#this is going down far too well to continue that way for much longer

[slimepuparibaba]

18+ NSFW CALEB HEADCANON, HEAR ME OUT! IF YOU ARE A MINOR THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING DO NOT TOUCH THIS WITH A 90-FOOT-POLE

ALSO I SOUND LIKE A MADMAN BUT HEAR ME OUT OK JUST... JUST HEAR ME OUT--

caleb gets worse and more depraved the longer sex goes on

HEAR ME OUT. JUST... JUST HEAR ME OUT.

The more he has you, the less restraint he has. by the time you're spent, he's PROBABLY STILL GOING SO LONG AS YOU DON'T ASK HIM TO STOP OR YOU DO NOT USE THE SAFE WORD (he abides by safe word and is heavy on consent, never assume otherwise)

It'll start with him on top of you, probably being rough (because let's be so real here Caleb is a freak and you are too), doing the usual, he'd encourage you to squirt, to cum, he'd whisper how filthy you are and how you're so perfect for him. he'll ask if you're aware about the size difference between you and him and how he could easily crush you, how he could ruin you for anyone else (oh but you would like that, wouldn't you baby? is probably what he'd ask)

I'M SAYING HE GETS WORSE AS TIME GOES ON. LET ME COOK HERE—HE GETS EXPONENTIALLY WORSE AND MORE UNHINGED THE LONGER THE SEX CONTINUES.

you think you're getting overstimulated? man's trying to get his cock milked over and over again, he's AIMING to be overstimulated. he wants to feel the warmth, the tightness, he wants to merge your flesh into one because HE IS THAT OBSESSED WITH YOU—

at some point he'd lose it entirely, start rambling about other things you could do.

"want me to tie you up, huh? use that little baton from when we first reunited, that thing in interrogations? oh you want that soooo bad don't you? want a collar around your little neck, want me to leash you and drag you around the room? you want me in uniform, want me to be gloved, spank you for misbehaving? how about i use my evol, fuck you against the wall, the ceiling? zero gravity even, drag you down on my cock? or maybe you wanna resonate, huh? wanna hear the disgusting things i think about, feel the way i feel whenever i thrust in and out of you?"

YEAH HE RAMBLES MORE THE LONGER THE SEX GOES ON. BECAUSE HE'S LOSING HIS GODDAMN MIND.

like he will start spouting out the most depraved thoughts he has of you the longer it goes, confessions spilling from his mouth. he's good at restraining, really, he is, but the longer he's inside you, the more of you he's tasted, THAT MAN? GONE. RESTRAINT? BYEEEEEEE

because you feel so good, and now his moans are turning into full on whimpers, and the moment you start seeming tired, and the moment he knows you've been going for WAY TOO LONG, he'll start bargaining

"I promise this'll end in seven minutes, just seven more minutes, need seven more minutes in heaven with you please please, please just please—"

and then when you PASS that seven minute mark (he's so invested), he finally becomes so whiny and apologizing

"I'm a filthy dog, they're right, I'm a disgusting mutt, I'm a beast, I'm a gross pervert, all I want is to take you and break you and rebuild you and mold you, I want you all to myself, I want to keep you here forever and fuck you like this forever, fuck, I'm a selfish disgusting bastard, I can't—"

he'll start raving on and on about how addicted he is, how he can't live without you, how you feel so good that he can't breathe, how he wants to stay right there with you, never leave, keep you there, breed you, and how he knows that he's a gross, disgusting pervert who's so honed in on fucking you out of your mind because it feels too good, he loves you so much, he needs you, he CRAVES you, but he's such a disgusting person and you're a divine being that's giving a sinner like him a chance--

Promise when he comes down from his high or you say the safe word that he'll return to normal and probably regret pushing it too far, ask if he did too much, etc.

he'll give you aftercare, he'll help you if you feel wobbly, he'll apologize over and over again for pushing your limits, say that you did so well and thank you for putting up with him...

...just... just know if you encourage him he will get even worse and you are in trouble

This man needs to be restrained and he would gladly BE restrained cuz the moments restraints are off and he gets a piece of you, KNOW HE WILL GET EXPONENTIALLY WORSE

(and if you're into that you should rile him up actually)

[brawberryz]

Goodbye World

BatFam Yan! × Neglected Magic Girl! Reader

《Platonic》

Note / English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error / M.List

Pt: 1 2

"(NAME), PLEASE DON'T GO!"

the girl screamed trying to stop her, this couldn't be happening, this shouldn't have happened, I was supposed to have more time but your transformation accelerated

"I'm sorry, ######, but there's no time left... sorry"

"Please (Name)!, don't go..."

The girl felt tears falling from her face, she was supposed to save you but she made the same mistake again...

"Goodbye"

You gave her one last smile before falling to the ground and your body began to deform

"(NAMEE)!"

The girl screamed for the last time before your vision went dark, there was no more pain or suffering, you felt like your body was deformed but you couldn't feel or do anything it was like you only had your conscience left

The original (name) had disappeared forever, and there was nothing else to do

Or well, maybe there was something they could do

_

Bruce was sitting in front of the batcomputer trying to find any trace of you, but there was nothing, not even a trace, it was like you had vanished in the wind

He felt too bad since your last interaction with you, if he had known what would happen he would never have let you go from that hug

But it's just "would have" it was too late to regret but he could still fix things, he would find you and take you home with everyone else and finally have the family you always dreamed of

"We found nothing, not a single clue"

Richard entered the batcave feeling defeated Again, he went out with the whole family to look for some clue but there was nothing, they even tried to see if some villain had you kidnapped but there was no one who knew about you

"This is shit"

Jason said angrily while leaning against a wall, as much as he didn't want to admit it in a way it was his fault he always treated you badly and insulted you

You had too many reasons to leave the mansion and hate all of them, but if he was honest he hated the feeling that you had left, you are supposed to be a family and you should stay together

Wherever you are they will find you and when they do they will never let you escape from their hands again

"And Tim?"

Bruce asked without taking his eyes off the Batcomputer, he hated feeling like he couldn't be in control, not having control over you, like he always had

"He decided to stay a little longer to patrol and see if he found something"

Jason said putting his hands in his jacket pockets, wherever you are he just hoped you were okay although knowing how Gotham is, it would be a miracle if you were okay without a single scratch

"I'm leaving here"

Damian spoke as he walked angrily out of the batcave, a part of him was angry with you and with himself, he was angry with you because you abandoned him without even saying goodbye or giving him reasons, you decided to hide and not tell anyone

He hated having things hidden from him, and at the same time he was angry with himself for how he treated you in the past, but he had changed he swears! When you get back to the mansion she'll be the best sister you've ever seen

"Damian, wait-"

Richard tries to stop him but Damian just pushes him out of his way before yelling at him

"SHUT UP, I don't plan on staying here even a minute longer.(Name) is lost somewhere in this stupid city and all we do is stay here like idiots"

Damian said angrily as he quickly left the batcave

Richard just sighed, when Damian had something in mind there was nothing that would stop him from reaching it, not even his own family

_

Damian walked angrily down the hallway of the mansion cursing under his breath

He continued walking until a door caught his attention, it was half open and he could barely see the small light coming out

Curious, he decided to open it, he was surprised when he realized it was your room...

It was small but still well decorated, it bothered him a little that your room was so far away from the others

He didn't want to invade your privacy (if he wanted to) but the curiosity about your things was too great, he began looking in your drawers but only found unfinished crafts or clothes

It seemed strange to him that all your clothes were still in their place, if the theory that you ran away was true you should have brought some clothes, but everything was completely in order

As he continued looking he found a photo album, it seemed old since it had some dust

He removed the dust that it had and decided to open it, there was almost nothing interesting just photos of you, some from when you were little and others from your birthdays

But there was one that caught his attention, you were in a park with a girl, it seemed to him It was strange that you had left since you never left the mansion

He was also very bothered by the approach that girl had with (name), who did she think she was to touch her sister like that?

But if he was honest, in that photo you really looked happy...

You didn't have that forced happiness like in all the photos, in this one it was seen that you really felt happy with that strange girl

He put aside the album and went back to searching through your things to see if he could find something else

Some of your drawers were full of board games full of dust, he remembered that once you asked him to play one with you but he simply ignored you and said that you had time for children's games

A soft voice took him out of his thoughts

"What are you doing in (name)'s room?"

Cassadran asked, looking at Damian with doubt. She thought it was strange that he was in your room since she thought she was the only one besides Alfred who knew your room.

"Something that doesn't matter to you."

Damian answered abruptly as he continued searching through your drawers.

"You seem too worried about her to be going through her things without permission."

Cassadran spoke again. She thought it was strange that none of the family members were around the house, but she didn't pay much attention and decided to go to your room to greet you. But she was surprised when she found Damian searching through your things.

"So what? It doesn't matter now that (name) is missing. I don't think it will bother her. Besides, it's for research purposes."

Damian was getting tired of Cass's insistence, because out of nowhere he is so worried about his privacy. Were you two close?

"Missing?"

Cassadran repeated in surprise, that answer hit Cass hard, she never imagined it would really happen, were you able to leave the mansion? Although if she was honest you had reasons to leave this fucking place

"Yes, my sister is missing and apparently I'm the only one who cares about her and tries to find some clue, so go away you're just bothering me"

Damian let out a snort of annoyance before resuming his search through your things

"She's your sister now?"

That answer took Damian by surprise, what the hell was she referring to

"What..."

"She's your sister now?" Cass repeated again before speaking again "you always left her aside, well, everyone left them aside and I include myself but it seems hypocritical to me that you want to blame others when you are also guilty, you always look to blame others for your problems because you are an egocentric and selfish person who only thinks about himself, you don't care about her you just want to have a reason not to feel bad about yourself"

Those words left Damian speechless, he hated to admit it but she was right although he would never admit it out loud

He simply looked away and focused on continuing to search pretending as if Cassandra's words hadn't mattered to him

Cass turned around and left the room before giving Damian one last look

Deep down she hoped you were okay wherever you were, but if you were truly lost she was going to do whatever it took to find you, she wasn't going to allow herself to lose another important thing for her, not anymore

_

Tim was jumping from building to building trying to find some clue about you, but there was nothing. He had been investigating criminals, villains or gangs all night but no one knew anything about you.

At this point the guilt was drowning him, he felt like the worst brother in the world. How could he forget someone so important?

Most likely you are now in some dangerous place, alone and scared thinking that no one will go looking for you because you are not important enough for them.

But he will do everything possible to find you, I promise.

He decided to stop at the top of a tall building so he could rest. He felt the worst. He had been patrolling all over Gotham for more than 4 hours but had found nothing. At this point he felt like he would never find you. No...no, if he found you he should not lose hope. You were somewhere in this place...he just had to find out where.

He felt something fast approaching him. Before he could react correctly and dodge it, a supernatural force ended up throwing him against the fire escape of another building.

Shit... that hurt, he was sure he broke his back or some rib, that thing that pushed him had too much force, it was clear that it was not a criminal or villain, they were too fast and strong to be one

But before he could get up he saw how a black mass with a strange figure approached quickly

It was easily the size of a damn bus or bigger, whatever it was was not human, that black mass reminded him too much of someone, he felt that he knew that figure from somewhere

But before he could think that large figure ended up hitting him again

It seemed as if that thing had something personal with him like some kind of hatred or resentment

Tim tried with all his strength to recover from that last blow, he had to warn the others about this thing and to come quickly before this strange creature taken from a horror story finished him off

With his last strength he grabbed the communicator and sent a signal for help before that thing hit him again now with more force causing his body to hit a wall

It seems you already have your first victim in your hands, you were going to finish off all those who made you feel miserable and you were going to make them feel the same pain that they made you feel

The original (name) had already died, the only thing left was this creature full of resentment and hatred

You were going to destroy every person who stood in your way and if that meant having to destroy the city or the world you were going to do it

"MADOKA PLEASE DON'T GO" aahhh reference 😭🙏💀

Sorry if it's too short or something, I hope you enjoy this shitty chapter

You can leave me questions or anything about this AU, I'll be happy to answer them🙏

[on-a-lucky-tide]

cw: hair pulling, 141 sexcapade discussion.

"You know, I've never understood it," Gaz said, folding another hand as the cards Nik turned over on the table ruined his chance of a Full House. They'd had a few, so Gaz's brain was wading slowly towards its point when Soap folded too.

"Ye dinnae ken much, Garrick. Ye gonnae have tae narrow it doon."

Ghost raked in his winnings and then stood with a grunted, "need a slash."

Gaz scowled and flipped over one of the cards they'd been playing with before Nik could tidy it away. The set was raunchy, with depictions of busty girls in various states of undress and intimacy. The Ace of Spades had a brunette facing out of the card, her lover behind her with one hand in her hair. "Why do girls ask for this?"

"Why ask for doggy?" Soap asked, smirking around the top of his beer bottle.

"Nah, mate. The hair pulling. I've had at least two birds ask me for it. It can't be fuckin' good, can it?"

"Aye, well, I dunnae tend tae pull the freaky ones, so..."

"Alright, alright. Shut it. Nik, help me out here." Gaz looked over at their dealer, who was busy expertly shuffling the cards for the next round.

"There is a right way and a wrong way to pull hair, sergeant," Nik said.

Gaz raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Da, observe." Nik placed the deck down carefully and turned towards Soap. "The wrong way is to grab a random tuft," he lifted a large palm and snagged a handful of Soap's mohawk, shaking him from side to side, "and just start pulling them about. It is wrong. Hurts, no?"

"Ah, Jesus fuck, Nik," Soap squawked, batting at Nik's forearm. "Aye. Feels like ye scalpin' me."

Ghost returned, chuckling low in his throat at Soap's bleats of protest. He rolled his bally up over his nose and took a swig of bourbon, observing the little scene he'd stumbled back in on with interest. "Li'le scrote finally run his mouth too much, Nikolai?"

"Naw, Nik's showin' Garrick how t' pull a lady's hair in bed." Soap growled, head still tilted at an odd angle where Nik had scruffed the strip of ferret fur he called a hairstyle.

"Oh yeah?" Ghost's eyes slid over to Nik, lingering on the hand that released Soap's mohawk. "G'won then, show us the proper way."

"Regrettably, the sergeants both favour the short back and sides, but yours is longer." Nik rose to his feet, matching Ghost in height and bulk. Ghost's hackles should go up, but with Nik, they hadn't in years. It had something to do with how Price was around him, Ghost reckoned. When your damn leader relaxed, you were relaxed. Like a good dog. Nik spread his hands. "May I, lieutenant? Your mask will remain on."

"C'mon, L.T. Lessee."

"I'll buy you a drink at the pub when we get home, sir."

Ghost swallowed, levelling Nik with a heavy stare. "Ya pull my hairline as far as yours and we'll 'ave a problem," he murmured, emptying his glass before placing it down on the table. When Nik stepped into space, he got a hit of expensive cologne and engine oil that sat pleasantly on the back of his tongue. Damn handsome bastard too, all things considered. Ghost tried not to scrutinise what having him so close did to his heart.

Nik's hand settled on Ghost's shoulder first and then slid around the back of his neck, careful to keep his thumb tucked to avoid Ghost's throat.

"You slide your hand up their neck through the roots at the back," he said softly, his hand moving as he spoke, fingertips sliding beneath Simon's bally to the softness of his blond hair. "And you pull upwards, keeping your fingers close to their scalp."

What was left of Ghost's soul left his body momentarily as Nik pulled. His belly did a little flip, his knees suddenly weak, shoulders rising as he sucked in a shocked gasp. The sensation that bristled over his scalp settled behind his eyes, and they rolled closed as it continued down his spine. The world screeched to a halt as Ghost zeroed in on the man before him, his instincts firing off like sparkplugs in an engine struggling to turn over. Frozen.

Nik was watching him closely, his head tilted to the side. "It should not cause pain, but it is a... mammalian response, like a cat scruffing its kitten. It should inspire a feeling of pleasure in submission."

Ghost couldn't breathe. His eyes flickered open and he zoned in on Nik's dark eyes, the fullness of his lips and the unshaven scruff of stubble around his jawline. In that breathless moment, Ghost's entire body tingled with heat and want. He could feel Nik's warmth, so close and yet not touching him at all but for the hand in his hair; a sturdy bulwark waiting to catch him. What Ghost would give to press his face into the open collar of his shirt and rub through the dark hair he could see there, while--

"'Ear that, L.T.? Ye like a big fuckin' kitten."

Soap's jibe broke the spell and Nik released Ghost's hair, stepping out of his space to return to his seat. His gaze lingered on Ghost's eyes before he turned, and for a tense second Ghost was fockin' worried he'd be outed for whatever the hell that was. But Nik sat down with a nonchalant shrug.

"Shut it, Johnny," Ghost grunted. "Don' see what all the fuss is about."

"Aye, ye tell 'em, sir. Missionary with the lights off fully clothed is the only way, eh?"

Ghost flipped Soap his middle finger and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. "Gonna hit the sack, long day tomorrow. Don' fuck around too late." He left the room at what he hoped was a reasonable pace, but his mind was already elsewhere, namely on the aching boner stretching down his right trouser leg. He was grateful no one could read minds; if he was thinking of Nik as he had a sad, furious and slightly drunk wank, then that was between him and god.

Nik watched Ghost's retreating back over the rim of his vodka glass, his head tilted to the side in thoughtful consideration. The embers he had watched flare to life in those somber brown eyes were unmistakable. He had seen similar in two twin baby blues only two mornings ago.

Khoroshego vam nastroyeniya i do vstrechi, Simon.

[pkg4mumtown]

All-Inclusive Obedience

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You and Hotch are volunteered to go undercover as newlyweds on a couples retreat suspected of hiding something more sinister. Emotions, tension, and your giant crush on the man are all running high.

Content Warnings: alcohol, GN!reader (no Y/N), strong language, first person POV, canon-typical injuries and violence, cults, knives/guns, blood, newlyweds, voyeuristic surveillance, SMUT, drugging, kidnapping, human trafficking, fluff, hurt/comfort

A/N: My entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Criminal Minds Undercover Challenge No art this time, I dropped a longer fic than I intended to 😂. The Spotify playlist for it is below the break. Heed all warnings, please and thank you.

Also available on AO3

Intro

Going undercover wasn’t necessarily a new experience. Going undercover as a newlywed, however, was. It was made worse by the fact that Hotch and I were volunteered to go on the assignment together.

Me.

With my boss.

As newlyweds.

My boss.

Who I'd had more than one wet dream about since I'd been on his team.

That boss.

The BAU was gifted a case by Violent Crimes that they simply couldn't crack and Hotch reluctantly took it under the expectant glare from Strauss that he wouldn't fuck it up. The case revolved around an exclusive couples service catering to the ultra-wealthy—a place where high-profile clients would be sent on an all-inclusive trip with their partner in a reinvigorating retreat. It was the perfect match for affluent couples looking to reconnect with their partners.

The FBI was called in when some of these couples had begun to disappear with their assets drained and their whereabouts unknown. After weeks of investigation after the case was given to us, we suspected a trafficking ring where these couples were ending up either sold to the highest bidder or outright murdered. Some of the couples who survived were discovered on surveillance in countries far removed from where they disappeared, yet others came back home with no issue. It was never consistent and the BAU worked tirelessly to figure out what made the unsubs choose one couple over the other.

We checked flight logs and identification of passengers, seeing patterns of a few faces on multiple trips. That one important aspect continually brought us back: if couples were going missing, why were previous attendees returning? Were some of the couples in on the trafficking ring? Or were they ignorant of the happenings?

There was really only one way to find out.

After much research on Penelope's part, we discovered the only safest way was as an affluent married couple. The cover story came together easily: we were looking for a secluded honeymoon getaway hoping to enhance our relationship through one of the service’s elite couples’ retreats—one that many of the couples disappeared from.

As we signed up—well as Penelope signed up for us—we saw how the entire process was too good to be true.

I wasn't one to complain about a semi-dangerous free vacation, though, it might have been less stressful without my attractive boss.

Our only line of communication with the rest of the BAU would be a satellite phone that Hotch was bringing, locked and hidden discreetly in a Faraday cage. The retreat was strictly no-phones, so finding a place to hide it had been a challenge. The team would be on a nearby island monitoring the situation, gathering as much information as they could over there, and ready to extract us at a moment’s notice.

Hotch and I went over briefly what we would be expected to do on the trip: sleeping in the same bed, kissing, various public displays of affection, and if it came down to it—faking a sexual encounter. It was obviously the most nerve-wracking one, one, because of the subtle realism required to make it believable and two, because of the automatic implication that we would both have to be nude. Most things had to be on the table—within reason—for this to be both believable and a success.

-

Day 1

From the moment Hotch and I got in the car to the charter plane which was provided by the service, it was game on.

The driver had asked for our names, which Hotch provided the aliases for without hesitation. Hotch played the ever attentive new husband, taking the luggage from my hand and tossing our luggage in the trunk. We slid in the cushy car, Hotch automatically throwing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me close. It was automatically understood that seat belts were a suggestion in a car like this.

The driver was attentive, a little too much, continuously looking at us in the rear-view mirror. It meant that Hotch had to be handsier than we both anticipated right off the bat.

“Relax,” I felt Hotch's lips brush the shell of my ear, pressing his lips against my cheek.

It would be easier to relax if I wasn't so attracted to him. Frustrated with myself, I forced my body to relax. I slumped into his body, smiling up at him. His eyes flicked down to my lips, a sly smirk that I couldn't tell real from fake spreading over his features.

Biting the bullet, dropped a hand to his exposed thigh, clad in tan shorts and a flowy white button-down, and trailed it high up his leg, tilting my head up until my lips brushed his. It was brief and I pulled away almost immediately like I was teasing him.

“I cannot wait to get you alone,” he muttered just loud enough for the driver to hear. “Waves crashing, fucking you as loud as I want.”

I bit my lip, the butterflies his words caused being all too real. I hummed, smiling at his words and pressing my lips firmly against his.

So that was what it was like to actually kiss him, I vaguely wondered as his teeth scraped over my lip.

The plane trip had a reasonable flight time, shorter than many of our domestic flights with the team, taking us somewhere off the coast of Florida near the Bahamas. The plane ride itself was a blur as drinks were poured, accompanied by a few other couples and more “undercover” kissing than social interactions.

“So, h-how long have you been mm-married?” one of the wives slurred, leaning forward with her third flute of champagne. She had introduced herself as Becca, here with her husband, Leo.

They were one of the repeat couples.

I sipped on my own drink, having discreetly tested both mine and Hotch's for any drugs with an invisible polish on my pinky finger. Satisfied that nothing had come up, I shrugged and toasted his glass before taking a long swig.

“We just got married last month,” I answered, leaning forward toward her and gushing with her.

“Oh, newlyweds,” Becca cooed, clasping her hands together.

One of the partners from a different couple, Avery, who wasn’t as inebriated spoke up, “That’s wonderful! So, what made you decide to come on a retreat so soon after tying the knot?”

I gave Hotch a quick sideways glance, curious how he’d handle this one. He didn’t hesitate.

“We travel a lot for work,” he said smoothly, resting a casual hand on my knee. “It’s been…hard to find time to just be together.”

I smiled as if this were an inside joke between us, letting out a soft laugh. “And my sister swears by couples retreats. She and her husband went on one last year—oh I forget what company—but they came back glowing.” I widened my eyes like I was just so desperate to recapture that newlywed bliss.

Avery's partner, Quinn, was more reserved, simply holding their drink and not interacting much. I thought that maybe they might be like us, new to the experience, especially considering I didn't recognize them from our repeat attendee list.

Across from us, Leo gave Hotch a look that was half camaraderie, half warning, “You’ll be pushed outside your comfort zone, that’s for sure. The exercises can get…intense.”

I leaned in conspiratorially, grinning suggestively, “Intense how?”

He only chuckled, shaking his head, “You’ll see. It's all worth it.”

I shot Hotch a secretive look, as if we were about to be in over our heads—but in reality, I was watching for his reaction. He remained unbothered, simply lifting his glass in a toast, “To new experiences, then.”

I tapped my glass against his, our fingers brushing. I licked my bottom lip, watching the liquid pass his lips effortlessly and his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

He gave me a smirk over the rim, playing into the sultry looks I was giving him. It wasn't even pretending on my part, resisting the urge to shift too much in my seat and tell on myself about how aroused I was.

-

Upon landing on the island, there were several other planes already landed on the small airstrip. We were driven a short distance to the resort, consisting of lavish architecture weaving around the tropical foliage on the way in. The grounds were a typical beach haven, with bungalows lining the pristine beach. Workers covered every inch of the grounds, stopping and waving as the SUV passed, with wide, welcoming smiles.

Chills ran through my body as I made eye contact with one of them.

We were greeted immediately by a man who introduced himself as Trent, the Day Manager. The resort staff poured out to grab the bags of the couples, even to our light protest at being okay to carry our own luggage. More drinks were thrust into our hands as we were directed by Trent to a check-in desk—each couple assigned to a different staff member's desk.

“Welcome to Twin Palms Resort, we hope your travel accommodations exceeded your expectations,” the woman smiled stiffly, watching us for any type of complaint.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” I leaned into Hotch, smiling up at him.

“I’m pleased to hear that. Before we assign you your room, we do need a few signatures,” she slid a document and a pen across the table.

“Non-disclosure agreement,” stood out in bold letters at the top.

Interesting.

I leaned forward, picking up the pen and giving her a smile. Hotch put his hand on my wrist, halting me with light pressure and prying the pen from my fingers gently.

“One second, sweetheart,” he murmured, picking up the papers and skimming over them with a relaxed expression, not wanting to come off too tense or calculating.

I feigned tiredness, resting my head on his arm and glancing at the text every so often. It was painfully vague, talking the resort up about how it’s for an exclusive selection of people and that a level of discretion was warranted. And—did that say loyalty incentives and disciplinary actions? My eyes drifted to the staff member who was writing something on her side of the desk before looking back up to scrutinize Hotch. A lot of the verbiage wasn’t even in “legalese”, considering I wouldn’t need Hotch to translate some of it later. It was vague but self-explanatory, if not a little aggressive.

The very end made me grimace internally.

“By signing, you commit yourself wholly to the experience.”

Hotch gave the woman a smile and set the paper down, scribbling out his alias’ signature effortlessly.

“Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t signing my yacht away,” he winked.

The woman barely cracked a smile, “Of course, sir.”

I signed with my alias after and snuggled back into Hotch’s too comfortable warmth.

The staff member got our room keys sorted, actual physical keys, not plastic cards.

“Your luggage will be taken to your room, shortly,” she stated and stood. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your accommodations.”

Hotch nodded, grabbing his drink in one hand and taking my hand in the other. I walked loosely, keeping up my appearance of having one too many drinks on the plane while scoping out the place. My ears tuned into a conversation Avery and Quinn had with their staff member in regards to the NDA.

“Disciplinary action? What the hell does that mean?” Quinn, who was so quiet on the plane, spoke up, agitation in their voice.

Cameras littered the resort, starting to feel more like a cult compound than a freeing topical resort. Some were hidden in foliage and some were out in plain sight, but it was clear that they were covering their bases.

We approached the end of the path we were led on, where the concrete ended and sand began. Hotch toed out of his very expensive looking loafers, while I stumbled trying to get my shoes off. His arm wrapped around me to keep me steady, sighing happily as it finally popped off. He bent down, faster than me, and picked all four shoes up off the floor, tucking them under his arm.

“Come on,” he smiled gently, pressing a sweet kiss to my mouth and guiding me to the sand.

The staff member stood off to the side waiting and writing like before, waiting for us to catch up. The view from the beach was breathtaking and I groaned internally because we were here to work, not play.

“You'll find everything you need here,” she said while opening the door to the bungalow, the inside looking modern and immaculate contrasting the wood and straw outside. “Everything,” she stressed with a smirk.

