evident in our postures.

-

We slept fitfully while the rest of the team oversaw the raid, only allowing for a couple hours of sleep before we were loading onto the jet home.

We debriefed in detail, glossing over most of the sexual encounters to save the team from those mental pictures. The agents who had raided the basement found Quinn in far worse shape than Avery, but alive. Both of their recoveries would be trying and long but they at least had each other.

The next phase would include finding everyone in the ledger to cut off every head possible of the cult, but that would be a job for tomorrow.

I nodded off as the conversation died down, feeling Hotch’s eyes on me for most of the debrief. He was worried, probably that this whole thing had affected me more than we thought, and he would be right. But, all things considered, we got off with an insane amount of luck.

I startled awake as the plane landed, sitting up straight and gripping the arm rests with worried glances thrown my way. It was only logical, my reaction, considering we’d been woken up several times to those damn cultists doing strange things.

“You need a ride home?” Morgan asked as we got off the plane, hand hovering at my back but not making full contact, just in case.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” I gave him a barely there smile.

Morgan sighed, resigning to my decision. He nodded and let his fingertips drift to my shoulder as he stepped away. I glanced back to the plane where Hotch was talking to Prentiss as they were the last ones to exit the plane, but ground my teeth at the thought of asking him for help.

I was home. I’d be fine.

I met Rossi and Reid’s eyes as they glanced in my direction, but just gave them a tight smile and a wave. Reid returned the wave with sympathy written all over his face, but didn’t say anything.

“Night, kid,” Rossi called as he walked off.

I made my mind up, straightening my shoulders and marching to my car as bravely as possible.

I missed him, I realized as I drove home. Hell, I probably lov—no, no.

I glanced at my phone several times on the way, refusing to call him but slightly hoping he’d call me. But, he was going through the same thing I was, he was just better at hiding it. I’d be lucky if he even looked in my direction tomorrow, his words and actions over the course of the operation just collateral damage. It wouldn’t be unreasonable.

A hot shower helped my nerves to a point but laying in bed by myself, remembering hearing the staff members dragging out Avery and Quinn and being unable to do anything about it. Remembering waking up this morning surrounded. Remembering the stench from the basement…

I stared at the empty dark ceiling above me, lit occasionally by headlights reflecting off windows and passing through the cracks in my blinds.

I wanted to sleep. I wanted to wake up tomorrow and have everything I witnessed be nothing more than a nightmare. I wanted Hotch here to tell me we’d be okay. I wanted—

The scraping of feet on concrete broke me out of my thoughts. I sat up in bed, immediately reaching for the sidearm I neglected to put away. Throwing my covers off, I stalked as silently as I could toward the front of the house, the scraping still there but localized to one spot now. Like someone was pacing. The feet stopped and I held my breath as I brought my face to the peephole, seeing Hotch standing there illuminated by my porch light.

I unlocked the door slowly so as not to startle him since he hadn’t knocked. His head snapped to the slowly opening door as I brought my face out from the darkness.

“Hey,” I greeted softly.

His eyes softened as he realized I’d heard him, “Can’t sleep?”

I shook my head, stepping back and opening the door wider, hand still gripping my pistol. His eyes flicked to it but he didn’t acknowledge its presence.

Hotch stepped inside as I put the pistol down and scrubbed my face with both hands. He closed, then locked the door behind him, finding his way to me in the dark. I heard him take a breath in, like he was about to speak but nothing came out.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, stepping forward and crashing myself into his chest. My shoulders sagged as I breathed him in, hiding my face against him so he couldn’t see my chin trembling.

He wasted no time wrapping his arms around me, tucking his face in and pressing his lips to whatever he could reach. It was a desperate embrace, arms holding on for dear life but bringing peace nonetheless.

“I’m here, we’re safe,” he murmured.

I nodded against him, the few tears that escaped being absorbed by his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” I cleared my throat, attempting to step back but his arms tightened.

“Don’t be.”

“I—you came here for something?” I wiped my face, stepping back more intentionally.

He let me this time.

“To talk,” he nodded. “But we can do that tomorrow, okay?”

I licked my lips, “Yeah, yeah.” I couldn’t help the, “Sorry,” that slipped out immediately after.

We were silent and I briefly wondered if he was going to just leave but the words tumbled from my mouth faster than I could stop them, “Will you stay?”

