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kiwriteswords · 4 months ago

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Yours, Mine, but Never Ours [Aaron Hotchner x Reader]

Masterlist|| Ao3||Word Count: 6.6k|| AN: This is inspired by the gifset of Hotch + his wedding ring last week. I really mulled over the idea of Hotch, his trauma, and likely idea of marriage. I had originally--and really went back and forth on this--planned out a sad ending for this, but I couldn't do that to you all. Tags/Warnings: female reader, established relationship, jack hotchner, mentions of Haley hotchner, fear of commitment, marriage issues, spoilers to seasons 3-5, Derek and Rossi giving Hotch shit for his personal issues, talks of marriage, talks of death, angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, reader couldn't give two damns about marriage, but hotch is old fashioned and conflicted, happy ending Summary: For someone as traditional as Aaron Hotchner, the topic of marriage shouldn't be one he shied away from. But given his past? Nothing scares him more.

Aaron Hotchner stood at the kitchen sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the warmth of soapy water lapping at his wrists.

Golden evening sunlight spilled softly through the half-open blinds, casting gentle stripes of light across the countertop and illuminating the porcelain dishes he methodically rinsed.

Behind him, at the kitchen island, Jack sat with homework spread around him, colored pencils scattered like confetti across the marble surface.

Aaron listened quietly to the gentle rhythm of pencil scratches and Jack's occasional murmurs as he read aloud softly.

"Dad?" Jack’s voice broke through the quiet hum of the dishwasher.

"Yeah, buddy?" Hotch replied, glancing over his shoulder.

Jack looked thoughtful, head tilted slightly, his brow furrowed in a familiar expression—

One he'd inherited from Aaron himself.

"Are you going to marry her?"

The casual innocence of the question hit Aaron like a splash of cold water.

He paused mid-motion, water dripping from the plate suspended above the sink, eyes fixed on the steady drip-drip-drip into the basin below.

"Marry who, Jack?" He managed a neutral tone, heart suddenly heavier in his chest.

Hotch expected your name to come from Jack, but it still continued to catch him off guard. Jack’s eyes sparkled, entirely oblivious to his father's sudden tension.

Aaron slowly set the plate down, turning off the faucet, and dried his hands carefully with a navy towel. He took a deliberate breath, calming the racing pulse beneath his carefully composed expression.

“Jack…” he hesitated slightly, keeping his tone even.

"Yeah!" Jack interrupted eagerly, nodding vigorously. "I really like her. I think she’d be a good wife for you. And she makes pancakes better than anyone."

Aaron felt the corners of his lips twitch, betraying the smile fighting to emerge at Jack’s earnestness.

You had become such an integral part of their lives that he hadn’t fully realized how deeply Jack had attached himself to you. Or perhaps, he admitted quietly to himself, how deeply he himself had become attached.

"Well," he began, stepping slowly toward the island, where Jack sat expectantly. Aaron leaned forward slightly, meeting his son's bright eyes. "Sometimes, marriage is… it’s complicated."

Jack tilted his head curiously, brows knitting deeper. "Why?"

Aaron swallowed hard, suddenly conscious of the persistent ache that seemed permanently woven into the fabric of his heart—

A remnant of old wounds never fully healed.

"Because…when you marry someone, you promise to always keep them safe, to always be there. And sometimes…" He paused, gently ruffling Jack’s soft brown hair, searching for the right words. "Sometimes life makes it hard to keep that promise."

Jack’s expression softened, becoming thoughtful and mature beyond his years. "Like with mom?"

Aaron's heart clenched painfully at the simple acknowledgment, but he forced a gentle nod. "Yeah, buddy. Like with mom."

Jack considered this silently, carefully rolling a blue pencil between his small fingers. Finally, he looked back up at his father with steady, serious eyes. "But we still love mom. And I think you can still love someone else too. Like you love mom, but different."

Aaron’s breath caught sharply in his chest. He stared down at his son, astounded by the profound wisdom carried in such innocent words. Jack gave him a shy smile, small but deeply reassuring.

Aaron reached out gently, placing a steadying hand on Jack’s shoulder. He knew he owed his son honesty—

At least as much as he could comfortably offer.

"You know," he finally said, voice soft, vulnerable, and undeniably sincere, "I really care about her."

"Good." Jack nodded firmly, returning to his homework with newfound decisiveness. "Because we both like having her around."

Aaron straightened, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Through the window, twilight began to deepen, colors bleeding into shades of lavender and deep blue, shadows stretching quietly across their small, familiar kitchen.

As the quiet settled once more, Aaron found himself thinking about you, about Jack’s words, and about the soft warmth he'd started associating with your presence. It terrified him, the depth of this feeling—

How easily and completely you’d settled into every corner of his life and heart.

Jack resumed his homework as if nothing monumental had just transpired, the gentle scratching of his pencil filling the contemplative silence. Aaron watched him briefly, a soft, affectionate ache filling his chest, before turning slowly back toward the sink.

In the quiet simplicity of the moment, he knew one thing clearly:

His son was right. You had quietly, undeniably woven yourself into their lives.

And now, Aaron had to figure out what to do about it.

The thought took root quietly, like an errant seed drifting into fertile soil, taking hold in the darkness and growing tangled and stubborn as it bloomed.

Marriage.

Aaron hadn’t intended for it to become something he thought about, but Jack’s innocent question echoed relentlessly in his mind—

At work, in meetings, late at night when he tried to find rest. It threaded through his thoughts when he watched you reading quietly on the couch, when he saw you laughing with Jack in the backyard, and even now, as he stood in the bullpen at the BAU, staring blankly through the window of his office, watching you across the bullpen.

You were speaking animatedly to Garcia, laughing at something she’d whispered. Your hand fluttered briefly to your hair, brushing a loose strand behind your ear—

A gesture so natural.

So ordinary, yet lately, every little detail seemed steeped in meaning.

He wondered how he’d gotten here—

How you'd become someone he couldn’t imagine living without.

The idea itself was quietly terrifying. After Haley’s death, after the brutal way that chapter of his life ended, Aaron had silently vowed to himself that he'd never step back into that vulnerability again. He’d convinced himself that emotional isolation was simpler, safer—

Far less painful.

But you were a soft disruption to his hardened rules, somehow slipping quietly through every defensive barrier he’d erected around his heart.

Now, as he watched you laugh, your eyes sparkling and filled with warmth, he realized with stark clarity that he wanted to spend his life with you. But at the very same moment, something deep and raw within him recoiled, filled with dread at the risk that kind of love presented.

He thought of Haley—

The first time they'd met, their wedding day, the promises whispered softly in candlelight, promises of forever that had ended abruptly.

Violently.

Marriage meant vulnerability. It meant offering his heart, wholly and without reserve, knowing how easily it could be ripped away.

“You good, Hotch?”

Dave’s voice broke him sharply from his thoughts. Aaron startled slightly, turning to find Rossi leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, observing him with careful eyes.

“Fine,” Aaron answered quickly—

Too quickly, he realized.

Rossi raised a brow, stepping slowly inside the office, nudging the door closed behind him. “You’ve never been good at lying to me, Aaron.”

Hotch sighed softly, rubbing his forehead. “Just...thinking.”

“Must be some pretty heavy thoughts,” Rossi observed, following Aaron’s gaze out toward you. Understanding crossed his face. “Ah.”

“It’s nothing,” Aaron deflected quietly, knowing it was useless even as he spoke the words.

Rossi moved further into the room, settling against the edge of the desk.

Aaron shot him a quiet look, momentarily surprised. Rossi simply offered a sympathetic smile.

“You’re not exactly subtle, Aaron,” Rossi said gently. “I’ve seen that look before—the one where the past and the future start to blur together.”

Aaron hesitated, the tension in his jaw visible, emotions pressing beneath a carefully maintained surface. “Jack…Jack asked me if I would marry her,” He sighed, “It was just an innocent question. But—” He broke off, feeling foolish.

“But you’re terrified,” Rossi finished quietly.

Aaron’s eyes flickered back out the window. You had moved, crossing back toward your own desk, unaware of the turmoil raging inside him.

He felt selfish, torn between longing and fear, aching for the simplicity of your touch, your warmth, yet paralyzed by the haunting memories of what could happen—what had happened once before.

“Marriage almost destroyed me once,” Aaron admitted quietly, the words barely audible even in the quiet of the office. “Not just divorce—but the guilt, the danger, losing Haley the way I did. Losing everything. Jack almost losing both of us…almost losing Jack. I swore I’d never put anyone else through that. Especially someone I—”

“Someone you love,” Rossi interjected gently.

Aaron drew a sharp breath, giving a stiff nod. “Someone I love.”

Rossi pushed gently, cautiously. “Have you talked to her about it?”

Aaron shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving you as you settled at your desk, pen dancing lightly across paper. He took in every detail—the way your hair fell against your cheek, the graceful slope of your shoulders, the familiar tilt of your head—and suddenly felt the unbearable heaviness of what he stood to lose.

“It isn’t fair to her,” Aaron murmured, voice thickening. “She deserves certainty. Not my fears.”

Rossi placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Aaron, don’t underestimate her. You’re afraid because you’ve lived the worst-case scenario—but you’ve also survived it. You’re allowed to be happy again.”

Aaron was quiet for a long moment, absorbing Rossi’s words, feeling them settle somewhere deep and aching within him.

“I don’t know if I can put her at risk like that. I don’t know if I could survive losing someone else,” he admitted softly. “But God help me—I can’t imagine letting her go either.”

Rossi’s expression softened knowingly, compassionately. “Then don’t.”

Aaron let the simple truth of it sink in, a quiet ache lodged in his chest. His eyes returned to you again, watching as you tucked your hair behind your ear once more, your smile gentle, unburdened.

I can’t lose you, he thought desperately, even as fear tightened around him, relentless and choking.

And he knew—painfully, inevitably—that sooner or later, he’d have to face the possibility of opening that conversation, sharing those fears, or risk losing you anyway.

But for now, he stood quietly in the shadow of his past, trapped between memories of what had been lost and the quiet, terrifying beauty of what could still be found.

hat night, the darkness in the bedroom felt heavier, thicker somehow—each silence pulsing with uncertainty. Aaron lay on his back, eyes tracing the shadowy patterns along the ceiling as he felt your soft breathing beside him. His chest tightened with anxiety, as though every quiet breath was slowly stealing oxygen from his lungs.

He’d always been skilled with words—careful, purposeful—but tonight, they tangled uselessly on his tongue, caught by an invisible weight that felt impossibly heavy.

“Aaron?” Your voice broke through the quiet, gentle and sleepy, as your fingers brushed softly along his chest. “You’re tense.”

His breath stuttered briefly in his throat. Of course, you’d noticed.

You always did.

“Can’t sleep,” he murmured, voice rough with the edge of nerves.

You shifted beside him, the bed softly creaking beneath your movements. Aaron felt his heart quicken as you propped yourself up slightly, your eyes studying him thoughtfully in the dim glow of moonlight.

“Something’s been bothering you,” you whispered knowingly. Your fingertips drew small, comforting circles against his chest. “You want to talk about it?”

For a long, hesitant moment, he almost didn’t. Aaron feared the weight of what he was about to say—

The risk of shattering everything he’d grown to love.

Yet the tenderness in your touch, the gentle patience radiating from your expression, urged him onward. You deserved honesty, even if he was afraid of what came next.

Slowly, cautiously, he met your gaze. “Marriage,” he said quietly, voice tight and guarded.

Your fingers paused, hovering briefly. Aaron’s heart pounded painfully as silence settled heavily between you. He braced himself for you to pull away, for hurt or disappointment to cloud your eyes.

He wouldn’t blame you if you got up and left—

He knew what it sounded like, the fear in his voice.

How could he expect you to stay if he couldn’t offer more?

But instead, your lips curved softly upward, surprising him. A quiet chuckle escaped you, gentle and warm. “Is that what’s been haunting you all week?”

Aaron frowned in confusion, blinking slowly. “You...knew?”

“I had a feeling something’s been bothering you,” you whispered, your eyes gentle, affectionate, reassuring. You shifted closer, your cheek resting against his shoulder, hand gently moving once more over his chest. “Aaron, listen. I understand why marriage scares you. You don’t have to apologize for it.”

He exhaled softly, relief mingling uneasily with confusion. “Y-You don’t mind?” he murmured uncertainly.

You shook your head gently against him, voice quiet yet firm. “Aaron, marriage—it’s just paperwork to me. A certificate. A legality.” You looked up at him, eyes sparkling with gentle humor. “As a former prosecutor, you should understand paperwork doesn’t always mean much.”

A small laugh escaped him—

Surprising.

Genuine.

Breaking some of the tension that had been suffocating him for days.

His chest loosened, though the shadow in his mind lingered. “Still,” he continued softly, “most people expect it at some point. A wedding, a ring—something.”

You squeezed him gently, your voice clear and steady in the quiet night. “If I ever married anyone, Aaron, I’d want it to be you. But I’d never ask that of you. I know what you’ve been through. What we have—this—means more to me than vows and rings and certificates ever could.”

Aaron felt something powerful surge through him—gratitude, relief, warmth—and yet something else lingered, stubbornly unresolved.

He wrapped his arms carefully around you, pulling you close as you settled gently against him. He pressed his lips softly to your forehead, inhaling the comforting scent of your hair.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, meaning it more deeply than words could express.

You hummed contentedly, drifting gently toward sleep again, wrapped safely in his arms. But as your breathing evened out, Aaron lay wide awake, staring once again at the ceiling, haunted by the visions your words conjured in his mind.

He imagined a life for you—

A real one.

Complete with celebrations and milestones, the kind that were marked by gold bands, carefully spoken promises, laughter, joy, perhaps even children of your own. The thought pierced him deeply—

A life you might never have because of his past, because of his pain, because of him.

He wondered if he was stopping you from the quiet life you deserved.

The one with a husband who wouldn’t bring danger home constantly. He cringed, thinking of another man’s hands getting to hold him at the end of the night, but this ordinary man could give you so much more than Aaron was comfortable even thinking about.

Guilt wrapped tightly around his heart, squeezing with a terrible, relentless force. He imagined resentment clouding your eyes someday, silent regrets staining quiet evenings, things left unspoken but deeply felt. The selfishness of it stung sharply.

As you slept softly beside him, trusting him, loving him unconditionally, Aaron silently grappled with the invisible weight pressing heavily against his chest.

He knew you'd meant what you'd said tonight—

He had no doubts about your sincerity. Yet it still haunted him, the fear that one day you’d look at him and realize you deserved more than he could ever offer.

And as he lay awake, your body curled softly, trustingly, in his arms, Aaron realized with an aching certainty:

He'd give anything to make sure you never regretted choosing him—even if it meant confronting every fear he'd ever had.