We got the hint.

Sex stuff. Yep. Got it.

“Please don’t hesitate to let any staff member know if you need anything else. Your schedule is on the desk. Do try to be punctual to the highlighted events. Everything else is at your own leisure,” she gave us one more tight smile, leaving the keys on the desk and leaving us alone, shutting the door behind her.

“Alone” was a generous word.

We couldn’t be certain if there were bugs or cameras, not yet anyway. Our scanning devices were hidden in Hotch’s bag with his satellite phone.

Hotch tossed our shoes to the floor, sending bits of sand that stuck to the tread bouncing across the floor. I took Hotch’s glass out of his hand, setting both on the table and turning back toward him. Both of my hands trailed from his shoulders down to his chest, giving him a gentle shove until the back of his knees hit the bed.

He bounced on the bed with a “oof” escaping his chest. He propped himself up on his elbows, then his hands. His brows were questioning, but I only smiled and kneeled between his open, inviting legs.

“You said you wanted me alone.”

“I did,” he confirmed, eyes following me as I crawled up his body until he was looking up at me.

Using my hand to push him all the way back down to the bed, I covered my mouth with his, letting out all the pent up arousal from the beginning of this trip.

To him, I might just be a superb actor.

But, there was very little acting being done as I moaned into his mouth and blindly found the buttons of his shirt. As I ground my hips down against his while his hands trailed down from my back to my ass.

This operation was going to be rough.

Before I could completely unbutton his shirt, two knocks sounded on our door. I pulled away, dazed but not from the alcohol. From him.

He looked equally mussed, eyes still trained on my mouth until two more knocks sounded. I got off him hurriedly as if we were about to get caught by our parents. His shirt hung open, skin on display as he answered the door.

A different staff member stood on the other side, bags in hand.

I stood up to help Hotch, “Sorry about that, I can’t keep my hands off him,” I directed to the staff member, a younger man who simply smiled and blushed knowingly.

“N-no worries,” he stumbled, nearly tripping over himself.

He must be new.

After he left, we threw our luggage on the bed, unzipping them and taking out some of the contents. Hotch glanced at me, subtly getting my attention and flicking the small luggage lock he had on the bag that had been cut. I nodded, and took more things out. He fumbled in the bag for a moment before coming out with his toiletries.

“Mind putting those in the bathroom?” He handed the bag to me gingerly.

I felt the dent of the scanning device inside and grabbed my own toiletries to check out the bathroom for bugs. It was unspoken that Hotch would check over there.

The device lit up in only one spot of the bathroom, just under the mirror by the sink. Should be easy enough to drown out with the shower and the sink on.

When I came back, Hotch’s bag was just about empty, with one drawer left open for me. He made eye contact as I came back in.

I winked at him. One.

He blinked at me twice. Four.

“Look in the nightstand,” he grinned.

I hesitantly opened it, seeing it filled with condoms, lubes, dental dams, and factory sealed toys. Holy shit, she wasn’t kidding.

One.

“This drawer has the same,” he laughed. “I guess I didn’t need to bring so many.”

Two.

I put more of my clothes away, “Guess we can’t be too prepared.”

“Oh! You think we can catch the rest of Shark Week out here?” he pointed at the TV.

Three.

“You really want to watch sharks attacking people when we’re at the beach, babe?” I laughed, throwing a pillow at him.

“It’s educational.”

“Mhm,” I shook my head.

He stalked toward me, a smirk on his face. He backed me up against the desk, pushing the glasses and keys aside and lifting me onto it. He stepped between my legs kissing me breathless.

Four.

“Babe,” I moaned, torn between bringing him closer and pushing him away. “I’m not done putting my stuff away.”

Hotch groaned, feigning annoyance, “Hurry. They have a whole welcome thing in two hours and I have been dying to fuck you all morning.”

My jaw just about dropped to the floor at the words that came out of Hotch’s mouth. My brain was short circuiting. What twilight zone had I gotten myself into? Undercover Hotch was so different. Flirty, smiley, attentive, and kind of a slut.

I loved it.

“Yea?”

“Mm, I was ready to take you on that damn plane, the way you were looking at me.”

Internally, I was screaming.

Screw this.

I pulled Hotch back in, moaning as I felt his hips press into mine. I dug my heels into his ass, hearing him grunt and groan in response.

“Fuck me now, then,” I grinned, nipping at lips.

The fact that he was playing into the scene so hard told me he had something he needed to say or else he wouldn’t be so urgently pushing. I pushed myself off the desk, ripping my clothes off roughly as Hotch shrugged the rest of his shirt off and remaining clothing. I didn’t dare look down, shoving our luggage off the bed and pulling him down with me.

I ignored the hot press of his cock against my stomach. Both of us had a silent understanding that it would look strange if we pulled the sheets back when we were supposed to be so desperate and considering we weren’t supposed to know about the potential for bugs and cameras. I hoped it would be convincing enough.

I heard him dig through one of the drawers to locate lube to make it more believable. I didn’t expect him to flip the cap open and pour some out; wiping most of it on himself. Hotch groaned, adjusting himself until I felt his cock slide against my ass, the lube providing much needed relief from chafing where we met. He took a deep, shaky breath with his hips pressing forward mimicking pushing into me.

Hotch hid his whispers with groans and I did my best to help him, “Alarm clock has a camera. I think. Mirror, too.”

He kept his sentences short and in between breaths, “We can’t half ass this,” he muttered into my ear and I squeezed his shoulders in understanding.

“Cameras everywhere. Outside,” I responded against his mouth.

Hotch nodded, pressing his face into my neck, “NDA was fishy. Felt like a cult.”

I moaned in agreement, "Right there,” I hoped he understood the double meaning.

His hips slammed faster, his pubic area providing delicious friction with every writhe and thrust.

Don’t cum. Don’t cum.

Hotch made a passing glance at the alarm clock and I followed his eyes, “Still good on time, don’t worry,” he panted, making a show of lifting my hips and thrusting harder.

I moaned his alias’ name. It felt strange to call him anything but Hotch, especially when I’d dreamed of this moment—well it would be going much differently, but still. I did my best to breathe through the impending orgasm, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable until I felt his fingers dig desperately into my arms and torso as his orgasm snuck up on him. His hips stuttered and stilled, his chest still heaving as he breathed rapidly into my neck.

My ass was slicker than before, his cum coating my skin.

I was surprised; almost sad I hadn’t let myself cum, too.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into my neck. He sounded distraught, concerned, and embarrassed all wrapped into one package. “I’m sorry.”

My feelings immediately shifted and I felt bad, not considering how he’d feel. The post-coital realization hit him hard despite actual intercourse not taking place. I reassured him with a squeeze of his torso, letting my hand brush the hair at the base of his neck. He pushed himself up after a beat, looking at me with a satisfied smile for the camera but the most apologetic gaze I’d ever seen.

“Feel better?” I asked, bringing him down for a languid kiss.

Hotch nodded and sat all the way up, groaning as he did.

“We have time for another,” I bit my lip, reaching out for him.

He laughed, taking my hand, “I don’t want to sleep in a sweaty, crusty bed tonight.”

I pouted.

“Shower?”

He cocked his head toward the bathroom in an invitation, so I pushed myself up and followed him in.

“I thought you said you were too old for shower sex,” I joked on the spot.

“That scotch worked its magic. I’m pain free for another hour at least,” he laughed.

As soon as we entered the bathroom, I tapped his wrist, subtly pointing to where I had found the bug. Tapping the faucet, I pointed to him, then myself, then the shower. I held my hand out, telling him to wait and opened the shower. With one hand on the faucet and one hand counting down to him, we turned them on simultaneously.

“Holy fuck, this shower is huge,”I looked back at him.

He made a noise of interest, coming over to me, invading my space. As tempting as it had been, I still didn't look down and kept my eyes carefully trained on his face.

“Wow,” he commented. “Plenty of room for…activities.”

I let my laugh float around the bathroom.

Unsure of where to put his hand, he held my upper arm, murmuring lowly, “I'm really sorry, I didn't me—”

“Relax,” I stressed. “It's natural, considering what we were literally doing. Stop feeling bad,” I brought my hand to his shoulder comfortingly. “You probably needed it,” I joked, pushing his shoulder.

He barely cracked a smile, still looking like someone stole his favorite cufflinks.

I stared at his embarrassed, pinched look, “Oh my God,” I gasped, clapping my hand over my mouth. “I knew you were a giver. You're embarrassed because you came and I didn't.”

His face was beet red and though he could explain it away as the steam filling the room, I knew better.

“Well, come on, you can make it up to me. There's two shower heads in here, too.”

Hotch looked conflicted, on one hand—it was only fair, but on the other hand—this would be as ourselves rather than an act.

It would be on purpose. And that left room for danger in regards to returning back to normal life after all this.

Truthfully, I didn’t think he was going to step into the shower. I stepped back to take the pressure off of him, letting the warm water run over my head as I washed off our travels and the cum. I didn’t hear the shower door close softly over the spray of the water, my only indication that he had joined me being the skimming of his fingers on my abdomen as they traveled to my sides, and then my back.

My eyes flew open, obstructed by water, but I didn’t need to see as we came together. Our mouths moved surprisingly slowly, a stark contrast to the urgency not long ago. His tongue dipped into my mouth as his hand wormed between us, finding my sensitive skin still aching for release. How his hand managed to be slick with the water beating down on us—I didn’t question it (though my nose told me it was something scented). His mouth left mine, trailing down my neck while his hand and fingers worked several miracles.

I gave him one more out.

“You don’t have to,” I moaned loudly after as his hand moved just a bit faster with more pressure, letting my head drop back against the shower wall. His free had plastered against my back to keep me upright.

Hotch’s teeth scraped my neck.

It was enough of an answer.

He brought his face out of my neck, water dripping from his hair, down his nose, and beading off his eyelashes. His lips parted in concentration, watching as I came apart under his touch. His tongue swept out, gathering drops of water along the way making his hooded gaze more sensual if it was even possible. I could feel when the slick substance started washing away, Hotch letting me go shortly after.

I whined pitifully, clutching shoulders and digging my fingers in out of frustration, “Please.”

Without a word, my hips were pushed firmly against the wall and Hotch was on his knees.

He was so going to feel that later.

“Wait—you do—,” I moved to protest both the position for his own comfort and the fact that I didn’t intend for him to have to use his mouth.

He didn’t react to my fingers in his soaked hair, only glancing at me and blinking water out of his eyes. It took half a second before I was covered by his hot mouth, sucking, licking—

My mind went white and fuzzy.

My back pressed into the wall as my hips arched involuntarily toward Hotch, “So good—y-yes—mmm.” The pleasure coiled in my abdomen, tighter and tighter, “Fuck, I’m gon—”

It didn’t take long for my body to tense, feeling Hotch’s arms hold me tighter as I trembled so as not to slip. Bliss coursed throughout my body, making my fingertips clench against his head and my toes tingle. Hotch took everything in stride, not stopping until I was practically begging him and pulling him off me by the hair.

My chest heaved as I fought to catch my breath. Hotch didn’t care, covering my mouth with his and stealing my breath all over again. I tasted myself on his tongue, sending a new wave of excitement through my body.

Finally, he let me breathe, forehead pressing into mine as he still helped to keep me upright.

“Did that make you feel better?” I laughed softly, brushing my lips against his for a second.

“Surprisingly, yes.”

I dreaded having to leave his arms and stand on my own. I dreaded more, the idea of having to wash myself instead of letting my eyes slip closed in his arms.

But, we had a job to do and a schedule to follow.

Groaning, I planted myself more firmly on my feet, “Thank you.”

He hummed, releasing me from his arms.

I almost wished he had said “any time”.

We toweled off and dressed shortly after, needing to make up for wasted time.

“Wasted” was subjective.

The mirror was still partially fogged as I checked my appearance, Hotch at my side combing his hair and fixing his collar with practiced ease. He looked relaxed and comfortable like we were getting ready for an actual date and had done this a million times.

“I gotta say, honey,” I mused, dragging the word out and adjusting the back of his collar for him. “For a guy who hates shower sex, you sure were dedicated to it.”

He flicked his eyes to me in the mirror, a small smirk gracing his lips, “Nothing a little scotch can’t fix. You know I don’t half-ass my work.”

“Clearly.”

He turned to me, extending his arms out for approval on his outfit.

“Hot,” was the only word that tumbled out.

Hotch shook his head, pressing his lips to my forehead, “You look perfect.”

It was for show. It was for show. But damn, he really looked like he meant it. He was too good at this.

I rolled my eyes, patting the buttons on his chest, “God, you’re annoying.”

“You’re welcome.”

The moment settled around us, familiar and teasing.

I could get used to this.

-

The welcome dinner was a stunning display of wealth and indulgence, with chairs and tables perched neatly in the pristine sand. The tables were round, dressed in white linens, and encircled a stone and cement patio that overlooked the ocean behind us. Lanterns swayed gently from the trees and the ocean breeze, casting flickering golden light over the guests as the sun set. Laughter from the tables blended in with the rhythmic crashing of waves. Some hidden speakers played tranquil music softly in the background, the music almost having a lulling effect.

That or the orgasm really did more than I expected.

Hotch sat beside me, his arm draped lazily over the back of my chair, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against my shoulder. It was an easy, affectionate touch, one that made it appear as though he simply couldn’t keep his hands off me. It was a simple performance and a silent form of reassurance, a way to remind me he was there and that we were in this together.

At the front of the gathering, Trent, the charismatic day manager from earlier, stood beside a polished mahogany podium. He tapped a spoon against his champagne flute, the chime ringing out over the guests, drawing all eyes on him.

“Good evening, everyone!” he beamed, his voice practiced and smooth. “On behalf of Twin Palms Resort, I want to extend my warmest welcome to our newest guests, as well as our returning couples.”

A smattering of applause followed, though something about it felt performative, not unlike myself and Hotch—rather than genuine excitement.

“This retreat isn’t just an exciting getaway for you all. It’s a transformation,” Trent continued, sweeping his gaze over the attendees. “Here, you will learn to surrender completely—to your partner and to the experience. Only when we let go of our fears and inhibitions can we discover the depths of true connection.”

I felt Hotch’s fingers press just slightly against my shoulder, the tiniest acknowledgment that he, too, had caught the unsettling wording.

From across the table, Becca, one of the repeat attendees, let out an airy sigh and lifted her champagne flute, “To surrendering.” She murmured dreamily before taking a sip. Leo echoed her sentiment, his gaze flicking briefly to Hotch, as if gauging his reaction.

Hotch only smiled, raising his own glass in an effortless toast, “To new experiences.”

The moment passed, but not without leaving behind an undercurrent of something unspoken.

Waitstaff moved seamlessly between tables, refilling glasses before they were even half-empty, their presence almost ghostly in how little they disturbed the atmosphere. The meal was plated with precision and was undeniably delicious, clear that they spared no expense when it came to reeling couples in and retaining them. I took small, deliberate bites, acutely aware of how dangerous it was when we couldn't test the food. We had tested our drinks earlier, but there were more ways to manipulate people.

At our table, the conversation meandered between pleasantries and oddly pointed questions.

“So,” Becca said, resting her chin on one hand and swirling the last of her wine with the other. Her glassy eyes trained on us, “Have you two decided which exercises you’re most excited for?”

Hotch let out a soft chuckle, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. He had been swirling amber liquid in his short tumbler and blinked in thought, “We’re trying to go into this with open minds,” he said smoothly, moving his hand from my shoulder to rest on my knee. He hesitated just a beat too long, then let out a quiet, almost bashful chuckle. “Truthfully, we uh—” He cleared his throat and glanced at me. “We didn’t really take a second to…look.”

His meaning was clear.

Becca gasped in delight, while Leo let out a knowing laugh, clapping Hotch on the back. “That’s the spirit! Didn’t even make it past the threshold, huh?”

I bit my lip, feigning embarrassment, and nudged Hotch’s knee under the table. “We were just—” I exhaled a soft laugh and shook my head, letting the implication hang.

Across the table, Quinn shifted uncomfortably, while Avery gave a tight, uncertain smile. “Well,” Avery said, “there’s certainly a lot to look forward to.”

Leo grinned, “That’s one way to put it.”

I let my fingers skim absently over the back of Hotch’s hand on his knee, as if it were second nature. Hotch glanced over at me as he took a sip from his glass.

Across the table, Avery looked distinctly uncomfortable, their grip tight around the stem of their glass. Quinn, even more reserved, barely touched their plate, only offering nods or small smiles at the conversation around them.

Before I could pry out of sheer tipsiness, the murmur of voices died down as a figure moved into the periphery of my vision.

An older man had appeared at the edge of the gathering, where the glow of the lanterns met the darkness beyond now that the sun had fully set. He wore a darker version of Trent’s uniform, leading me to believe he was the Night Manager to compliment Trent. His posture was ram-rod straight, hands clasped neatly behind his back. He did not speak, nor did Trent acknowledge him from where he stood in the back. His assessing gaze swept over the tables, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was cataloging us, memorizing each new couple.

Hotch shifted just slightly beside me, enough that his thigh pressed against mine. He gently tapped my leg to get my attention, not realizing that I’d been too focused on the Night Manager as his gaze was about to come our way.

I forced a small smile, turning toward Hotch and kissing him.

The rest of the dinner was uneventful minus the watchful gaze of the Night Manager as Trent handed off the festivities to him.

We slowly made our way back to our room, doing our best to not look like we were in a rush despite needing to get back and update the team. Becca and Leo were walking near us and still in earshot, their bungalow not far from ours, so we had to be careful.

“Think we’ll be able to sneak out and skinny dip?” I held his hand, turning and walking backwards through the sand to face him.

“If you were more quiet maybe,” he smirked.

The couple made eye contact with each other, Becca nudging Leo.

“Hey,” Leo got our attention. “They’re kind of strict around here about not wandering at night. It’s a safety thing I think with the water and premises being pretty dark, they don’t want anyone drowning or getting lost.”

“Oh, thanks,” Hotch nodded, offering them a wave. Hotch tilted his head at me, making a mental note to mention that to the team.

We got back to the room, tossing myself unceremoniously onto the bed.

“Tired?” Hotch chuckled.

“Mhm,” I moaned softly, burying my face into one of the pillows.

He let out a soft breath of air through his nose, pressing a kiss to my head, “Get comfortable and pull the covers back, sweetheart. I'm just going to run to the bathroom real quick.”

I grumbled at the thought of getting up to undress and get under the covers, but did anyway. Hotch took a bit, likely sending a message to the team in as much detail as he could with just the satellite phone and no ability to call with all the bugs.

The toilet flushed, Hotch coming out in only his underwear with the rest of his clothes rolled up to hide the satellite phone.

He let out a groan, “My stomach did not like something at dinner.”

Hotch safely stored the phone again and joined me under the covers, where my eyes were nearly shut.

“Mm, you okay?” I mumbled.

“All good now,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.

-

Day 2

I woke to the sound of the gentle lapping of waves to shore, my sinuses filling with the scent of salt and whatever harsh detergent they used on the bedding.

Inhaling deeply, I startled as I felt a tickle on my leg. I jerked my leg back and turned, only to remember—Hotch.

Oops.

His eyes were still shut and I couldn’t tell if he was awake or not but knew I needed to not act weird to the cameras, so I curled myself into his side and rested my head on his bare chest. Early morning light streamed in through the thin, flowy curtains, casting a glow across our bodies half covered by sheets.

I pressed my lips to his chest.

No reaction.

Maybe he was actually asleep.

I pressed my ear more firmly to his chest, hearing a slightly elevated rate and smiled to myself. I let my fingertips trail lightly down his abdomen, tickling the skin with the rough edges of my fingers. His heart rate picked up more.

I looked up at him, eyes still shut but the corner of his lips had pulled up ever so slightly.

“I know you’re awake,” I let my hand slip lower.

His abdomen tensed under my hand, his eyes blinking open and finding my gaze immediately.

“You were just going to lay there and let me have my way with you?” I smiled, pushing myself up to press my lips to his jaw.

“It’s called acting,” he murmured.

“Mm, so you can make your heart race like that on command?”

“Mmm,” he stretched his legs and arms, “no comment.”

As he brought his limbs back to his body, Hotch spared a glance at the clock on the nightstand.

“Oh, shit,” he sat up quickly, even with the weight of my head and torso on him.

“Wh—”

“The first exercise starts in ten minutes,” he whispered, frantically pulling on clothes.

“Shit.”

I jumped up after him, getting dressed and moderately fresh in record time. Running through sand was not my ideal cardio for the morning, especially on a not-vacation with my very hot boss.

-

We made it to the gathering on the beach with either thirty seconds to spare or five minutes late. It was impossible to tell.

A staff member we hadn't met yet introduced themselves as the leader of the exercise and started immediately.

“Good morning, everyone, My name is Celeste,” she greeted with a serene smile, her voice carrying easily over the soft rush of waves behind her. “I hope you all had a restful first night.”

Some of the couples murmured their agreement—more so the couples closer to her—while the ones in the back near Hotch and I looked just as disheveled as we did.

“I’ll be guiding you through this morning’s exercise,” she continued, clasping her hands together and scanning the group. “Today, we’ll be exploring trust—learning to rely on your partner even when you feel vulnerable. This is all about surrendering and allowing your partner to be your guide. You will be placing your complete faith in them, allowing them to lead you without sight.”

A table was set up next to her, neatly arranged with blindfolds. A murmur passed through the crowd of couples upon seeing the display. Becca shot me an excited look, while Leo leaned in to whisper something to her.

I touched Hotch’s wrist, prompting him to look at me and give me a squeeze in response.

“The exercise is simple,” she continued. “One of you will be blindfolded while the other partner leads. You’ll guide your partner through a short obstacle course using only your voice. Then, you’ll switch so both partners have a turn. This isn’t about your partner controlling you—it’s about letting go and trusting them.”

The phrasing sent an uneasy prickle down my spine.

Couples looked at each other with nervous excitement and stepped forward to grab a blindfold. We exchanged one more glance before Hotch reached for a blindfold after I hesitated for a second too long under the watchful gaze of Celeste.

Celeste smiled as if she didn’t just ask us to surrender ourselves entirely, “Take a moment to decide who will lead first.”

All of the couples looked at one another, Hotch glancing at me with a subtly raised brow in question. I could barely take him seriously with his face adorned in stubble from not shaving in our haste to leave earlier. I didn’t mind it, though I’m sure it drove him insane to have. The flecks of white on his face amidst his natural color was endearing and made him look softer than when he shaved.

“Can I lead first?” I asked nervously, touching the material in his hand.

“Are you sure?” He murmured, his thumb moving over my fingers soothingly.

“Yea,” I nodded. “I already know you’ll lead me perfectly.”

Something flickered in his eyes at my words. Pride? I couldn’t exactly tell, but he gave me a small nod as his expression melted into something fond.

“Alright,” he murmured, surrendering his grip on the blindfold. “I’m yours to guide.”

The words made a strange warmth spread through my chest, one I ignored as we turned into Celeste as she guided the group to the sand. Small obstacles were placed in a course, wooden beams breaking up the smooth sand, wooden platforms giving higher obstacles, and even some ditches in the sand we would have to avoid.

It wasn't anything too crazy. Nothing like any of the courses we had to run at the academy. It was more focused on communication than anything.

“We’ll be sending couples out every minute so it’s not so crowded. Go ahead and line up for me,” Celeste got the couples in somewhat of a line.

Hotch and I watched the couples start, seeing a lot of people tripping, peeking through the blindfolds, and touching their partners when they’d get frustrated. Staff had to verbally reprimand them and remind them of the rules several times.

Soon, Hotch and I were at the front as the couple in front of us went. I tied the blind fold over his eyes, adjusting it so it was snug but comfortable.

“Can you see?”

“No.”

I reached for his hands, steadying him as he shucked his sandals off.

“Trust me?” I laughed softly next to him.

“I do,” he squeezed my hand before dropping it.

I swallowed, pushing down the unexpected weight of those words. Celeste instructed us to start with a hand tap on both of our shoulders.

Hotch took careful steps on to the sand, trusting my estimations of distance to the next obstacle immediately. I walked next to him like we were simply taking a stroll, not wanting to confuse him by walking backwards in front of him or behind him.

“Pause,” I stopped him. “You’ll take a step over and it's just sand on the other side. Good…the next one is a little higher.”

We continued on, keeping my voice steady and calm even when he veered off too far to the right, almost going out of bounds, “You got it, just hear how close I am to you.”

Using his ears a little better despite the laughing and frustrated groans around us, he walked with more and more confidence with each passing step. It was intimate in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

“Stop,” I murmured. “You’re done.”

I reached up, untying his blindfold and watching his eyes blink to adjust to the light again. His eyes immediately focused on mine with a soft smile.

“Good job, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning in for a quick kiss.

He took the blindfold from me and tied it around my head, plunging me into darkness so we could continue the course.

“Ready?” Hotch’s voice was low, but close, meant just for me.

“Always,” I took a deep breath, nervous all of a sudden as I only focused on his voice.

His voice was just behind and to the left of me, taking a slightly different approach than me.

“Step forward, slowly.”

I followed his instructions, relying entirely on the warm, grounding tone of his voice. Each of my steps was tentative and careful, the sand shifting unpredictably under my feet to add another layer of uncertainty.

“Little more to the left, listen to my voice,” he murmured. “Good, baby. Another step and you’ll step over.”

“I feel like you’re guiding me through a minefield,” I laughed.

“Same principle,” he responded dryly.

Hotch didn’t tell me when I finished, instead winding an arm around my waist and pulling me close to him. I felt his lips meet mine, my eyes involuntarily closing underneath the blindfold. When I opened my eyes, the blindfold was removed and Hotch was grinning at me.

“I think we were the best ones,” he dove back in, smiling into the kiss.

“You might be biased,” I murmured.

“Mmm,” he made a noise of protest, indicating his head to where couples were finishing covered in sand and either mad or laughing at each other.

Staff members lined the obstacle course, clipboards in-hand and writing furiously. I accidentally made eye contact with one, who leaned over and spoke to the staff member next to him.

“What do you think they're writing?” I murmured.

“I don't know, but we need to find out,” his eyebrow twitched in contemplation but his hand trailed up and down my lower back to keep up the charade.

Celeste clapped her hands together, signaling the end of the exercise and gathering the couples together, “Wonderful work, everyone. Remember, this wasn’t about speed or perfection—it’s about learning to trust and communicate. Some of you did beautifully, while others…” she gave a knowing smile as some couples groaned and dusted sand off themselves, “may have discovered a few areas to work on. For now, take a break. Breakfast is being served in the main hall, and afterward, we’ll dive into our next exercise.”

Hotch’s fingers brushed against the small of my back as we trailed behind the other couples toward the dining hall. “We’ll have to be careful about how much we stand out.”

“Yeah,” I exhaled, glancing back toward the staff. “But I still want to know what they wrote."

-

Breakfast was a mix of tired grumbling and overcompensating excitement. Some couples barely spoke, still frustrated over the obstacle course, while others dissected every move they made, analyzing what they could do better. Hotch and I ate in a comfortable quiet, making small talk with the other couples.

“—haven’t seen them all morning.”

My ears tuned into a conversation at a different table, Becca’s chatter becoming nothing more than droning as I did.

A couple was missing already? Looking around at faces I already recognized, I hummed thinking who might be missing.

“Maybe they slept in. We almost overslept,” someone responded.

“Travel will do that,” another response.

“I felt kinda hungover, I don’t remember drinking that much,” another chimed in.

I trailed my hand up Hotch’s thigh, squeezing and leaning toward him with a teasing smile. With my lips brushing his ear, I murmured, “Couple missing. You hear that? Maybe drugging?”