“Of course,” he murmured, finding my hand in the dark and letting me guide him to bed.

We faced each other under the sheets, fully clothed but shier than we’d been when we were void of clothes.

“Can I…?” my hand twitched toward him under the covers.

“Yea,” he whispered.

Our arms reached for each other at the same time, limbs tangling together and heads practically sharing a pillow.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmured.

“Is that my fake husband asking or my boss?” I let out a soft laugh.

“Neither,” he hummed, his nose bumping mine from our close proximity. “Just Aaron.”

“Please,” I pulled him closer, welcoming his kiss.

It was soft, languid, and reassuring. As soon as it ended, I tucked my face into his neck and felt my eyes growing heavier with sleep, until I snored softly in his embrace.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 2

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a–less–oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. A/N: Ok, I’ve decided to make this by series, so this one’s just going to be purely Sylus. I hope nobody minds the specific names/places/etc. I wanted to create a personality for the “player” and add a bit of backstory work (loosely based on yours truly lol) for the sake of storytelling, but there won't be any distinct description of the player’s physical appearance <3 Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, suggestive language, bouts of delusion

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10 - Epilogue

Riiiiing– RiiiNGGGGG––

...

“Huh… whazat—?” 

A shrill—earsplitting, headache-inducing, completely fucking loud—noise wakes you up rather rudely from your peaceful slumber at… Jesus Christ, what time is it? 

You blink your bleary eyes open, once… twice—fuck, all you know that it’s too goddamn early for all this ruckus. Groaning, you clumsily try to find the source of the unexpected wake-up call. Quite literally in this case. 

Your hand bumps the vibrating phone straight off the edge of the mattress—along with the charger cord still attached to it—and you cuss up a storm when you hear it clatter on the hardwood floor.

The ringing finally stops, and you’re perfectly content to leave it there and fall back to sleep when, not even ten seconds later, the blasted thing rings back to life, taunting you awake. 

Angrily, you wrestle against the threadbare blanket wrapped around your body like a warm cocoon, pushing yourself out of bed with all the rage of a sleep-deprived insomniac who’s been up til the buttcrack of dawn to grab your—huh, relatively intact—phone off the ground, while the charger cable swings haphazardly from the weight of the power brick on its tail end.  

Without checking the caller, you swipe right to answer. “What?” 

“Don’t use that tone on me, young lady,” Your mother grouses on the other end of the line. “It’s almost noon! Did you just wake up?” 

Barely five hours of sleep. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shut your eyes and sigh. “No, mom. Sorry, just had a late night,” you clear your throat in an attempt to sound more composed. “What’s up?” 

“Oh, dear. Is it because of work again?” Something akin to sympathy replaces the sternness in her voice, and you dread the all-too-familiar spiel that comes next. “You know, honey, there’s a job opening for a– what was it again? I have to double check, but it’s where your Auntie Helen works. You know your Auntie Helen—” 

“Mom,” you interrupt, before she could go off on a tangent. “Work is fine, don’t worry. Why d’you call?” 

“Should I need a reason to call my daughter who's living by her lonesome, a country away from—” 

“Mom!” 

“Oh, alright,” she finally relents, sounding slightly exasperated. “Were you able to book me and Jodie the roundtrip flight to Orlando? Your cousin’s wedding is barely a month away and I want all the documents ready by now, sweetie.” 

Shit. “Ah— yeah. I’ll email you the flight itinerary in a bit, I’m just–” you catch sight of your protruding hamper, innocuous but an eyesore nonetheless, right by the doorway of your humble studio unit. “I mean, I just left the condo. To do errands and stuff. I’ll send the details to you when I get back home, okay?” 

“Okay, honey,” she sighs. “You stay safe outside now. Don’t talk to strangers.” 

“I am a perfectly responsible adult—” The call disconnects. “Hello? Great.” 

You rub away the remnants of sleep from your eyes, fully aware that your day’s already started, despite your reluctance. Might as well get a head start on today’s agenda.

First thing’s first– brunch. Oh, it’s almost one. Lunch, then. I could maybe grab a hotdog from the corner store before heading to Landers. Oh wait, laundry. Gotta pass by the laundromat downstairs, too. Ugh, c’mon, chop-chop. 