The weeks turned quietly into months, each day deepening the gentle rhythm between you, Aaron, and Jack. The comfort of routine wrapped around you both, steady and reassuring, but beneath that comfortable surface, Aaron felt himself growing restless—

An anxiety simmering just under the warmth, quiet but ever-present.

It was the milestones that haunted him most.

Like the afternoon Penelope burst into the bullpen, glittering ring catching every light, tears of joy streaming down her face as the team quickly crowded around her.

“I said yes!” she had cried joyfully, throwing her arms around Morgan, who laughed heartily and lifted her off the ground. The bullpen buzzed with congratulations, laughter, and plans for celebrations.

Aaron had watched quietly from the side, heart tightening painfully at your gentle smile and the sincere warmth in your eyes. You squeezed Penelope’s hand, genuinely thrilled for your friend, your voice filled with affection. But as Aaron stood slightly apart, his fingers clenched in quiet frustration, imagining you missing out on that kind of joy—

Of celebrations that revolved around promises he’d silently denied you.

The guilt lingered long after the excitement faded.

Or when the two of you attended a gala for the FBI, and he watched, heart heavy, as you introduced him to a former colleague of yours.

“This is Aaron Hotchner,” you’d said proudly, gently squeezing his arm. “My boyfriend.”

Boyfriend.

Aaron had almost flinched at the word—

Not because he didn’t cherish it but because it felt so inadequate.

He noticed the subtle reaction in your colleague’s eyes, the quick glance down at your hand, perhaps checking for a ring. He hated the way you quietly shifted your stance, almost defensively, as though expecting judgment.

Later that evening, in the darkness of the car ride home, Aaron felt you quietly watching him, reading the subtle tension in his jaw.

“Aaron,” you whispered gently, fingertips brushing his thigh, “you know none of that matters to me.”

But he hadn’t entirely believed you, even though he desperately wanted to.

Then there was the playdate at Jack’s friend’s house—

A moment, Aaron hadn’t anticipated hurting him so deeply.

“So, your wife mentioned Jack doesn’t like strawberries?” The other parent had asked casually, unloading snacks from grocery bags.

Aaron’s hesitation had been brief but painfully obvious. “Ah, actually…she’s not my wife,” he’d explained awkwardly. “My girlfriend. She’s—we live together.”

“Oh,” the parent said softly, embarrassment flashing over their face. “Sorry, I just assumed.”

Aaron had waved it away, pretending not to see the confusion, pretending not to notice the way the word ‘girlfriend’ seemed suddenly juvenile or inadequate.

He spent the rest of the afternoon tense, discomfort spreading through his chest, lingering even hours later as he walked into the kitchen and found you preparing dinner.

Your gentle, easy smile pierced his heart.

“Hey,” you greeted softly. “Did Jack have fun?”

“Yes,” Aaron murmured, stepping behind you, wrapping his arms gently around your waist.

He buried his face in your neck, inhaling the familiar warmth of your scent, his chest aching quietly.

You’d tilted your head gently back against him, feeling the tension in his embrace. “Everything okay?”

He’d wanted desperately to say yes—

To protect you from his burdens.

But the words came out strained. “They thought you were my wife.”

Your shoulders stiffened slightly, then relaxed just as quickly. You’d turned in his arms, your expression patient and understanding. “Aaron, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know,” he sighed softly. “I just—I hate the idea of people misunderstanding your role in my life.”

You’d cupped his cheek gently, your thumb brushing soothingly over his skin. “I’m not worried about what they think, Aaron. I know exactly what I mean to you.”

He wanted so deeply to believe you, but even as you smiled reassuringly, he couldn’t shake the fear—

The persistent ache that whispered to him late at night, taunting him with visions of what you might eventually grow to resent.

And in the quiet darkness of his own mind, Aaron found himself caught between two impossible fears: losing you, or selfishly keeping you and robbing you of something you might one day desperately want.

He felt trapped—

Holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable day, you’d finally realize he couldn’t give you enough.

Penelope’s surprise bridal shower had transformed Rossi’s elegant backyard patio into something that looked like an enchanted garden, glowing softly beneath strands of golden fairy lights. Laughter and warm conversation carried gently through the cool evening air, mixing seamlessly with the low hum of soft music.

Aaron leaned back quietly in his chair, his eyes trailing across the table to you. Warm light flickered from small candles, catching softly in your hair and reflecting in your eyes, bright with laughter. You were seated beside Penelope, your hands resting gracefully atop the white linen tablecloth as you listened, fully engrossed in the conversation.

He knew he should have felt completely at ease surrounded by his team—his friends—but the unease he’d been carrying for weeks now seemed even heavier tonight.

“So, Garcia,” Emily called out teasingly, swirling her wine gently in her glass, a playful smile on her lips. “Did you choose the ring, or did you let your man surprise you?”

Penelope grinned brightly, eyes glittering with excitement. She extended her hand dramatically across the table, showcasing the ring proudly. “He surprised me, and he nailed it.”

JJ reached across the table, taking Penelope’s hand gently to admire the sparkling diamond more closely. “It’s gorgeous, Pen. He did amazing.”

Aaron watched quietly, his chest tightening uncomfortably as Emily’s gaze suddenly shifted toward you. “Alright, your turn,” Emily teased gently, nudging your elbow playfully. “What about you—what’s your dream ring?”

He saw your expression soften, eyes brightening as you leaned in closer, not a hint of discomfort or awkwardness visible. Aaron’s heart stalled briefly, his grip tightening subconsciously around the cool glass in his hand.

“Well,” you began softly, entirely casual, oblivious to the fact that your words were slowly twisting something inside of Aaron, “I’ve never really thought about it much, but probably something vintage-inspired. I’d want something delicate. Not too flashy.”

Aaron swallowed hard, feeling suddenly and irrationally nervous, as though everyone at the table might turn toward him at any second, reading plainly the conflict on his face. He forced himself to maintain a neutral expression, carefully raising his glass to his lips to hide his discomfort.

You continued, laughing softly, warmth in your voice, “Maybe something with a sapphire, even. I’ve never really been a diamond girl anyway.”

He caught Morgan’s eyes across the table in that moment—

Dark, knowing, and filled with playful seriousness. Morgan raised an eyebrow subtly, tilting his chin slightly toward Aaron as if to say, Are you taking notes? You better be.

Aaron looked away quickly, the weight of expectation and guilt pressing harder against his chest. He found himself staring into his wine glass, the deep red liquid gently swirling against the sides, feeling profoundly exposed.

He felt selfish for holding back something that felt so normal, so easy to discuss for you and the others.

You glanced over at him just then, eyes warm, oblivious to the storm brewing quietly in his chest. Your smile was gentle, reassuring—

Always comforting.

And yet, it only deepened the tightness in his chest, reinforcing his quiet dread.

Morgan cleared his throat quietly, leaning casually closer to Aaron, his voice pitched low enough that only the two of them could hear. “You good, Hotch?”

Aaron forced a careful nod, but Morgan wasn’t easily fooled. His friend’s expression softened knowingly, quietly supportive.

“Look,” Morgan said gently, glancing discreetly toward you, where you continued chatting warmly with JJ, “you know you’ve got something special. Don’t overthink it, man. She seems pretty clear about what matters most.”

Aaron nodded again, eyes still locked on you, heart aching deeply. He knew Morgan was right, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps you deserved more than he could offer—more than he’d ever be brave enough to give.

And as laughter and excited conversation continued to fill the air around him, Aaron quietly watched you, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t someday come to regret holding you back from the life you truly deserved.

The ride home was unbearably quiet.

Aaron’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles whitened beneath the pale illumination of passing streetlights. The silence in the car hung heavy, like an oppressive storm cloud, stifling any attempts at casual conversation. He felt trapped in his own head, frustration gnawing relentlessly at him.

Beside him, your posture was rigid, arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared unseeingly out the passenger window. Every second of silence made Aaron’s chest feel tighter, every shallow breath adding fuel to the simmering frustration that refused to be contained.

Finally, you broke first.

“Are you seriously going to do this again?” Your voice was sharp, hurt simmering just beneath the surface. Your eyes flashed toward him in the dim light of the dashboard, wounded yet defiant.

Aaron’s jaw tightened, eyes locked forward, voice controlled and low. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Oh, please,” you snapped bitterly. “You’re tense, Aaron. You’ve been tense all night. Is it because of the damn ring conversation? Again?”

His eyes narrowed, fingers clenching tighter around the wheel. “I didn’t say a word about that.”

“You didn’t have to,” you retorted sharply. “You’ve been stuck in your own head for months now. Every time someone mentions marriage, or engagements, or God forbid a ring, you completely shut down. Do you honestly think I don’t notice?”

He exhaled sharply, frustration flaring dangerously in his chest. “You said yourself you’d want a ring. Vintage. Something delicate. Sapphires, wasn’t it?”

Your laugh was harsh, humorless. “Yeah, I did say that—because they asked. You’re making a huge deal out of nothing.”

“It’s not nothing!” Aaron’s voice rose sharply, surprising even himself. His eyes darkened, flickering with something raw and painful. “You don’t get it. You deserve all of that. You deserve someone who can give you exactly that, and I’m the one keeping it from you.”

“I told you,” you shot back, voice thickening with frustration and hurt, “I don’t care about a ring or a piece of paper or—”

“You say that now!” Aaron snapped, his words harsh and unyielding. “But what about later? What about ten years down the line when you resent me for not giving you the things you deserve, the life you pictured for yourself?”

Your eyes widened slightly in disbelief, anger sparking dangerously. “Are you kidding me right now? Aaron, I could die tomorrow. We could get into a crash right here, right now, and you really think I’d be worried about not being your wife? That some paperwork or a damn ring would make a difference in how I feel about you?”

Aaron’s jaw tightened further, breath ragged with emotion. “It’s not about the paperwork! It’s about making promises that I’ve already broken once. It’s about knowing the second I give you that, I could lose everything again. I don’t want that—I don’t want to lose you.”

“You think marriage changes that?” you challenged fiercely, voice shaking slightly. “I see myself old with you, Aaron. You. And that vision isn’t any stronger or weaker because we signed something or because I wear your ring.”

His voice cracked painfully. “You say that, but you don’t know—”

“No,” you interrupted harshly, hurt blazing in your eyes. “You’re pushing me away because you’re scared. Because you think wanting marriage again means risking it all again. Maybe you’re afraid because deep down, you actually want that with me.”

Aaron’s grip on the wheel was nearly painful, his voice dangerously quiet, trembling with barely-contained fury. “Enough.”

But you didn’t listen. You leaned closer, your voice fierce, challenging. “Is that it, Aaron? Is that what scares you? Because at the end of the day, you do want it—”

“Yes!” Aaron suddenly roared, slamming a hand against the wheel in frustration, the words erupting from somewhere deep and raw within him. The car filled with stunned silence, broken only by his heavy, ragged breathing.

His heart was pounding painfully, eyes filled with conflict, pain, and longing as he finally looked over at you, emotion raw and unguarded. “Yes,” he repeated, softer now, voice broken. “I want it. I want you. I want to call you my wife. I want it all, every damn thing that terrifies me, because I want to know that you’re mine—really mine.”

You stared back at him, eyes wide and glistening with tears, your anger replaced instantly by shock, empathy, and a deep, aching tenderness.

“I know it’s old fashioned--I’m old fashioned. But you don’t think that every day I think about wanting to buy you a ridiculously expensive ring? Or sign my entire life over to you? Because you already have it. Paper or not--my life is yours. I want you to have it. Take it.” Aaron exhaled heavily, voice unsteady with vulnerability. “But God, it scares me. It scares me more than losing you, because the moment we make it real—I could lose everything. Again.”

You reached out, your hand shaking slightly, gently resting on his tense arm. Your touch felt like an anchor amidst his storm, steadying him.

“Aaron,” you whispered softly, voice thick with emotion, “you're not going to lose me. Not because we marry or because we don't. I chose you, and I choose you every single day. Nothing changes that.”

He let out a ragged breath, feeling a quiet release in your words, but the fear still remained, tangled stubbornly within his heart.

And even as he pulled the car slowly into your driveway, the silence between you softening, Aaron knew he’d laid his fears bare, his heart open—

Completely vulnerable.

The words had been said, and now, nothing could ever quite be the same again.

Not much was said--or done--after that conversation. A few goodnights to Jack, the quiet domesticity of getting ready for bed unfolded, but little words were said between the two of you that night.

Exhaustion weighed far heavier on Aaron’s shoulders and he felt as if he had revealed so much--partly worried too much to you. He didn’t want to push it…push you.

Aaron woke suddenly, sharply, his breath catching painfully in his throat as his eyes snapped open to the cold emptiness beside him. The sheets on your side of the bed were wrinkled but cool, evidence of your absence already lingering heavily in the room.

A wave of raw panic surged through him, immediate and overwhelming, twisting his stomach into painful knots. Aaron’s heart began to pound fiercely, hammering in his chest as he quickly sat up, scanning the bedroom for any trace of you. But the silence around him was oppressive, mocking, thick with dread.

He called your name hoarsely.

No response.

His mind flooded suddenly with memories—

Painful, vivid recollections of another empty bed, another empty room years before, and the heartbreaking absence Haley had left.

He was too late then, too stubborn, too closed-off. He’d pushed Haley away, and now—he’d pushed you away too.

Aaron felt completely unraveled, breath shallow, panic rising painfully in his chest. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, desperately trying to steady himself, fighting the pressure building behind them.

He’d finally done it. He’d pushed too hard, said too much, and now you were gone.

Gone because he couldn’t bend. Couldn’t compromise. Couldn’t allow himself to trust you fully, even after you’d given him everything. He’d selfishly forced you to carry his fears, his grief, his trauma—

And now he was alone.

He had no idea how long he sat there, paralyzed, heart painfully clenched, completely lost in the dark spiral of his thoughts until—

The quiet sound of the front door opening downstairs pulled him sharply from his despair.

Aaron froze, heart hammering with sudden hope.

Or maybe fear.

He couldn’t be sure.

A moment later, your footsteps echoed gently up the stairs, followed by the soft rustle of bags and a familiar, comforting scent of coffee drifting into the room. Aaron rose unsteadily, his pulse erratic, relief blooming tentatively beneath layers of anxiety and pain.

You stepped through the doorway, arms full—one hand gripping a bag from your favorite bagel shop, the other balancing a cardboard tray of coffees. When your eyes met his, you paused, startled by his clearly shaken appearance.

“Hey,” you said gently, surprise softening your expression, your voice filled with cautious warmth. “I wanted to surprise you with makeup bagels and coffee. Figured we both needed it.”

Aaron didn’t respond immediately. He couldn’t. He simply crossed the room in a heartbeat, bridging the painful gap between you, and pulled you fiercely into his arms.