Hotch chuckled, letting his hand come up to the back of my neck, “You’re insatiable.”

It was a simple response but let me know he heard me.

Tuning back into the conversation, I saw his eyes scanning other tables for any one he noticed was missing.

By the time we were called back outside, the sun had climbed higher, heating the sand to an uncomfortable temperature. The next exercise was the eye contact challenge. Simple in theory—five minutes of uninterrupted eye contact with your partner. But as I sat across from Hotch, knees nearly touching on the white sheet draped over the sand, I felt my stomach twist and regretted eating immediately.

No words, no distractions.

Just looking at each other. Easy.

The timer started.

I held his gaze, reminding myself that this was just acting, just another role to play. Hotch’s expression was unreadable. His eyes were dark and searching—glinting amber as the sunlight filtered through his eyelashes just right. It felt like they saw straight through me. The longer I looked, the more I felt stripped bare, as if every layer of protection I built up about my feelings for him was being peeled away. The mask I wore, the careful detachment despite our brief lapse in judgment yesterday—it all threatened to crumble under the weight of his stare.

I swallowed hard. My pulse thrummed in my throat.

Five minutes had never felt so long.

I fought every urge I had to look away but couldn’t help the heat I felt on my face as I licked my lips. And it wasn’t from the sun.

When the time was up, I deflated slightly, taking a deep breath as I recovered from the intensity.

“Okay?”

“Mhm, I forget how intense you are,” I rubbed my eyes.

“You forgot yesterday already? Must be losing my touch,” he teased.

Cocking my jaw to the side, I laughed and shoved his chest, “Oh, hush.”

-

We were put through a few more exercises throughout the day but with not enough time to relax back at our room, unfortunately. It was only after dinner—once the sun had already set—that we were released back to our rooms. Thankfully, according to our schedule, the second day was the most structured day out of the retreat, giving Hotch and I more free time to explore later.

Our missing couple also turned up after lunch, looking lost, not believing that it was two in the afternoon. They insisted that they hadn't been drunk but a couple from their flight—another frequent-flier couple—insisted that the husband had been consuming drinks pretty rapidly. He denied it, of course, but it was up to the listener’s opinion on who to believe. Hotch and I knew something more sinister was happening behind the scenes.

“The hot tub sounds heavenly right now,” I groaned, rubbing my hands over my arms in a desperate attempt to get rid of the feeling of sand sticking to my skin.

Hotch opened the front door and ushered me in, “Then use—”

He paused his movements and stopped speaking as he took in the room.

“—it.”

I looked at the room too to see what he was looking at. The bed was made, which wasn’t all that strange. Then, I noticed my bag wasn’t where I had left it this morning and neither was Hotch’s. Both bags were tucked neatly under the desk with the zippers done up neatly.

“I need to wash the sand off,” I rubbed his back and moved toward the bags.

“Good idea,” he grunted and followed me.

I rifled through my bag, seeing nothing missing, and moved to Hotch’s bag. Luckily, his bag had a hard bottom that hid the hard edges of the electronics inside well. Locating the phone and other electronics with a few quick zippers and Velcro pulled back, I emerged from under the desk with a random tube from my bag for show.

I waved it in front of him before moving my hands to the hem of my shirt, “Join me?”

His eyes followed my movements as my shirt slipped off my body, followed by my bottoms. I smiled sweetly as I opened the back sliding door, letting the night ocean breeze flow through the room. It took a moment, but I soon found the exterior lights and flicked them on long enough to turn the hot tub light on.

I felt him before I heard him, warm skin pressing against my back, “Just one bug in the far corner,” he murmured in my ear.

Hotch’s mouth dropped to my shoulder, peppering kisses for any other surveillance we might be missing. His hands smoothed down my sides, pausing when he expected to hit underwear and didn’t. His fingers tightened on my waist and I waited with baited breath for his next move.

His hands released me, so I took the opportunity to step into the tub. The hot water made me sigh contently as I sat fully, facing Hotch as he stood outside of the tub watching me.

The muscles in his chest jumped as he rested his hands on the edge of the round, wooden tub. His shorts slung low on his hips, showing just the top of his underwear.

“Are you gonna make me sit in here by myself?”

He didn’t respond, still staring like he was warring with himself. Slowly but surely, his fingers came to his shorts, flicking open the closure and hooking his thumbs into the sides. His shorts fell to the floor, underwear staying on as he fiddled with the side of the tub. He soon hummed in success as the hot tub bubbled to life and stepped in with me.

He lowered himself as much as he could until his shoulders were submerged, letting out a groan at the feeling. He, then, sat in the seat, exposing his shoulders and chest to the air again. His feet kicked out across the tub, landing on the seat across from us as his arm draped over my shoulders.

“Thoughts?” He murmured softly, trying not to be louder than the bubbling of the jets in the tub.

We kept our mouths close to each other's face when we spoke.

“I don't remember seeing them when we arrived but maybe they asked too many questions or weren't compliant enough yesterday? That other couple was gas-lighting them.”

“Mhm,” he sighed, fingers absentmindedly moving over my skin in the water. “We need to see the files they're compiling. They're storing the information somewhere.”

“Might be assessing compliance or weak relationships?”

“Yeah, I think so, too. Did you see the key cards they have clipped to their uniforms? That might get us somewhere.”

“Mhm, I thought it was strange that we got physical keys and they had key cards.”

Laughs and gentle splashing were thrown about in between our speaking to throw off whoever was listening and make it sound more natural than quiet, as well as drown out our words if they were too recognizable.

I stilled as a loud creak and a hushed whisper sounded, not too far from our patio. I listened for footsteps but the sand made it hard to hear movement. Hotch’s eyes squinted in the low light but if I couldn’t hear anything further, then he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to either.

“I think I'm gonna fall asleep in here, sweetheart,” he murmured, arm tightening over my shoulders to put me at ease.

“Yea, you're right,” I sighed unhappily.

“Shower and sleep?”

I hummed in agreement and followed him inside. I made sure the backdoor was locked tightly and followed him to the bathroom. Entering the bathroom, I started the shower and watched as Hotch averted his eyes and unfolded the sat-phone from his shorts to update the team.

I rolled my eyes at his actions, making the number two with my fingers and pointing at the shower. He glanced my way and nodded, holding a lone finger up.

Was he seriously being reserved now? Especially after what transpired yesterday. Or was he regretting it? The thought made my gut churn uncomfortably.

I knew it was a bad idea. But, I was also overthinking the whole thing.

Yesterday was a favor. It didn’t mean anything.

All of the fake affection was bleeding into my ability to think clearly.

By the time I had rubbed my skin raw, Hotch was opening the shower door with his eyes trained on the free shower head. As soon as his side turned on, I turned mine off and stepped out of the shower to avoid making him uncomfortable any further.

At least the towels were soft.

With the interior room lights on, it was difficult to see outside in the dark. I squinted, still uneasy from the sounds we heard earlier but did my best to shake it off.

I pulled on something loose to wear to bed and was laid back with my eyes shut by the time Hotch was done.

I heard him flick the lights off, then softly step over to the bed and slide between the sheets. I could practically feel him watching me in the dark.

“What’s wrong?”

Of course he could tell.

“Mm,” I hummed. “Just tired.”

“Okay,” he whispered over the gentle waves outside. I heard him shift his body closer, feeling the warmth of his hand as it traveled around me. “We can sleep in tomorrow, nothing mandatory until eleven.”

I was half asleep already and made a tired noise in the back of my throat, turning on my side to be more comfortable. I dampened down my feelings as his chest met my back and his bare legs and feet tangled with mine.

-

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep for but the sound of muffled voices nearby made my eyes snap open. I must have tensed my body because Hotch' tightened his arms around me immediately. His voice murmured lowly in my ear, “Don’t speak, listen.”

I was barely able to make out his whisper, but did as he said.

The voices sounded out of breath—like they were exercising, carrying something heavy—as they walked.

“w—t d—we tel—them?” one voice came through. (What do we tell them?)

“t—at th—y—eft early.” (That they left early.)

The distance and huffing didn’t help but I managed to understand the words. Their voices passed closer to the wall our bed was against, the voices much clearer now that they were practically up against our bungalow.

“This batch is going to take longer than expected to break in.”

My heart was racing and I wanted nothing more than to rip Hotch’s arm off of me and help whoever the staff were taking. I couldn’t jeopardize the entire mission. I would have to hope that they were still alive. The voices faded out eventually but Hotch held me still, waiting just in case.

The whine of a golf cart sounded in the distance, a mental note made of the direction it traveled.

“Do. Not. Get. Up,” Hotch murmured. “Can’t help if we’re caught.”

“We don’t even know where they’re taking them,” I murmured back.

“We’ll find out,” Hotch responded.

I clenched my jaw in frustration, ready to shoot back another protest when sounds of shifting sand came closer. They were different voices speaking to each other this time.

“Think they heard anything?”

“Nah, they’re newlyweds. They fucked as soon as they got here yesterday, I doubt they’ve stopped.”

“Yea, but—”

“Dude, pay attention, you’re missing parts.”

Missing parts?

“Sorry, sorry. Wait, so you—like—watched?”

“That’s the entire point of camera duty.”

“Was it hot?”

“Bro.”

“What?”

“Just fucking rake.”

Were they covering the tracks of the other two staff?

My heart rate eventually slowed, but I was still on edge. My eyes stayed open in the dark, my brain creating floating shapes born from my distress.

“Try and sleep,” he sighed.

I wouldn’t be very successful.

-

Day 3

Hotch had fallen back asleep after the events of last night, but I laid there in the dark listening—waiting and helpless. As soon as the sun rose, I wormed out of Hotch’s arms, made myself a coffee, and sat out on the patio. I tried to look for any evidence of the kidnapping we heard, only to see combed sand with footprints stepping sideways rather than forwards. It was still follow-able but I couldn’t very well go without Hotch and risk him getting pissed off.

Or worse—getting myself taken, too.

I tried to follow the tracks back to a specific bungalow with my eyes, squinting as it got harder to distinguish in the distance. It had to be one of the two to our left but I couldn’t tell which.

The resort looked normal like this. Serene and quiet, like a real vacation. Like none of what transpired last night could have happened.

Footsteps around the corner made me tense, my head snapping toward the sound. A staff member trudged around the corner, shoes heavy with sand. Her hands were full of white envelopes that she shuffled through, looking at each bungalow where our unit numbers were indicated on the outside.

She finally noticed me, pausing her movements and making eye contact. She looked startled before blinking and making her way over to me.

“Good morning,” she smiled, shuffling through the envelopes and locating one with our unit number on it.

“Morning,” I smiled back.

“We usually put these on your door but since you’re up…” she handed me the envelope. “This will take the place of your mandatory slot today. Congratulations. We hope you’ve been enjoying your time here with your partner. You two have been a delight to watch—blossom.”

The hitch in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh—uh—thank you,” I took the envelope from her.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile was polite but otherwise unreadable, “Hopefully, you’ve both found the experience enlightening.”

I nodded slowly, fidgeting with the envelope, “We—we certainly have.”

Her eyes flicked to the glass door, where Hotch's sleeping form was visible through the thin, fluttering curtains, “You and your husband make such a lovely pair, so natural together.”

It made me all too aware of how exposed we were at night.

Her smile widened, something darker in her eyes than before, “We love to see couples fully embracing every exercise here.” She tapped the stack of envelopes against her palm, her tone friendly and teasing, “Those who don’t take full advantage of the retreat…let’s just say they don’t always get the same privileges.”

The meaning settled like a weight in my stomach.

She took a step back from the patio, still watching me intently, “Be sure to enjoy each other tonight after this reward. It’s one of our most special ones,” she added, voice lilting as if it were a friendly suggestion, but it wasn’t.

It felt like an order. Like a warning.

“Of course.”

Her gaze lingered a second longer before she turned away and left her tracks in the sand. She went back about her business, moving to the other bungalows. I watched her discreetly, feigning reading the letter as I watched her drop off at every unit except for the one diagonally from us to our left, closer to the shore than we were. That must belong to whoever got taken last night.

I tried to wrack my brain to remember who got placed there when we arrived. It wasn't the couple who had gone missing yesterday, I knew that for sure. It was—

Oh, shit.

I glanced back at Hotch, still tangled in the sheets, surprised that her voice hadn’t woken him. I glanced down at the letter I extracted from the envelope—a couples massage. Though, we wouldn't be getting massages together—no—we’d be giving them to each other.

I fought the urge to groan in protest. I chewed the inside of my cheek and stood, leaving my coffee on the table.

Gingerly, I got on the bed with one knee, throwing my other leg over his hip so I was straddling Hotch.

It was cruel considering what we heard last night but I figured it would help stay in character.

Hotch jumped at the contact, eyes flying open. He was practically ready for a fight, but as his groggy eyes focused on me his whole body relaxed.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” I smiled, running my hands up and down his chest.

He took a deep breath, willing his adrenaline down and blinking his eyes rapidly to focus better.

He rubbed the sleep from the corners of his eyes, “Morning, what’s got you so excited?”

I turned the paper toward him, which he squinted at and tried to distance his face from the paper but his head was blocked by the bed and the paper was blocked by my body.

“Need your glasses?”

Hotch threw me an exasperated look, closing his eyes in frustration and blinking a few times again.

“Read it to me?”

I tossed the paper on the bed, leaning down so my lips nearly touched his, “We have been gifted a couple’s massage.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm,” I pressed my lips to his, then trailed my mouth to his jaw. “It was Avery and Quinn. They didn’t get an envelope on their door and the tracks go that way,” I whispered. I came up speaking at a normal volume, “But we’re giving each other the massages.”

“Yea?” He grinned slyly.

“Sounds kinda fun,” I kissed him, letting my tongue dip past his lips. “I can give you a massage right now, in fact. So, nice and hard for me already,” I cooed, wiggling my hips as if I could feel his fake hard on.

It was insurance to make sure we were worth keeping around, I told myself.

I waited for his approving nod before sliding under the sheets, keeping my movements slow and natural. My hand trailed over his stomach, my nails barely scraping his skin as I shifted between his legs. I smiled to myself as I felt his muscles tense beneath my palm, his breathing steady but elevated.

I wasn’t actually going to do anything to him, but the cameras and microphones didn’t need to know that. I let my head dip low enough so the sheets shifted and moved my shoulders just enough to insinuate that something was happening. My fingers ghosted over his thighs, my palm meeting coarse hair, while my other hand pressed against his hip.

Hotch exhaled through his nose, tilting his head back against the pillow like he was relaxing. The noises escaping his throat warmed me from the inside out, sounding like he was actually enjoying himself.

I had no way to know if the staff watching the cameras were buying it, but I had to assume they were. I let out my own moan as his fingers slid under the sheets and found the back of my head, feeling more like reassurance than performance. I let it go on for an extended amount of time, letting Hotch tell me when it was an appropriate time to stop. His moans grew in volume, keying me into the act. His hips shifted under me as he let out a long groan, hand pushing my head down until my nose made contact with his stomach.

I was so close to where I could see the outline of his actual erection through his underwear, our actions likely having made it appear. I could smell his natural scent this close to him, almost jealous that he’d been able to taste and smell mine and I hadn’t been able to do the same the first day.

After a beat, I slowly dragged myself back up. I made a show of pressing a lazy kiss to his chest and wiping the corner of my mouth before settling next to him.

“It still surprises me how good of a cock-sucker you are,” he hummed.

My face felt like it was on fire at his words despite me not actually doing what he said, just the words alone made me heat up. I hid my face in his neck, away from his teasing grin.

“The person who gave this to you. Lady? Dark hair? Short?” he murmured, pretending to turn and chase my embarrassed face. “Don’t get all embarrassed now,” he said louder.

“Mhm,” I laughed as his breath tickled my neck, pretending to push him away.

“She walked by, stared at me while you were under and smiled,” he hummed against my skin.

His words sent a chill up my spine.

Hotch laid back against the bed and pulled me against him again.

“That wasn’t a smile,” I inhaled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That was approval.”

-

The massage wasn’t until the afternoon, so we had time to kill. Under the guise of breakfast, we got ready and left the room. I took Hotch’s hand, and dragged him to the water first. It was warm enough outside in the late morning that the water felt refreshing rather than shocking.

Naturally wandering down the wet sand, I stared in the direction of Avery and Quinn’s patio. I didn’t see any movement, but squinted through the glare of the sun.

“Trust me?” I murmured to Hotch, who looked like he dreaded what I was about to do.

A muscle in his jaw jumped but he finally nodded. I clenched his hand and took off in a jog toward their patio.

“Avery! You guys up?” I turned up the excitement in my voice, blocking the sun from my eyes with my free hand as I got to their patio. “Quinn?”

I squinted harder, seeing the room pristine as if it hadn’t been lived in. There was no luggage to be seen and the bed was made the same way ours had been when we arrived.

“Hi, there,” a staff member appeared from the other side of the unit, a tight smile adorning her features.

I jumped at the sudden voice. It wasn’t the woman from earlier, but her attitude was very similar.

“We discourage interrupting couples in their rooms for privacy reasons,” she continued.

Privacy? How rich.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I laughed, my hand over my chest. “We had made plans to get breakfast together and I didn’t see them pass by us, is all.”

The woman clasped her hands together, not budging, “Unfortunately, Avery and Quinn had to leave earlier than expected.”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

No.

“Oh—what ha—”

“We can’t disclose that personal information. I’m sure you can understand?”

“R-right, of course. I’m so sorry, again,” I spared another glance at their room.

“Enjoy your massage,” she smiled, effectively ending the conversation and sending us on our way.

-

We ate lunch in relative silence, my knee shaking as I wanted so badly to ask Hotch what he would and wouldn’t be comfortable with during this massage, especially since I fully expected it to be under the watchful eye of a staff member. By the look on Hotch’s face, he knew I had something important to talk about and read me like a book.

As soon as we finished eating, he held out his hand and led me out to the beach away from everyone and hopefully any surveillance. We still had about an hour until we were to meet a staff member at a secluded cabana down the beach. It was both enticing and terrifying knowing we would be on our own.

Hotch stopped near the gentle waves, just close enough for our feet to get wet every so often and hugged me from behind comfortingly.

“Are you nervous?” he murmured.

“Yea,” I swayed with him. “It feels like a trap, but I also can’t get past what she said about this being a reward. We’re obviously doing something right if we didn’t get disappeared.”

“I don’t think they’d do something like that during the day, it’s too brash. Remember, they do need people to come and spend money on the trip regularly.”

“Yea, you’re right.”

“Then, what else is bothering you?” he wondered, his nose brushing the shell of my ear.

“I—I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable if they—you know, make us touch each other for an hour all sexual and shit.”

Hotch laughed, an honest to God laugh, not whatever bullshit laugh he put on for show here.

“I trust you with my life,” he assured me. I opened my mouth to interrupt him, but he gripped my waist tighter, “Let me finish. We’re both professionals and I know we didn’t really talk about the other day but you didn’t make me uncomfortable, I promise.”

He sighed, letting his lips fall to my shoulder, “I enjoyed myself…and I hope you did, too.”

I hid my face from him, groaning at his teasing laugh, “I did, I did.”

“Good,” he paused. “I’m glad it was us on this mission.”

I looked back at him, waiting for an explanation but only saw him looking out at the waves. He blinked and looked at me, kissing me softly and tightening his hold on me. I didn’t know what to do with my arms besides hold on to his forearms.

“I don’t think I could have done this with anyone else,” he murmured.

I did my best not to read into it, knowing he very well could do this with any other member of the team with lives at stake.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No, you would have made it work regardless. That’s just who you are.”

“Maybe,” he nodded. “But, it’s easier with you.”

That. That, I couldn’t ignore. By the intensity in his eyes, he wanted me to read between the lines, too.

“Okay,” I nodded.

“Meaning, whatever they have us do? I trust you completely. I promise. And I hope you feel the same.”

“I do,” because truthfully, I’m sure I could have felt safe with any member of the team, but the way I clicked with Hotch? I knew I was in perfectly capable hands.

“Good. Ready?”

I nodded my head, but stopped him from walking by turning in his arms and placing a hand on his exposed chest beneath his loose button down. Out of pure-selfishness and to seal the promises we just made, I used a hand to guide him in for a kiss. One of his hands pressed into my lower back to hold us together, but let us part all too soon for my taste.

Hotch gave me a knowing smile, bringing his thumb and forefinger up to my chin, “We’re going to be okay.”

We set out down the beach, where the invitation indicated, seeing a cabana with huge, white, flowing curtains billowing on each side. They were transparent enough that you could see two people shapes inside but not transparent enough to make out details.

We slowed our steps as we approached the wooden platform. It was surprisingly void of sand, which made me kick my shoes off and leave them in the sand rather than track it on the platform. Hotch held my hand as I stepped up, finally letting my hand go to ditch his own shoes and follow me.

Two staff members, one woman and one young man stood clutching a clipboard each to their hips with their arms straight down. Their smiles felt less sinister than many of the other staff members, but they were dressed in the same white button downs, slacks, and plain work shoes as every other staff member.

“Welcome, we’re so glad to have you,” the woman greeted. “I will be guiding you through this experience and training my associate, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Hotch smiled, reaching out to shake the young man’s hand, recognizing him as the young man who brought our bags on the first day.

The young man seemed a little nervous, earning a glare from the woman but he presented his hand to Hotch after some hesitation.

“We provided drinks for you as well,” she indicated, gesturing to two drinks that they’d clearly taken notes on us ordering often. “If you would like any more, please let me know and my associate would be happy to make you more.”

“Thank you, so much,” I smiled, reaching for mine.

Hotch mimicked my movements, bringing his glass to mine for a small toast. The noise he let out as he sipped the scotch was borderline criminal—a cross between a hum and a moan.

“The scotch you use here is…” he hummed appreciatively again. “…it’s so good.”

He brought the glass to my lips, the little bit that I tasted making me wince both at the strong flavor and the flavor change from my own drink.

I blinked rapidly, feeling like I was breathing fire, “You can keep that.”

Hotch just laughed at me and took a bigger sip.

Realizing we were getting off track, I cleared my throat and turned my attention back to the woman, “Sorry.”

“No, please, this exercise is all about you two to bring you closer. I want to encourage you to be as expressive as you want with your partner,” she smiled, her voice as soothing and serene as the breeze around us.

I nodded, feeling Hotch’s hand come to rest on my waist, “So, how is this working?”

“Well, typically, couple’s massages occur when a couple gets a massage together by two separate masseuses, as I’m sure you’re aware. Due to the nature of this retreat, we want to teach and encourage partners to implement massages to be closer to one another, for use as a form of foreplay, or even as aftercare. To start, you will massage your partner's back side from head to toe before moving to the front from head to toe. You’ll focus on non-sexual areas first. We have different oils you can choose to use for your partner. Take the time to undress one another completely, and when you’re ready and choose who will give first. If you need guidance, I am trained and can offer help without any physical intervention,” she stated with practiced ease. “Do you have any other questions?”

“What’s our time limit?” Hotch asked, ever the planner.

“No time limit, you can take as long or as short as you need. If this experience brings on sudden urges, you may act on them once both partners have gone. We are not here to rush or judge. You’re to treat us as if we’re not here unless you need something.”

Urges.

Sex.

Did she just insinuate we could get busy in front of them? Not that it was much different than the cameras, but…still.

We both nodded at her, then looked at each other.

“If there’s no more questions, you may begin when you’re ready.”

At that, Hotch nodded and tossed the rest of his drink back for some extra courage. I followed his lead and placed my empty glass next to his on the platter.

I smiled as Hotch invaded my space, his fingers finding the edges of my clothes easily.

“Can I give you yours first?” he asked, bringing his forehead to mine so his eyes solely focused on me as if we weren’t being watched or out in the open.

“Yes,” I let my fingers skim over his chest and fall to the buttons of his shirt, starting to pop them open.

With one last brush of his nose against mine, he began slowly dragging my clothes off my body. I stopped him from shrugging out of his shirt, letting my hands move up the planes of his chest to his shoulders to push the fabric off. I guided it down his arms and off one, then the other, until it fell into a pool on the floor with my clothes. My fingertips trailed down his abdomen, meeting coarse hair on his stomach just before I reached the waistband of his shorts. I managed to undo the shorts without looking and hooked my thumbs in both the shorts and his underwear to push them down his legs.

“Lay down,” he murmured.

I didn’t need to be told twice and laid down on the massage table covered in a soft, white sheet. My toes clenched anxiously as I was hyper aware of my exposed skin to the elements as the breeze filtered through the cabana. Hotch’s hands grazed my back briefly as he rounded the table, then made more firm contact. The tension melted from my shoulders at his reassurance.

“Any scent in particular?”

“Surprise me,” I mumbled.

I heard the clinking of glass for a moment, then felt Hotch’s presence by my head. I bit my lip in anticipation, not having to wait long before I felt his thumbs pressing into the muscles in the back of my neck. The moan that immediately escaped my throat was involuntary but warranted as he dug for every knot he could feel in my back.

I had a lot.

My boss was a bit of a hard-ass, I laughed to myself.

I inhaled deeply as his hands found my lower back, whimpering at a particularly sensitive area near the middle. As he moved onto my arms, I realized he’d picked an unscented oil. I could only smell the alcohol on my breath, the beach, and Hotch. The faintest vestiges of the soap from his shower this morning were overtaken by his own scent and a hint of sweat from the heat.

“No scent? You did surprise me,” I hummed, shying away from his hand as he went over a ticklish area.

His hands didn’t stop their movements, his mouth suddenly by my ear with his nose brushing my neck repeatedly, “I only wanted to smell you.”

I had to fight sleep as his hands bypassed my ass, digging into my hamstrings instead. As much as it hurt, it was relaxing as I felt my muscles unwind for the first time in ages. My feet twitched away from him as his calloused fingers skimmed the bottom of my foot rather than held my foot.

“I’m gonna kick you,” I mumbled, hearing him laugh and finally grab my foot.

The man had magic thumbs. It was unreal.

With my feet happy and pliant, his fingers teasing along the inside of my legs. He wasn’t stopping either, rising higher and higher until his thumb notched perfectly into the crease where my ass met my thighs. I let out the smallest of whimpers, one I would deny until the day I died.

But, Hotch heard it. The environment was quiet enough that there was no way he missed it.

“Can I get another round?” He murmured to the staff members.

The young man was all too quick to make himself busy, placing his pen and clipboard down on the chair he stood up from.

I didn’t realize I could have knots in my ass, but feeling how loose and pliant the muscles were after Hotch’s hands were done with them made me realize my body was in worse condition than I thought.

My breath hitched as this thumb slipped between my ass cheeks, his other fingers reaching forward to tease whatever sensitive skin he could reach. My hips pushed back against his hands, making him laugh softly and retreat his hand.

“Turn over, sweetheart,” he whispered.

I didn’t want to as I felt my body reacting to his teasing rather than relaxing. Whining as I tucked an arm in to roll over, Hotch’s hands helped guide me so I wouldn't fall off.

“Sit up a little,” he murmured, reaching for my freshly made drink and bringing it to my lips.

The ice cold liquid helped to cool my face and wet my dry mouth.

Hotch pulled it away from my face when I was done, easing me back down onto the table. He picked up his own drink, sipped it, and came back.

Before he re-oiled his hands, he brought his fingers to my temples and pressed his fingers firmly into my scalp, moving them in even patterns. Hotch’s hands moved down to my neck before disappearing entirely. Before I could open my eyes, I felt soft lips press against mine twice. They were gone too soon but replaced by freshly oiled hands on my shoulders.

His hands worked down to my chest, only getting level with my armpits before moving to my arms again. He redid each arm, gently placing it back down with a kiss to my wrist. His large hands gripped my rib cage, just under my arms, smoothing over the skin simply to touch. Just like before, he skipped straight to my legs, digging into my quads and calves until they were a loose puddle of muscle.