Just as you’re about to stand up from your supine position on the floor, another ping! pulls your attention back to your phone. “Mom, I swear–” 

Ah, you’re finally awake. You’ve had a very long night, kitten. Take it easy for the day – make sure to get enough rest between errands.

I’ll know if you don’t.  

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh! Um. That’s… new. 

… Apparently another one on the growing list of “new features” from the latest update. It doesn't sound like an invitation for you to open the game, strangely enough. It's not a call to action to claim your daily stamina, nor a prompt for you to check your Galaxy Explorer rewards. 

It’s nothing more than a greeting, really. Just one that’s particularly targeted at you, with unnerving accuracy.

You recall the weird (?) events from last night, and the now-erratic beating of your heart suddenly picks up a notch. From the unexpected dialogues to the outrageous amount of dias you’ve somehow ended up with—something you still think is some kind of glitch in the system—you can’t shake the feeling that you’re living out the plot of a Black Mirror episode, as fucking dumb as that sounds. 

Not to mention during Quality Time, Sylus_v2.0 (as you so lovingly dub this version of him in your mind) had been acting more aware of you.

And you’re not talking about the pre-programmed glances that you usually get. No– it’s like he actually hears you. 

He doesn’t say anything. But whenever you make a comment, or utter something under your breath, he reacts with a huff or a hum—depending on the context. If it’s a slew of expletives aimed at your boss, the reaction you’re met with is one of amusement. A snort; sometimes a quiet laugh, if you’re lucky. When you say something self-deprecating, however, it elicits the heavier sighs, the sharp clicks of the tongue. 

At one point, you heard him make a low sound of dissent, something close to a... growl, almost, after making a casual joke about being just another cog in the machine and how offing yourself wouldn’t really matter in the grand scheme of late capitalism. As you oft do. 

Your eyes met, and for a split second, it felt like you weren’t looking at just pixels. His gaze weighed heavy on you—almost accusatory. 

It made you feel… naked, somehow. Perceived. 

You recall how quickly you averted your eyes from his, face flushing hotly from a feeling you couldn’t put into words. 

Bone-tired from last night’s (morning) overtime, you didn’t have the time to look up the news on this recent version update—although you really don’t remember any notifications in-game—so you quickly Google, “sylus acting sentient in rcent update loveamd Deepspace???” on your phone browser.

You scroll down for a bit, but none of the search results yield any relevancy, nor are they in any way similar to your current… predicament. 

(Okay, so calling it a predicament is a little unfair. You’re not exactly complaining about anything per se. No complaints from you. At all.)

Deciding that you’d do a deeper dive on Twitter (X) at a later time instead—probably tonight when you do your daily login—you briefly press the side button to lock your phone… not without a final peek at the banner notification from Sylus. 

You press your lips together in an effort to hold back the stupid giggle bubbling up your throat. 

Unfortunately, all the self-control in the world can’t help you and your need to have the last word—from what even—so you ask aloud, to no one except the person you've deluded yourself into thinking is a valid recipient of your one-sided conversation: 

“... Yeah? And what if I don’t?” 

You’re not really waiting for a response (or were you?), but the nervous flutter in your stomach betrays the impatience you're trying to mask with casual indifference. It’s small, unassuming—but there. 

Impatient for what, exactly, you’re not sure. But maybe, just maybe—

Feeling a bit braver now, are we? How bold. Care to say that to my face, sweetheart?

Oh. 

Oh.

An inhuman noise escapes your throat, embarrassingly loud, almost a keen, and you fumble with the device in your hand; the new banner notification still in full view—taunting you. 

You don’t know what to think, you don’t know how to feel. You–

Spring up, like an agitated jack-in-a-box, and the sudden rush of blood in your head leaves you dizzy. You’re a molotov cocktail of emotions; one more bombshell surprise and you might just blow. 

“I’m– later, okay? Uh,” Whew, girl, keep it together. “I need–I need to go.” You almost stumble as you speed walk towards the bathroom.

-

-

-

If you didn’t switch your phone to silent, didn’t make the conscious effort to ignore any incoming messages, notifications, and whatever else, in a rush to get dressed and go about your day as if it's just like any other weekend—nope, nothing unusual here—you would’ve seen one last cheeky reply:

Of course, sweetie. You take care now. 

Don’t talk to strangers. X

Endnote: This one's pretty short, but I’m world-building, trust. 

Thanks for reading!