You gasped softly, taken aback by the intensity behind his embrace, but your body quickly relaxed against him, sensing something deeper, more vulnerable in the way his arms clung desperately around you.

“Aaron?” you whispered, uncertainly at first, then tenderly as you felt him tremble slightly against you. “Hey, I’m right here.”

He tightened his hold, burying his face against your shoulder, his voice rough and barely audible. “I thought you left.”

You set the bags carefully aside on the nearby dresser and gently cupped his face in your palms, forcing him to look at you. The emotion in his eyes nearly undid you—

Painful vulnerability, haunted by old ghosts, old fears.

“Aaron, listen to me,” you said softly, firmly. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise you, I’m here. I didn’t leave you.”

He shook his head slightly, eyes closing for a brief moment, unable to fully trust his voice. When he opened them again, his expression was raw and achingly sincere.

“You could have,” he whispered brokenly. “You could have left, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. I was—I’ve been so unfair to you.”

You shook your head gently, your eyes filled with quiet strength and compassion. “Aaron, I need you to understand something—I chose you, knowing exactly who you are. Knowing your past, your fears, your stubbornness—all of it. And I’d choose you a thousand times over.”

He exhaled shakily, eyes glistening with unshed tears, his chest rising and falling rapidly as your words sank deeply into him. Still holding his face tenderly in your hands, you pressed your forehead gently against his.

“I’m begging you,” you murmured softly, voice steady and filled with gentle pleading, “Please start believing me.”

Aaron nodded slowly, trying desperately to internalize every word. His heart was still trembling, still afraid, but your unwavering warmth anchored him back into reality.

“I’ll try,” he whispered, the words thick with emotion. “I’ll keep trying.”

“Good,” you breathed softly, thumb brushing tenderly across his cheek. “Because I love you far too much to let you keep fighting these ghosts alone.”

His lips curved faintly; finally, the relief washed over him in waves. He tilted his head slightly, pressing a lingering, tender kiss to your forehead. He silently vowed to himself, again and again, that he would learn to trust—to accept the gift of your promise without fear.

And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to fully believe that the quiet future you’d promised him was real. That maybe, this time, the ghosts could finally rest.

Weeks turned quietly into months, the heaviness that had once shadowed every quiet moment slowly lifting, replaced instead by a gentle warmth—

A sense of ease Aaron hadn't felt in years. The ghosts still lingered, but they were softer now, quieter, fading slowly into the background noise of a life filled instead with laughter, steady reassurance, and you.

The team’s latest case had brought you all to Las Vegas. After the successful resolution, Hotch had surprised everyone by suggesting you all take an extra day before returning to Quantico. It was unusual—perhaps even out of character—but the team had been thrilled, quickly dispersing into the bright lights and bustling energy of the city.

After briefly checking in with Reid—who eagerly took off to visit his mother—the rest of the team scattered into various plans. It left Aaron alone with you, wandering the city, a soft and easy silence settling between you as you navigated colorful streets bathed in neon and laughter.

As the afternoon sun warmed your skin, you glanced up at Aaron, catching the thoughtful expression lingering on his face. “You’re quiet,” you murmured gently, sliding your hand into his, fingers interlocking effortlessly. “Everything okay?”

Aaron smiled softly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “Yeah, everything’s good. Just... thinking.”

You raised a playful eyebrow, gently nudging his side. “You’re always thinking.”

Aaron’s gaze flickered down to your intertwined fingers, thumb brushing gently over yours. His voice softened thoughtfully. “I suppose I am. But today, I’m thinking about something specific.”

Your eyes met his curiously, noticing the quiet intensity and subtle apprehension in his gaze. “And what’s that?”

He paused, taking a steadying breath, his voice quiet and measured. “I’ve been wondering if you’d be open to something.”

Your heart fluttered slightly, curiosity and anticipation sparking warmly through your chest. You nodded gently, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “I’m listening.”

Aaron slowed his steps, gently pulling you aside, away from the bustling crowd, into the quiet shade of a small alcove near an ornate fountain. He reached carefully into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small velvet box, his movements steady but cautious.

Your breath hitched softly in your throat as you watched him slowly open the box, revealing a delicate, vintage-inspired sapphire ring—

Exactly the kind you’d described that night at Penelope’s bridal shower. Your heart swelled warmly, emotion rising suddenly and powerfully within you.

Aaron’s eyes held yours steadily, soft yet vulnerable. “I know I’ve made things complicated. That I’ve let my fears dictate how I approached all of this.” He swallowed quietly, his thumb running gently over the small box. “But despite all that fear, all that worry—I’m old-fashioned. I want to marry you. Not because you expect it, but because I do. I want to do right by you. I want to promise myself to you openly.”

He hesitated slightly, voice quieter, gentler. “So, I was thinking… maybe we should just elope? Here. Today. Just us. No fuss, no expectations—just you and me.”

Emotion tightened your throat, eyes shimmering with unshed tears of joy as you gazed back at him, your voice warm and steady. “Aaron, of course. Of course I’ll marry you—today, tomorrow, whenever you want. I don’t need the ceremony or fuss. All I’ve ever wanted was you.”

He exhaled softly, tension visibly leaving his shoulders, relief flooding his expression as he gently slipped the delicate sapphire ring onto your finger. “Are you sure?”

You laughed gently, pulling him into a warm, reassuring embrace, your voice filled with love, confidence, and sincerity. “Aaron, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You are it for me—always have been, always will be. Nothing else matters.”

Aaron’s arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close, and you felt the steady thud of his heartbeat against your chest.

In that moment, beneath the shimmering Vegas sunlight, surrounded by the gentle sounds of laughter and splashing fountains, Aaron felt a deep, profound sense of peace.

All the lingering fear, the hesitation, the self-sabotage—

They vanished instantly as your reassuring words echoed gently in his ears, resonating deep within his heart.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, smiling warmly against your skin as he whispered, “Then, let’s go get married?”

And just like that—

Quietly, easily, and perfectly.

You both stepped forward together, leaving behind fears and ghosts alike, moving instead toward the joyful certainty of forever.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @Sweethotchlogy @softtdaisy @superlegend216

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hazelira · 5 months ago

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bath bubbles

The front door clicked shut, and the familiar sound of Sunghoon’s voice filled the quiet apartment.

"I'm home," he called softly, careful not to startle the little bundle of joy that had recently taken over your world.

"In here," you replied from the kitchen, where you had already started filling the sink with warm water for your baby boy’s bath.

Sunghoon stepped into the room, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of you cradling your five-month-old son, babbling contentedly in your arms. His tiny fists waved excitedly as soon as he saw his dad.

"Hey, little guy," Sunghoon murmured, stepping closer to gently kiss your forehead before rubbing a finger over the baby's chubby cheek. "Did you miss me?"

Your son released a delighted coo in response, his big eyes shining at Sunghoon.

"You ready to help with bath time?" you asked with a small smile, overseeing your husband roll up his sleeves.

"Of course," he grinned. "It's my favourite part of the day."

Together, you settled your little one into his baby bath support seat in the sink. He kicked his legs excitedly, his tiny toes wiggling as he felt the warm water surrounding him. Sunghoon supported his neck and head with one steady hand while his other gently held his son's tiny body.

You dipped your hand into the water and carefully wiped his plump little face, your fingertips trailing softly over his round cheeks. The cool sensation of the water against his warm skin made him shiver slightly, his face scrunching up in the cutest way.

Sunghoon chuckled. "Aww, buddy. That was a big shiver."

You giggled, pressing a soft kiss to your son’s forehead before reaching for the baby shampoo. You poured a tiny amount into your palm and worked a gentle lather before massaging it into his soft baby hair. He blinked at you, watching with wide-eyed fascination as you worked the bubbles through his fine strands.

"He’s so intrigued by everything," Sunghoon mused, a soft smile gracing his lips.

"He likes watching the bubbles," you whispered, amused. Sure enough, your little one cooed at the sight of the foamy lather as you moved on to washing his tiny body. His hands reached out, attempting to grasp the soapy water, but all he managed to do was create more bubbles.

As you rinse the soap away with lukewarm water, your baby lets out a confused little whimper, his lips parting as if he is about to protest.

"Oh, you liked those bubbles, huh?" Sunghoon chuckled, rocking him gently.

"It's okay, baby," you cooed softly, kissing his damp head. "We'll have more bubbles tomorrow."

Once bath time was over, you reached for the fluffy baby towel resting on the counter. Sunghoon carefully lifted your little one from the bath, wrapping him snugly in the soft fabric before carrying him to the nursery.

He laid your baby on the changing table, his movements practiced and careful. You handed him a fresh diaper and onesie while he worked on drying those tiny limbs with utmost gentleness.

"You're so good at this," you murmured, watching as he applied a small amount of baby lotion, rubbing it into those soft baby rolls with delicate hands.

Sunghoon glanced at you with a smile. "Well, I have a great wife."

You blushed slightly as you reached for the baby brush, combing through his damp hair in soft, soothing strokes. Your baby yawned, his tiny mouth forming a perfect little ‘o’ as his eyes drooped sleepily.

Sunghoon scooped him up into his arms, pressing a kiss to his baby-soft forehead. "All fresh and clean," he whispered.

Your little one let out a content sigh, snuggling into Sunghoon’s chest as sleep quickly overtook him.

You exchanged a look with Sunghoon, your heart swelling at the sight. Moments like these—simple, quiet, and full of love—were what you cherished most.

"I love you," you whispered, gently kissing Sunghoon’s cheek.

"I love you more," he replied softly, rocking your son as he drifted off completely.

And in that warm, peaceful moment, you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

Sunghoon swayed gently, his arms cradling your now-sleeping baby boy, whose tiny fingers had found their way to gripping the fabric of his dad’s shirt. You smiled at the sight—Sunghoon looked so at peace, his expression soft and full of love as he stared down at your son.

“Do you want me to put him down?” you whispered, brushing a few strands of damp hair from your baby’s forehead.

Sunghoon hesitated, his hold instinctively tightening for a moment. “Mmm… maybe just a little longer,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

You let out a soft giggle. “You say that every time.”

“I know,” he admitted, flashing you a sheepish smile. “But he’s so small, and warm, and…” He trailed off, looking down at your baby’s peaceful expression. “I still can’t believe he’s ours.”

Your heart swelled at his words. Stepping closer, you rested your head against Sunghoon’s shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist. He leaned into your touch, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re such a good dad,” you whispered against his shoulder.

Sunghoon let out a soft chuckle. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you reassured him, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “The way you hold him, the way you talk to him, the way you look at him… He already knows how loved he is.”

Sunghoon exhaled softly, his eyes shining with emotion. “I just want to be the best for him. For both of you.”

“You already are.” You cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb against his smooth skin before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He sighed into the kiss, his free hand gently resting against your back as he deepened it slightly, savouring the moment's warmth.

A tiny whimper broke the quiet, and you both froze.

Sunghoon quickly pulled back, eyes wide as he glanced down at your son, who had stirred slightly but was still sound asleep. You both chuckled, relieved that your moment of affection hadn’t woken him.

“Guess we should put him down now,” Sunghoon whispered.

You nodded, stepping back as Sunghoon carefully lowered your baby into his crib. He adjusted the blanket over his slight frame, brushing his knuckles softly against his chubby cheek.

“Sleep well, little guy,” he murmured.

You both lingered momentarily, watching your son breathe softly, his lips slightly parted in sleep. Then, hand in hand, you quietly left the nursery, closing the door just enough to let a sliver of warm light peek through.

As soon as you reached your shared bedroom, Sunghoon turned to you with a grin, stretching his arms above his head. “I think I deserve a reward for being such a great dad,” he teased.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, amused. “And what kind of reward are you thinking?”

Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “A cuddle session,” he said, his voice dipping playfully. “Just you and me.”

You giggled, melting into his embrace. “You are just as needy as the baby, huh?”

Sunghoon hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Maybe,” he admitted, guiding you towards the bed. “But I don’t hear you complaining.”

You sighed, settling into his warmth as you lay down, his arms securing you against him. “Never,” you whispered.

And as Sunghoon pressed one last lingering kiss to your forehead, you let yourself relax, safe in the warmth of his love—just like your baby was in his crib.

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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saw ur monster 141 with pup reader (!!!!) and what about kitty reader who's just the softest, sleepiest, pliant little thing, who's breed is scottish fold so her little ears are flattened on her head - and she's so small, too :(

Cat reader!! yes!! Scottish fold monster breeds have a lot more problems than their cat versions have - weak spine and problems with walking are some of them, unfortunately. You are a lot sleepier than other hybrids, practically helpless in hunting and you don't even know how to play with your prey properly - as a show breed of a domestic cat, you can only lay down in your nest and purr for the amusement of other monsters. It doesn't free you from your breeding duties, however. Soap is, by far, the worst with you. Being a werewolf, he is your natural enemy - and he might mean well when he is dragging you out of your nest so you could run and play together, but you're too lazy and get tired too fast to actually enjoy playing with him...and of course, you simply hate hate hate his enthusiasm about everything!! Seriously, you need some time to recharge, how is this man even for real? He would bite you all the time, too, and you scratch him constantly, but it only makes him want you more( he will laugh and push his face to kiss and lick you all over, and it's so gross, you just can't stop cringing( Gaz is...nice. And you hate the he is nice because he makes it hard for you to hate him. Like many cats, you don't really enjoy bathing yourself. You're doing just fine with occasional showers or licking yourself in your cat form, why would you need to take a bath every night or two?? Gaz is the only one who is capable of dragging you - Ghost could, too, but he doesn't want to waste time, so you're stuck with smiling Kyle and his enthusiasm of spreading various shower gels on your body, making you all soapy and smell like flowers( he is getting his fair share of scratches too, but if he manages to clean and play with your pussy properly, you might allow him to proceed with washing you... Ghost is a cat person, by all his heart. It's weird, to watch this big, shadowy man loom over you like you're his precious pet, but he just won't stop staring at you. It's weird and somewhat creepy, but you love receiving surprising head scratches or belly rubs. What you don't like, is when you want to capture him in belly trap with your claws, but he just disappears in a puff of shadow and escapes(( it's not fair!! Ghost allows you to scratch him, however, when he is feeling like it - after a really good sex, when you both are just laying in your ruined nest, he would push your mouth on his bicep and allows you to bite him and cover him in your marks - it will dissapear, of course, but you just look so cute, like a helpless angry kitten... Against all odds, Price is your favorite sleeping buddy. Why? Because of his body temperature, of course! Gaz is warm too, but he doesn't have this bear-type tummy on his chiseled abs for you to curl up, so you opt to sleep on Captain's chest or lap. Price always laughs when you find him in his office when you push yourself on his lap and lay your head against his warm, soft chest. He won't let you go during the night, letting you bask in his heat - you just look so precious all sleepy like this, and you meowl perfectly when he pushes his cock in your pussy, making you even warmer. You would purr in your sleep and he thinks it's just the most precious sound in the world.