I kept my eyes closed, knowing what was coming next as Hotch’s fingers skimmed the inside of my thighs again. Bypassing where he knew I wanted to be touched the most, his thumbs happily dug into my hip flexors just above my thighs. It actually felt good but I let out a frustrated moan.

“So needy, sweetheart,” he murmured.

He wasn't much better, I noticed, feeling his erection brush my hand. I behaved and let him be. I let out a low moan as his slick hand finally made contact with my heated flesh, moving in agonizingly slow rhythms just to tease. He didn't tease me long, removing his hand after a couple minutes of torture.

“Shh, shh,” he smoothed his hand over my abdomen and flicked my nipples with his thumb. “Can't have you cumming and getting sleepy before it's my turn, honey. We have plenty of time.”

I nodded, agreeing, though not happy about it.

Giving me a satisfied smile, he pressed a kiss to my pouting lips and let me get up on my own terms.

It took me a second to get my footing, my legs wobbly after being so relaxed. Hotch finished his second drink and sat, brushing his hairy knees against my thighs in the process. He let out a full body groan as he laid face down, shoulders slumping against the table.

“The key here is to not rush,” I heard the woman speak up from the corner.

I nearly forgot they were here.

“Too often we neglect our partners when we’re too tired or already satisfied. Be aware and give him as good or better than you think you received.”

I was actually getting sound advice from a cult. Nice.

Deciding to copy Hotch on the unscented oil, I started much the same as him. The system was efficient, just like him. Why change it?

I let my hands run soothingly over his skin first, admiring the constellations of freckles across his shoulders and back. I fought the urge to gasp as my hands pressed into the muscles at the back of his neck and shoulder. He didn’t just “have knots”, the man was a walking knot. I couldn’t even press very hard without receiving a whimper in response.

No wonder he’d been drinking so quickly. He was trying to relax for this part. How did he exist like this?

“It’s okay, just go. I’m okay,” he assured me. “I’ll feel better after.”

I glanced at the staff member for guidance, not believing I was actually seeking guidance from these assholes.

She nodded, “Just go slow.”

Taking a deep breath, I worked on his back in sections and tried not to pay attention to his pained cries unless he outright told me to stop. Which he wouldn’t, I knew that much. I was relentless on the knots, not stopping until each one unwound and his whimpers eased. The pain in my hands from the effort stopped registering after a while.

I gave his back a break and worked on his arms, paying more attention to his forearms, wrists, and hands than anything because of our job. After paying attention to both arms, I placed my hand at the middle of his back.

“Feeling okay?” I looked his way despite his face being hidden.

He sniffled, releasing a shaky breath, “Yea, keep going.”

I sighed, threading my fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp soothingly. He jumped as I pushed my thumb into one of the erector spinae on either side of his spine. I adjusted my pressure, thinking I had hurt him.

“That part’s just ticklish, it’s okay.”

I continued, enjoying the quiet laughs as my fingers pressed into his sides, surprisingly ticklish there. My thumb pressed into the top of his glute, earning me a grunt.

“Sciatica?”

“Mhm.”

“Is there any part of you that doesn’t hurt?”

“I can think of one,” he lifted his head to look back at me with a smirk.

“I walked into that one,” I murmured and continued.

Thankfully, it looked like he carried most of his stress in his upper back, so the rest was a breeze. He seemed to enjoy the digging of my thumbs into his ass cheeks a little too much, but as long as he wasn’t crying anymore, I’d take it. I put extra oil on my hands as I got to his legs, not wanting to accidentally tug on his leg hair and cause any further pain. The groans he released as I worked on his legs and feet were far more pleasurable and turned me on more than I anticipated.

I still didn’t rush. She was surprisingly right.

The smile on his face as he turned over was worth it.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” I commented, patting his abdomen, not really massaging just yet, just touching.

“That’s what the hot tub is for.”

I shook my head, walking around to his head and pressing a kiss to his forehead. I wrapped my hands under his head as I did, letting my thumbs press into the sides of his neck. Happy hums left his chest as I paid attention to his head, surprised that he didn’t have a million knots there, too. It would be unrealistic of course, but I was still surprised.

Eventually, the hums stopped, his face slacked, and his breathing evened out.

He’d fallen asleep.

I couldn’t do anything but smile, keeping my movements slow and steady to avoid jostling him awake. I pressed my fingers into his chest loosening the taut muscles, especially where they met his shoulders. Not wanting to tickle him awake, I skipped his abdomen and moved to his leg—focusing on those and not his half-hard erection. His foot twitched as I grabbed it but barely reacted as I pushed my fingers into the arches of his feet. The only noise he made was a simple breath releasing from his nose.

I brought my hand back to his abdomen, letting my hand skim down to his protruding hip bones.

I still didn’t look. I—

“Are you just going to stare or…?” Hotch murmured, an arm—one I didn’t even notice had moved—tucked behind his head. His eyes were half open, glancing down to where my fingers teased his hip.

“Are you going to ask nicely?”

He was silent, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. His eyes twinkled, and not with tears.

“Touch me, sweetheart,” he requested, and I was weak to resist the way his lashes made his eyes impossibly darker.

“You’re the one who has to limp back to the room,” I commented, adding a little more oil to my hands. If I had to wait, so did he.

I did my best to not look hesitant as I reached out and teased his cock by trailing my finger up the shaft and pressing the head between my thumb and finger. Wrapping my hand fully around his cock, he was thick and hot in my hand. His hips pushed into my hand at the contact, but I didn’t budge, still moving my hand up his shaft at my own pace. He fully hardened in my hand, and I let go when he did.

“Babe,” he pleaded as his cock slapped against his stomach, leaking precum onto his oiled skin.

“Can’t have you cumming and getting sleepier,” I threw his words back at him.

He groaned, sitting up and stretching his newly loosened back.

“You’re free to use this space,” the staff member spoke up again.

Licking my lips, I looked at Hotch. I could see the hesitation in his eyes but he wouldn’t vocalize it.

The gentle smile on the woman’s face began to vanish.

So, I improvised.

“There’s a toy I found in the room that I’ve been dying to try on him, honestly.”

Her smile suddenly returned.

“We can give you a ride back to your room, if you’d like. I’m sure you’re…impatient…by now.”

“That would be great, actually,” Hotch smiled at the offer.

-

The cart ride back to the room was heated. The woman drove quickly and efficiently while the man sat fidgeting in the front seat. It was stupid of us to be so engrossed in each other rather than paying attention to our surroundings, but Hotch’s tongue was down my throat and my hand was down his pants as soon as we sat.

I don’t even think we were acting.

A clearing of a throat broke us out of our actions.

The cart had stopped.

It took me a moment to realize we had arrived at our room. Removing my hand from his pants hurriedly as the staff members looked back at us, I scrambled out of the golf cart with Hotch close on my heels.

“Thank you!” I called back to where they still sat in the cart.

The woman flashed me a knowing smile.

The door gave way to my key easily. The door had barely shut behind Hotch when I was met with his broad form backing me up against the edge of the bed in a few long steps. My knees just about wobbled at the look in his eyes.

No words were exchanged as we ripped the clothes off of one another that had barely been replaced a few minutes ago. I found myself astride his hips, large hands gripping and plastering my body against his with his cock trapped snugly between us. His cock was aching—practically purple from neglect—and leaking all over his stomach.

“I need you, sweetheart, please,” he whispered against my cheek. “I need you.”

The look on his face was pure desperation. He wasn’t acting. Frankly, neither was I.

“Sure?” I mouthed.

He nodded furiously, “Please.”

I leaned over him, pulling open the nightstand drawer and digging my hand in. Hotch’s mouth attached itself to my chest, licking over the dips and peaks, laving over sensitive nipples. It was a miracle I was even able to grab a toy as I promised the woman. I pulled a small finger vibrator from the drawer along with some lube and a condom. I shrugged, figuring that would do as I looked it over in view of the camera.

I rolled the condom on him with a teasing slowness he didn’t appreciate for a second. Still, ever the gentleman, he slicked two fingers up and wormed them between us, pressing against my entrance.

“I don’t nee—” I moaned in the back of my throat as his fingers pressed deep, stretching and pressing against my walls.

“I know what you need,” he interrupted me, curling his fingers and pressing harder, ripping another moan from my throat.

“I need you inside me,” I gasped, holding his wrist down with one hand so I could raise myself off his fingers.

Lube was spread haphazardly over the condom in our haste. His hand gripped the base of his cock as I lined myself up, hands and fingers digging with bruising grips into the same shoulders and chest I had just healed.

The stretch of him was intense, more than I expected but very little had gone in the way of preparation besides the massage. His hum was satisfied, finally feeling some kind of relief as I worked my way down his shaft. Each groan leaving his throat was wobbly, as if he had to keep himself together to avoid cumming too quickly. Hotch’s hands itched on my waist, eager to urge me along.

I patted around the bed for the little vibrator I’d found, ripping it out of its packaging and thanking the stars that it was charged. I hooked it on my finger and waited for the perfect moment to introduce it.

When I felt ready, I found an easy rhythm. If this was the only time I’d be in this position, I wanted to savor it. Hotch’s feet came up to plant themselves on the bed, giving me more stability with his knees supporting me from behind.

“That’s it,” he praised as I sped up.

One hand left my waist to help me along, using his fingers to tease, rub, stroke—anything. I craned my thumb to switch the vibrator on and brought the finger-shaped device to his nipples, enjoying the gasps that left his throat with each teasing vibration.

“Kiss me,” he requested.

I couldn’t refuse such a pretty gaze, meeting his mouth with a needy whine. I did my best to keep the rhythm, assisted with his hand guiding me every time I faltered. His eyes just about rolled back in his head as I clenched around him. As patient of a man as Hotch was, he was pent up from the massage and the long three days we’d had so far.

His impatience made itself known as he used his hips, feet, and arms to roll me onto my back. Hotch’s hips took off from there, jack-hammering that spot inside me so perfectly I could hardly catch my breath through the moans. His arms hooked just under my legs, lifting my hips off the bed enough to accomplish his feat.

“I’m gonna come, sweetheart,” he panted, hips and abdomen flexing and straining in full view. “Come with me, come with me,” he panted, on the verge of pleading.

I righted the vibrator that hung uselessly from my finger and pressed it against myself, hands shaking as I fought to hold it together and come with him.

“Yes, yes,” I gasped as my toes curled, my body tense and squeezing Hotch in more ways than one as my hands reached out for his arms where they still hooked my legs.

Hotch was dropping my legs and plastering himself against me, grasping at anything he could reach as he came with a few sharp thrusts. He hid his precious gasps and groans in my neck, but I tugged him away by the hair, kissing him and swallowing the vibrations as I purposefully squeezed around him.

I could feel the urgency and adrenaline leave his body, his tongue slow and languid as it pushed past my lips. His body was heavy against mine but slow to move away.

I didn’t mind the weight, happy to hold him as long as he wanted as he came down from the events of the day.

Eventually, his lower back ached from the position, and in an attempt to not regress all of my hard work on his back, he pushed himself up and away, slow and measured like a cat rising from a nap.

I made a noise of discontent in the back of my throat, desperate to keep contact with him after all that.

“One second, baby,” he pressed a kiss to one of my outstretched hands and left to clean himself up, rummaging through a drawer, presumably to update the team considering—we were definitely here to bring this organization down rather than let them convince us to fuck.

When he returned, he produced a damp resort towel for me.

“I knew I married you for a reason,” I smiled, reaching for the towel only for him to bat my hand away slither into the bed next to me.

He brought the towel to my messy, hypersensitive skin; taking care to clean me up while looking at me with more emotion in his eyes than I was used to seeing from Hotch. He pressed his lips to my brow, then my cheek, tossing the towel somewhere unimportant.

“Okay?” he murmured.

I nodded, languid and sleepy after the events of the evening. With care I could have wept at receiving, he pulled the covers back and out from under me, then covered both of us.

“Go to sleep,” he smiled softly,

He reached for the light switch, the soft click being the only noise in the room besides our breathing. His body pressed up against my back, warm and comforting with his arms holding me close. I felt myself slowly spiral into sleep, lulled by the waves outside and Hotch’s gentle breathing.

-

Day 4

When I blinked my eyes open next, I didn’t expect the room to still be dark. I blinked my eyes again.

Why was I awake?

Attempting to move my arm, I felt Hotch’s hand immediately grab my wrist and pin it tight to my body.

“Don’t move.”

“W—”

I didn’t have time to ask my question as a knock sounded at the door, clearly not the first one. I heard a staff member saying our aliases through the door, apologizing for the interruption, then muffled, hushed tones.

“Are you sure they’ll wake up? They didn’t the other nig—”

“Shut up, you’re so fucking loud,” a voice growled back.

“If they wanted us gone, they wouldn’t have knocked, no?” I murmured.

Hotch was quiet, thinking through my question, then made a noise of agreement.

Hotch groaned, making a show of stretching his long limbs, before getting out of bed. I moaned grumpily at the loss, sitting up while he answered the door, not even bothering to cover himself. I flicked on the lamp on the nightstand to help him, letting my eyes drift over his backside for just a second before focusing back on our safety.

Hotch answered the door, greeted by two male staff members, one older and burly, while the other younger was lanky but toned. Hotch’s hair was a mess, eyes bleary and still trying to focus in the low light. The staff members immediately averted their eyes back to Hotch’s face when they realized he hadn’t bothered putting any clothes on.

“Yes?” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his face, feigning an attempt to wake up.

“Good morning, sir, we apologize for the interruption,” the older one spoke and bowed his head slightly. “The night manager has requested an audience with you and your spouse to congratulate you on your achievements the last few days.”

“Right now? What time is it?” he sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“3:35 AM, sir. And, yes, now. The night manager does his best work—well—at night,” the man chuckled to himself.

“Uhm, yea okay. Give us a few minutes? We don’t smell all that great,” Hotch gave them a sheepish smile.

He shut the door, coming to me and bringing his mouth to my ear, “Quick shower to wake yourself up. We’re meeting management.”

My heart pounded as I got out of bed and followed Hotch.

It didn’t take us long to wash the leftovers of our earlier activities off and get dressed. For what? We didn’t know, but decided to dress no differently than during the day. The night air was still warm in this part of the world, so the shiver I expected to hit as we stepped outside never came. Instead, the air was moderately humid causing our skin to feel tacky as soon as we stepped onto the sand. It only added to our discomfort.

The golf cart ride was short, but I wrapped my arms around Hotch’s arm nonetheless, not exactly happy about being awake at this hour. His hand came down to the inside of my thigh, rubbing his hand soothingly to calm both of us.

The cart whined to a halt as we reached the main resort area. The staff members stepped out quickly, guiding us precisely where to go before we could wander off by accident.

“Follow us, please,” the older one instructed, waving his hand in the direction of the younger staff member in front of us.

We entered the main resort building where we’d checked in, but were taken to the opposite side of the spacious lobby where private offices were located down a hallway. The only reason I wasn’t more hesitant as we followed them was the lack of drugging or knocking us out to get us here and the fact that Hotch was with me.

One of the staff members knocked on the door twice before a gravelly voice sounded on the other side, “Enter.”

The office was dimly lit and the angle caused it to cast long shadows as we stepped inside. The air smelled faintly of something harsh—like a cheap cologne and mildew.

Behind a large, immaculately polished desk sat the Night Manager. He was a frail-looking man, almost ghostly pale, with deep-set eyes that rapidly assessed us in the low light. His fingers were long and bony, drumming slowly against the desk as he observed us with an unreadable expression.

“Ah,” he rasped, voice like sandpaper grinding against metal. “Our star couple. Please, sit.”

We exchanged a glance before obeying, sinking into the uncomfortable wooden chairs in front of his desk. I clasped Hotch’s hand in mine, not too desperately so as to give off fear but to give the impression of comfort and love.

The Night Manager leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands together, “I imagine you’re wondering why I’ve called you here at this hour.”

Hotch fell into his role, giving the man a slow smile interrupted with a pretty convincing yawn that he covered with his free hand, “A little. We were told you wanted to congratulate us?”

A slow, thin-lipped smile stretched across the man’s face. It was chilling. Though I was convinced any smile the man gave—genuine or not—would be much the same.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Congratulations. You’ve done remarkably well these past few days. Your commitment to the experience, your trust and confidence in each other, your…affection for one another. It’s exactly what we like to see.”

I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to shift in my seat. There was something off about the way he said it, but it was quickly becoming clear that the Night Manager was far more important to the operation than we thought, given his absence from our initial intel.

“Thank you,” Hotch said smoothly.

The Night Manager hummed, “You see, this resort is an opportunity to test your relationship—one that not everyone is suited for. But you two?” He gestured at us with spindly fingers. “You are exactly the kind of couple we hope to cultivate.”

Hotch’s fingers twitched ever so slightly in my hand, but his voice remained calm, “How so?”

The Night Manager smiled again, “We pride ourselves on our…special clientele. People come here looking for paradise, for an escape, for a place where the constraints of the outside world don’t apply. But the truth, of course, is that not everyone deserves paradise. Only couples who preserve what it means to be two halves of a whole. Two souls separated at creation.”

He let that statement linger, as if expecting us to piece something together. Maybe expecting us to give up that we knew more than we let on. A test of our true intentions and that our aliases weren’t fabricated.

I kept my face pleasant, an easy smile drawing across my lips, even as my mind raced.

“There are initiates here,” the Night Manager continued. “Couples who need…guidance. They’re uncertain, resistant, sometimes even fearful. But a reassuring voice, a friendly face, a convincing couple—they can make all the difference.”

Hotch exhaled through his nose, “You want to…hire us?”

The Night Manager’s grin widened, his teeth small and yellowed, “In a manner of speaking. Think of it as…helping people find their purpose. Some couples come here hesitant about our methods. But with the right encouragement? With the right examples?” He gestured between us. “They see how fulfilling this experience can truly be. They commit. They invest. And in return, they are rewarded beyond their wildest dreams.”

Hotch tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, “And those who don’t?”

The Night Manager exhaled, as if disappointed by the question, “Not every couple is suited for this level of privilege. Some find it difficult to embrace the experience fully, to synergize with what we offer here. Those who resist? Well,” he gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “Some people simply aren’t meant to move forward with us.”

My stomach twisted at the sneer that came over his face.

“Others,” he continued, his fingers drumming idly on the desk, “have all the potential but… lack harmony. A couple must function as a unit, don’t you agree? If one partner hesitates while the other acts, it creates imbalance. And imbalance, unfortunately, has consequences.”

The implication settled between us like a thick fog.

“And what exactly are those consequences?” Hotch asked, his voice smooth but pointed.

The Night Manager regarded him with something akin to amusement, “Oh, I think you already understand.” He was smart to not say it out loud. “You've already met some of our other star couples who have been instrumental in our work.”

Silence stretched between us.

“Leo and Becca?” I asked.

He smiled—more like a grimace, “Yes, lovely aren't they?”

“Yea, they're great,” I smiled, looking over at Hotch, who smiled in return.

“I hope you don't mind that we’ve done some extensive research on you two. We do with all of our new clients,” he opened a folder containing much of the information Garcia had fabricated for us. “A lawyer and an accountant are also very, very valuable to us as you can imagine.”

Hotch smiled smugly portraying that he was well aware of his worth, “I don't mind at all. Talking about my victories is my favorite pastime.”

“I'm sure,” he grinned. “You're both exceedingly impressive.” Then, as if nothing had happened, the Night Manager straightened, brushing off his lapels. “Now then. Let me show you the true heart of our resort. I think you’ll find it…enlightening to our work.”

He stood, moving with an eerie, effortless grace. Behind his desk, a door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway.

Hotch stood, reaching his hand out to me to help me stand. His hand engulfed mine with a gentle squeeze as we stood side by side, following the Night Manager through the threshold with the two staff members we came with bringing up the rear.

The deeper we went, the harder it would be to leave.

Was it a mistake to follow him? Probably.

But we couldn’t leave now without drawing unwanted attention to ourselves.

The Night Manager led the way, his boney fingers laced behind his back, the soft shuffle of his loafers the only sound in the pristine hallway. The two staff members flanked us, close enough to remind us of their presence.

“There’s another reason we chose you two,” the night manager rasped, barely above a whisper, yet his voice echoed through the cold, sterile corridor. “Most couples come here thinking they’re strong, but you…” He turned his head slightly, glancing at us from the corner of his sunken eyes. “You’ve demonstrated a unique harmony. An understanding of partnership. And that makes you valuable.”

Hotch didn’t react, his facial expression carved from stone. I forced myself to do the same, even as unease curled in my stomach.

We reached a set of double doors, sleek and white, with an old-fashioned keycard scanner. One of the staff members produced it from his pocket and swiped it. A soft beep, a mechanical click, and the doors slid open.

Inside, the atmosphere was light. The air was cool, unnervingly fresh, like a high-end spa. The hallway stretched before us, lined with private rooms. Each had a frosted glass door, obscuring the view inside, but movement flickered behind some. A quiet sob. The shuffle of feet. The hum of a soft-voiced recording playing through speakers.

“These,” the Night Manager gestured with a long hand, “are the Conditioning Suites. Couples who need a little…encouragement. The ones who arrive too afraid to embrace their potential or simply don't synergize well enough. But with time, with guidance, they see the benefits of our philosophy.”

We walked past one of the doors just as a figure moved inside. A woman sat on the edge of a plush, white bed, hands folded in her lap, eyes vacant. A man knelt in front of her, whispering something, his grip firm on her wrist. The door was soundproof, but her lips trembled as she nodded along. I vaguely remembered them from the welcome dinner the first night, but they had been sitting at a different table.

My chest tightened.

“Their progress is monitored, of course,” the Night Manager continued, his fingers lightly brushing one of the frosted panels. “Some take to it quickly. Others…” He made an amused squeak in the back of his throat, his voice trailing off as we reached the end of the hall.

At the end of the hall, we met another set of doors. This time thick metal, with a biometric scanner. One of the staff members pressed his thumb to the scanner while the Night Manager waited.

The doors groaned as they opened, revealing a room that contrasted starkly to the suites behind us.

It was colder here. The sterile freshness of the previous hall was replaced by something stagnant, metallic. The lighting was dimmer, buzzing overhead, casting long shadows against the gray-tiled walls. There were no frosted doors here. Just cold metal, like cages to house animals. Horizontal slots were cut into the cages like prison doors for inmates to receive food.

“This,” the Night Manager said, voice almost reverent, “is where we separate those who are incompatible with the program and from whom you will be generously compensated for your troubles.”

A sharp clang echoed down the corridor. A weak, shuddering cough followed.

The faintest smell of bleach and something coppery. Blood, likely. My fingers twitched at my sides.

“Couples who resist—,” the Night Manager sighed, shaking his head. “Who cannot or will not embrace the beauty of partnership…” He trailed his fingers along the closest cage. It was empty but no less chilling. He, then, turned to look at us with a small, knowing smile. “They don’t last long.”

I fought the urge to glance at Hotch.

“Shall we?” the Night Manager asked, not specifying whether we were done or if there was more.

Hotch cracked a smile, “Preferably somewhere warmer?”

“Certainly.”

The Night Manager gestured back the way we came. As we turned my eye caught a familiar face.

Avery.

Their hands were shackled, skin littered in bruises and cuts. They silently sobbed into their palms.

Quinn was nowhere in sight.

As if feeling my eyes on them, Avery's eyes snapped to me, their breathing quickening as they pleaded for help.

“W-wait! Help me! Please!” their cries echoed. “Don’t leave me here!” I heard them crying out our alias’s names, their voice cracking and straining through the sobs.

A stern bark sounded from across the room with a loud clunk followed by hasty, angry footfalls.

“Come now,” the Night Manager ushered us away.

One of the staff members not-so-gently pushed Hotch forward from his back, my body being forced forward as a result. I tried to catch myself to not stumble, my arm tightening around Hotch’s to steady myself.

The screams followed us until the door shut behind us. Then, blissful silence as we re-entered the Conditioning Suites.

“The couples here,” Hotch spoke up. “Do they return to the beach when they're better?”

“Oh, they get far better than that,” he smirked. “A European getaway for their hard work, and they’re well taken care of. If a couple you bring in graduates to that, you also get compensated.”

The way he said “European getaway” made me feel sicker than I already felt. That had to be the trafficking part of this operation. All the compensation he kept mentioning had to be their stolen assets.

“How lovely,” I cooed. “You still need to take me to Italy, my love.”

“In due time,” Hotch hummed, pressing his lips to my head.

“If you come on board now, you'll have more than enough for an Italian villa by next summer,” the Night Manager grinned, turning back toward us, gesturing vaguely with his boney fingers.

“How does that sound, hmm?” Hotch hummed, nose brushing mine.

“Perfect,” I answered, pressing a quick kiss to his lips and finding comfort in his embrace as we continued walking.

As we entered the Night Manager’s office once more, the door shut behind us with a quiet click and hiss. He waved us back into the seats across from his. The two staff members posted up at the door to his office, as if they didn’t trust us to stay put. It was clear that we couldn't leave until he was done.

“I hope this has been an enlightening experience for you both,” he sighed, groaning as his joints popped as he sat. His eyes searched our faces with an eerie amusement playing about his lips, knowing we didn’t have much of a decision. “I trust you understand what’s expected of you, now, based on your interactions with Becca and Leo?” His fingers were steepled under his chin as he asked us.

I looked at Hotch who nodded to me and took my hand, “We do,” we said at almost the same time.

“In sync as we love to see,” the Night Manager grinned. “Well before I can let you return to your room, I need a show of good faith. Loyalty.”

Hotch blinked, fingers barely twitching on my hand, “What do you need?”

The Night Manager smirked, his eyes flickering between us. The tension between us was making me anxious. Were we going to have to hurt someone? Each other?

His chair creaked softly as he leaned to reach for one of his drawers, unlocking the drawer and pulling out a thick, worn leather-bound ledger. The pages were old and yellowed, crinkled from the moisture in the air, but the contents were easy to decipher. A detailed record of couples on their payroll, those who had pledged themselves—unwilling or otherwise—to this cult. Names, dates, signatures and—blood?

“This book is older than any of us,” he said, running his hand reerently over each page he flipped through. “Everyone who matters to this operation has signed their life to us here. But, ink isn’t quite…binding enough for my liking.”

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small, sharp blade that we both looked at warily.

“Not to worry,” he produced sealed wipes and slid them over with the knife. “We’re not in the business of infecting our prized possessions.”

Hotch reached for the blade first, looking at the Night Manager questioningly.

“Just your fingerprint, dear boy. Right here,” he tapped the page where our aliases had already been written with what seemed to be an ID number. “A proof of your commitment and insurance that you will keep things here confidential.”

I made note of where he’d pulled the ledger from, the DNA evidence in it could be priceless to the investigation and catching any stragglers. When we raided the compound, this would have to be one of the first grabs besides the victims downstairs.

Hotch flicked the blade open, cleaning it and his skin before pricking his thumb. He squeezed his thumb, letting the blood bead up and leaned toward the ledger which was now facing him the right way. His blood joined others’ fingerprints, which were now more brown than red from exposure to the elements.

Hotch handed me the knife and I followed suit, wiping his blood off the blade and cleaning my thumb before pricking my thumb. I cringed slightly, unable to completely ignore the sting. I pressed my own on the space next to my alias, shoving my thumb into my mouth immediately after to lap the drying blood off my thumb.

The Night Manager smiled, satisfied, and snapped the book shut. He tucked it back where he pulled it from and sat up straight once more.

“Welcome to the Twin Path.”

He gave us a final nod, waving at us to indicate we were free to go. As quickly as we were ushered in, we were being ushered out.

“You’ll receive further instructions later.”