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pseudowho · 2 years ago

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Kento Comes Home Drunk

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

The reader manages her drunk, horny fiancé, Nanami Kento, like an absolute champ.

Link to the sequel here: Reader Comes Home Drunk

WARNINGS: 18+, soapy handjobs (F to M), mutual masturbation, cumshots, ethics of consent, Kento being a sloppy drunk

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Hope he's having a good time, you mused to yourself, nursing a late cup of tea. The clock ticked well past midnight; you were the overnight on-call for Curse-related shenanigans, so whilst you had wanted to join Satoru, Shoko, Ino, Ijichi and Kento for drinks, you had, instead, waved Kento off, and settled in for a night with your phone on loud, and late-night game shows.

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"Hate to see you leave," you'd sighed at 6pm, bobbing upwards for a kiss. He had traded his work attire for a buttoned black shirt, and simple dark jeans. Effortlessly handsome. You buried your face in his chest, breathing his cologne, and gave him a playful shove on the chest, like trying to push a truck.

He stepped backwards, with a lopsided smile and his hand reached out to pinch your chin affectionately.

"But love to watch me go?" You winked at him. You were wearing his favourite outfit; your oldest pyjamas. He found something so sexy about you being comfy. You preened at him, cradling your first tea of the night.

"You know it." He chuckled, but became serious immediately after.

"Call me if you're called out overnight. I want to be around if anything...happens." You nodded, hand on heart.

"Good luck beating off other women with sticks. Hope you've practiced your comedy rejections."

Kento hummed sagely, "Bold of you to assume I'm a man? My doctor said I shouldn't until the smallpox has cleared up? Undskyld, jeg taler ikke Japansk?"

You laughed, gave him one final kiss, and waved him out of the door.

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Firmly lost in late-night TV and stifling a yawn, you noted the time; nearly 2am. As you smilingly hoped Kento was having fun, there was a firm tap at the door. You rose to answer it, and you paused to hear shuffles, bumps, hushed voices and fumbled keys. Rolling your eyes, you opened the door to a waft of whisky fumes dressed as your fiancé.

"Fiancé delivery service! Sorry for the late call ma'am, I tried to throw him over the gate but he was too heavy." Satoru heaved Shoko higher onto his back, and she groaned, face first in his shoulder. Ino and Ijichi swayed behind him, quietly huddled over Ino's phone and arguing over what food to order.

You smirked up at Kento, who was possibly more gorgeous while dishevelled, shirt half untucked, sleeves rolled, and stumbling into the hallway to kick his shoes off. He walked the confident walk of a drunk man back towards the door, possessively looping an arm around your waist and planting a sloppy kiss to your neck. Glaring at Satoru, he gripped the doorframe.

"I didn't need you to get me home, Gojo. I'm not drunk." Kento shuffled his whole face into your neck, gripping your pyjamas hard. You thanked Satoru, and sent him off to deliver the other drunkards home. Kento slammed the door hard, and backed you up against the wall while you laughed, slapping at his chest as he mumbled incoherent greetings against the side of your face.

"Behave yourself, buddy, you're hammered. Let's get you to bed." He groaned cheerfully, taking this as an invitation. His eyes met yours, unusually playful, and with a wink started to slowly unbutton his shirt. You rolled up a nearby newspaper and swatted his hands. Mouth watering at the sight of his abs, you sternly told yourself off.

"It is unethical to have sex with drunk people when you're sober. I don't know what you think you're getting tonight, but you should adjust your expectations." Bodily manhandling him, you turned him around while he grumbled at you, urging him towards the bathroom. He sat against the counter, bum accidentally setting off the tap in the sink, while you set the shower running. He stumbled and cursed behind you, trousers now wet and clinging to his muscled thighs. You heard him stripping while you waited for the water to heat up.

He thinks he's being sneaky, you thought to yourself as Kento pressed himself into your back, erection now full and visible against his underwear, and his hands slipped boldly under your pyjamas. While one hand reached up to cup your breast, the other snuck down to graze against the top of your mound. Involuntary shivers of pleasure ran down your spine, his wet mouth on your neck smelling of hot whisky and smoke.

"I have full capacity," Kento purred against your neck, tongue trailing up to your ear now, "and I'm so delighted my girl is still home, and I'd love nothing more than to make her the final taste on my tongue tonight." He stopped, musingly, his gaze at you still drunk and fluttering.

"Unless you don't want to," he pondered, taking his hands from your body. You pouted up at him, crossed arms and faux-angry, and nodded towards the shower.

"You smell like a bar. Behave yourself." Kento chuckled at you, cracking his neck and sighing, absent-mindedly palming his erection through his underwear. His cock sprang up as he finished undressing, pink-tipped and perfect, and you couldn't resist looking him up and down. He stepped into the shower, hot water cascading down his broad shoulders. Leaning one hand against the glass, he eyed you ruefully again.

"I'll manage myself then, shall I?" Still leaning on the glass, his eyes drifted shut as his other hand trailed down his body to grip his wet cock. "Please don't feel obliged to stay." You tried to appear unaffected, and moved to turn, but paused as you heard the slow wet strokes of him pumping himself under the running water. The drink lowered his guard, and he let out a long, slow moan of relief as he pleasured himself, now totally oblivious to your presence.

You felt heat pool between your legs, your arms covered in goosebumps and your nipples pebbling under the cool pyjama fabric. You considered your options.

Still stroking himself, and gradually increasing the pace, Kento was imagining you riding him on the sofa, like you had done only days before, his hands on your eager hips as you told him how deep you could feel him. He groaned to himself, desperate to feel that intense intimacy and pleasure again, enhanced by the alcohol running through his system.

Thoughts interrupted by a tap on the shower glass, he opened his eyes to you, leaning against the bathtub, one hand moving slow circles over your clit and another rolling your nipple between your fingers. Lower lip between your teeth, you blushed as you watched Kento pleasure himself.

Kento moaned unashamedly, swiping his thumb over his tip, cock twitching furiously in his hand.

"I'll return the favour, I promise," he begged you, eyes fully focused on where your hand moved steadily beneath your pyjamas, feeling his pulse quicken as you flushed and moaned, legs weakening against the tub, "I know what you're like when you come home drunk, you're a nightmare, saying no to you is a chore."

Lip still between your teeth you smiled at him, and, now feeling especially naughty, you moved to straddle the lip of the bathtub. Kento's jaw dropped as you began to ride it, sighing his name as if he wasn't there, now slipping your pyjama top down to release your aching breasts.

"Shit...please get in here before I lose my mind," and he stopped stroking himself, hand gripping the base of his cock as pre-cum trickled out, merging with the running water. His head was still spinning with the alcohol, but his senses were sharpened by your performance, so he watched you hungrily, determined that he'd cum inside you if he had any say in the matter.

You continued to hump the side of the bath, shuddering, eyes glinting with mischief.

"How can I trust that you know what you're asking?" You replied breathlessly, "It is unethical. I'd be taking advantage. I'd hate for you to regret me in the morning."

Kento grinned at you. "But watching me is fine? It seems worse somehow. Regret you," he scoffed. Humour aside, Kento shifted uncomfortably, grunting as his cock continued to throb in his hand. "Get in here," he wheedled, "and stop fucking the bathtub in front of me, and use me instead."

You acquiesced, resolve cracking. Stripping quickly, you slipped into the shower, pressing against him and immediately gripping his pulsing shaft. He stuttered and whined, hands pressed back against the glass, panting as you squeezed him.

"Alright, you win," you breathed against him, licking the flat of your tongue across his nipple, tasting the sweat and nightclub on his skin, "but I will absolutely remember this when I'm the one who's drunk and begging."

You spun Kento around again, and reached around his hips to grasp his cock just as he would as he pleasured himself. He continued to pant, whining and begging you for relief. You rubbed his tip with the flat of your palm, teasing, before starting to stroke from the head to the base of his cock in well-practiced motions.

Kento moaned and murmured sweet praise. His hands pressed against the glass, fingers flexing and unfolding as you fondled his bum lovingly, nipping his shoulder blades and sweeping your wet hand up and down his cock, gently twisting and squeezing at the head until he was gasping. You kept a steady pace, Kento occasionally thrusting forwards into your hand, calling you his good girl, his sweetest thing, being so good to him.

Head swimming with the alcohol, Kento gladly accepted the handjob, overwhelmed by the pleasure and steam of the shower. As he was about to turn to insist on bending you over against the shower wall, your second hand crept round to his throat and squeezed just hard enough for his moan to catch in his chest. Balls tightening and abdomen twitching, Kento gasped as you whispered into his ear; "be a good boy and cum in my hand".

Kento broke, wave after wave of pleasure rushing through him, strengthened by the drink, as thick spurts of cum shot into your hand and against the shower glass. He moaned your name, hips thrusting sloppily, one hand reaching round to squeeze your waist. Your pace slowed, squeezing gently as you pumped every last drop out of him.

Kento slumped against the glass, a dopey satisfied smile on his face, and hummed happily as he felt a soapy sponge start to clean his back. By the time you had gently scraped your nails through his hair, rinsing him of the last suds, he was barely awake in the steamy bathroom.

"Come on, big guy. Let's get you to bed." Kento frowned at you, looking faintly guilty.

"But I haven't done anything for you." You stroked his cheeks, full of affection.

"Trust me, that did plenty for me. I'll be storing that in my head for a long time."

Kento blushed, but allowed you to lead him to bed and dry his hair. He was face down in bed and asleep within seconds, his body relaxed, his tense muscles loose and softened.

You hesitated before checking the time; if you hadn't been called out by now, you probably wouldn't be, you convinced yourself. Pulling on one of Kento's shirts, you sat your phone by the bed and slipped under the sheets, tucking close to his warmth with one knee lifted over the small of his back.

"Still think I took advantage of you," you mumbled to Kento, before falling asleep to his warmth and deep, soft breaths, safe and happy in the dark.

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This best boy deserves a soapy handjob

And the sequel, Reader Comes Home Drunk, link here.

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becausebuckley · 3 months ago

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teach me how to dance with you | buddie | slow dancing | 5.3k

eddie teaches buck to dance. a little birthday gift for @playinginthunderstorms <3

“Okay, come here,” Eddie says, dropping the sponge and dish he was cleaning into the soapy water with a splash. He’s tugging on Buck’s elbow, then, the wetness from his fingers seeping into Buck’s clothes and all the way through to his skin.

“Uh, what?” Buck brings out, but he’s helpless to do anything but follow Eddie’s lead and let go of the tea towel.

“We’re dancing,” Eddie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

“I believe you,” Buck says desperately, staring at Eddie’s shoulder so he doesn’t have to face him. “I super believe you.”

“Hmm.” Fingertips under Buck’s chin. The slightest pressure. Blink, and Buck is looking right into Eddie’s big, brown, beautiful eyes.

There’s a twinkle in them, but something confused, too. The slightest smirk on his face, but a strange tilt to his brows.

Honestly, Buck gets it. Like he said, he’s been weird all day. If he was Eddie, he’d be both amused and confused – and maybe a little hurt, even – too.

“What,” Eddie says lightly, “do you not want to dance with me, bud?”

read the full fic on ao3 here!

#i couldn't have chosen a better thesis writing distraction tbh #i've been switching between the thesis (very serious) and this (not even a little bit serious) and it's worked wonders #so yay #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #911 fic #michelle writes

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intoxicated-chan · 1 year ago

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ║ ❝𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐈𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞❞

(A/n) ➳ First chapter!! I straight up need lessons on how people flirt because I fought and I still think the flirting is VERY TERRIBLE so be warned. Enjoy!!

Word Count ➳ 2.4k

Content Warnings ➳ Talks of having children/marriage, pregnancy, alcohol use (Not drunk), TERRIBLE FLIRTING, public bathroom sex, p-in-v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), pet names (darlin’) swearing, nearly getting caught, mentions of violence…

JUDAS MASTERLIST

THE CLOCK HAD STRUCK ELEVEN IN THE MORNING.

Your hands come under the hot water for a second before yanking them back in pain, a wince had left your lips and sighed. You turned the handle on the sink to the right, waiting a couple of seconds before you put your hand under the water again.

This time, the water became warm. You picked up the soapy and water logged sponge to continue cleaning the white plates that were covered in syrup from this morning, just two hours ago.

Shane was the first to come to your apartment, like usual. He helped you with setting up the table, cooking the sausages and eggs while you handled the pancakes and hashbrowns.

Rick, Lori, and Carl came next. Carl ran past you before you could even acknowledge it was them, he happily shouted for the pancakes and was a little disappointed. But as soon as he was picked up by Shane and put on his shoulders, his laughter filled your small apartment.

“The hashbrowns just need a couple more minutes.”

You remembered saying, letting them in and helping Lori as she was obviously pregnant. Around thirty four weeks.

“Just a couple more weeks.” She let out a groan as she was able to take off her shoes. “Then we’ll have this little sucker out of me.”

Lori and Rick agreed to keep the gender a secret, not even they know since they had already agreed on names as well.

Isabella for a girl and Liam for a boy.

You took her sweater and hung it on the coat rack. Rick had begun to pour juice into the glass cups, making sure Carl didn’t knock them over when he threw himself at the chair.

“Carefully buddy.”

“Pancakes!”

“Pancakes are comin’ in!” You hurriedly walked in with the hot pan in one hand and a stack of pancakes in the other, Shane was right behind you with the plates of scrambled eggs and cooked sausages.

That was just two hours ago.

Now, Carl was by your side, standing on a step stood with a damp rag in hand. He took each plate that you handed to him, wiping them down and carefully putting them in the dish rack.

Shane walked back to the table where Rick and Lori were still sitting, he watched as Lori tried to stifle her giggle, covering her mouth as her giggling became louder as Shane came into her view.

Shane, gathering the last few cups, asked with a grin. “What are you two scheming now?”

“Oh you know, the pregnancy, the hospital plan, and us-” Lori leaned in closer, whispering. “-Deciding when you’re going to ask (Y/n) out?”

He took a glance back at you, still focused on the dishes. “One day Lori. One day.”

“It’s been five years, I’m tired of your whinin’.” Rick retorted, leaning back in the chair and throwing an arm back.

“Where are the cups Shane?” You called out to him. “And what are y’all whisperin’ about?”

Shane went to tell Lori to hush but she spoke first, speaking over him. “That you guys make the perfect couple!” She slowly stood from her chair and made her way over to you. “A perfect marriage with kids running around, y’know?” Lori teased you.

You exchanged a quick looked with Carl who just looked back at you with curiosity. He couldn’t feel your discomfort.

“Well… I-I don’t know.” You hesitated, trying to avoid the question and find the right words.

“They do seem perfect for each other.” Rick commented.

“Can’t you imagine it?” Lori added. “A cozy home, kids playin’ in the yard with our kids. Sounds like a dream.”

You forced a smile when everyone turned to you, hiding your uncertainty. Sure, Shane was attractive, anyone would die to be with a man like him.

But settling down, marriage and having kids just didn’t sit right with you. You preferred excitement in your life, just like your high school life. Not knowing what was going to happen next, the unpredictability in your life made it even better.

Shane noticed your silence, he placed the cups in the sink and nudged you. “You alright?” He murmured to you, ignoring Rick and Lori’s conversation.

You took a couple of seconds before nodding. “Yeah, yeah, just thinkin’ about high school.”

“Feelin’ nostalgic?”

“I am.”

But Shane could sense the discomfort in your voice, something he didn’t want, you being uncomfortable around him.

“Don’t listen to ‘em. They’re jus’ jokin’.” He flashed a smile.

You poured soap on the sponge and gave it a squeeze, starting on the outside of the glass before going inside of the cup.

“Maybe Lori and Rick are right. You and me, might be somethin’ special.” He said, a playful tone clear in his voice.

You kept the same smile on as before. “You know how they are. Tryin’ to play matchmaker.”

“They could be onto somethin’. We’d make pretty good parents.”

“Look Shane, I’m not really sure about all that. Can’t we talk about it some other time?”

He adjusted his stance, now crossing his arms. “Alright, alright.”

“Did he really say that?” Andrea questioned you, wide eyed as she handed you a glass of wine that Amy poured you.

“I still can’t get it out of my head.”

“What did you say?”

You brought the wine to your lips, giving it a swirl before taking a sip of it. “I said if we can talk about it some other time.”

Amy clicked her tongue a couple of times. “Should’ve made it clear from the start.”

The three of you sat on your couch, a movie played in the background, something about an assassin in retirement but it was long forgotten when Amy noticed you couldn’t focus on the movie.

You bit your lip, setting your glass down next to you. “I know, I know. But it felt like I couldn’t.”

Andrea stood up abruptly, stopping Amy from replying. “You can’t be drinkin’ all night. We’re goin’ out.” She stated proudly, hands on her hips as a wide smile spread across her lips. “Get dressed (Y/n), we’re hittin’ Atlanta!”

You opened your mouth but Andrea put her hand in your face. “No arguments.” She marched into your room, with you and Amy following, Andrea was rummaging through your clothes. “Even if it’s just for a couple of hours, you need this.”

Amy joined in with Andrea, looking through your drawers. “A night of fun and-” Pulling out a pair of matching bra and underwear. “Pleasure~”

Once you were all dressed up, Andrea drove you all to the club that Amy once went to, commenting on the amount of men who rode motorcycles.

And she was right, motorcycle upon motorcycle lined up in the front of the club. You all excited the car in laughter and nervousness.

“How’s my makeup?” Amy asked, looking at herself in the car’s mirror. “Shit, I think my eyeliner is uneven.”

Andrea pulled her by her arm, “Who cares? We’re here to have fun!”

You all entered the club with ease, you all were immediately crowded. After all it was a saturday night, drinks were flowing and music blasted loudly that you could barely hear yourself.

But you all remained together as you drank, except Andrea as she was the driver. But that didn’t stop her from having fun with you.

She practically forced you onto the dance floor after a couple of drinks as she thought it would help and it surely did.

Blinded by the flash on Amy’s phone, she recorded you all dancing and screaming your lungs out on the song that played.

You definitely needed to listen to the sisters more cause this was a night you needed, it wasn’t like morning brunch with the four of them.

You felt that familiar excitement in your veins, and your body dancing on its own… You didn’t consume many drinks, maybe because you wanted to remember this night, not by videos and photos, but by your own memory.

You laughed as Andrea helped you move to the calmer side of the club as she recognized your tiredness.

“Never knew you could pull those moves!” She shouted over the music, leaning close to you.

“Neither did I!” You threw your head back, snickering. “Can you order me some water?!”

“What?!”

“Water!”

“Okay!” She turned her back to you and faced the bartender.

You panted, trying to catch your breath. You felt your phone vibrating and pulled it out, seeing a call from Shane.

It was like the music went silent, everything around you froze as you stared at his name… You watched it ring, his name on big on the screen.

You looked up from your phone to call for Amy or Andrea but you spotted someone else.

A man with a black leather jacket. ‘JUDAS’ was printed on his back in white lettering with white dots circling the name and the skull and bones.

He sat alone, a drink in his gloved hand. Black sunglasses rested next to his arm and a black and white bandana was wrapped around his neck.

“Water!” Andrea’s booming voice knocked you out of your stare, taking the water, Andrea noticed you’re staring and immediately found who you were looking at.

“Think he’s in a band?” Amy laid her head on your shoulder.

“No way, looks too gloomy to be in a band.” Andrea retorted. “Nice clothes though.”

You dismissed both of them. “Leave him alone.”

“Alone? Girl, he looks like your type! Go for it!” Amy scoffed and pushed you.

You shoved your phone back into your purse and walked towards him, glass of water in hand. If the drinks gave you confidence to dance, surely it will help now.

You took the empty seat across from his and crossed your legs, one over the other. “Cool jacket.” You complimented. “Where’d you get it from?”

He eyed you for a moment before he looked away. “Ain’t yer business.”

That caught you off your guard… “Must be a tale worth tellin’ or you just like scarin’ people.”

“A very long and winded tale. And scarin’ folks… There’s more than one way to scare somebody than usin’ a jacket.”

“I ain’t easily scared. Makes it more fun.”

“What’s so fun ‘bout some jacket?”

You shrugged. “Maybe it’s the challenge of findin’ out who you are.”

He clicked his tongue, setting down his drink. “Ain’t gonna be easy darlin’.”

You leaned in closer. “Good thing I like challenges.”

(May I have some tips on flirting, please. I’m very desperate…)

“Fuck!”

You and Daryl didn’t waste time when he brought you to the bathroom of the club. He hiked up your dress and ripped your underwear off you, not without commenting on the choice first.

You threw your head back, your legs tightened around Daryl’s waist.

He had you pushed up against the wall, his face shoved into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses.

He desperately thrusted into you, breathing heavily. He fucked you up against the bathroom stall.

Both of his hands held your ass, leaving you to cling onto him.

You were left stuttering over your words. “Like that.” You said, over and over again. “Just like that! God, just like that!”

For a second, your breathing stopped and you froze, your eyes immediately shut as you came around his cock.

Yet you didn’t complain when he still continued fucking you. You felt a smile form as he fucked you past your orgasm.

“Ya gotta keep quiet.” Daryl panted in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your back. The music was still loud, even in the bathroom.

You tried but his cock kept slamming into your g-spot. You were unable to contain your gasps and moans.

“Shut up dammit.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Sorry ain’t good enough.”

You shoved your face into his shoulder, feeling the leather of his jacket, smelling his cologne and cigarettes.

He didn’t stop nor slow down, thrusting into you like his life depended on it, using you as a stress relief.

You felt the same coil once again, feeling it throb, pooling in your abdomen.

“Imma-!”

“(Y/n)?!”

You were dragged out of your daze and pulled away from him, nearly falling in the process. “The hell?” Daryl luckily caught you.

But you hushed him, slipping your flimsy underwear back on.

It was Amy. “(Y/n)? Andrea said she saw you comin’ in here.” You heard her footsteps coming closer to the stall you were in.

“Stay here.” You mumbled to him, soothing your dress and coming out of the stall before she could reach it.

She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, I thought you were dead when Andrea said she saw you comin’ in here with the guy.” She looked over your shoulder. “Where is he?”

“Um, we talked and I… I got his number.” You lied, still trying to reel back.

“Really?! Oh my god! You gotta tell us!” She grabbed you by the arm and dragged you out of the bathroom. “We’re headin’ home!”

“What? Why?”

“Andrea, punched a guy.”

“Is she okay?!”

“Oh yeah!” Amy smiled and pointed to Andrea who was waiting by the exit. “Let’s go home!”

You closed the door behind you, Andrea dropped you off since she had to get Amy home quickly, she had a feeling she was going to vomit.

You kicked off your heels, sighing and your feet felt the relief of no longer wearing those heels.

You began to take off your earrings and walked to your bedroom when you heard knocking.

You carefully came to the door and slowly opened it, having a clear confused look on your face. Even more when Daryl stood there.

You looked around first before coming back to him. “...How did you find where I live?”

Daryl held up a bag, your bag. “Left it in the bathroom. Ran out ‘fore I could say anythin’.”

You took the bag, still wary. “Well, thanks. But how did you know where to go?”

Daryl shrugged, a relaxed expression on his face. “Saw yer ID. Figured it ain’t far.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Stalker tendencies, Daryl?”

“Just lookin’ out for a damsel in distress.”

You giggled. “I’m sure losing my bag ain’t bein’ in distress, but points for effort.”

“I’ll be in town for a couple months, see ya ‘round?”

“You wanna come in for a bit? I gotta thank you for gettin’ my bag.”

“Ya gonna run off again?”

“Maybe.”

Daryl stepped closer. “Maybe?” He grinned again.

You grabbed his hand and led him into your apartment and shut the door before. You didn’t have a second to react before he was already on you.

This was definitely a night you did not fucking regret.

Taglist ➳ @deansapplepie , @ladylincoln , @gamingfeline , @lady06reaper , @alanamarie , @daryldixmedown ,

» » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ Chapter 2 ⊰

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chatterbox-73 · 9 months ago

Text

Kinktober 2024.

Day 10 - sleeping beauty.

Yuu Nishinoya x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story for Kinktober, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for Kinktober and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

A/N: happy birthday Nishinoya…🎉

Summary: Nishinoya is quite an adventurous man and wants to try everything, today it’s using your sleep body and tomorrow it’ll be something else.

Word count: 780

CW: NSFW and adult content, handjob, masturbation, somnophilia (fake: reader is pretending to be asleep), non-con/dub-con (fake), shower sex, mentioned of threesum, mentioned of cuckolding, edging (Noya).

Nishinoya hummed as his hand pumped his member quickly as you laid asleep in the floor in front of the heater, “You’re so pretty… so damn pretty” he grunted as his hand faltered slightly, “my sleeping beauty” he groaned as he threw his head back and squeezed his tip, he sighed deeply trying to calm himself down.

Nishinoya had been at this for hours, he’d pump himself over your sleeping face, getting himself so close to completion before pulling back, and now he had pulled back completely, he moved around your body and settled himself between your legs, lifting your legs and pulling them over his shoulders, Nishinoya pulled your underwear to the side and began slowly sliding his tip through your lips, “fuck, you’re so slick and wet” he groaned and rubbed his tip over your clit in a few quick swipes, this caused you the shift and moan.

“You naughty little thing… I bet you want it all in at once” he sighed and rubbed his tip down through your folds, you stiffened slightly as Nishinoya’s tip caught on your opening, a hiss left both of you before Nishinoya very boldly pressed his hips into you.

Nishinoya’s hips snapped quickly into you, he grunted and held your hips tightly, you shifted slightly and moaned softly, however Nishinoya’s ground and rolled his hips upward into you, suddenly you sat up and grabbed his arms, “Yuu, please Yuu… make me finished” he smiled and kissed you lips, “you’re supposed to be acting like your asleep” he smiled and you whined as you wrapping your arms around his neck, “I can’t anymore… not when you started fucking this good” you cried out and Nishinoya’s grabbed the underside of your legs, before leaving you and pushing you down into the floor, “I’m so close…” you whined and Nishinoya nodded, before he grabbed your get arms and pulled you up to his chest.

You cried out and felt yourself cumming, Nishinoya’s grunted and snapped his hips a few more times before cumming, “that was good, you’re such a sweet little actress” he hummed and pressed his lips to the side of your cheek, you chuckled breathlessly and smiled, “it was just lying there, but you made it so damn hard when you started putting it in” you sat up and watched Nishinoya as he began pealing off the used condom, he chuckled and tied off the condom before dropping it in the bin, “you know when I did this was Asahi-kun he actually fell asleep and then yelled at me when I tried to wake him” he laughed and chuckled, before standing and walking over to the bathroom, “that’s pretty funny but Asahi-kun is pretty tough looking, it’s disappointing he acts so soft” you hummed and Nishinoya nodded, before making his way to the bathroom and grabbing you, he hugged you and pressed a kiss to your neck.

“Yeah but that’s what makes him likeable, he’s sweet and it translated into the bedroom” Nishinoya hummed against your skin before pulling you into the bathroom and turning the shower on, you both stepped in and began washing each other, you turned and allowed him scrub your back with your soapy washcloth, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me into bed with your best buddy…” you turned back and Nishinoya smirked, “I wouldn’t mind seeing that, watching him stretch you down around him” he hummed and you watched his cock twitched, “I think you’d enjoy a little room” you laughed and wrapped your hand around his hardening member, Nishinoya sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right… it’d be good to watch him take you, then maybe I’ll join in” Nishinoya spoke softly as you pumped his cock, he groaned and rested his head back onto the wall of the shower, “you really wanna watch another man, bend me over and have at it” you smiled and he groaned grabbing your arm before be began thrusting his hips quickly, “yeah, you’d take it like a desperate little slut… you put on a good show for your man, huh?” He grunted and leant forward before pressing his forehead to your shoulder, he became more frantic with his thrust and he gripped your arm particularly hard, Nishinoya groaned loudly into the steamy air as he got cum spurted on your stomach, “oh yeah… that it, watch him full your abused little pussy up before tossing you to me, so I can fill you” he chuckled against your skin and you hummed in approval at the idea before you closed your eyes and enjoyed the hot water running down your back.

Kinktober Masterlist

Day 9 - Katsuki Bakugo: Deep throating.

Day 11 - Yamato/Tenzo: Blissful rage.

#fem!reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu nishinoya #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x reader smut #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya yū #nishinoya yu x reader smut #haikyuu #noya x reader #noya x reader smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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miss-vanta-likes-to-write · 6 months ago

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Miss Vanta I must ask. Of course ignore this if it doesn’t suit your fancy. Of our boys, who is actually good at rolling up and who isn’t allowed to even touch the papers? I feel like John absolutely cannot roll, he buys fancy cigars for that exact reason.

Asking the real questions I see. Because this absolutely tracks for John, lol. In my opinion Kyle does all the rolling, and Johnny uses pipes and Simon uses bongs (or makes his own when you haven't cleaned his or he can't find it) John is the edible king.

Check below the cut sweetie.

Also, when I used to smoke, I never had to learn how to roll because my fuck buddy did that for me. Something about me being too pretty to have to do it myself. Idk 🤷🏾‍♀️ all I know is that he did everything short of holding the blunt to my lips and inhaling for me.