I rose from my seat slowly, almost unsure, but was reinvigorated by Hotch standing up casually with a nod and smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt.

“Let’s go back to bed, honey,” he murmured, hand finding mine easily as the staff members opened the door for us.

“I’m excited to have you two on board,” he gave us one final sentence as the door shut behind us.

-

The cart ride back to our little bungalow was quiet, the tension still wound tightly in our bodies though we did our best not to show it to the two staff members. When the cart arrived, we couldn’t get out fast enough, bidding them goodbye and scrambling inside.

We had been with the Night Manager longer than expected. The sun was breaking over the land behind us, shining bright orange across the sky and bringing out the blue of the water sharply against the greyed sand. No one was up yet, the beach around us still sleepy and quiet, with the only sounds being the lapping waves and local wildlife waking up.

Stripping off the clothes I hastily put on earlier, I tucked myself back into bed without bothering to look at the agenda for the day. I heard Hotch rummaging through his bags and head to the bathroom, clearly still coherent enough to work. My eyes fluttered shut, only opening when I felt the bed dip next to me.

“It’s okay,” he hushed, pressing his lips to my head as he slid between the covers. He buried his face into my neck, wrapping his long limbs around me, “Have to hold out for the day so they can get ready. Nothing mandatory on agenda, just sleep.”

I wrapped my arms around him, fighting the way my hands shook from the adrenaline dump.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

I dug my fingers into his back, tilting my head to search for his mouth. His lips found mine, pressing softly; more comforting than anything. The situation had bled dry all the residual sexual desire we might have had from the night before. His hand engulfed the back of my head, pulling me tightly against his body. His unshaven face prickled against my chin, making me grimace but it was a welcome distraction. Hotch pulled away with a sleepy hum, laying on his back and inviting me to tuck myself into his warmth. I admired the way the light outside began glinting against his salt and peppered beard before my eyes finally shut.

-

Sleep didn’t last as long as I would have hoped.

I woke to the feeling of something…not right. Not unlike the feeling of being watched the last few days. I pressed my forehead into Hotch’s chest, groaning as I felt his hands trying to rouse me gently.

I opened my eyes, my body shooting upright and back toward the headboard.

Silent figures surrounded the bed, watching us intently.

Hotch reached out to settle me, having woken up before me and seen them first.

I was terrified at the intrusion but confused given that it was broad daylight. The heat was emanating through the back sliding door, the harsh light outside making it seem unnaturally darker inside.

A shiver ran down my spine as I realized this wasn’t over yet. But, the team was on their way, weren’t they?

“Time for your initiation,” Trent’s voice chirped in a sing-song voice from the doorway, more warmth to his tone than the Night Manager.

This rollercoaster of a morning was not sitting well with my stomach. It continued rolling and churning from the stress, lack of food—not that I’d be able to hold anything down right now—and the sterile but damp musk that still clung to my nose. The only time it had calmed was when I’d breathed in Hotch’s scent.

They’d been pushy about wearing all white and I grimaced at the thought of getting the inevitable stains out if blood was to be involved again. Honestly, after this op, all the clothes I brought with me were getting burned. I’d never be able to wear them again without smelling this awful place.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Trent apologized, turning to face us in the back of the cart, though he didn’t sound like he meant it. “You weren’t answering the door and we were worried. Just one more task to complete and you’ll be fully fledged members,” he grinned, sharp, white canines contrasting his tanned skin.

“No problem,” Hotch smiled, clutching the coffee they provided in his hand, taking a sip after I’d tested it with my pinky. “Had an eventful night, then the meeting at three, so we were beat.”

“Ha, I can imagine. You two didn’t waste any time when you arrived,” his grin was sly and predatory.

Bile rose up in my throat despite the sweet smile on my face. Hotch’s free hand came to the back of my neck, his touch helping to ease my fear as he traced imaginary circles there.

We were ushered back down through the Conditioning Suites into the damp dungeon that re-assaulted my nose immediately. I tried to emulate the same confidence that Hotch presented as we followed Trent down the hall with staff members behind us, only being half as successful as I’d hoped.

The damp air thickened as we descended further. The sound of dripping water echoed in the narrow hallway, the fluorescent bulbs flickering overhead like they were struggling to stay alive in solidarity with the captives just below them. Each step felt heavier, my heartbeat growing louder in my ears. It smelled of damp rot and old blood. The air clung to my skin, heavier than the humidity outside, soaking into my lungs all over again.

The first thing I noticed as we passed through the biometric door was the Night Manager on the other side, waiting to bear witness to…what?

Trent led the way, hands casually clasped behind his back like this was just another morning ritual, “You’ve done well so far,” he mused. “It’s rare for newcomers to be so…committed after such a short time, so we wanted to be sure,” His tone was syrupy and fake.

The Night Manager followed closely behind us like a grim shadow.

I forced a chuckle, “We believe in the process.”

Hotch hummed in agreement, his grip tightening ever so slightly against my neck—just enough to remind me he was right there. That we’d get through this.

Then, Trent stopped.

A heavy metal door loomed ahead. The two staff members behind us shifted, and I felt the weight of their presence, an unspoken warning that turning back wasn’t an option.

Trent produced a key and slid it into the rusted lock. He took his time unlocking the heavy steel door, the clank of metal on metal grating against my nerves. It clicked open with an almost theatrical slowness.

I wasn’t prepared for what was inside. The room was dim, lit by a single bulb swaying from the ceiling. At the center of the room sat—

Avery.

With still no sign of Quinn, though I’d been too distracted to look properly.

Avery was bloodied, restrained, and barely conscious.

I sucked in a breath through my nose, struggling to keep my expression neutral. Hotch, ever composed, merely tilted his head as if assessing the scene with detached curiosity.

Trent gestured toward a small wooden table where various knives and a set of pliers rested. A sick little selection that nearly made me squirm, but my fingers rested on the table for balance.

Hotch reached for a small knife first, inspecting the blade as if considering its craftsmanship. “And?” he prompted, raising an eyebrow at Trent.

Hotch tested the weight of it in his palm as he waited for an answer, the blade not even long enough to clear the length of his palm.

Trent leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, “Avery’s been…more difficult than we anticipated. We need to soften them up. A little pain, a little fear. Nothing lethal. Just enough to remind them of their place.” Trent sighed dramatically, like this was just an inconvenient chore, “Before you fully join our family, we need something concrete.” His grin widened, flashing too many teeth, “A shared burden, if you will.” He gestured lazily to Avery, “We’re not asking you to kill them—just a lesson. A little reminder that non-believers don’t thrive here.”

Avery groaned weakly, their swollen eyes cracking open just enough to see us. And then pure, raw terror filled their gaze.

They thought we were really going to do it. My heart clenched at the thought of them believing Hotch and I could be so monstrous.

Hotch exhaled slowly, spinning the knife in his grip before sighing with an air of casual indifference, “Are you sure this won’t just make them more withdrawn and scared?”

Trent scowled, “They’re failing to adapt. We don’t tolerate weakness here.”

I swallowed thickly, glancing at Hotch.

We were out of time.

Hotch looked at me, still holding the knife, as if we were deciding together. But I saw the way his fingers shifted subtly on the handle. He was stalling, too; waiting for an opening.

Avery let out a weak whimper from between their cracked and bleeding lips, making my pulse roar in my ears.

If we stalled too much, we’d blow our cover. If we played along too well, we’d have to live with it.

And then—

BOOM.

The entire room rattled as something crashed above us.

A heartbeat later, the distant sounds of shouting and pounding footsteps. One of the staff member’s radios crackled for a moment but no one spoke from the other side.

Trent snapped his head toward the door, his scowl deepening, “What the hell—”

I dared to make eye contact with Hotch again. The raid was here.

Before we could fully register what was happening above us, a blast went off; the heavy metal door to the basement blasted off of its hinges. Armed agents barged in through the smoke, trapping Trent, the Night Manager, and the other two staff members before they could bolt. It couldn’t have worked out any better, honestly.

Hotch dropped the knife and we both raised our arms up and kneeled on the ground as guns were pointed our way.

It was easier like this.

One of the other agents used bolt cutters to unchain Avery as we were taken away in zip ties. We passed through the Night Manager’s office again, seeing Reid and Prentiss forcing open the drawer that contained the ledger.

Good.

As we were ushered back outside, we were met with agents sifting through the attendees, separating those on payroll from those who were innocent.

“I’ve got these two,” a voice spoke up, my body relaxing almost instantly hearing Rossi through all the noise.

He led us to a helicopter where JJ was waiting for us already with our belongings packed.

“Good work, you two,” Dave gave us each a pat on the shoulder and helped us into the helicopter.

As we took off, JJ finally cut our restraints. We practically melted into the seats as the stress of the day vanished.

“You two aren’t injured?”

I shook my head tiredly and Hotch gave her a short, “No.”

“We’ll wait for the others at command and debrief on the plane, so you two can rest a bit,” JJ smiled, understanding the exhaustion evident in our postures.

-

We slept fitfully while the rest of the team oversaw the raid, only allowing for a couple hours of sleep before we were loading onto the jet home.

We debriefed in detail, glossing over most of the sexual encounters to save the team from those mental pictures. The agents who had raided the basement found Quinn in far worse shape than Avery, but alive. Both of their recoveries would be trying and long but they at least had each other.

The next phase would include finding everyone in the ledger to cut off every head possible of the cult, but that would be a job for tomorrow.

I nodded off as the conversation died down, feeling Hotch’s eyes on me for most of the debrief. He was worried, probably that this whole thing had affected me more than we thought, and he would be right. But, all things considered, we got off with an insane amount of luck.

I startled awake as the plane landed, sitting up straight and gripping the arm rests with worried glances thrown my way. It was only logical, my reaction, considering we’d been woken up several times to those damn cultists doing strange things.

“You need a ride home?” Morgan asked as we got off the plane, hand hovering at my back but not making full contact, just in case.

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” I gave him a barely there smile.

Morgan sighed, resigning to my decision. He nodded and let his fingertips drift to my shoulder as he stepped away. I glanced back to the plane where Hotch was talking to Prentiss as they were the last ones to exit the plane, but ground my teeth at the thought of asking him for help.

I was home. I’d be fine.

I met Rossi and Reid’s eyes as they glanced in my direction, but just gave them a tight smile and a wave. Reid returned the wave with sympathy written all over his face, but didn’t say anything.

“Night, kid,” Rossi called as he walked off.

I made my mind up, straightening my shoulders and marching to my car as bravely as possible.

I missed him, I realized as I drove home. Hell, I probably lov—no, no.

I glanced at my phone several times on the way, refusing to call him but slightly hoping he’d call me. But, he was going through the same thing I was, he was just better at hiding it. I’d be lucky if he even looked in my direction tomorrow, his words and actions over the course of the operation just collateral damage. It wouldn’t be unreasonable.

A hot shower helped my nerves to a point but laying in bed by myself, remembering hearing the staff members dragging out Avery and Quinn and being unable to do anything about it. Remembering waking up this morning surrounded. Remembering the stench from the basement…

I stared at the empty dark ceiling above me, lit occasionally by headlights reflecting off windows and passing through the cracks in my blinds.

I wanted to sleep. I wanted to wake up tomorrow and have everything I witnessed be nothing more than a nightmare. I wanted Hotch here to tell me we’d be okay. I wanted—

The scraping of feet on concrete broke me out of my thoughts. I sat up in bed, immediately reaching for the sidearm I neglected to put away. Throwing my covers off, I stalked as silently as I could toward the front of the house, the scraping still there but localized to one spot now. Like someone was pacing. The feet stopped and I held my breath as I brought my face to the peephole, seeing Hotch standing there illuminated by my porch light.

I unlocked the door slowly so as not to startle him since he hadn’t knocked. His head snapped to the slowly opening door as I brought my face out from the darkness.

“Hey,” I greeted softly.

His eyes softened as he realized I’d heard him, “Can’t sleep?”

I shook my head, stepping back and opening the door wider, hand still gripping my pistol. His eyes flicked to it but he didn’t acknowledge its presence.

Hotch stepped inside as I put the pistol down and scrubbed my face with both hands. He closed, then locked the door behind him, finding his way to me in the dark. I heard him take a breath in, like he was about to speak but nothing came out.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore, stepping forward and crashing myself into his chest. My shoulders sagged as I breathed him in, hiding my face against him so he couldn’t see my chin trembling.

He wasted no time wrapping his arms around me, tucking his face in and pressing his lips to whatever he could reach. It was a desperate embrace, arms holding on for dear life but bringing peace nonetheless.

“I’m here, we’re safe,” he murmured.

I nodded against him, the few tears that escaped being absorbed by his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” I cleared my throat, attempting to step back but his arms tightened.

“Don’t be.”

“I—you came here for something?” I wiped my face, stepping back more intentionally.

He let me this time.

“To talk,” he nodded. “But we can do that tomorrow, okay?”

I licked my lips, “Yeah, yeah.” I couldn’t help the, “Sorry,” that slipped out immediately after.

We were silent and I briefly wondered if he was going to just leave but the words tumbled from my mouth faster than I could stop them, “Will you stay?”

“Of course,” he murmured, finding my hand in the dark and letting me guide him to bed.

We faced each other under the sheets, fully clothed but shier than we’d been when we were void of clothes.

“Can I…?” my hand twitched toward him under the covers.

“Yea,” he whispered.

Our arms reached for each other at the same time, limbs tangling together and heads practically sharing a pillow.

“Can I kiss you?” he murmured.

“Is that my fake husband asking or my boss?” I let out a soft laugh.

“Neither,” he hummed, his nose bumping mine from our close proximity. “Just Aaron.”

“Please,” I pulled him closer, welcoming his kiss.

It was soft, languid, and reassuring. As soon as it ended, I tucked my face into his neck and felt my eyes growing heavier with sleep, until I snored softly in his embrace.

[tarotsoul]

Ghost in the Wind — Part Five

SUMMARY: Harnessing your power is growing easier by the day, and Madja finds out some interesting things about witches souls.

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of torture, kissing, teasing, fingering, handjob, oral (female receiving—all of this is somewhat public), mentions of death

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

Series Masterlist

Cassian struggled against the vines that wrapped tight across his midriff, his muscles flexing with power but nothing shifted as they tightened with his every move. His golden skin was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, his shoulder-length hair damp with excursion. 

You were no better. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your skin flushed as your knees began to buckle. Hold it. Rhysand’s voice had continued to purr into your mind throughout the session, guiding and commanding every step of the way. He worked you from sunrise to breakfast, then again from dusk until nightfall. 

It had been your routine for the past two weeks, and with every session, your power and control grew stronger. You could now detain a being with nothing but your mind, could bound and gag with vines and soil. This session, however, was different. Because it wasn’t just vines that wrapped across Cassian’s arms and legs and torso. 

This time, the vines had thorns. And they pierced his skin deeper with every movement he made. 

It had taken an additional two weeks to get to this point. Two weeks of introducing the Inner Circle to your magic, of slowly allowing them past the protective walls your abilities offered. You no longer had to keep your distance from your friends and family. It appeared the only time your magic attacked on its own was when you were startled or afraid. 

You’d been at it for sixty minutes already, your brows dotted with sweat. Rhysand continued to slowly pace the training ring atop the House of Wind. Feyre stood off to the side, a towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Nesta watched from beside her, arms crossed against her generous chest as she squinted at the way her mate seethed in discomfort. 

So far, Cassian had not been able to break free from your bindings, nor had he been able to move a single muscle more than an itch. And Rhysand was more than impressed. 

“Good,” he complimented, a noticeably proud smile on his face. At that, you slowly released your power and took a heaving breath of relief. The vines lazily slithered from Cassian’s body, the thorns leaving scratches in their wake that healed almost immediately.

“You’re presenting incredible control. Tomorrow, I’d like for you to make those thorns bigger. And by next week, I’d like to see if you can implement a slow releasing toxin or poison.”

Cassian widened his eyes at his High Lord. “I’m not volunteering for that.”

A smile found your lips as you took a few breaths to settle your lungs again. You had never expected training to be this rewarding. Rhysand was nothing but attentive to your powers and how they worked. He made sure you felt comfortable with everything you tried and he never once tried to push you beyond your limits. 

When you expressed you first wished to harness your power in a defensive way, he was more than happy to oblige. He agreed that perhaps it would be the best way to learn control, and then you could go down the route of healing, learning how to harness it for remediation, too.

And Cassian… well you were unsure if you would ever be able to thank Cassian for the trust he had for you. To allow your wild magic to bind and hurt him, not knowing if you could reign it back if it got too much. 

Rhysand chuckled at his brother. “We’ll work something out.” 

If it were Rhys, he’d practice on one of Azriel’s prisoners—draw out their pain and suffering with toxins and thorns. It would make a great interrogation tactic. But it wasn’t him. It was you. And Rhysand was not prepared to present that situation or idea to you. Not unless you came to him and it was exclusively your suggestion. 

For now, he would figure out another way. 

And Elain had told him as much before she and Lucien left just a week ago, claiming she had to reason to remain. You were safe, you would learn control. And she would visit after her and Lucien’s travels.

Feyre approached with a glass of water, handing it to you and dabbing your damp skin with the towel. From his seat across from you, Cassian gawked and scoffed playfully. “I didn’t realise Y/N was the one to be bound and pricked for an hour.” 

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Illyrian baby. As if you haven’t endured worse.” 

Despite the chuckle leaving your lips, you still offered him the rest of your water, which he happily took with a cheeky wink. You returned the sentiment with a half-smile, your body still struggling to recover from the energy the session took from you.

As much as you were enjoying it—honing your power and taking control—you couldn’t help but yearn for more. You understood the strength of your mothers magic was enhanced by your fathers Fae heritage, and you had been practicing winnowing with Mor whenever she had the time to spare…but your mother…

“I’d like to learn more about witchcraft.” 

All eyes turned to you, some wide, some weary. You cleared your throat, shifted your weight from one foot to another. “As thankful as I am for this—and as much as I am enjoying it—I’d like to learn the other side, too. Rituals, spells…”

No one spoke. You met Rhysand’s eyes and something akin to regret was lit. Your shoulders slacked at the sight. “None of us are exactly versed in witchcraft. And it has been a long while since I’ve met a witch who doesn’t feel inclined to eat me.” 

An attempt at a joke, you understood, but it did not relieve any of your disappointment. Three weeks ago, Madja had confirmed that out of all of your cousins, Elain was the only one to share similar markers in her hair and blood as you. Markers of wiccan ancestry. Rhysand had been the one to suggest Elain’s presence and similar magic may have been what awoke you. 

It had been known that when she was tossed into that Cauldron, it took something from her. Through Madja’s research, she was led to believe it had taken that power and replaced it with her Fae abilities—keeping that nature element but changing its course completely. 

Which meant you were alone. With barely any clue where your ancestry stemmed from, it was useless to even ask. But your mother had been a healing earth witch, that much you were certain of. Surely there had to be books somewhere, even if just to intrigue you until Madja concluded the rest of her research.  

“Gwyn may be able to help,” Nesta spoke. 

You turned to her. Yes, you’d heard of the young priestess, a fellow Valkyrie of Nesta’s. Your cousin had told you much about her position in the library within the House. Yet that was as far as your knowledge on her went. 

Still, it awoke that small shred of hope within you. Hope that one day you could feel close to your mother again. 

Azriel took a sip of his tea, lounging back at the dining table as he watched Cassian shovel heaps of eggs and bacon into his mouth. The shadowsinger couldn’t help but quirk a brow at his brother. Cassian had always eaten like a starved male, but this… Azriel was certain it had been minutes since he stopped to take a breath. 

“It’s not going anywhere,” Azriel quipped above the rim of his mug but Cassian did not slow. He chewed as his gaze met his brothers and spoke through a mouthful of his breakfast. “You let Y/N bind you with her vines and prick thorns into your skin for a solid hour, then you can comment on my eating habits.” 

A smirk kissed at the corners of Azriel’s lips at the thought. He would be more than willing to allow his body to you for practice. Though he wasn’t sure he’d want an audience. Especially not with how his scent was already beginning to shift at the thought alone. 

Gods, after four weeks of tasting you and touching you, he should have his hormones under control by now. But he was no better than any other Illyrian brute. He was starved for you all hours of the day—completely insatiable. He had never experienced such hunger before. It was completely overpowering. 

The sound of Cassian’s plate sliding across the table broke him from the sinful thoughts, and he looked at his brother who now seethed. “Really, Az? While I’m eating my breakfast?” 

Azriel’s smirk faded as his brows rose, taking a sip of his tea. “Are you forgetting about the time Nesta was choking on your cock, right before I was about to eat my dinner?” 

Heat rushed to the apples of Cassian’s cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from the thought of his brother seeing his mate in such a compromising position. And not because he did not trust Azriel, but because he knew that at one point, Nesta had considered the shadowsinger for herself. 

The general cleared his throat and shifted, attempting to reign in that mated protectiveness. “What’s the deal with you and Y/N anyways?”

Azriel took another sip of his tea. “What do you mean?” 

Cassian scoffed. Azriel always did that. Played dumb or completely ignored any conversation when it came to his love life or bedroom habits. “I hear you both, going into each other's rooms at night,” Cassian admitted, “you’re not sneaky.”

Azriel hid his smirk behind his mug. “Not trying to be.” 

The general's eyes squinted. He was used to his brother deflecting, ignoring. He was not used to him being so truthful and open, despite him only saying four words in response, Azriel did not deny his involvement with you. 

“You like her?” 

Azriel remained quiet, watching Cassian with a blank expression. 

“She’s been through a lot,” Cassian probed, noting the way Az’s grip on the mug tightened. 

“I know,” he got out. 

“And this is all pretty new to her… I imagine it's very overwhelming, too.” 

Azriel narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at?” 

Cassian shrugged, slouching back in his chair as he crossed thick arms over his muscular chest. “Nothing. She’s grown a lot since coming here, and she’s growing more every day. I wouldn’t want her to feel like she’s just a secret to you.” 

Raw pain sliced through Azriel’s chest at his words. He knew you did not feel that way, knew you were always so open and honest and comfortable with him. Yet Cassian’s words still stung. He could have brushed his brother off, claiming he didn’t know what he was talking about. But that would mean downplaying what he felt for you. 

And he was not prepared to even entertain the idea of that. 

“We’re not keeping anything a secret.” 

Cassian smirked. “So there is something going on.”

Azriel finished the rest of his tea, set it on the table and a scarred finger traced the rim of the mug as he considered his next words. He did not have words to describe what continued to bloom between the two of you. Longing stares, subtle touches, heavy kisses and passionate intimacy until the early hours of the morning.

And yet you had not crossed that line, not with him. He would not rush you, would not pressure you. Azriel accepted anything you offered and gave back everything in return. 

“She’s been through a lot,” he repeated Cassian’s earlier words, “I want her to understand that she’ll never have to experience that type of control ever again.”

Cassian did not need to ask anything further. Partly because he understood what Azriel was insinuating—that he was allowing you to set the pace and decide whatever you were—and the other part because it was not his place to press for more information. It was your life, your story and your trauma. He would not invade your privacy like that. 

Cassian respected you far too much. 

So, he nodded his head, pulled back his plate of breakfast and heaped another spoonful of eggs into his mouth. He would not push on the matter, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t toy with his brother a little. 

“Y/N mentioned she wanted to learn some witchcraft. You know, spells and rituals that her mother might’ve used.” Azriel hummed, gaze fixed on the table. Cassian bit back his smirk. “Nesta suggested taking a look in the library for some old books. Gwyn’s going to help.”

Azriel’s eyes snapped to Cassian’s, his face paling just slightly. Bingo. 

The shadowsinger swallowed. “When?” 

Cassian ate another spoonful. “They’re already down there now.” 

Azriel did not bid his brother a goodbye before his shadows guided him to the library doors within the House. His heart was thumping against his chest, an anxiety like no other streaming through his veins. He was yet to tell you about his infatuation with Mor, his brief involvement with Elain, and he had not yet disclosed the same about Gwyn. 

The last thing he wanted was for you to hear anything outside of anyone else’s mouths. It was for him to explain. No one else. 

He entered the library quietly, dismissing his shadows so as to not fright the priestesses. He passed Clotho first, offering a subtle nod in greeting before sauntering further into the dim library. 

Perhaps Azriel should have mentioned this place to you sooner. Despite your love for books, maybe knowing this place was available could have helped with your healing. But you had done so well without it, and Azriel had very selfishly enjoyed every moment of your presence. 

It did not take long to find you, your scent still lingering in the air and he followed that trail to one of the higher levels. There was where he found you. Alone, eyes gleaming in happiness as you looked through the archives of rituals and witchcraft. You already had two books in your arms and Azriel did not hesitate to take them from you as he approached. 

His presence took you by surprise, only for a moment and you offered a wide smile, your chest feeling warm. As it often did when you spent time with the shadowsinger. 

“Az… what are you doing here?” you asked in a way of greeting. 

He held booth books in one arm and offered a grin at the nickname you’d taken to calling him. Gods, he had only seen you yesterday evening and yet it felt as if it had been days. You looked even more beautiful today, the gentle glow of Fae lights casting over your skin. Though he could notice a hint of exhaustion in your eyes, likely from your training with Cassian and Rhysand. 

Az stepped closer. “Cass mentioned you were down here looking for some grimoires. Thought I’d offer some help.”

You squinted your eyes at him playfully, cocking your head to the side. “Didn’t Cassian tell you that Nesta was with me? And Gwyn?”

Colour stained his cheeks. “Yes. But an extra set of eyes and hands never hurt.” He looked around then, in search of his brother's mate and the young priestess that he had saved those few years ago. “Where are they anyway? Nesta and Gwyn.”

You shrugged, returning to look at the bookcase before you. “Nesta wanted to look at some romance novels, Gwyn mentioned she saved a secret stash of the smutty ones for her.” 

You did not mention the way the priestess had looked at you with guilt or embarrassment when Nesta told her Azriel was quite fond of you. Your cousin did not need to say anything for you to understand. There had clearly been something there in the past, something Gwyn felt wrong for. She had no reason to. 

But you did not speak those thoughts to her. Instead, you offered a beaming genuine smile and thanked her for offering her assistance. You had promised to come and visit the library again, and had suggested bringing lunch next time.

It was clear to her that her past involvement with the shadowsinger did nothing to sour your current one. And she was more than thankful for it. 

“And you’re not interested? In the smutty novels, I mean.” 

You turned to Azriel with a smirk, a knowing gaze in your eyes. He mirrored it, cheekily. Gods, he would never fail to make you melt beneath that hungry stare. “Something else has been keeping my interest instead.” 

A grin, and then, “I’d like to keep your interest tonight, if you’ll let me?” 

You quirked a brow, the books long forgotten as you faced the handsome male before you. “Oh? And what did you have in mind?” 

Everything with Azriel had felt so easy in the past weeks. Even this, the flirty… it seemed to fall naturally between you both. Never once had you experienced an uncomfortable silence or nervous pause. 

It felt right. 

Az closed the distance between you, reaching a gloved hand for your waist as he leaned down to brush his nose against yours. “I was thinking of taking you to the Rainbow… more specifically, to the theatre.” 

A grin spread across your full lips. “Really?” Your excitement was palpable, and Azriel had no doubt that if his shadows were here now, they’d buzz around your small frame with adoration. 

He nodded, planting a slow kiss to your mouth. Your lips puckered against his, following his lead. There had been more of this since that fruitful night he touched you at the townhouse. 

Kisses and touches when you were alone, lingering glances when in the presence of others. Often, your nights were spent with him, in his bed or yours, in the private library or in the gardens. 

You had allowed him to touch you, taste you… he had allowed you to do the same. Azriel had given you full control over every situation, every interaction. Whatever this was between you, you could not get enough.  