Rating: 18+mdni (it's spicy at the end)

pairing: poly 141 x reader

"We're back! The game hasn't started yet, has it? " Kyle calls through the house. He and Johnny had just gotten back from the store. Something about being made to restock the whiskey that they drank that John had a craving for. He rounds the corner to the front room and stops dead in his tracks at what he sees. "Now, what in the hell?"

You're sitting in Simon's lap, pink heart tray balanced carefully across your legs as you do your best to roll your own blunt. The concentration on your face is laughable, and your tongue is poked out from the corner of your mouth. You whine and grumble under your breath, "Simon~"

"No, do it yourself." Simon says as he watches you struggle. "Something about you rolling the best?"

You roll your eyes hard and scoff, "I don't wanna hear anything from the man who turned an empty pringles can into a bong because he tore his swishers by accident..."

John is sitting in his recliner scrolling through his phone, knowing if he even contributes to this conversation, he won't hear the end of it. In fact, you find his lack of commentary odd, and you look up at him from your sorry attempt. He's sitting there snacking on what you suspect is your stash of gummies. He feels your gaze and looks up. A bit of a small goofy smile slowly slides onto his face. Yeah, he's already high, but the plus is he is no longer complaining about his back pain.

"Hen, if ye wanted help, ye coulda asked me." Johnny says after flopping down next to Simon. He drags you into his lap. Kyle is already taking the tray and the half rolled blunt with a shake of his head.

"You're all acting like I can't do it myself!" You pout, "I'm not as bad as John!"

John, who is affronted, can't keep his mouth shut, "you act as if we both aren't in the same boat."

Johnny kisses your cheek and then the place just right under and behind your ear. He hums his agreement and nips at you. "We wen' through tha trouble of findin' ye tha lit'le sailor moon bowl an' ye barely use it."

Kyle, meanwhile, is already working on blunt number four. He's efficient, and there's a small smile on his face as he listens to everyone complain. "Soap, when's the last time you even used a grinder, let alone bought the right type of swishers? I'll wait."

Johnny stops kissing at your neck. His hands on your hips stop their soft and soothing massage, and he squints his eyes at his friend. "Och, if you must know, pipe supremacy." He's a bit indignant and everyone laughs at this.

You turn to face Johnny fully, "Be honest, Soapy, you and everyone in here knows you only switched to pipes after the flavored paper incident."

Simon barks out a laugh, and so does Kyle and John. Your poor boyfriend only blushes and looks away. You kiss him on the nose and smile.

"How was I ta ken that the cherry ones would taste bad?" He hides his face in the crook of your neck.

Kyle shakes his head and grins, "Point of the matter is, you doubled down and smoked that whole pack until you got sick...but back to the more pressing topic at hand." He sets down the last perfectly rolled blunt and raises an eyebrow, "Everyone acts like they are better at it and here I am rolling every blunt" He side eyes John, "and cigar in the house."

John doesn't even pretend to look ashamed. You go to open your mouth to defend him, but Kyle looks at you with that look. It's a teasing grin with both eyebrows up, daring you to say something smart.

"And sweet girls who don't roll, pack, clean bongs, or even buy should never laugh." He smiles at the way your mouth drops open. But his smile doesn't last for long.

"Everyone but Kyle gets to face fuck me now." You say with a smile.

Extra

"Soap you are literally the nightmare rotation all by yourself." Simon grumbles. He is sitting back, half lidded eyes as he watches his boyfriend jackhammer into your throat. He's already had a turn with your mouth, and so has John. It's well known that it's always Johnny that makes you sore.

You're on your knees, and despite your earlier threat of not giving Kyle any head, he has taken that to mean that he get to be buried balls deep in your pussy. In reality, you were so quick to say everyone gets to have head except Kyle, you forgot why you don't give Johnny head often. There are big fat crocodile tears running down your face. Your head is fuzzy from the amount of weed you've smoked (not that you smoked anything, most of it being shotgunned to you via sloppy kisses).

It really always ends up like this. Simon calls you going down on them a nightmare rotation, you call it a dream come true.

#ask vanta #black!reader #call of duty fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #john price #simon ghost riley #johnny mactavish #task force 141 #poly 141 x black!reader #poly!141 #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader

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catandravendesigns · 4 months ago

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Soapy Buddy stickers come in 13 different Pride Flag designs! And each one is only $2. They're weather proof and handle going through the dishwasher like pros. Which design is yours? Shop here!

#soapy buddy #stickers #lgbtq+ stickers #lgbtq+ pride #pride stickers #sticker shop #soapfam #cat and raven designs #cat and raven #cat and raven soap

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newtonsheffield · 10 months ago

Note

can we maybe please see an angsty/sad moment in the surprise neddy au post being reunited? (I love this story so much btw)

I think the anniversary of Edmund’s death is still a tough day for Anthony. and it’s honestly really mixed the first year he and Kate are together because it’s obviously a really hard day for him but it’s also the anniversary of him meeting Kate and them inadvertently creating Neddy. It’s a hard day. And Kate knows it’s coming. The day kind of sticks in your mind when it was the day your life changed forever.

“Do you um… have any plans on Saturday?”

Anthony’s spine prickled at the sound of his girlfriend’s voice, and his hands froze in the dish soap. He cleared his throat, “I ah…”

Kate leaned against the bench beside him, her eyes watching him carefully. “I’m not trying to trick you, I just… I remember what day it is and I want you to know that I’m here for you. Whatever you need, Babe.”

Anthony wrapped his arm around her, careful not to let his soapy hand touch her. “I’ll probably just be a bit quiet. All I’ll need is you and Neddy, promise.”

“Well, we’ll be here.” Kate kissed his neck quickly, “I’m glad you don’t have any plans to sneak away to a bar and pick up some unsuspecting girl.”

Anthony chuckled despite himself, “Honestly I’m surprised you remembered.”

“Oh, it’s hard to forget the date you accidentally got knocked up by a cute sad boy.”

“Very fair.”

It was such a strange day. He woke with the same ache in his chest that he did every year on this date, even with Kate’s hair spread over his chest but it was different this year. This year he mourned for his father, for a life he could have been living of course he did but it felt so much more real.

“Daddy! Amma!” Neddy called out as he scrambled into the bedroom, his dark curls falling into his eyes and Kate groaned as she woke with Neddy jumping in the bed.

Anthony swallowed, ruffling his tiny son’s hair. “Hey, buddy.”

“Hi!” He kissed Anthony quickly and then Kate, settling between them under the blankets.

“Hungry, baby?” Kate asked Neddy after a short while. “Toast?”

They both knew toast was really just bread and butter for Neddy but Anthony loved that he knew that. He knew his son as his father had known him. Even if he wished his father could be here to see it.

“Yes!”

Anthony moved through to the kitchen and sat with his son on his lap while Kate got breakfast ready. He could feel Kate’s eyes on him, watching him carefully but Anthony kept focused on Neddy, listening to him chatter away about the things he wanted to do today. He wanted to play with Newton in the park, he wondered if maybe he could get a chocolate milkshake on the way home (obviously he would), He asked Anthony to read him a story later. It made Anthony’s chest ache, knowing that his father would never know Neddy. He’d never know Kate, he’d never have the chance to know how happy Anthony had been made by the girl who sat down next to him in a bar one night. He’d never know that Anthony was a good father, he’d never know how much he loved his son and loved Kate. His father was missing how incredible his family was and that was a painful thing to reconcile. But maybe there was another side to this. Maybe he never would have been in the right place to meet Kate. Maybe he never would have been in that bar in the first place. Maybe he never would have had any of this.

“Are you okay?”

Kate murmured it in his ear as she set Neddy’s breakfast down, smoothing their son’s hair.

Anthony’s throat felt tight. “Yeah um, I need to go out for a second.”

Kate’s face fell as he slid Neddy off his lap and stood to grab his jacket. “Ant-”

He kissed her quickly, “I’m fine, I promise.”

“You’re still in your pyjamas.”

“Daddy?”

Anthony crouched in front of his son, cupping his cheek, “Daddy has to go for a second but I’ll be right back.” He stood and turned to Kate, “I’m fine, I love you.”

“Where’s Daddy?” He heard Neddy say when he slipped back in the front door twenty minutes later and his heart clenched.

“He’ll be back soon, baby. I’m sure.” He heard Kate say and he hid the things he was holding behind his back.

“Daddy’s back.”

Neddy grinned up at him as he ran over and Kate still watched him carefully. Anthony crouched in front of him.

“Where’d you go?”

“How was breakfast, little man?”

“Good!”

Anthony couldn’t help but smile, “Hmmm you probably don’t have room for this then?”

With a flourish he pulled out the chocolate milkshake, laughing as Neddy squealed. “I have space!”

“Good.” Anthony ruffled his hair again and stood as Neddy ran back to settle on the floor in front of Kate again.

He flopped onto the sofa beside her, his arm around her. Kate sighed as she tucked herself into his side. “You spoil him.”

“Eh, he’s a cute kid. Gets it from you.”

“Are you okay? Really? You can tell me, Ant.”

“I’m… I wish he wasn’t missing this.” Anthony said, his throat still tight. “He would have loved you.”

“I wish I’d met him.”

“Me too.” He kissed her quickly before he set the tiny box on her knee. “This is what I really went out for.”

Kate frowned as she stared at the bakery box, She opened it slowly, confusion etched on her face as she looked down at the cupcake there, a single candle in it. “A cupcake?”

“Happy anniversary.” anthony kissed her again but Kate chuckled.

“This… isn’t our anniversary?”

Anthony scoffed, “Excuse me, this is the anniversary of the day we met and had pretty incredible sex to be honest and that’s worth celebrating. Whatever else this day means I am grateful for you and Neddy and I want to mark that as well.”

Kate laughed against his lips, “Yeah shout out to that faulty condom I guess.”

“The true star.”

#surprise nedddy au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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kaytheday · 4 months ago

Text

Johnny's Killer

“It’s Johnny’s birthday comin’ up. It’s this Friday.” Pony says quietly. They’re eating dinner together for the first time in a while. Between Ponyboy being at school and the fact that Soda moved out it’s been hard to get the three boys under the same roof for very long.

“Oh?” Darry phrases it like a question and Soda can’t help but think it’s funny. It’s funny how Darry knows how to talk to their little brother better than Soda does these days. For all their arguing and Soda’s begging to just hear each other out, they sure can talk now. His tour in Vietnam not only took him miles away physically, it took him away emotionally as well. In the four months Soda has been back, he can’t seem to find his way back to his little brother. It’s not like it was before and it isn’t the only thing that changed.

“Yeah,” Ponyboy says easily, swallowing another bite. “I was thinkin’ we could go and visit his grave, maybe bring some flowers.”

“I have plans this Friday.” It’s how quick he is to shoot him down that throws Darry and Ponyboy off.

“All day?” Pony asks, incredulous. “We could always go on Saturday too.”

“I can’t do that either, I’ve got plans for both of those days.” Then he’s excusing himself, washing off his dish as he lets the hot water burn his hands. Soapy water spraying up on his shirt.

“Doing what?” If Soda had been asked this a year previously, he might have blanched and stuttered. But he’d become a good soldier in the past year and with that, a quick liar.

“I’m helpin’ Stevie with his car. You know, that old mustang. He’s really got to get it finished before the end of Saturday.”

“Funny.” Ponyboy says, his gray eyes looking downcast. “Because Steve told me this morning he was gonna be with Evie and her parents all weekend.”

Soda kept going without skipping a beat. “Well shoot kid, look at you and Steve all buddy buddy now. You know him better than me.”

“So you can come on Friday then?” Ponyboy asked and Sodapop couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted and his throat closed up at the thought of seeing Johnny Cade’s grave. He’d promised himself he’d never go back there and even if it was on foreign soil, that promise still counted.

“Darry what do your hours look like tomorrow because I cannot seem-”

“Why don’t you wanna go, Sodapop?” Ponyboy interrupted Soda’s terrible attempt at switching the subject. Darry looked nervously between the two of them, he knew better than ever how their recent fighting had gotten highly out of control.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s just-”

“It’s really a simple question Soda, why don’t you want to go?” He knew it was a simple question, one that he couldn’t voice whatever this was that he was feeling. Darry jumped in quickly, seeming to sense that something more was wrong.

“Ponyboy, why don’t you-”

“No, he should tell us what is wrong. Why wouldn’t he want to go?” Soda's mouth felt dry as he thought back to the foreign jungles of green and unknown terrors.

“I’m just gonna go.” He snapped. “Didn’t know that dinner was going to turn into an interrogation.”

“Sodapop, you can stay-”

Darry was trying so hard, Sodapop would always give him credit for that. But even he didn’t know how to fix this. Didn’t know how to pick up the pieces of Sodapop that had shattered across continents. “No, no. It’s fine, I’ll just go. It’s not a big deal. But you tell Johnny hi for me Ponyboy? You were always good at that.” Then he leaves bounding down the porch steps and praying to whatever god his mama believed in that they wouldn’t follow him.

It used to be that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He didn’t like his brothers asking things because he couldn't shut himself up and he’d spill everyone's secrets. Like when he told everyone Steve and Evie were dating before they wanted anyone to know or shared old Dallas Winston's drunk confessions with Buck Merril. He nearly lost a tooth for that one.

But now, he could keep a secret. He couldn't seem to speak them into existence even if he wanted to. He now kept the secrets of the dying boys, covered in their own blood and rainfall. Whispered secrets between the glinting dog tags and bloody teeth. Clutching dirty hands as honest admissions are spoken once and only once.

He got in his old beater of a car and just drove. Weaving through the winding streets of Tulsa, the same ones he had missed so much when he was gone. Now he only saw the old sites of stupid gang fights and drunken adventures. Like a roadmap written in nostalgia and sentiment. It was an ugly map if you ask him.

Sodapop could tell you exactly why he couldn’t go to Johnny's grave but his lips were sealed. The reason why played through his mind every night as he tried to fall asleep. He’d never be free of it.

“Come on Sodacan! Move your ass!” Sarge whispered to him and Soda couldn’t help but to move. Keep moving, it was all he could do. Suddenly a scream rang out, a woman by the sound of it. “Looks like they made contact.” Soda crouched outside a small hut in the dark, cover taken from the prying eyes of the Viet Cong. His fingers buzzed with the need to keep moving forward, but his group had made contact and that meant he had to stay put. At least for now. When they got the word, they could bust through the hut and do their job, but for now.

That scream rang out again. A few months ago, Soda might have jumped, but by now, he had grown accustomed to the sound of screams and pain. He really didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing. Right now, he just pushed it down. He could worry about the direction of his moral compass later, when he made it back to the States alive.

“Wrap around.” Sarge mouthed, along with some hand signals that had also meant nothing to him just a few months ago. He followed his orders and wrapped around the building. He was about to keep going but he stopped in his silent tracks.