“I’d like that,” you whispered into the kiss, feeling his mouth stretch into a smile before he kissed you once more. 

You leaned into him, melting under his attentive touch when someone cleared their throat and he gently broke his mouth from yours. Nesta stood to the side, a pile of books in her arms and a brow quirked. 

But Gwyn… she did nothing to hide her grin, the flush of her cheeks or the happiness that glimmered in her teal eyes. You knew she knew of your story, your trauma. And you knew her happiness came from a place of understanding. 

Understanding what it took to break through the past and live in the present. To move on. To heal. 

“Need I remind you that this is a library, not a brothel.” 

You rolled your eyes at your cousin. “You best scamper off with those books then, Ness.” 

She scowled at you playfully when Gywn breathed a choked laugh. Azriel watched her then, his body stiffening just slightly before you. But enough for you to notice, to feel it. 

“It’s good to see you, Azriel.” She offered politely. 

He dipped his head. “And you, Gwyn. Thank you for helping Y/N with the grimoires.” She brushed him off with a waving hand and turned her bright attention to you with a smile. 

Azriel felt his tension slowly dissipate, watching the way you both seemed to communicate with your eyes alone. You knew, he could tell. And you did not think of him any differently. 

Not one bit. 

The play was wonderful. Well, as much of the first half that you had seen. By the time the curtain pulled for a short break, Azriel’s hands had begun to wander. Beginning on your knee and ending between your thighs. 

He had gotten you seats in Rhysand’s private booth. And when darkness shrouded the theater during the interval, his shadows encompassed you both to hide you away from the public. 

His lips were hot on yours, his tongue licking sensually against your own. Your small hand had wrapped around his thick shaft, pumping the way you had grown to know he liked. And his fingers curled deliciously at that spongy spot within you. 

You did not stop when the curtain opened and the play resumed. Neither did he. Azriel had instead lowered to his knees and pried you thighs open, rolling up the fabric of your dress as he stared into your soul. 

Then his mouth was on your aching cunt and your head was rolling back against your seat. His tongue worked meticulously, licking and swirling, his mouth closing to create suction on your throbbing clit. 

Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging at the roots and fingernails scratching at his scalp. The first time Azriel had tasted you, he had you reach that high three times before stopping. And every time since, he had done the same. 

Though this time, you knew you had to keep quiet. Your spare hand covered your mouth, your teeth biting at the palm of your hand to stifle the moans and whines that threatened to escape. 

Your hips bucked into his face, his guttural hum sending vibrations through your veins. He was a starved male when it came to you, and you feared you would never get used to that hunger. 

His fingers continued to pummel into your cunt, curling and scissoring to stretch you deliciously. The sounds were obscene, wet and quiet but everything was far too amplified. You only hoped his shadows could also offer some form of soundproofing, too. 

“Az…” you barely managed to whisper, forcing your eyes open to watch him. 

He was already looking at you, his pupils so blown in arousal that you could sparsely see the honey you loved so much. You had never experienced such desire before. Even in the other times you had been intimate with him, it never felt as strong or as dire as this. 

Because this had you wanting to damn any consequences. Damn any trauma you had once experienced. You wanted him, every part of his body and mind and soul. You wanted to feel his thick cock stretch you out, fill you until you were crying and pleading for him to ravage you. 

You’d never once felt such primal need, and Azriel noticed the shift in your scent. Noticed how it changed from arousal to a diabolical sense of unravelling. You’d never looked at him with such ferocity before. 

And Azriel feared he would lay down his life in that moment, if you so asked. 

You tightened around his fingers, your legs trembled. You bit down harder on your palm as undiluted pleasure seized your body. As you cried silently, as your thighs shut tight around his head. As he sucked on your clit at the same time his tongue rubbed against it. 

You came harder than you ever had before. And by the way you heaved a breath through your nose, you knew Azriel had reached his high with you. 

With his hand fisting his long cock and his pleasure dripped down his scarred fingers. Perhaps it was that hunger that remained that had you reaching for him… that had you guiding those fingers to your mouth as you cleaned his come with your tongue. 

He mirrored your actions, removing his digits from your cunt and stuffing them into his own mouth to suck them clean. You watched one another, chests heaving as your pussy throbbed and Azriel’s cock twitched. 

You’d go again, you’d force him into that chair and straddle him, sink down on him until he was buried so deep within you, you didn’t know where you ended and he began. 

And Azriel appeared to have sensed your thoughts and shook his head. He pulled his fingers from his mouth, but you kept his in yours. “Not here. I won’t take you for the first time in the fucking theatre.” 

A grin spread across your lips and you released his fingers, now clean as the faint salty taste of him stained your tongue. 

You batted your lashes down at him. “What if I asked nicely?” 

He huffed through his nose, though a smile graced his face. “Don’t tempt me. You deserve more than that.” 

Your expression softened at the kindness of his words. He always knew what to say, his actions always followed his verbal promises. Another thing you had never experienced before. But Azriel seemed to take pleasure in showing you how you should be treated. 

“You deserve everything,” he whispered. 

You reached for him then, for the knitted wool of his sweater and he followed your lead when you met him in a searing kiss. No words could convey what this male was beginning to mean to you. How strongly you felt for him. 

“I only want you.” 

Azriel’s heart remained steady, despite his mind's racing. He would give himself to you in a heartbeat. All you had to do was ask. 

He was about to tell you as much, when a gentle call of his name sounded in his mind. Azriel took a brief moment to compose himself before allowing his High Lord into his mind. 

Apologies for interrupting. He purred. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes. But Madja has concluded her research. She’d like to speak with us, we’re awaiting your return. 

You noticed the distant look on his eyes, the one he only sported when Rhysand called for him. Your stomach dropped slightly, not ready to end the night just yet. But the smile on Azriel’s lips suggested it would not be for the worst. 

“Madja has some information to share. They’re waiting for us at the House.”

He had winnowed you almost immediately to the bottom of the ten thousand stairs. Only then did he take a moment to fix both of your flushed appearances and plant a tender kiss to your mouth. 

He had flown you both to the balcony, gently settling you to your feet. Though your arm remained looped with his as you walked into the House proper, where Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian and Nesta awaited with Madja. 

The elder healer offered a smile in greeting as you entered the lounge, and your arm slipped from Azriel’s. 

“You will be pleased to know that I have finally exhausted all avenues for this research. I have some interesting things that I think would help and that I’d like to share.” 

Your heart thundered in anticipation. By the look in Madja’s eyes, you knew you were about to learn everything. She set three old books onto the table, their pages thick and discoloured. They must be at least five centuries old, but you would not be shocked if their age preceded that. 

“I finally managed to trace your heritage back to your ancestors through your blood and hair samples.” She paused, as if waiting for everyone’s undivided attention. 

“You are a direct descendent of Mother Garmelhia. She was High Witch of the Elesendray coven—a coven of earth witches. They were healers, though through her blood, the abilities were not always passed down to the offspring. Your mother was the first in two centuries to present these gifts. Her sister—” she turned to Nesta and Feyre, “—your mother did not possess such abilities. Elain inherited a drop of those gifts, which the Cauldron quickly took, but you—” Madja looked to you again, “—you are blessed with the rawest form. The same as your mothers, but stronger.” 

There was no hiding the silver than lined your eyes. A storm of emotions clouded your vision, your mind. Your mother… your beautiful mother… 

“For some their abilities lay dormant until something triggered it. For example, Elain’s did not trigger until forced into the Cauldron, and even then, her power had shifted when Made Fae.”

You processed her words, everything made sense. Your magic had been buried so deep within you, with your mothers mark. But you wondered if your power would have shown had she not glamoured it.

“So mine triggered the moment I passed the wall into Prythian?” you asked. 

Madja’s tight lips quirked to the side as if in thought. “It would appear something happened when you passed through. And with your Fae heritage from your father, that would have also played a part. Do you remember exactly when something felt differently?”

Your mind carried you back to that night, when Nesta took your hand in hers and guided you past that shimmering veil. When you were shoved to the ground and your hands touched the grass for the first time. You shared a look with your cousin, cocking her head to the side as if she was also trying to pinpoint it. 

“Um… right after we passed through. After that creature attacked us. Everything felt clearer, but still slightly hazy. I could sense things but I didn’t know what. I thought it was just because the land held magic…”

Rhys took a step closer, his hands stuffed into his pant pockets. There was a gleam in his eyes, one that demanded more. “Did you find anything else?”

Madja nodded, reaching for the top book of the pile and flipping it open to a random page. Indeed, the book was old, yet it somehow held the scent of something you had never come across before. Something slightly familiar, yet not at all. 

“Yes… have you ever heard of soul-ties?”

Something in your stomach almost exploded. Azriel took a curious step closer, eyes scanning the pages but they were all in ancient tongue—one that Madja clearly spoke or at least understood. 

When nobody replied, Madja went on. “Within the Elesendray coven, and many others in history, soul-ties were the equivalent of a mating bond. Through the brief history I could find, it is said that a witches soul calls to another. Not just any soul. The other half of theirs.”

“So… like a soul-mate?” Cassian piped up.

Madja nodded and she did not break your gaze. She knew something, something you did not. 

“What does that have to do with my abilities?”

“It doesn’t. Not directly at least. But it is also said that when a witch finds their soul-tie and their souls are merged whole again, it is a tether so unbreakable that it exceeds even the strength of a Fae mating bond. And unlike the Fae mating bonds, if a witch does not accept their soul-tie, they will cease to exist entirely.”

Everything went silent and your heart refused to beat. 

“What are you saying?” Nesta’s tone was not one to play with. 

But Madja took a breath and laid a withering hand over the page Azriel could not take his eyes off. “I believe you have found your soul-tie, Y/N.” 

No. There was no way. You didn’t dare look at Azriel. You couldn’t. You didn’t know what it was that grew between you, you did not know where you stood in that sense. But the relationship you had ran deep. Deep enough for you to fear losing whatever he was to you. 

You begged your power not to act, begged it not to show the fear that began to cripple you. You had already once been bound to a man you did not love, a man that did not love you. You would not be forced into it again, with a powerful male this time who could do unimaginable things if he wished. 

You stuffed that fear so far down you almost choked on it. “How do I know who my soul-tie is? I didn’t think there were any other witches in Velaris?” 

“It doesn’t have to be a witch.” Madja’s eyes bore into your very spirit. “A soul-tie would be someone who endured the same agony as you to trigger an ability, to become who they were fated to become. Nothing is by chance, the Mother forges what is meant to be. Especially for witches.”

You were too overwhelmed, scared. “But passing through the wall triggered my powers? Who else would have done that?” 

You were in denial, refusing to believe that this was to be your fate. But it was Rhysand who took a step closer, his lips parted and eyes clouded. 

“You always had your power, passing through the wall just awoke your senses, because of your Fae father. Your mother’s magic was truly triggered when we burned your mark.”

You watched as Rhysand’s eyes drifted to Azriel, to his hands. Your lungs seized, your chest ached. You could not look at him, could not dare meet his desperate gaze when a lone shadow slinked to your hand and weaved between your fingers. 

“Holy Gods,” Feyre breathed.

Azriel remained still, aloof. For if he moved even an inch, he was sure to crumble. He knew. At that moment, he knew. He’d always had his suspicions, even when you were human. His soul called to yours. The missing half of him.

Rhysand came closer again. “When your stepbrothers burned your hands when you were a child, when you were locked away, your ability to wield shadows was triggered.”

Shadowsinger.

You stared at his hands—those beautiful hands. You had not known of Azriel’s story, had not ever wanted to pry. You never felt the need to ask, never considered his hands were anything abnormal. His step-brothers had burned them. He was a child. 

And your magic… burning the mark to set it free…

It was silent for too long, like it was some sick dream and joke and the Mother only ever intended for you to experience pain and agony in your life. But it made far too much sense for it to not be true. 

You had never felt so at ease with anyone before. Had never experienced such comfort and safety than in his arms. You did not need to pretend with Azriel, you did not need to hide or apologise. You just existed. And that was enough for him. 

Because you didn’t feel a change when you passed through the wall, when that creature died. You felt it when you heard something in the sky. When you heard Azriel. 

You dared a glance at him then, at the male you were destined to be with. The one the Mother made for you. The other half of your soul. His beautiful hazel eyes stared at you with such unyielding clarity, like every ounce of pain he had ever endured was worth it. Because it brought him to this moment. To you. 

It almost seemed too good to be true. That he was for you. That he was your fate. Yet your mind would not allow one single negative thought to grow. No seeds of doubt planted, not even one. Because your soul knew, you knew. 

You had no fear in that moment, staring at him. For Azriel’s own eyes mirrored your every thought. For this first time in his life, he truly felt worthy. His mind did not allow his past to dictate if he deserved that happiness. His heart did not allow a beat to falter out of place. Steady, calm. Yet a storm raged in his soul. As it had done for the past eight weeks in your presence. 

Nothing in his life had ever felt so right before. So meant to be. He damned himself a fool for his past behaviours, for ever chasing or entertaining the idea of another. 

Azriel had never truly understood what it felt like to have a home. Not until Rhysand’s mother took him in. But even then, he felt he did not deserve such kindness, that the Mother did not grant him a home of his own for a reason. 

He had always deemed himself unworthy, such a fragile mindset had taken over his entire life. 

But she granted him you. A friend, a lover, a connection so strong it exceeded even his brothers’ bonds. A soul-tie. The literal missing half of him. He had felt honor many times in his life, had felt wanted and needed and appreciated. 

But up until this moment, he had never felt worthy. 

He did not shy from your gaze, from his family watching the scene unfold. He took a step closer as a tear slid down your warm cheek. His soul sang for yours, bellowed and beckoned and begged. That’s what that feeling had been. His soul had been yearning to reunite with yours the whole time. 

“I do not know how much time you’ll have if the soul-tie is not accepted.” Madja broke through the silence softly. 

Azriel took a step closer, almost reaching you. He shook his head. “That is not something to worry about.” 

Your chest ached, your throat burned. You could not look away from him—did not want to. If you had, you would’ve noticed the lack of your family. Would have seen them fade into the shadows with such admiration and happiness in their eyes as they left to give you both privacy. 

Madja had remained, though neither of you offered your attention. She smiled to herself, and piled the books atop one another again. “When you wish to accept the soul-tie, there is a ritual you must follow. I will be happy to guide you when you are ready.” Her words were white noise in your ears as she retreated.

You were almost shrouded in darkness now, Azriel’s shadows working to cocoon you both in a haze of privacy. Words failed you, unable to conjure even a sentence. He was so beautiful, gazing at you with such longing, as if you’d singlehandedly placed the stars in the sky. 

He was closer now, the toes of his shoes mere inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath on your face, feel a scarred hand reach to cup your jaw and his thumb brushed gently across your cheekbone. You melted into his touch, fighting to keep your eyes on him. 

“Hi,” you breathed. 

A wide smile pulled at the corners of his full lips, a row of white teeth peeking through. Your heart trembled. This beautiful male was yours. Yours.

“You want this?” He was not asking for clarity, no. Azriel had no doubt in his mind. But he would be damned if he did not make it clear that you still had a choice. No matter what, you would always have a choice. 

Your head bobbed in confirmation, a smile of your own tugging at your mouth now. Azriel grinned wider, the tip of his nose bumping yours. 

“Yeah?” he asked in a whisper, and you were giddy with excitement. 

Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth met his. A kiss so tender and soft that your souls hummed in unity. Azriel did not need to look at you to know that flora had tangled in the strands of your hair, in the strands of his. 

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him. And the realisation that he would get to do this with you forever… Well, it was something that finally made him thankful for his step-brother's cruelty. 

Because what a beautiful thing it was for this to be his fate.

A/N: so this is pretty much the end of the series!! It is very much open to a bonus epilogue chapter in the future that will potentially contain their soul-tie ceremony and shit loads of smut, but for now, my babies are healthy and happy!! Thank you all so much for the incredible amount of love and support you guys have shown on this series, it truly does mean so so much to me!! <3

If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

[yungistiny]

birthday boy

[ J. Yunho ]

╚═════════

summary: in which yeosang probably should of told you and his roommate he was going to do a live

warning: everyone can hear you, dom yunho, unprotected sex, deep throating, spanking, choking, established relationship

pairing: idol yunho x afab reader

genre: smut

word count: 900

masterlist

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It’s Yunho’s birthday. They just finished their finale concert of this tour and Yeosang decided sitting in the living room while you and his roommate celebrated would be fine. So, he started a live to thank atinys for all their support, everything was going great until the first sound echoed.

It was a low, deep moan that clearly belonged to Yunho. Yeosang blanched, eyes wide and quickly he covered it up by saying Yunho was yawning. “He must be tired, it’s been a long last few days.” And though Yeosang had overheard you and Yunho many times, atinys were non the wiser.

The second time, Yeosang felt his face flush, because international fans were now in the chat making jokes, jokes that weren’t exactly jokes, not that they were aware. “I asked San and Mingi if they wanted to do a gameplay of a horror game together, Mingi said no.” He was desperate to deter the fans attention.

It’s not like he could just abruptly stop the live because that might arise real suspicions. But Yunho was getting louder and so were you, both of your moans mixing, dancing together in echoes from down the hall and Yeosang wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay live before he would have to make up an excuse, lie.

And Yunho was only loud, especially loud that night, because you were taking him so good. Gifting him for his birthday so well. His dick buried as far down your throat as it could go, you laying at the end of his bed, head hanging off the end where he stood.

His hands were everywhere as he thrusted, fucking your mouth almost as good as he would fuck your cunt. Yunho gripped your throat, thumb tracing over the center, a deep, rumbling moan leaving him.

He knew Yeosang had to of been hearing them, unaware that his roommate was live for thousands of atinys at that very moment as he finally pulled his dick from your mouth, the stretch of him down your throat gone making you cough a little.

“Only way I’m cumming is in this pussy.” Yunho was grabbing you, turning you over, fingers tapping at your aching cunt as you pushed yourself up on your knees and elbows. A loud whine of Yunho’s name left you when he lined himself up, one big hand gripping your hip, smoothing it down your ass before spanking you.

The noise echoed and Yunho smirked before plunging, thrusting into you until he was as far as he could get, until he was touching that spot that had you whimpering and crying out. Then he was relentless. Pounding into you, fucking you into his mattress, another spank against your ass before he leaned over you, hot trail of his tongue and kisses up your spine before he got to your ear. “I want you loud, let the whole building hear you.”

You gasped when his hands snuck around, gripping your throat, pulling you up until your back was flushed against his chest, his other arm wrapping around you, holding you tightly as he continued to thrust up into you, your walls clenching him, words incoherent and moans and cries loud.

Yeosang knew the second he heard you practically scream Yunho’s name, that it was too late. He felt his heart fall to the bottom of his ass and he saw a text message notification from Wooyoung who had been watching his live.

woo: EVERYONE CAN HEAR THEM TURN IT OFF OHMYGOD

Then another text from San

sannie: yunho sounds like he’s fucking y/n into next week SHUT IT OFF

“Well, I’m tired, we have a small schedule tomorrow, it’s a secret.” He was lying. They had no schedule but he had to come up with something, something else to keep atinys from the fact that Yunho was fucking his girlfriend, very loudly mind you. “Goodnight.” Yeosang ended the live and groaned.

“Fuck….. I’m…” You could feel your orgasm rising, glad Yunho was holding you up otherwise you’d probably collapse. “Come for me, make a mess for the birthday boy.” Yunho tilted your head back with the hand he still had on your throat, staring down at you, holding your gaze as you came, a scream of his name on your lips as he chased his own release.

Yunho growled, deep in his chest as his thrust became sloppy, you shaking in his hold as you came again, liquid desperate to spray from your cunt, splashing instead with every last thrust until your boyfriend came with the loudest moan you ever heard from him, your name loud on his tongue as he filled you completely full.

Yeosang hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch, perfect view of the hallway that led to his and Yunho’s bedrooms, when his roommate suddenly appeared. “Seriously?” He exclaimed because Yunho was naked, no shame whatsoever as he had been on the way to the bathroom.

Yunho froze, jumping slightly at Yeosang’s outburst, his ears turning red. “Have you been sitting there the entire time?” He at least thought Yeosang was in his own bedroom. “I was trying to do a live for atinys until the two of you oh so rudely interrupted me.”

Yunho’s eyes widened, there’s no way. Surely they weren’t heard on livestream? No. They couldn’t have been. Shit! Why didn’t Yeosang say he was going to do a live?

“Congratulations, birthday boy.”Yeosang stood up, gripping his phone in his hand as he walked past Yunho towards his own bedroom.

“Atinys know you’re not a virgin.”

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permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world

[mysterymachine67]

SO, i want you to hear me out.

i have to remember all my stuff for re, but let's say we have Leon when he's still just starting out as a cop before he even goes to raccoon city and our beloved reader is a captain in the police department. Leon is a little tired after it all, filing cases and spending nights at the station. eventually the reader catches Leon while he's finishing up documenting a case and they finally get to talking. sooner rather than later they discover they share a couple hobbies and slowly they begin to talk. Leon is stressed and who else but the captain of the station is going to help him and reward him for his hard work?

PAIRING -> Leon S. Kennedy x M!Reader

SUMMARY -> Leon’s new, a rookie. He does his best, stays late to do and catch up on work, and is one of the best men you got even for him to be new. What happens when he finally gets to have a full conversation with his captain?

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

I wanna bite him.

You’ve only known him for about a month and he’s already your favorite. Yes, you’re well aware you shouldn’t be picking favorites, but he stays late, gets papers done quick, and does things he doesn’t need to be doing until a whole month. Meanwhile all the other “older” cops think they get an extra week to do something just because they’ve been there longer. Which was not true whatsoever.

Back to Leon, you’ve spoken to him a bit. Probably not as much as you should, but the thought counts. As far as you know, he’s a hard worker and is dedicated to do his best. But you can also see that he try’s a bit too much. You’ll need to tell him he can take a step back every once in a while.

It was another night, Leon already knew he was gonna have to stay a few extra hours. Sighing he opened up a folder, taking out the notes and documents that were inside. He took a quick look at the papers, going over them yet again. Just as he was about to pull another thing out of the folder, he heard footsteps. Which immediately alerted him. Turns out the footsteps were yours, you were getting ready to leave the station and go home. With you standing there, looking at Leon without saying or doing anything, it was beginning to get awkward. Soooo, you spoke up. Clearing your throat first. “Well,” you begin, starting to walk up to him. “I think we haven’t fully gotten to know each other.” He stared up at you, blinking a few times before responding.

“Oh! Uh..” Leon started, but never seemed to finish. Not knowing what question to ask or how to start off. He stood up, though. Holding his hand out to shake yours, which you did as well. You then started a conversation, first asking a question then following up with a statement. Which this went on for at least fifteen minutes. The both of you going back and forth, asking questions about one another; finding out that you had some things in common and have similar interests. The conversation was sweet, interesting. Yet it took a turn when you got closer to him. It was friendly, not purposely meant to intimidate him or anything. He continued to look up at you, struggling to keep his composure. Why the hell was this so difficult? You kept up the conversation, tried to. You, yourself were starting to get a little amped up. You couldn’t stop stealing looks at his lips, which was a problem. You were his captain, not his fuck buddy.

The sexual tension between you guys was so obvious and strong, but neither of you made a move. That was until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your thoughts ran through your mind and eventually went down to your cock.

He was a stressed out, tired, hardworking man. If you two were to do something, this one night probably wouldn’t mean anything. He needed something—someone to help him. Being not necessarily pent up but in need of some sort of relief. And you were there with him, alone, in an empty police station possibly flirting with him. Yeah, this wouldn’t mean anything, right? Wrong. Things escalated, you moved things out of the way on his desk. Once in the clear, the two of you moved back. Lips connected while grabbing at each other. When he got close enough, he sat himself up on his desk. Hands then coming up to the sides of your face—holding while the two of you kissed. You angled yourself, pressing against him in a way that he could feel you’re hard-on. “Mm..” he groaned, muffled by your lips. Should he be doing this? Absolutely not. Is he going to do it anyway and savor this moment? Yes.

“Y’feel what you do to me? God—“ you huffed, against his mouth. “You work so hard—fuckin’ perfect.”

Leon whined, shifting his position so that he could wrap his legs around you and pull you impossibly close. His hands went down to your belt, starting to quickly undo it. After that was out of the way he started on your pants. Which in the process you bucked into his touch without even realizing. You captured his lips again, this time the kiss was nothing but tongue and teeth. The two of you needed each other so bad you kept messing things up. Fumbling with taking off clothes, knocking things over, accidentally forgetting to do something. But in the end, he still got your cock shoved into him as if he was gonna disappear within seconds.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The sweet, sweet sounds that left Leon’s mouth were heavenly. Mouth open, eyes shut, and head back against the table. His legs were wrapped around your waist, purposely squeezing to pull you closer to him—get your cock deeper than it already was. “Such a hard worker, aren’t you? The moment you got here you worked, ‘n worked, ‘n worked.”

Leon whined, dick jumping and twitching at your words. He clenched around you—beginning to squirm. God, he was pretty. The way he reacted to your touch, praise, and whatever else you gave him. The sheen of sweat all over his body made him glisten in the dim light. Which just added onto the list of things that made him fucking beautiful. You dragged your hips back slowly, then pushed forward at the same pace. Your thrusts were slow, yes, but you made up for it by making sure you were deep inside him.

When you sped up your pace Leon cursed under his breath. The brutal pace catching him off guard.

“Shit!”

“Nothin’ you can’t take.” You cooed.

He breathed out a whimper—legs twitching. You leaned down over him, pressing your lips to his skin. His eyes were shut, it was all beginning to be too much. Your cock pushing into him at a relentless pace, your words, your touch. His dick leaked and throbbed—begging for some sort of attention. But it all felt good. It was something he deserved for working so much, so hard. “Oh- ohh..” Leon moaned. He clenched around you, gripping your cock. It caused a low groan to crawl from your throat. Your lips trailed up and up, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before sucking a hickey. Then moving on to his throat, forcing him to move his head up.

In a few minutes, Leon’s back was arching, his hands gripped the edge of the table he was on, and he was moving his hips up into the air as he came. Spurts of white shooting from his tip, and onto his chest; staining that area white. He huffed, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. It didn’t help when you kept thrusting into him, even when your hips started to stutter and fuck up the rhythm you’d set. He began to squirm. A whine slipping from his spit slicked lips.

You moaned, hips jerking as you finally came. You filled him up with your cum, and watched as it soon started to leak and drip from his hole. He felt so full. Stuffed with your cock and your cum. “Fuck..” he whispered. It was silent for a few seconds, well, aside from you two trying to control your breathing. But once you got ahold of it, you leaned back down and whispered straight into his ear.

“We ain’t done.”

[ghostedgwen]

but I knew you | j.potter [part three]

note : Thank you all so much for the love and support on the two previous parts! I am still trying to get back into writing and getting my old style back but it is still a work in progress. Really happy you lots enjoyed them and are asking to even be tagged in the next parts!

warning : more angst but some cute moment as well, Remus is an mvp on this one I love him, mentions of blood and injury, violence, there's a nasty fist fight, a brief moment of a man being a man and some misogyny.

James gets into an accident during a Quidditch game and develop amnesia - he doesn't remember the past 2 and a half years, and he currently has the mentality of fourth-year James. This doesn't bode well for you that your boyfriend of 2 years now currently thinks he's still  in love with Lily.

└——————— - [ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝚃𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 - 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚗 ]. +

It's been weird. Actually, that's an understatement. It has been absolute hell ever since that Quidditch accident, no one knew how to act around either you and James.

By now, the whole school knew and with how the school is quick to absorb gossip like greedy sponges, it was quick to be the topic of every conversation.