There was a kid, couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen with tufts of curly black hair and small shoulders crouched outside the door of the hut. He was holding a rifle and Soda could see his hands shaking from where he stood. However, it wasn’t the gun that made Soda stop in his tracks, it was the likeness. This kid looked just like Johnny from the back. So much so, that Soda thought it really was Johnny for just a half of a second. Then he reasoned himself out of it. It couldn’t be Johnny. He was in Vietnam, a place Johnny had never been. Johnny had died two years previous from a fire, there was no way that this kid was Johnny. But he had that same hair and the same…

Then Soda realized. Johnny… this kid was planning on killing his fellow soldiers and jeopardizing their entire mission. He had to take this kid out before he killed someone or tipped off the Viet Cong hiding in that hut and ruined their entire mission.

Soda crept up behind the kid and covered his mouth before pinning arms to his side. The kid started to freak out as the gun was wrestled out of his hands. Soda almost dropped him as his hair moved, he looked so much like Johnny that it hurt.

“It’s not Johnny.” He whispered to himself. “It’s not Johnny.” He kept repeating it as he smothered the kid, placing his other hand around his nose. The kid's eyes grew wild as he began to struggle even harder.

But he was no match for Soda. Basic training had beat out any ounce of boyishness that Sodapop had been holding onto from childhood. He was a man now, legally and in body. This kid was fifteen, malnourished, and scared out of his mind, it wasn’t a fair fight in the slightest.

Then Soda felt his hand start to grow wet, the kid was crying as he was smothered to death. His life being snuffed out through Soda’s hands. The same way the fire had snuffed out Johnnys…

“It’s not Johnny.” Soda repeated his mantra. “Johnny never cried.” He did in the end though, didn’t he? He cried on that hospital bed after he told Ponyboy to stay gold. The tears were slow and sad but that still counted as crying.

Slowly, the boy's struggles slowed and he stilled. Soda left him there on the ground of the jungle clearing, wiping his own tears away and trying to get a grip on this new person he’d become.

“Soda move in!”

He’d killed Johnny, hadn’t he? Over there in Vietnam… It was him. He’d killed Johnny. Who was just a kid! Just a kid with parents and family and a whole life there in Vietnam. And maybe those parents hated him but he was still alive. With a pumping heart and blood running through his veins. Soda had just snuffed out his life, killed a kid with his bare hands.

How could he ever tell Pony? Johnny was his best friend and Soda basically killed him. Pony would scream and yell, or worse, he might stay quiet. He could hate him quietly and never talk to him again. Either way, Soda wasn’t gunning to tell him and he wasn’t going to Johnny's grave… ever. Not after he was the one that killed him.

Since he’d been home, the lines between what was real and what wasn’t began to blur. Things that happened over in Vietnam meshing with the tragedies of high school to make a sort of disgusting picture. It always took Soda a minute to place where everything had actually happened and stitch himself back together again. In other words, he got confused a lot more often now.

“Hey.” Steve is sitting with Evie on the couch. “Thought you were stayin’ the night?”

“Not anymore.” He says with a shrug.

“Something happen?” Steve asks, dropping his hand from Evie.

“Oh nothin’, when did Ponyboy turn into such a brat?”

“He’s always been a brat.” Steve said with a small grin.

“I thought y’all got on real well.” Evie says and Soda could scream.

“Eh… not really anymore.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe he grew up?” He takes a jug of chocolate milk out of the ice-box trying to do anything but snap at his best friend's girlfriend.

“Eves…” Steve says something else but Soda tunes him out, taking another swig of the milk. Suddenly Steve was behind him. Soda did his best not to jump as his friend's hand went on his shoulder. His body was buzzing and his fingers itched for dope or something to take away the flashes of memory that were mixing behind his eyes. “Me and Evie are gonna go see a movie, you gonna be okay here buddy?”

Steve asked it tentatively, almost like he was anticipating a bad reaction. Soda hated that he was right.

“Course I’ll be fine here by myself.”

“Okay, I’m just making sure.” Soda can’t help but think back to the night that was the reason Steve was so hesitant to leave him alone in the house. The night he’d gone a little overboard on the acid and nearly messed everything up. There was still blood from that night inbetween the bathroom tiles if you squint hard enough.

Steve Randle had never been a gentle person and he’d never been nervous but Soda had managed to turn him into both. Since that night, both Steve and Darry had been hesitant to leave Soda in a house by himself. Not that he blamed them. Pony asking about Johnny’s grave was almost enough to set him off again anyway. Not as bad as that night though.

“Yeah, you two have your fun.” He says as they start to leave out the door. “Don’t be makin’ me an uncle now, okay?” Steve flips him off before closing the door behind them. Soda hopes they stay gone because he really can’t take Evie and all her questions or Ponyboy and all of his questions. So goddamn vindictive those two.

“Nice work Sodacan. That kid would have gotten us all killed.”

Sodapop sits straight up, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Sarge? Why does this always have to happen when he’s alone? Why does he always hear things? Flashes of ugly memory mottle his brain, tattooed on the back of his eyelids even though he’s scrubbed them with soap.

“Just a kid too, damn Sodapop, didn’t know you were ruthless like that.”

Soda runs up to his room and pulls out the box under his bed. The stupid little cigar box that Darry would kill him if he knew about. He pulls out a small stack of tablets gifted to him by a friend down at the Pharaoh's farm. Just a little something to take the edge off. He tells himself before placing it on his tongue to dissolve and sinking to the floor. I can’t do this again.

He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to let the tablet really sink in. Somewhere distantly, the phone is ringing. Someone is yelling, but Soda can’t hear any of it. He’s too far gone to hear anything, not even the old ghosts that seem hell bent on talking to him.

PART 2 LINKED HERE!

Thanks for reading! This is part 1 of 3! The a03 link is in the title!

#the outsiders #the outsiders musical #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #ponyboy curtis #Johnny Cade #dallas winston #the outsiders broadway #sodapop in vietnam #vietnam war #Vietnam

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theothots · 7 days ago

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pussy eating champion max verstappen x oscar with a pussy (somehow idgaf about the specifics) Thoughts?

THOUGHTS??? ALL OF THEM

truly a dream. trans osc my one true love.

he missed 2023. It was such a stupid thing to say, given he was leading the championship, but he was fed up of max not being on the top step, fed up of not being able to compete with him.

the winners room was becoming dull. it was pretty much always him and lando. They were teammates, mutual masturbaters, off and on fuck buddies, but that was it. There was no strong emotions. Even when the race was rough between them, they’d just rub one out together and move on.

Max was so much… more. He had a crush on the Dutchman, as half the bloody grid did. But max in the winners room was amazing. Oscar could only dream of dating him. The aftercare alone was to die for, a soapy scrub in the bath and a fight with the fia director for a silk bathrobe. He was also fucking amazing at giving head.

Don’t get him wrong, there were other drivers who were pretty good, knew all the right spots to suck and lick over, but there was something about the intensity, and yet delicacy of the way max gave head that was just perfect.

Lando was good at plenty of things. Head was not one of them. Not to fit the stereotype, but Oscar sometimes wondered if Lando actually knew where the clit was. It wasn’t as if it was subtle, now that Oscar’s tdick was growing out more. And yet, lando just lapped at his cunt aimlessly. Oscar wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d faked an orgasm or three with lando.

He tried to imagine max, the way he grabbed Oscar’s hand and placed it in his hair, encouraging Oscar to ride his face, sucking and lapping at his tdick like it was his last meal, slipping two fingers in and rubbing at his gspot whilst he demolished his tdick.

Yeah. He missed 2023.

#this wasn’t supposed to be lando slander #trust someone (max probably) teaches him how to give head #oscar is the demonstration model #he’s very willing #maxcar

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thescarletnargacuga · 1 year ago

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Human!Caine trying to bathe puppy!Bubble! (You can make it showtime, if you wish lol)

A/N: AWWWWWW!!!