Girls would throw pitiful looks your way, and it grated your nerves to receive them. You didn't need their pity, not even one bit.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," you groan into your hands, pressed into your closed eyes. "This fucking sucks."

Remus gives you a tight-lipped smile that might as well be empty. "How about retracing your steps?"

You frown, taking your palms off your face and turning to Remus who began putting his book down.

"I'll talk to him, I'll convince him to practise with you."

"Practise what?"

"Remembering. You should know the core memories you two have made throughout your relationship, just recreate those moments with him," Remus shrugged. "Might work."

"It might not." You shake your head, giving up hope before it could even exist.

Remus makes a face at you. "This is so not you, you're not a quitter, ____."

A pregnant pause.

You heave a sigh. "Okay," you give in. "Bloody hell."

.

You watch as James casually approach you. Same mannerisms and all that but he feels unbelievably strange, you almost didn't recognize him with how he regarded you so casually. Curtly nodding and crossing his arms.

"Moony convinced me to humor this," he huffs. "Where are we off to?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to go through with this despite not wanting to do this. This was the only solution that made somewhat sense, and it was ultimately better than waiting it out while you try to act like the problem did not exist.

You click your tongue. "Where you first fell for me," you answered. "In your own words, of course. A bit cheesy for me, in all honesty."

He chuckles at that and you gesture him to follow you which he did. He walks beside you, not too far but also not close enough. You have to constantly remind yourself that it's not his fault. If he had met your James, he would've been pissed at himself right this very moment.

You didn't mind the distance much and continued your strides to the spot. You both pause, he looks around the empty hall with a frown.

"Sirius said he'd make sure the hall was clear for us." You tell him.

How he made it happen doesn't matter to you, but you had a few guesses. No time to dwell on that when he turned to look at you expectantly. You scan him, before speaking again.

"What do you feel when you look at me?"

"Honestly?" he licks his bottom lip with hesitation. "Nothing."

Wow, ouch. Okay.

You were about to speak again when he continued - "At first, because I really don't know you. . .but the more I look, the longer I stare at you - I have this urge to hold you."

That brought a small smile out of you. "Seems my James is still in there somewhere."

He didn't react to that, pretending he didn't feel a clutch in his heart at that. You shake your head, forcing the smile away and turned to the very spot you two stood on that day. 

"Muggles science did say that love is in the head, not exactly the heart," you tell him with a bitter chuckle. "I guess you don't abide by that law. You still feel for me, despite not knowing me. I just badly need you back."

You can only imagine how much harder this is on him. While it absolutely hurt to be forgotten by your lover, you can empathize with his situation. How confused he must be to be a 14-year-old in the body of a 16-year-old James.

"How does it feel?" You ask him.

"Weird," he answered truthfully. "I feel weird. Like every inch of my body is on fire but it doesn't hurt. Uncomfortably warm."

You cannot even begin to image what that feels like. "I'm sorry, by the way. I have been too focused on the fact you forgot about me to even realize you lost a whole lot more than that."

He blinks. Your voice was comforting, and your words were kind. He still does not know how he pulled away from Lily, but he can see the appeal of why he fell for you. Your words, how you carried yourself and that confidence that oozed out of your every action without trying hard.

"I'm sorry too." was all he said.

You cleared your throat. "This is where I slapped you, by the way." You laugh humourlessly at your own words. "You had the absolute audacity to imply that you'd buy me, what a right git you were."

You look at him and see him blink in confusion, "What's your last memory before waking up in the infirmary?"

He gives you a huff, dropping his shoulder and walking to the wall with a wide open window. He sat there, leaning against the stone wall with his head hanging low. "I remember just returning to Hogwarts, I had asked Li- Evans out again during the welcome dinner, got rejected again - and I went to bed after arm wrestling with Pads."

You followed him, sitting across him while listening attentively. "Then I woke up, and here I am."

A moment of silence passed, you just watched him. You can see the gears turning in his head, a faraway look in his eyes as he gets lost in his thoughts. "It must be extremely hard for you too."

James nod. "It is, because I can see that I'm hurting you - and the lads, but I can't force it out of me. I feel a bit unwanted."

You scoot closer, hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder. "That's not true, we're all just struggling as well. You don't know it yet, but Sirius - he could never unwant you, you two are basically soulmates and I am the thirdwheel."

"Does something happen? To him?"

You nod when he lifts his head to look at you. "Yes, but that's not until you both are 15."

"When do you come in?"

You smile bitterly. "Today. The second day during our fourth year, I enter the story."

James' jaw dropped. "I remember everything - until exactly the day I meet you?"

You laugh humourlessly, nodding to his words. "What a cruel joke."

.

"How's it been?" Remus asked, settling beside you on the couch. You had a book propped on your lap and was getting lost in the words when he pulled you out and grounded you back to reality. "You've been at it for a week. What timeline are you in now?"

"Just about finishing up fifth year," you answer him casually. "He's compliant, and behaved. Would you believe that? He's behaved, around me."

Remus laughs. "That's good at least, he's willing to try."

"He said he felt unwanted by us," you tell him, watching his jaw drop. "We got too busy minding the fact he forgot."

"Merlin - " Remus runs a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell."

"He's 14, right now and he must feel so scared to be in this familiar - yet strange environment he has ended up in. I didn't wanna tell you, he confided in me but I can see how he's been struggling throughout the week. He needs his brothers too, not just me."

Remus slowly nod along your words. "You're right. We thought to give you some space. Pads is still in shock and Peter is just depressed at this point."

You heave a sigh. "We'll get him back, no worries."

.

"____!" You turn to the voice that called you, you spy a familiar boy clad in black and yellow uniform run up to you. He had on a bright grin as he greeted you, a bookbag hanging off his shoulder. "Glad I finally caught up to you."

You frown at him. "You've been looking for me, McLaggen?" 

"Yes," he nods and gestures to you. "But you've been with Potter this whole week."

You blink in confusion. "Of course I will, he's my boyfriend." You answer him bluntly, but he only shrugged at that with a tilt of his head.

"Whole castle knows by now that he's forgotten 'bout you, I thought you two had broken up."

You felt an eye twitch at that. "Nevermind that, why were you looking for me."

"Was hoping I could ask you to be my study partner, for the upcoming Ancient Runes quiz. You are pretty much a genius at it, wouldn't hurt to be tutored by you."

You cross your arm. He's never once had the courage to approach you before ever since James took an interest in you. He introduced himself so confidently when you transferred and even offered to show you around the castle - that was until James entered the picture and everyone steered clear.

No one wants to mess with the Marauders.

"Why would I do that for you?" You ask, having nothing to gain from his proposal whatsoever. He's demanding you help him study in a subject you excel in without even offering anything in return. 

McLaggen flashes you a bright grin. "I'll treat you on a date on the next Hogsmeade trip."

You scoff at his words. "A date? You think I'd accept tutoring you for a bloody date? I'm taken, in case you forgot."

He laughs. "Your boyfriend doesn't even remember you, babe. I'm your next best bet, he's technically just a little boy right now, yeah? What age is he mentally? 12?"

"He lost two years, he's 14, you dumbass." You corrected him.

He shrugged. "Don't matter now, does it? He's just a little boy right now, you'll do well with a man."

You hold back a laugh at his words. "You think you're a man then?" You step back, providing more space between you and not once did his height intimidate you throughout the exchange as he address you while looking down. "You are a pig. Take your offer elsewhere, you disgust me."

"____-" he grabs your arm as you turn to leave but another voice also called out your name.

"____!" You turn to find James fast approaching, the rest of his gang trailing after him. "What's going on here?"

You tug at your arm and he finally released it. You fix your posture and glare at McLaggen, "We were just talking." you tell him and can see the anger bubbling in him with the expression on his face.

You turn to meet Sirius' eyes and gesture to James, he acted fast, grabbing him by the arm. "Calm down, mate. She said they were just talking."

"Didn't look like talking to me." James spat.

McLaggen stepped back, raising both hands in surrender. "My bad, mate. You don't even remember ____ anymore, the least you could do is let someone else have her."

You felt your jaw drop at his words, talking about you like you were an item to posses and freely give awya - like you had no say in the matter and you couldn't even process a reaction to his vile words when James swung for his face.

His fist colliding with McLaggen's face and he drops to the ground on the impact. He would have jumped on him as well if Sirius didn't pull him back with Remus who were desperately trying to calm him down.

"The fuck?" McLaggen hissed, clutchinng his now bruised cheek in disbelief. "Fuckin' hell!"

You turn to James, and it all happened so fast. The two boys lost grip on him and he slipped out - jumping on McLaggen to throw more punches but this time, the other boy got to react and returned the favor.

The two exchanged blows while the other three boys tried their best to pull them apart, you were only grateful that the halls are empty or this would be another spectacle for the whole castle.

You run to them, figuring that the three boys' attempts were not working - but it was too late. McLaggen pulled something out of the bookbag he carried - an ink bottle? And smacked James right across the head with it.

"Prongs?" Sirius called out to James who dropped after the hit, McLaggen appeared shocked at the result of his actions. He threw away the bottle and scrambled to get up. 

"James!" You called out and dropped to his side, Merlin - he's out. He's breathing but he is out. The hit must have gotten him good. You angrily turn to see McLaggen running away from the scene. You can deal with him later, you turned your focus to the passed out James. "Bloody fuck, not again."

to be continued . . .

part four | masterlist

[rafesangelita]

can you pleaseeee do some angst with pogue!sweetheart!reader, like she overhears some of the girls at the country club talking about her and saying things like “i don’t know what rafe see’s in her, she’s still a pogue.” and rafe possibly reassuring her? thank you!

warnings: bullying (?), classist comments, slight fluff

“rafe, as much as i love you, i don’t think i can stand out here much longer.” you fanned yourself, using your hand to block the sun from hitting your face. rafe and topper were currently playing golf while you played cart girl for them, the summer heat quickly becoming far too hot for you to handle. rafe paused their game, jogging over to you as he took his wallet out of the pocket of his pants.

“start up a tab at the bar, go ahead and cool off, baby.” you accepted his card, silently asking ‘are you sure?’ before he pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips. “go, on.” rafe reassured you, smiling to himself as he watched you make your way inside the country club.

you couldn’t help but sigh in relief when a gust of cool air blew past you, immediately ordering a virgin piña colada as you took a seat at the rather empty bar. rafe loved to bring you over to the country club, especially since you pretty much knew everyone from all the times you came to sell your baked goods, although it wouldn’t hurt to make some actual friends instead of acquaintances.

speaking of friends, you spotted a table not too far away, all three girls already looking at you before you smiled at them. no one smiled back. clearing your throat awkwardly, you fiddled with the rings on your fingers as you waited for your drink to be made. “you see rafe out on the golf course today? he is just so handsome.” oh, god. your breath hitched, your heart dropping as you continued to listen in on their conversation.

“he is! why he’s dating some pogue baker girl? i’ll never know.”

“that’s literally her over there.”

you shut your eyes, wishing the ground could swallow you whole. “i mean.. she’s pretty and all, but at the end of the day she’s still a pogue.” the girl’s laughter echoed in your ears, your skin flush with embarrassment. “well, it’s obvious that she’s just a charity case. rafe probably feels bad for the girl.” the way they all collectively agreed with one another made tears prick at your eyes.

just when you thought the comments couldn’t get any worse, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor at the next accusation. “maybe he’s paying her to have sex with him or something. i could imagine she has to scrape for some kind of change if she lives on the cut.” you were crying now, refusing to let them see any kind of tears running down your face. “one virgin piña colada.” the bartender placed the pretty drink down in front of you, a round of laughter erupting from behind you.

“a virgin piña colada? what is she? twelve?”

deciding you couldn’t take it anymore, you left a cash tip on the counter and muttered a ‘put it on on rafe cameron’s tab, please.’ before leaving without sparing them a single glance. to say you were mortified would be an understatement. rafe was probably going to freak out once he saw that you just up and left, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay there another second.

you didn’t even make it out of the parking lot when you heard rafe’s voice calling after you. “y/n!” he was panting when he finally got to you, “hey, wait a second baby.” you quickly wiped your eyes before turning around, your boyfriend immediately sensing something was wrong. “woah, woah, what happened?” rafe tucked your hair behind your ears, cupping your chin before using his thumbs to stroke your tear-stained cheeks.

“nothing, i just don’t feel so good-”

“it’s not that.” he cut in, eyes flickering between yours. “what happened?” rafe asked once again. you knew it was impossible to lie to him. “tell me, baby, so i can fix it.” his jaw clenched, blue orbs wide with concern. you laughed bitterly. “you can’t fix girls who gossip.” at your words, rafe blinked before looking back at the country club. “are you talking about the snobs at the table near the window?” rafe took your silence as his answer, nodding slowly before draping an arm across your shoulders.

“what did they say?” his voice was eerily calm as he walked you two over to his truck. “it’s stupid, really.” you sniffled, letting rafe place you in the passenger seat. he kept the door open, leaning on the frame as he took your hand in his. “tell me.” rafe’s voice was stern, his chest rising and falling with each breath. you sighed, avoiding his gaze as you spoke. “they said that you have to be paying me to have sex with you because apparently i’m ‘scraping’ for change since i live on the cut.”

rafe’s jaw ticked, his eyes narrowing as he took your words in. “is that it?” he cleared his throat, his vision slowly blinding him with white hot anger. “they also said that they couldn’t understand why you would want to be with a ‘pogue baker girl’.. maybe their right.” rafe’s head shot up at your last statement, his face twisting in confusion. “what are you talking about?” he took your hand in his.

“i’m not even worth half of what these girls are,” you bit your lip to keep yourself from crying again, “i don’t have rich parents, i don’t have a trust fund that ensures i don’t have to work a day in my life, who am i kidding?” you shook your head. rafe studied you for a moment. “you know what you do have?” he lifted your chin, “a heart.”

“that’s something that no amount of money can buy. you have something priceless, y/n. you carry it with you everywhere you go.” rafe pressed a kiss to your temple, mumbling a ‘i’ll be right back.’ before he shut your door. you were a mess after that, his words not only being a comfort to you, but affirming.

rafe was gone for a few minutes before he strided out of the country club, a new piña colada in his hand. “here. now we sit and wait.” you took the drink from him, taking a sip as you watched two security guards escort the group of girls out. “what did you do?” you relaxed in your seat, glancing between rafe and the scene before you.

“got them blacklisted from the club. their parents aren’t as rich as you think.” he laughed, moving his attention to you. “don’t ever question yourself like that again. please.” he turned the engine on. “where are we going?” you asked. “we are going to go get you your own card, with your own little ‘trust fund’, alright?” he nodded.

“you’ll never have to worry about anyone talking like that about you ever again.”

[vegan-peppermint]

Your Boyfriend's Bed

Pairing: Hoodie x Masky'sGF!Reader Smut MDNI

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Cheating, creampie, rough sx, P in V

Summary: Your boyfriend is a B, but his best friend's there to take your side.

Part 2 here

Author's Note: After a three-year hiatus, I finally found the inspiration to write again—thanks to this incredible fanfiction. It sparked something in me. I can’t recommend it enough, so please show the creator some love. Their work is the reason I’m writing again after all this time. This fic is inspired by their masterpiece, so I highly encourage you to check it out first!

________________________________

More often than not, you were a collateral victim in your boyfriend and his friend’s fights. Tim and Brian were too close for your liking, they had a great co-dependency going on way before you came in the picture. If Brain was in a bad mood, so was Tim. If you got in a fight with Tim, Brian was giving you the silent treatment as well as taking sides without hesitation.

It was more than you bargained for, not realising getting Tim as a boyfriend meant taking responsibility for his grown-ass best friend as well. But you managed. With each month that passed in your relationship it was getting easier for you, to the point it was almost natural to consider them both in every action you took. 

Weirdly enough, you so much preferred for them to be mad at you instead of at each other. Whenever their balance wavered they started acting batshit crazy. Tim confessed some details about their ‘alternative’ life after- what, a year in you relationship? 

You didn’t fully grasp what he meant by their “alter egos” or their nighttime escapades, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to. You had your suspicions, of course. You weren’t blind. But as long as they didn’t outright spell it out for you, you could continue living in blissful ignorance. It was easier that way, and you convinced yourself that you were okay with it.

But today—today was different. Today, things had escalated to an entirely new level.

Tim was screaming at Brian, who was cloaked in that damned creepy hood that made him look so unsettling. Tim's anger seemed to grow by the second, and when “Hoodie” (as you suppose you should call him now) refused to react, it only fueled Tim’s rage.

You tried to calm him down, talk to him or something- anything.

A strained, guttural laugh escaped Tim, trembling with anger. He started explining to you how you do not even begin to understand what has happened, how you should just shut up and not get involved- his voice full with disdain, every sentence designed to belittle and assert his supposed superiority. 

Now you are not the one to get angry easily, but this time- this time something in you snapped. You were done being talked down to, done being made feel small or pathetic for just wanting some peace.

“No wonder he would not bother to have your back when you act like such a prick.”

“Oh, just shut up you bit-,” his words faltered as he caught himself mid-sentence, swallowing the insult faster than a politician trying to cover his tracks.

You cannot recreate what was spoken after that word for word, just that all hell broke loose. It was no longer a fight between Tim and Brian- no, it wasn’t just them anymore. It was you and Hoodie against Tim. You were screaming and throwing your every angry complaint you had been holding in for far too long. And Hoodie- Hoodie of all people- was backing your every word, every statement. However, Hoodie’s remark is what really sealed and shipped Tim’s whole spirit.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl so frustrated with her boyfriend in my life, Masky. Can only imagine you’re lacking in some aspects.”

The words hit harder than anything you had said. They were cold, calculated, and aimed straight at the core of Tim’s pride. The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, Tim stood there, trembling with the weight of the accusation. His face twisted in disbelief, but the damage had already been done.

What followed between the two of them was pure madness. Shouting, shoving, items flying off shelves—everything seemed to spin out of control. Pushing, pulling, voices rising higher and higher, until the tension reached a breaking point. Tim’s eyes flickered with something darker, something unstable, before he turned to grab his mask and stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard it shook the walls.

Well, this has happened this morning. You realise you could’ve done things differently, not taking sides or waiting for their fight to end before starting your own. That was your mistake. But leaving you hurt and angry with only Hoodie to comfort you was his.

________________________________

You were on all fours on your boyfriends bed, face buried in his pillows. Hoodie’s gloved hand pushed down on your back arching it more- your ass rising higher. 

Your clothes were littering the floor from the doorway to the edge of the bed, the cold air tickling your bare skin. Your eyes landed on the wardrobe’s mirror showing your helpless reflection with Hoodie’s tall frame behind you. He was completely dressed from his boots to the black mask that covered his face- he was glacial. 

His left hand- formerly on your back-  grabbed your hip harshly. He dragged the other painfully slow across your side- from ass, to waist and finally around your breast. You whimpered at the harsh feeling of his gloves palming your tits. 

“So sensitive…” he sighed. The nub was hardening against his touch making it easier for him to pinch or gently twist your nipple. 

You inhaled sharply trying to steady yourself but being met with Tim’s smell wasn’t helping. “H-Hodie...” you whined. 

His hands left your body and you heard his pants zipper opening. You tried to push yourself on your forearms, an instinct to turn around and see what you were dealing with, but before you could make a move a firm grip grabbed at the back of your neck. The sharp tug sent shivers down your spine as Hoodie yanked your head back. With a swift flick of his wrist, he let go of your nape only to have his fingers dart into your hair. His grip was certain and precise. “You’re way to eager to get on another man’s cock.” Your face was shoved once again back into the mattress. 

He was watching you excitedly as he brushed his tip across your folds- a groan escaping his lips when he felt how wet you already were. There was something primal about knowing you belonged to someone else yet he got to claim you as his right now. 

“Be quiet now,” he instructed sliding his cock inside you. You tried your best, you swore you did but he was so- big. Your eyes rolled upwards and your fingers gripped tightly at the sheets as you tried your best not to scream. His cock pressed deeper and deeper inside your cunt, stretching you in ways you did not even imagine possible. “You moan like a whore,” he growled with a final push. You felt your face blushing in shame- he talked to you in ways you would've never allowed your boyfriend, but on his lips those words felt so natural; almost like praises.

“Shh, shh,” he murmured, the sound gentle but insistent. You were already panting and crying just by the size of him. He gave you a moment to adjust to him being balls deep inside your aching cunt but your whines wouldn’t stop. He leaned over you, the rough material of his clothes scratching your soft skin. His hand reached to the side of your face, you thought he wanted to wipe away the tears that were sliding down your cheeks. He chuckled, his hand covering your mouth instead. “I’m gonna fuck you senseless, sweetheart.” 

________________________________

“Fuck, fuck- fuck! Feels so- Agh!~” 

You were screaming so fucking loudly. Your head was bumping to the ruthless rhythm of Hoodie’s thrusts. His fingers left red marks all over your ass, your hips- he was tugging at your body merciless, squeezing and scratching every inch of skin he could find. 

With trembling hands you tried your best to hold onto the bed frame as Hoodie was rutting into you from behind. His balls were hitting your swollen clit so hard- again and again and- “Am so close- so close, so close!”  Jaw was hanging open, you were gasping for air. 

“Fucking whore,” Hoodie sighed grabbing your neck with one hand, the other searching for your open mouth. “Bet he never fucked you this good, eh?” He gave a sinister chuckle as he shoved his fingers down your throat. You followed his cruel pull falling back on his torso. He was squeezing at the sides of you neck reminding you how little and vulnerable you are right now, “You only breath right now- scream and cry- you only feel this good because I allow you to.”

You whine taking him even deeper, his cock slaming your walls faster. His fingers explored your mouth pressing down your tongue, his grip thightend. 

“I could snap your neck right now, you know?”

You cry out loud in desperation, surrenedring control to him completely. Your eyes shut in anticipation, every muscle in you tightens-

“Say who you really belong to, who fucks you like a bitch in heat,” he snarls. “Say my name.”

And you do. Over and over again you do as your gummy walls squeeze around his length unbearably thight, waves of pleasure wash all over you. Hoodie’s hands allow you to gasp for air just for a second as they move under your arms grabbing you by the shoulders. His sudden body weight pushed you on your belly, fucking you deeper into the matress. His thrusts grow sloppy and desparate with no regard towards you- he was fucking you like a fleshlight.

“I’ll pump you so full of cum, MY cum-” Muffled sounds rose from deep in his chest, you were able to hear his clenched teeth through the sharp breaths he took. “Breed you so good you’ll be ruined- Fuck-” he whimpered. “Ruined for Tim,” his thrusts are brutal and harsh and- so goddamn overwhelming. 

His cum shots in hot strings, his member twitching inside your ruined cunt. His hands pull you closer and hips push further trying to get as deep as possible- deeper than Tim at least. 

You felt bad for comparing but the way he feels on top of you, in you- he fucked you in ways your boyfriend never could. When you tried to shift he grabbed a fistful of your hair forcing your head back. With lazy motions he started fucking his cum deeper.

“I didn’t tell you you could fucking move yet.”

//

This is my first fic since, what- 2021? Wow. Crazy.

I'll keep on writing my usual content as well, but creepypastas and gore-y stuff has always been something I wanted to write but never felt confident enough before. Anyways, feel free to request or send me any message, I came back from my hiatus! Never thought I'd say that lol.

[lupinqs]

FOCUS ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: practice gets a little steamy…

☆ ━ word count: 3.1K

☆ ━ warnings: smut (p eating, fingering, kinda public sex but ig not really)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: okay so this is SUCHHH a scrap, i have not proofread it either, it’s just not great, i’m not very happy with it but i wanted to post something so here it is i hope you all like it more than i do LOL

YOU’RE in Maryland, visiting Paige’s family. You and her got here a little under a week ago following the first round of Geno’s summer sessions. It’s been a lazy few days so far, full of long mornings spent in bed, video games on the couch with Drew, and afternoons tanning in the summer sun. It’s been nice; a solid break that the both of you need before what Paige has dubbed her “world tour” of the summer. You’re tagging along for parts of it—though not all of it—and it’s safe to say you’re not excited for the amount of plane rides and jet lag you’re about to face.

However, you and Paige both decided that a week of sitting on your asses might do more harm than good, so you’ve gathered yourselves at the local high school gym, getting some hoops in.

A few buddies of Paige’s, as well as Drew, tagged along in the beginning, but as the hours grew longer, they began to fizzle out. Drew is the last to leave, heading to his actual basketball practice with his own team.

And then it’s just you and Paige.

The two of you could leave now; you’ve certainly been here practicing long enough. However, you can see the itch of a smirk in Paige’s face and you know what she’s going to say before the words even leave her mouth.

“1v1?” she asks, a playful challenge in her eyes.

You smirk, taking the challenge as you always seem to do. “Not too scared you’ll lose again?”

Paige rolls her eyes at the reminder of the two of you’s last one-on-one game. She waves a hand, saying dejectedly, “You cheated.”

“Nope, you’re just a sore loser.”

Paige just shakes her head, grinning. “I’m not a sore loser because I didn’t lose.”

You decide that you’re not entertaining this. You’re well aware that she will continue bickering with you about it until you give in, admitting that she’s right and you’re not. It’s always this way; she will literally go on for hours if you let her. But, nonetheless, you both know the truth—which is, you definitely beat her in that game.

And, when you begin the game, the way the first few minutes are going makes you believe you may win this one, too. You’re up a good few points—Paige has been slacking on defense and you’ve been picking up the pace on offense. When you get another bucket on her, you grin widely, calling to your girlfriend, “Gee, you a little rusty, P Boogers?” You add the nickname KK’s created, knowing how much it annoys her.

However, Paige doesn’t bother responding, instead abruptly ripping her white long-sleeve over her head and tossing it across the gym on the other side of the court. Your grin falters at that, eyes soaking up Paige’s body. Jesus. Already, you can feel your heart start to race (and it’s not from the basketball game). Paige is wearing a Nike black sports bra, and, with her shirt now shed, the silver chains are on full display along her chest. Her basketball shorts are also rolled down, so that her whole torso is practically exposed, abs included. You feel your mouth salivate at the sight of Paige’s skin glistens with sweat, the way her abs flex, the way her arms look (you seem to grow fonder and fonder of them every day, especially since Paige has been in the weight room more often).

A small smirk paints Paige’s face as she takes in your surprised expression. She just raises her eyebrows, saying with a shit-eating grin, “What? It’s hot in here.”

You roll your eyes at Paige’s obviousness, opting to resume the game rather than respond to her. She’s back on offense, you on defense. You defend as you always would, hands raised, feet tracking your opponent’s, eyes flitting between the ball in Paige’s hand and Paige’s face. However, as your eyes trail between the two, they can’t help but track Paige’s abs, the sweat shining on her porcelain skin, the way her chains go with her every movement. You swallow thickly, doing your absolute best to concentrate on the game instead of your extremely sexy girlfriend.

“Focus, sweetheart,” Paige teases, dribbling the ball slowly. The nickname makes your heart stutter. “You’re gonna lose if you keep staring.”

And then she powers forward, scoring a layup with no hesitation. She grins and cocks her head at your bad defense, tsking as she asks, “Where’d that focus of yours go, hmm?”

Your cheeks flush at her words, and you grab the basketball, doing your best to lock in. “Nowhere, I am focused,” you argue, trying to get past the blonde’s defense.

“Oh, sure,” Paige murmurs in your ear, now with her front pressed flush against your back as you dribble, attempting to find a hole. She catches the way your face turns, looking to get through, but instead your eyes once again catch the chains that have begun to stick to her skin due to the sweat. Her smirk only grows, and she adds slowly, mockingly, “You are focused. Just… not on the game, yeah?”

“Shut up,” you grunt against her, trying to get a shot in. She doesn’t let you, blocking it. You groan a little as her hands snake around the ball, effectively stealing it from you.