BATH TIME

A HUMAN!SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: none! Just slice of life domestic fluff

~~~

"Come on, Bubble! Work with me here!" Caine struggled to get his medium sized, mud covered mutt through the bathroom door. "Alright, you've forced my hand. Come here!" He picked up Bubble, smearing mud down the front of his shirt.

Bubble braces his front paws against the doorframe in defiance.

Pomni giggles from behind her phone, recording her husband trying to give their dog a bath. "Why didn't you hose him down out back first?"

"Because he wouldn't stop eating the water." Caine tried maneuvering Bubble through the narrow threshold without getting too many marks on the walls. "Are you going to stand there laughing the whole time or are you going to help?"

"Hmmmmm, I think you've got this."

Caine playfully glared at his wife as he finally got Bubble through the door. Pomni came in behind him and shut the door. The tub was already running with warm water, dog shampoo bottles at the ready.

Caine set Bubble down inside the tub. "Come on, boy. You love water. You'll be fine."

Bubble immediately tried to get out, whining. Caine put an arm around Bubble, preventing escape. Bubble looked to Pomni with sad puppy eyes.

"You're okay, buddy. Daddy's gonna clean you up." Pomni spoke in a soothing voice to calm the pup. "How did he end up like this anyway?"

Caine used the shower extension to start rinsing the mud out of Bubble's fur. "It rained last night and he found every mud puddle at the dog park."

"Aw, buddy. Did you have fun?" Pomni kneeled down to record Bubble's adorable face.

Bubble wagged his tail and tried to lick the phone.

"He had so much fun, he didn't want to leave. If you think getting him into the bathroom was difficult, you should have seen me trying to get him in the car." Caine chuckled, then realized. "Uh... Don't use the car anytime soon."

Pomni laughed. "It's that bad?"

"The backseat...the front..."

"What?" Pomni continued to laugh.

Caine grinned. "The steering wheel....the roof..."

"Oh my god!" Pomni almost dropped her phone in the tub from laughing.

"Yeah, I get to add car detailing to my to-do list." Caine took off Bubble's collar and hung it over the edge of the tub before grabbing a bottle of doggy shampoo.

"I'll help you with that. It's needed in deep cleaning anyway." Pomni kept a hand on Bubble so he wouldn't be tempted to jump out.

Bubble shook, sending muddy water everywhere.

"Ah!" Pomni trying ducking below the tub to get out of the line of fire. It didn't help much. She still got dirty dog water in her hair and on her back.

Caine just sat there on his knees and took it as he poured shampoo in his hand. "And now the bathroom too. Looks like today's going to be a cleaning day." He massaged the shampoo into Bubble's fur, getting him all lathered up.

Pomni grabbed a hand towel and dabbed the water off of Caine's face.

"Thank you, dear." Caine smiled.

Pomni gave Caine a kiss on the cheek. "You're welcome." Bubble whined and tried licking Pomni. Pomni pushed him back. "Nooo, not yet. You're all soapy."

Bubble have a small bark and shook again. Suds covered the couple, as well as the counter and mirror behind them.

Caine spat away suds covering his mouth. "Forget the car, I need a bath now."

"I think Bubble is already obliging." Pomni put her phone away to protect it from further spray and helped keep Bubble still as he was rinsed.

Bubble shook twice more through the rinse cycle, drenching his human caretakers. He jumped out of the tub when they finally let go of him.

Pomni grabbed to towels. One for Caine, and the other she used to dry Bubble. "Who's a good boy? Yeah, you were so good." Pomni praised as she toweled him down.

Bubble excitedly wagged his tail and wiggled under the towel, panting happily.

"Yeah, you're a good boy that deserves a treat for taking a bath." Pomni clicked Bubble's collar back on and opened the bathroom door.

Bubble zoomed out, rubbing himself against the floor and furniture.

Caine stood, drying his hair. "That went surprisingly well. Remember the first bath we ever tried to give him?"

"When we first found him in our garbage bin? Poor thing probably thought it was the end of the world. Now, look at him. Our Bubble-headed boy is just enjoying life." Pomni watched Bubble roll around on the carpet.

Caine put his towel down, his red hair all disheveled. "As all dogs should. Now..." He hugged Pomni from behind. "I don't know about you, but I smell like wet dog. Care to join me for a shower?"

Pomni leaned into him. "I don't know...you always make it so hard to get clean." She smirked.

"What can I say, I'm a happily married man." Caine kissed her cheek.

Bubble bolted out the dog door to the backyard. At first, Caine and Pomni didn't think much of it. "Wait..." Pomni said. "Didn't you say it rained last night?"

"Yeah...oh no!" Caine and Pomni ran to the back door, watching in horror as their best boy dove right into a giant puddle.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanfiction #tadc caine #tadc pomni #tadc showtime #human caine #human pomni #pomni x caine #caine x pomni #showtime ship #showtime fanfic

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waitmyturtles · 4 months ago

Text

Turtles Catches Up With Old GMMTV: Just a Literal Mash Note To The Greatest Medical Thai BL EVER -- Triage Edition

[What’s going on here? After joining Tumblr and discovering Thai BLs through KinnPorsche in 2022, I began watching GMMTV’s new offerings -- and realized that I had a lot of history to catch up on, to appreciate the more recent works that I was delving into. From tropes to BL frameworks, what we’re watching now hails from somewhere, and I’m learning about Thai BL's history through what I’m calling the Old GMMTV Challenge (OGMMTVC). Starting with recommendations from @absolutebl on their post regarding how GMMTV is correcting for its mistakes with its shows today, I’ve made an expansive list to get me through a condensed history of essential/classic/significant Thai BLs produced by GMMTV and many other BL studios. My watchlist, pasted below, lists what I’ve watched and what’s upcoming, along with the reviews I’ve written so far. Today, I'm here to simply gush squealingly about the incredible Sammon drama, Triage.]

Happy Monday, y'all! I am taking a quick break from my OGMMTVC sub-series, The Lakorn Corner, to pen, in airing chronology, a very loud, very reverent, very gushy homage to

The Best Thai Medical BL EVER (EVER EVER), Triage.

Like, seriously. No hyperbole here! I absolutely loved the first medical drama on the Old GMMTV Challenge list, Manner of Death -- the mystery of MoD was written tightly, it had almost-great acting all around, and its pace was great. The best thing about Manner of Death, at the time of its airing in 2020? It very much pushed the boundaries of previous Thai BLs, which were set mostly in high school or college environments, to welcome a central story about adults attempting to solve a murder, while making space for a queer romance to bloom in the specter of a haunting mystery.

And, like Triage, Manner of Death was adapted from a novel by the well-known Thai Y novel writer, Sammon, who is a medical doctor herself. Triage is the second in a trilogy of hospital-based BLs that were adapted from her novels, the first being Manner of Death, and the last being 2024's Spare Me Your Mercy.

My good and amazing friend @lurkingshan has actually done a lot of heavy lifting in breaking down why Triage is AMAZING. I want to add on to this gush sesh, especially within the context of the OGMMTVC, to talk a little about what we had seen on these Thai BL streets prior to Triage's airing.

I haven't talked yet in my OGMMTVC pieces, collectively as a whole, about shows that aired in 2022 (like Bad Buddy, Secret Crush on You, KinnPorsche, The Eclipse, GAP, and more).

2022 was seriously AN INSANE YEAR for Thai BLs/Series Y shows. Like, INSANE.

2023 was also a mostly great year -- Moonlight Chicken, La Pluie, My School President, and I Feel You Linger in the Air all aired. But the narrative collapse of GMMTV's Only Friends in 2023 seemed to serve as a warning alarm for at least most of GMMTV's shows giving up on consistently striving for excellent scriptwriting since then, for the sake of its current decision to prioritize branded paired actors.

2022, however -- not just with "traditional" genre Thai BLs like the ones I listed above, but also with the entrée of queer storylines in mainstream lakorns like The Miracle of Teddy Bear and Khun Chai (To Sir, With Love) -- captured a moment of really broad, experimental, and successful screenwriting across many shows. Y'all know what I think about how remarkable Bad Buddy was. KinnPorsche was referential, risk-taking, hot, and just FUN, without the show asking its audience to dumb themselves down for the sake of the story. Secret Crush On You asked its audience to question its assumptions about rich and popular people, for the sake of exploring a story about finding happiness and mutual love as opposites attract. Khun Chai, which I'm watching now (I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT), takes the traditional, soapy, usually-very-heteronormative lakorn format, and uses every one of its improbably wild genre tropes to lift and support a storyline of a closeted young man finding love in a homophobic environment. And, GAP, the first genre-abiding QL starring two women, airs during this year as well.

So, Triage comes into 2022's pack with a wonderful association with the genre- and groundbreaking Manner of Death, and starts off with a wild premise: this guy, Dr. Tin, is living in his own Groundhog Day. We're not in college -- we're in a hospital, and Tin keeps repeating an evening of work where a specific young man keeps dying on Tin's looping shift.

When Triage kicked off its premise in the first episode and got me immediately hooked, I was reminded of '80s movies like Groundhog Day or Back To The Future -- movies that started immediately with absurd premises, but with no apologies to their audiences for their absurdity, because their actual central stories were so tight (and the comedy was so good). I'd posit, very generally, that global art nowadays doesn't take as many of these absurdist premise risks, and/or if pieces do so, there are either a lot of explanations of the absurdity that takes away the fun and comedy of the art; or the risks are presented in such a high-art way so as to feel somewhat disconnected to an audience that might want a more direct and less-explained experience.

Triage kicks off the way the Philadelphia Eagles handed the Kansas City Chiefs their asses in the last Super Bowl -- it gets right into the story, with Tin living out the same night, over and over again. The explanations that occur happen firmly in the context of the story, without delaying the action. Tin increasingly seethes in disbelief that he'll have to save the life of this young man, who repeatedly comes into his emergency room smelling of alcohol, which reminds Tin of his deceased sister, who was killed by a drunk driver.

[By the way, two big SHOUT-OUTS are in order to @gabrielokun and @dragonsareawesome123, whose gifs are peppering this post. Dragons has put together a graphic of all the television tropes that Triage used to fantastic effect, which, when combined, contributed to this classically excellent medical mystery/romance. Thank you, Dragons and Gabriel, for your fandom and all your gifs!]

@lurkingshan, in her Triage tribute post, celebrates the angel Jinta, who hips Tin into his destiny that the only way he'll get out of his Groundhog Day loop is to save the life of the young man, a college student named Tol. Tin figures out over the course of the series the ways in which he'll have to save Tol -- which will eventually include Tin's quest to get Tol to fall in love with him. In the process, Tin must also, indirectly, save the lives of two other people. And to rush to the end of the series -- Tol is then thrown into time loops after he loses Tin, and Tin and Tol must meet together, in one final loop, to remember each other, and to remind each other that they need to survive for each other, in order to move forward in their lives.

There's a ton of themes in the framework I outline above that need to be celebrated. Like Manner of Death, Triage breaks Thai BL boundaries by centering a character that's not in school, while also pairing him with a partner that is in college, a confluence that I just love. Shan notes in her post that Tol is not necessarily the most honorable character; he's a sharp, snobby student, starting off the series wary of getting to know Tin. It's only through the subsequent loops of time in which he spends with Tin that he begins to have an effervescent sense of attraction to Tin.

And Tin doesn't start off perfect, either. He's scolded by his superior for potentially not taking the initial death of Tol seriously, as Tol was assumed to have been a drunk driver, which Tin is biased against. But Tin quickly learns that in his first loops with Tol -- Tin would not have been able to save Tol anyway, as Tol had an underlying health condition that Tin needs to solve for.

I love that this show centers two very imperfect characters at the start, calls them out immediately on their imperfections, and structures the show completely around how they need to change themselves to save each other's life.

As well, this show shows that Tin needs healing, even saving -- but the show makes Tin WORK for that healing and saving, as it needs to come from within him, making changes to himself to become more giving and empathic to the people around him. The brilliant episode six of this series encapsulates this, as Tin meditates on his time-traveling journeys while contemplating Tol's death one countless time more; and the equally brilliant episode 11, when Tol begins his own time travels to save Tin's life, also emphasizes this, as Tol addresses, through his love for Tin, how Tin needs a little help to find happiness as much as Tol does.

While my writing of this plot may sound a touch confusing, please rest assured: the show does NOT leave you confused about where the time travels are taking the characters.

This is not the case in a future Sammon-affiliated show, 2024's 4 Minutes, for which Sammon was a screenwriter. 4 Minutes also told a story about multiple existences and timelines between its main characters. But the timelines within 4 Minutes were murky, unclear, and undefined, and at the end of the series, it seemed like those perspectives weren't really supposed to be taken seriously or followed anyway -- which is kind of frustrating for an audience that might have been tracking character perspectives from the start of the show.

Triage is the total opposite of this. Before Tin takes his final journey back in time, he literally looks at a calendar and decides to give himself a week to change his and Tol's life. And the show helps the audience keep track of how time passes in order for Tin and Tol to get out of their respective loops. And in the process, we see love grow between Tin and Tol, as they vaguely remember each other each time that time jumps. It all comes together to create this lovely and INNOVATIVE sense of growth between these two characters that becomes just ADDICTIVE storytelling.

(And I haven't even fucking celebrated SingGap yet! SINGGAP! The way these two guys are at each other's throats, and then.... tee-hee, flirting and in bed together by the end of the series, and also needing to save their own lives. So well done!)

There's so much more to say about the STORY of this show -- it is so intricate and layered. (Shout-out to any of my homies who came into my Triage comments demanding the airing of Sammon's Transplant as the original expected ending of this trilogy of Sammon's medical BLs. WE NEED MAXTUL AND TAETEE BACK IN TRANSPLANT!!!!) But this mash note has gotten long, and I need to wrap this up on a few shout-outs.

Triage is stacked with BL stars. Besides being adapted from Sammon's original story, Triage was screenwritten and directed by Ma-Deaw Chookiat, a total Series Y legend, the original director and writer of the seminal movies The Love of Siam and Dew, director for Manner of Death and Dead Friend Forever, and much, much more. If a producer has ground to break in Thai BL territory, that producer would do VERY WELL by having Ma-Deaw Chookiat at the project's helm. Triage also shares a few actors from the incredible The Miracle of Teddy Bear, including the WONDERFUL Tee Thanapon as Tol. And Triage's lead actor, Tae Darvid, plays a deeply complicated grown-up, going through so much, from a queer revelation to an internal grappling with grief, that he just acted beautifully.

I have a shortlist of BLs from my OGMMTVC project that I consider automatic rewatches, shows I can have on in the background while I'm folding laundry, because I can check into an episode and know not only what's happening, but how I should feel about that moment when I glance up. This list includes Bad Buddy, Until We Meet Again, and now Triage. I may have watched it twice, HUNGRILY, before writing this piece. And I HIGHLY recommend that you do so as well. This show flows from its first minute, and you'll have consumed it before you know what hit you. It's simply the best Sammon show, and the best medical BL drama, on the OGMMTVC list by a mile, and it's a must-watch if you consider yourself an expert in this genre.

(@benkaben, this one’s for you!)

[Alright, next up! I'm SCREAMING ABOUT KHUN CHAI RIGHT NOW. Feels soooo good to be watching a top-notch drama again, even though Khun Chai is. INSANE. But I'm having a great time with it, and the Khun Chai community is screaming with me in my liveblogs -- so much fun!

So because I have gotten TOOOOTALLY obsessed with JamFilm and Khun Chai, I'll be watching Laws of Attraction after that, and will be filing part three of the Lakorn Corner sub-series in considering that Khun Chai is probably the most popular queer drama to have ever aired in Thailand -- for very good reason, as I'll talk about in my upcoming post.

After that, as previously promised, I'll do a quick overview of the history of Thai GLs, with thoughts on Love Songs Love Stories: Pai Jai, the movie Yes or No, and the premiere of the first genre-abiding GL in GAP the Series.

And then. Finally. My School President. And I'll fuck it up immediately with a fast-watch of My Love Mix-Up Thailand. Third-generation BL idols, let's boogie!

Here's the status of the OGMMTVC list for yer pleasure!

1) The Love of Siam (2007) (movie) (review here) 2) Yes or No (2010) (movie) (to be reviewed with GAP the Series) 3) My Bromance (2014) (movie) (review here) 4) Love Sick and Love Sick 2 (2014 and 2015) (review here) 5) Love Songs Love Stories: Pae Jai (2015) (Thailand’s first serialized GL) (to be reviewed with GAP the Series) 6) Gay OK Bangkok Season 1 (2016) (a non-BL queer series directed by Jojo Tichakorn and written by Aof Noppharnach) (review here) 7) Make It Right (2016) (review here) 8) SOTUS (2016-2017) (review here) 9) Gay OK Bangkok Season 2 (2017) (a non-BL queer series directed by Jojo Tichakorn and written by Aof Noppharnach) (review here) 10) Make It Right 2 (2017) (review here) 11) Together With Me (2017) (review here)

12) SOTUS S/Our Skyy x SOTUS (2017-2018) (review here) 13) Love By Chance (2018) (review here) 14) Kiss Me Again: PeteKao cuts (2018) (no review) 15) He’s Coming To Me (2019) (review here) 16) The Fallen Leaf (2019) (not a BL; adjacent to the project as Thailand’s first lakorn featuring a queer/transgender main character) (review here) 17) Dark Blue Kiss (2019) and Our Skyy x Kiss Me Again (2018) (review here) 18) TharnType (2019-2020) (review here) 19) Senior Secret Love: Puppy Honey (OffGun BL cuts) (2016 and 2017) (no review) 20) Theory of Love (2019) (review here) 21) 3 Will Be Free (2019) (a non-BL and an important harbinger of things to come in 2019 and beyond re: Jojo Tichakorn pushing queer content at GMMTV) (review here)

22) Dew the Movie (2019) (review here) 23) Until We Meet Again (2019-2020) (review here) (and notes on my UWMA rewatch here) 24) 2gether (2020) and Still 2gether (2020) (review here) 25) I Told Sunset About You (2020) (review here) 26) YYY (2020, out of chronological order) (review here) 27) Manner of Death (2020-2021) (review here) 28) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) (review here) 29) A Tale of Thousand Stars (2021) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For The Sake Of Rewatching Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (re-review here) 30) Lovely Writer (2021) (review here) 31) Last Twilight in Phuket (2021) (the mini-special before IPYTM) (review here)

32) I Promised You the Moon (2021) (review here) 33) Not Me (2021-2022) (review here) 34) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) (thesis here) 35) 55:15 Never Too Late (2021-2022) (not a BL, but a GMMTV drama that features a macro BL storyline about shipper culture and the BL industry) (review here) 36) Bad Buddy (2021-2022) and Our Skyy 2 x BBS x ATOTS (2023) OGMMTVC Rewatch (Links to the BBS OGMMTVC Meta Series are here: preamble here, part 1, part 2, part 3a, part 3b, and part 4) 37) Secret Crush On You (2022) (review here) 38) The Miracle of Teddy Bear (2022) (review here) 39) KinnPorsche (2022) (tag here) 40) KinnPorsche (2022) OGMMTVC Fastest Rewatch Known To Humankind For the Sake of Re-Analyzing the KP Cultural Zeitgeist (part 1 and part 2) 41) Triage (2022)

42) Honorable Mention: War of Y (2022) (for the sake of an attempt to provide meta BL commentary within a BL in the modern BL era), with a complementary watch of Aam Anusorn’s documentary, BL: Broken Fantasy (2020) (thoughts here) 43) The Eclipse (2022) (tag here) 44) The Eclipse OGMMTVC Rewatch to Reexamine "Genre BLs," Along With a Critical Take on Branded Ships (review here) 45) Khun Chai/To Sir, With Love (2022) (watching) 46) Love of Secret (2022) (a GL that preceded GAP) (I will not be watching this, but it's on the list to precede GAP) 47) GAP (2022-2023) (Thailand’s first GL with a branded pair and ship) (review coming) 48) My School President (2022-2023) and Our Skyy 2 x My School President (2023), Coupled with a Speed-Watch of My Love Mix-Up Thailand (2024) to Comment on GMMTV Trying to Make Magic Happen Twice 49) Moonlight Chicken (2023) (tag here) 50) Bed Friend (2023) (tag here) 51) La Pluie (2023) (review coming)

52) Be My Favorite (2023) (tag here) (I’m including this for BMF’s sophisticated commentary on Krist’s career past as a BL icon) 53) Wedding Plan (2023) (Recommended as an important trajectory in the course of MAME’s work and influence from TharnType) 54) Only Friends (2023) (tag here) (not technically a BL, but it certainly became one in the end) 55) Last Twilight (2023-24) (tag here) (on the list as Thailand’s first major BL to center disability, successfully or otherwise) 56) Cherry Magic Thailand (2023-24) (tag here) (on the list as the first major Japanese-to-Thai drama adaptation, featuring the comeback of TayNew) 57) Ossan’s Love Returns (Japan, 2024) (adding for the EarthMix cameo and the eventual Thai remake) 58) 23.5 (2024) (GMMTV’s first GL) (thoughts here) (I am not finished with this show; I will finish it when I get to it on this list) 59) Spare Me Your Mercy (2024) (thoughts here) (added as the finale of Sammon's medical trilogy in Manner of Death and Triage, and as a major lakorn starring two of Thailand's biggest actors in Tor Thanapob and Jaylerr)]

#triage #triage the series #taetee #tae darvid #tee thanapon #tintol #tin x tol #tol x tin #ma-deaw chookiat #manner of death #sammon #spare me your mercy #the old gmmtv challenge #ogmmtvc #turtles catches up with the essential bls #turtles catches up with thai bls #turtles catches up with old gmmtv #4 minutes

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