“I will once you tell me what you’re so focused on that has you distracted from the game. You were just doing so well, beating me for once,” she says, egging you on.

You scoff, snapping, “You know damn well what I’m focused on.”

“I wanna hear you say it, baby,” she taunts, blue eyes squinting with mischief.

You hold her gaze for a long second. You could give her what she wants, say that the only thing you’re really able to focus on right now is just how fucking sexy she looks and how much you’d love to rip her clothes off right here, right now and fuck her. But, of course, you don’t. You’re just as stubborn as Paige is, so you simply utter, “No.”

A look of annoyance—that satisfies you very much—flits across her face. She shrugs, saying, “Fine then.”

You continue the game, but things seem to only be looking worse for you. No matter how much you try to fight it, try to focus on the basketball and the basketball only, it’s like your eyes have a mind of their own, and they seem to stay locked on Paige’s body. And, of course, Paige takes every opportunity she can to flaunt it, knowing full well the effect it has on you. Her smirk never fades, especially as she gets closer and closer to winning.

However, it seems like Paige has finally had enough with the teasing. She drives to the basket, right past you (you let her; you’re done with this game), making a final layup. She then turns to you, catching sight of the way you stand there watching her, having not bothered to defend that final play. “Game over,” Paige announces. You can’t help but notice how her voice is lower, more huskier than usual. It means you’re probably going to get what you want.

You step closer, eyes darkening with pure want. You’ve given up pretending that you don’t. “You’re such a tease, Bueckers.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, her smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “Oh, yeah?” She steps closer, her body almost brushing against yours. “Maybe you just needa learn to focus better.”

The air between you is charged, and before you can even respond, Paige has you pushed against the wall of the gym, her chest pressed against yours, her face so close her nose nearly touches your own. The sound of the both of your breathing fills the space, heavy and expectant.

Paige’s eyes lock onto yours, and—without an ounce of hesitation—she leans in, her lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. It’s almost instinctual at this point, the way your respond to it. Your hands find their way to Paige’s back, pulling her closer as the blonde’s tongue traces your lips slowly, seeking entry. You willingly part them, allowing Paige to explore your mouth passionately. She’s going fast, and if you weren’t so used to it, it might’ve been hard for you to keep up. Nevertheless, you do, albeit with a couple teeth clashes.

Paige’s hands slide from their spot on your hips up to cup your face, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Your own fingers trail from her back, tracing her sweaty skin, until they thread through Paige’s hair, effectively ruining the once slicked back bun (not that either of you care much).

Paige breaks away from your mouth, trailing a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. You can’t help but tilt your head back, granting the blonde better access to your neck. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears and the shallow pants escaping your mouth as Paige’s lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear.

And then you feel her teeth biting. It’s not enough to truly hurt, but it’s enough to elicit a whimper from you—a sound that Paige loves. She does it again, gets the same reaction, and then soothes the area with a flick of her tongue. Paige’s kisses trail down the expanse of your neck, surely leaving marks that you know you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. But you don’t have it in yourself to care much about that because each press of Paige’s lips, each gentle scrape of her teeth, each soothing lap of her tongue, sends shivers down your spine and heat through your core.

Your hands tighten in Paige’s hair as she reaches the hollow of your throat, sucking hard. You feel your hips involuntarily arch toward Paige, seeking more contact. The blonde smirks against your neck, pleased with your reaction. She moves lower, kissing along the line of your collarbone, hands sliding under your tank top to caress the soft skin of your stomach.

You feel your breath hitch as Paige grows more insistent, tongue darting out to taste the salty tang of sweat that permeates your skin. Her hands travel upward beneath your shirt, fingers brushing the underside of your breasts. Your eyes flutter open at that, remembering where you are.

“Paige, we really shouldn’t,” you say, but your voice shakes and your hands find their way to the blonde’s abs, tracing the defines muscles and betraying your words. “Anyone could walk in,” you add, attempting to keep yourself composed.

Paige’s lips capture yours in a fierce kiss, silencing your protests. Her hands are cupping your breasts through your sports bra now, and she manages to reassure you between kisses, “No one’s gonna walk in.”

And, just like that, your resolve seems to crumble. That always happens with Paige—it’s so easy with her, and, though, sometimes it does frustrate you, you usually don’t regret it. “Fuck, P,” you gasp, fingers digging into your girlfriend’s skin.

She grins against your lips, and her right hand slowly but surely trails its way from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. It slips beneath them and you feel yourself growing hotter—and wetter—with each passing second.

Paige’s fingers slowly begin to tease your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that make your knees go weak. It’s in stark contrast to her kisses, so fast-paced you can hardly breathe. Eventually, you manage to break the kiss, gasping raggedly, voice a mix of desperation and need, “Quit teasing.”

Paige’s smirk only seems to widen, and her pupils—which are blown so much that her blue eyes look nearly black—are full of lust. “Am I teasing?” she asks, fingers sliding through your slick folds.

You feel your heartbeat stutter and your core pulsing with utter need. “You know you are,” you mutter, glaring. She presses her thumb harder against your clit, though it’s not in the way you need it (and she knows it). “Quit it.”

“As you wish,” she murmurs, lips ghosting along your earlobe. Without hesitation, she dips two fingers into you, the sudden intrusion causing you to gasp loudly, arching against Paige’s touch.

“Shit,” you breathe out, hands gripping Paige’s sides for support. Your head leans back against the gym wall, and Paige resumes the kissing on your neck, marking it up even more. Her fingers continue inside you with a steady rhythm, each thrust drawing out sharp gasps from your lips.

“So wet for me, baby,” Paige says against your skin, biting your shoulder lightly as she curls her fingers. You outright moan at that, and she asks, “How long you been dripping like this, waitin’ for me?”

“All day,” you admit between whimpers, practically shaking against Paige. Her fingers go deeper, fucking up into you harder. “Paige, please,” you beg, eyes squeezing shut.

Paige’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “Please what, baby?” she teases, fingers hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs feel like jelly.

“Fuck, your mouth,” you manage to gasp out between moans, body heating up with each passing second. “Please, P, I want your mouth.”

You watch as Paige’s eyes darken with hunger at your words, and you feel your heartbeat begin to quicken. “Whatever you want,” the blonde murmurs, voice filled with promise. She pulls her fingers out of you, savoring the way you practically whimper at the loss. Then, with deliberate slowness, she sinks to her knees before you, her hands sliding your shorts down with her.

Paige glances up at you, blue eyes full of a mischief and a smirk that you’ve had a habit of kissing off her face. You can’t help but think about just how fucking good Paige looks like this, cheeks rosy, lips kiss-swollen, sweat shining along every expanse of skin that’s exposed—which is a lot. Your eyes wander from her face to her chest and shoulders to her abs and back. And when your eyes meet hers again, the look in them… Jesus fuck. The sight is genuinely almost enough to make you come right then and there.

And you know that Paige knows the effect she has on you. You can tell in the way her smirk sits on her face, the way her eyebrows raise slightly, the way she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh—so close yet so far from where you really need her.

But she doesn’t tease for long, because when she finally reaches your core, she wastes no time, her tongue flicking out to taste you.

She starts with long, slow licks, gradually building the tension in you. Each stroke of her tongue makes you feel like you’re on Cloud 9 and about to have a stroke all at once. Your fingers tighten in her hair, hips arching toward Paige’s mouth, seeking more contact.

Paige understands—truthfully, she’s so familiar with your body at this point, that you can’t remember the last time she didn’t understand what you wanted—and she dips her tongue into your entrance. Her fingers trail from their grip on your hip to your clit, rubbing in firm, quickening circles. The dual sensation makes you cry out, your nails digging into the skin of your palm, your other hand tightening in Paige’s hair, pulling slightly. She lets out a satisfied hum against you at that, and the vibrations send a new wave of pleasure through you.

Paige knows exactly what you like, and she certainly uses that to her advantage. She curls her tongue inside you, seeking out that one spot that makes you see stars. The noises coming from your mouth begin to grow louder, your hips grinding against Paige’s face, still desperate for more.

“Fuck, Paige— God,” you moan, voice breaking. “I need… I need more.”

Surprisingly, Paige doesn’t make a comment about how needy you are, instead opting to do as you say. She pulls her tongue out, replacing it with two fingers, thrusting them deep inside your cunt. At the same time, she focuses her mouth back on your clit, sucking and licking so fervently you fear she might make you faint from her head game.

Paige can feel your legs trembling, the strain of standing becoming too much. Without breaking her rhythm, she throws one of your legs over her shoulder, giving herself more leverage, her tongue and fingers continuing their relentlessness. You can feel the pressure building within you, threatening to snap.

“God, you taste s’good,” Paige murmurs against your wet pussy. You catch the way your arousal is coating her chin and the sight of it—along with a deeper curl of her fingers—makes you moan loudly. “So sweet. ’Could do this all fuckin’ day, if you let me. ’Would make you come a million times over, baby.”

You cry out again, both at her words and the pace of her fingers curling and thrusting, the wetness of her mouth on you. Your body tenses, every muscle coiled tight as you hover on the brink of release. Paige senses how close you are and doubles down, adding a third finger and sucking hard on your clit.

That’s all it takes. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the force of it. You moan out Paige’s name, your fingers gripping her hair so tightly that it has to hurt (though Paige doesn’t mind). She helps you ride out your high, her fingers and tongue working together to prolong your pleasure.

Finally, when your body goes limp and your breathing begins to slow, Paige pulls back, planting soft, soothing kisses along your inner thighs. She looks up at you, her lips glistening with your arousal, a satisfied grin on her face.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” Paige says, eyes trailing all along your body.

You can only nod, still too breathless to form a coherent response. Your heart swells as Paige stands, pulling you in for a kiss. Her tongue slips in your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You moan against her lips, your hands wrapping around her neck, pulling her closer. You stay like that for a moment—you savoring Paige, Paige savoring you—before finally breaking apart, both of you breathless and smiling.

“I love you,” Paige murmurs, planting a short peck on your lips. Then your nose. Then your forehead. “We should probably put your clothes back on, though, before someone does walk in on us.”

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Epilogue 2

In which Lando learns just how mean kids can be

Warnings: pregnancy talk, bullying(kinda?), time hop to two years later. Pairing: lando x singlemom!reader Word Count: 2.3k

Master List - A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - A Package Deal - Part 4 - A Package Deal - Part 5 - A Package Deal - Part 6 - A Package Deal - Epilogue 1

2 years later 

The front door slams so hard the windows in the living room shake. You’re yanked out of the deep sleep you had slipped into after Lando had left to go pick Stella up from school. 

“Lan?” You call from your place on the couch, not bothering to get up. It would take too much energy for you to even attempt to sit up with how big your bump was now. Instead you just swing your feet to the ground so you can sort of sit up to see the front door. “Everything okay?” 

From the entryway, you hear a grunt in response but nothing else until there’s the unmistakable sound of feet pounding their way upstairs. “It sounds like someone had a good day at school.” You mutter, waiting for Lando to join you in the living room. 

Moments later, your husband shuffles in, frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, that was fun.” 

He flops down on the couch next to you, hand immediately finding your bump. 

“What in the world was that?” 

Lando shrugs, hand tracing lazy circles as the baby boy in your belly does a few soccer kicks in response to the sudden movement and sound outside. He had given you a break the last few hours, seemingly taking a nap with you but if there was one thing this little boy shared in common with his daddy, it was the fact that he very rarely settled down. You were used to the somersaults in the middle of the night and the feet stuck in the middle of a rib while you’d be attempting to have a conversation at work. Even the tap dancing on your bladder was routine now. 

When you had found out you were pregnant just a few months after your wedding you had been a nervous wreck. Your first pregnancy had been difficult, both mentally and physically. Getting pregnant accidentally while still a teenager had been humiliating, the people in your small town mucked up gossip about you for months. Stella’s dad had tried his best to be supportive but he was just a teenager himself and hadn’t done a very good job at being there for you. Most of your pregnancy had been spent alone, isolated, and grieving the loss of your freedom while you watched everyone else continue on with their lives. Not that you would have changed anything for the world looking back. The challenges you had gone through had brought you Stella and in some way, it had also brought you Lando. 

But being pregnant again? The old trauma and memories had resurfaced and it had taken you longer than you cared to admit to come to terms with the fact that you were having a second baby. 

Lando, on the other hand, had been ecstatic from the moment you showed him the pregnancy test the morning you had realized your period was weeks late. He had been waiting (not so) patiently to finally get you pregnant for what felt like a lifetime. Lando knew you were anxious though, he saw it in the way you shied away from talking about the future the first few months and found himself bound and determined to make this pregnancy a good one for you. You had told him about the gossip that had followed you the first time, the challenges of being pregnant and not having the easiest go of it physically so he had made a decision the morning you had showed him that pregnancy test: make this pregnancy and all of your future ones as easy and stress free as possible. 

And so far he had made good on that promise. Anything that you wanted or craved was yours. Ice cream and pickles at 3 in the morning after he’d just gotten home from a race in Brazil? Done. Chicken noodle soup followed by a giant bowl of cereal for lunch in your office? He was on it. Putting Stella to bed while you watched a movie in bed and inevitably fell asleep before he was even done reading to her? That was a common occurrence in your house these days. 

Lando wanted to do anything and everything he could to make this pregnancy miles back from your first one. Which was why you were still on the couch and Lando had made the trek to school this afternoon to pick Stella up. It was an off week from racing late in the spring so you had taken the day off from work to spend the day cuddled up in bed with Lando while Stella had been in school. You were about six weeks away from giving birth, having somehow timed it nearly perfectly with summer break. If baby boy listened to the doctors, he should make his appearance right around the time F1 took it’s annual summer break. 

“She seemed pretty upset.” You observe, listening to the stomping that Stella was doing above your head in her room. 

“Something happened at school but she refuses to tell me what.” Lando grumbles, hand slipping underneath your shirt so he can rub at the smooth skin of your belly. If there’s one thing he’s become completely and utterly obsessed with over the last few months it’s the way you look while pregnant with his baby. It’s a feeling that’s so primal, seeing you all big and round because of him. You’ve always been drop dead gorgeous to him, but pregnant? Pregnant, you were a masterpiece. 

Ever since you had told Stella you were pregnant, she had been having mixed feelings. Finding out she was going to be a big sister to a little brother had gone not gone over very well as she had wanted a little sister to dress up and play with. But lately, she had been warming up to the idea of having a baby brother more and more so you hoped this little temper tantrum wasn’t baby related. 

Reaching behind you, you pitch your weight forward, desperately trying to navigate around what felt like the biggest pregnant belly you’d ever seen, you struggle to get off the couch.

 “I’m going to need a forklift by the time I hit my due date if I ever want to sit down comfortably again.” You grumble before Lando reaches out and pulls you back. “Lan!” You whine, smacking him on the chest. “I was nearly up, you jerk!” 

“Stay where you are, mama. I’ll go take care of it.” He orders before leaning over and kissing you on the temple. 

“Are you sure?” 

Lando stands and your momentarily jealous of how easy that was for him. He looks down at you, warm smile playing on his face. “Of course. Stella’s my daughter too.” 

You grin, thinking back to the court date last month where Lando had officially adopted Stella, both of you now sharing the ‘Norris’ last name with your husband. 

“Okay. But I’m going to get dinner started in a few minutes anyway.” 

“We can order, you need to rest.” 

You roll your eyes but don’t say anything, knowing arguing with him is totally useless. 

Lando leans down to press another kiss to the crown of your head before heading towards Stella’s room on the second floor. When he had picked Stella up at school earlier, the little girl had been a storm cloud of anger and irritation, refusing to talk to Lando about any part of her day. This was incredibly unusual because normally when he picked Stella up from school, she didn’t stop chattering the entire drive home. 

Stella’s door is shut tightly but all it takes is a soft knock from Lando to have her calling out a soft ‘come in!’ Lando is surprised when he walks into the room, still tidy from the round of nesting you’d done earlier in the week. On one side of the room, Stella’s bed was tucked up against the corner of the wall, purple and cream quilt that Lando’s mom made for her last Christmas spread neatly across the expanse. A small creamy white desk and dresser are on the opposite side, Stella’s laptop and iPad sitting discarded on the desk. The only thing Lando can hear when he walks in is the soft sniffles of Stella’s crying. 

“Stelly Belly.” Lando coos, crossing the room in a few strides once he realizes she’s still truly upset. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” 

“I’m not your baby girl!!!” Stella sobs into her pillow. 

Lando’s chest tightens at her words, her wailing continuing while he sits himself on the edge of her bed. Stella doesn’t  respond when he lays his hand on the small of her back, rubbing small circles like the way he’s seen you do before when she’s upset. “Shh…baby girl. What happened that’s got you so spun up? You can talk to me, you know that.” He murmurs. 

Stella lifts her head, craning it around to look at Lando. “I’m not your baby girl.” She spits again, anger and betrayal sitting heavy on her small features. 

“Well, that adoption certificate says otherwise, missy.” Lando shoots back, pointing over to Stella’s dresser where the framed piece of paper sits beside a photo of you, Stella, and Lando from a few weeks ago. After the wedding, Lando had broached the subject of formally adopting Stella, and idea that had been fully embraced and celebrated by everyone in your lives. It had taken months to do all of the paperwork and get everything in order but that day had been just as emotional as the day you had become Lando’s wife. 

“Well, Georgia from my class says you’re not my real dad and that when the baby comes you’re going to forget all about me and only love the baby, mister.” Stella flips over before sitting up, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at Lando like she’s daring him to argue with him. 

Everything clicks into place for Lando then, understanding flitting across his consciousness like a quick snap of a whip. “Stella, you know that’s not true.” He reasons. 

“Do I?” She practically wails, tears spilling over once more. “You’re not my real dad but you’ll be the baby’s real dad and only his real dad and you’ll forget all about me just like Georgia says and I’ll have to go live in the ATTIC!” 

Lando reaches out for his daughter, because that’s exactly what she is: his daughter, and pulls him close to his side. He waits patiently, something he’s had to work on in the months since marrying you. Living full time with two women, one of whom is pregnant and the other nearly a tween and also very emotional, has been a minefield that no one warned Lando about. 

“Okay, first of all, we don’t even have an attic in this house so there goes that theory.” Lando murmurs into Stella’s hair, barely suppressing the urge to laugh at how silly her worry was. If there was one thing Stella could be counted on for it was the dramatics. “And second of all, you are my baby and you will always be my baby, just like you’ll always be your momma’s baby. And you know what else?” 

Lando pauses, waiting for Stella to turn her blue eyes that match your own up at him. They’re still a bit watery but the tears have stopped for the most part when she finally chokes out a strangled “What?” In response. 

“You are my first baby, the baby that made me a dad and you chose me to be your daddy, you know that. Nothing can ever change that or take away from that fact, not a baby brother or baby sister or a stupid little girl named Georgia who needs to mind her own business.” Lando pauses, his sharp gaze softening into something that has Stella leaning against him, head burying itself into the warmth of his side. “You are my baby girl and you always will be.” He whispers as he pulls your daughter into his lap, allowing her to bury her head in his neck like she did that very first day all those years ago when she was sick and Lando picked her up from school. 

“I promise you, you will never have to move to the attic, okay sweet girl?” Lando says, the bite of laughter sitting just at the edge of his voice, toned down just enough so that Stella doesn’t pick up on it. 

“Okay.” Stella sniffles before raising her head. “I won’t have to go the basement either though, right?” 

Lando chuckles as he stands up, reaching to take Stella’s hand in his own. “No my love. You will always have your room right here, okay? No one will ever make you live in the basement or the nonexistent attic ever, I promise. Now, your momma was on the couch talking about making dinner but I bet if we hurry we can convince her to let us take her out to dinner so we don’t have to do the dishes, sound good?” 

“Only if we can go to Pizza Palace!” She declares, leaping off the bed and running for the door. 

Lando slowly follows behind, heart full of love for the little girl that came crashing into his life and heart and never left. “Anything for you, Stella Belly.” 

yourusername posted:

34,504 yourusername norris, party of four coming soon (tagged: lando) BFFSarah SQUEEEEEEE these turned out so good yourdad another grand baby to spoil rotten! lando <3 love you baby >>>yourusername <3 <3 <3 user019 the best day of my life was when @/yourusername made her insta public >>>user002 seriously!!! user001 you're GLOWINGGGGGG mama!!! mclaren another baby norris on the way! lets gooooooo!!!

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[jadore-f1]

Don’t make me wait | IH6

Synopsis ♡ Your relationship with Isack is going extremely well and you're ready to take it to the next level. 4.5k words

A/N ♡ can’t believe that after 10 years in fandom culture, i'm posting my very own fanfic. The writing isn't great, the dialogue is eh and the smut is rushed but i WROTE this. I'm so proud of myself.

Warnings ♡ SMUT! 18+ mdni!!! Fem!reader, Strong language, google translated french, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, switch!Isack (sorta), he has a filthy mouth, p in v, protected sex (pls do this!), grammatical errors, this is barely proofread tbh, probably other things idk

You and Isack had been officially dating for just over a month now, though the two of you had been dancing around your feelings for much longer than that. It all started at the preseason “Meet the Grid” dinner. He was the promising new rookie and you, a wide-eyed media intern just trying to stay out of the way and do your job.

You didn’t even speak to him that night. Just watched from across the room, quietly taking in the way he seemed to slot in so easily with the senior drivers. He was charming, warm, and effortlessly magnetic. It was hard to look away. When he eventually caught you staring, his smile shifted, softening into something less media-trained and more… curious. You turned away quickly, heart pounding, trying to mask the flush crawling up your neck and ignore the flutter low in your stomach.

Yeah. You were immediately smitten.

It continued like that for a while, lingering looks across the paddock, stumbling through interview questions because he’d say something that could’ve been considered flirting if you thought about it long enough. (you didn’t though or at least tried not to, no way he would be flirting with you)

For a few weeks things never went any further than that. You figured he was too busy finding his footing as a rookie to even think about dating, and he was convinced you were either completely oblivious to his flirting or just too kind to turn him down outright.

When the Melbourne grand prix incident occured you felt your heart sink for him. You’d fought with yourself the entire day before finally just deciding to bite the bullet and reach out to him on instagram that night.

@youruser: Hi, I’m not sure if you know me but I work in the paddock

@isackhadjar: yes __ hi! we’ve met before, what’s up?

@youruser: I saw what happened today so i just wanted to check in, you know if you need a friend or a place to vent completely unbiased i’m available!

@youruser: …Not saying you don’t have people, just figured an outside perspective might help. Plus, I’m a pretty good listener

@isackhadjar: lol don’t worry i did not take it that way

@isackhadjar: how about coffee tomorrow morning?

@youruser: sure! Does 8:30 work for you?

@isasckhadjar: perfect, it's a date :)

And the rest was history. He'd asked you out officially somewhere in between the Bahrain and Saudi Arabia races and you’d been basically attached at the hip ever since.

Because the relationship is still so new, there are things you're both still discovering about each other. Little details, unspoken boundaries, milestones you haven't quite reached yet.

The most obvious one is the physical side of your relationship. So far, it's been limited to quick good luck kisses before quali or races, and soft, grounding hugs when the weekend doesn’t go his way. That’s it. And you’re okay with that. You're more than happy to follow his pace. You understand how complicated things can get when you're constantly under a microscope, with cameras everywhere and millions of fans analyzing your every move.

But still… as time goes on, it's hard not to want more.

You're willing to wait—of course you are. You’d wait as long as he needed. In the meantime, you make do with your imagination and the handful of photos tucked away in a private folder on your phone. No complaints. No pressure. Just quiet longing, and the hope that when he’s ready, you’ll be right there.

Then Monaco happens.

You’re waiting in his drivers room like you do after every race, drivers get a 10-15 minute break after each race before they have to enter the media pen so you and Isack use this time to catch up in private otherwise you’d have to wait until the end of the day just for a moment alone. He steps into the room and you’re on him the second the door closes.

“P6 Zack! P6 in Monaco! Baby I can't believe you pulled that off!” you say in between little pecks all over his face, he’s still sweaty but you don’t care at all, too hyped up on adrenaline and something else you don’t want to name yet.

“I know! I can hardly believe it either!” He laughs but he sounds exhausted, hell he looks exhausted, face flushed red and the imprint from his earbuds still visible on his cheeks yet the grin never leaves his face.

When you try to step back to give him breathing room he just makes a small sound of disapproval and pulls you closer, hands tightening around your waist until you're pressed fully against the warmth of him. He lays his forehead gently against your own and just takes a deep breath, like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. You stay like that for a minute reveling in the silence because you know any moment now you're going to have to leave and return to the chaotic world outside your bubble. Eventually you pull back a little just to look at him again.

“I'm so so proud of you Isack” you push his sweat slicked hair back from his eyes and hope he can tell how much you mean it. He leans into you again like he can't bear the small distance you've created.

“Merci mon ange” he whispers before pressing a searing kiss to your lips. It's hot, wet and nothing like any of the kisses you've had before.

One of his hands travels from your waist to the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair while his thumb rests on the hinge of your jaw moving your head exactly where he wants it.

His tongue presses against the seam of your mouth and you open up immediately—there's no point in denying it, not when you've been dying to kiss him like this. It makes your brain all fuzzy around the edges.

Your hands move to explore as well, one immediately gripping onto his bicep bulging through that skin tight fireproof shirt that has definitely made a few appearances in your dreams. The other lightly scratched at the short hairs on the back of his neck, causing him to shiver and let out a breathy little noise. Fuck. you want to hear that again.

You pull away from his lips and theres a string of saliva still connecting you together, you wipe your thumb against his bottom lip to remove it and he presses a gentle kiss to the pad it, his hand coming to cover yours and he continues to press kisses up, up your arm until he reaches your neck. He nips and licks up and down your neck and until he finds the spot that makes you arch into him, then he bites down.

“Haah- is-isack no fair I can't do the same to you” you manage with a keen.

“Sure you can, just gotta be somewhere discrete bébé” you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

He sounds so smug you can't help but tease him a bit, moving your leg so it's in between his. you press upwards grazing him with just enough pressure.

“Oh putain” he hisses out, hands tightening on your hips, he thrusts forward seeking out the friction again but you remove your leg before he can get it.

“Ok! Baby i'm sorry just please do something please” he whines out, his hips thrust up again chasing any type of pleasure he can get. He looks so good like this, all desperate just from a bit of teasing.

“Oh poor Isack, you get this hard just from kissing?” you pout at him sarcastically. The power you feel right now is unfathomable, you could get used to this. If only he knew how soaked you are between your thighs.

“Since you did so well today I guess I can't be too mean, what do you want? My mouth or my hands?”

“Your mouth please i-” someone bangs on the door of the trailer and you both jump a mile in the air.

“Hadjar! You're late for post race interviews let's go!” his PR manager yells from outside.

You sigh empathetically. He sighs as well tilting his head back against the door like he can’t believe his luck.

“Can't believe I have to talk about my best race finish with blue balls.” he mutters, adjusting himself so it's not as noticeable. You can't help but giggle. He glares at you with a look that says ‘this isn't over’ and heads out the door.

“We’ll finish this later ok!” you yell after him with another laugh.

Later doesn't come that night (and neither do you) or the rest of that weekend for that matter.

That’s the thing about triple headers. It’s three weeks of non-stop chaos, travel, and work. Between back-to-back races and packed schedules, finding even a single quiet moment alone feels impossible.

The tension from Monaco still lingers though. Looks across the paddock are now charged with something heavy, good luck kisses are a little longer, deeper, hungrier. It feels like you’re a balloon seconds away from bursting.

Things finally settled down after the race in Spain. Isack scored points again, and it was amazing to watch. He was steady, focused, like he was really starting to find his rhythm.

To celebrate, the two of you went out for dinner at a cozy, authentic Spanish restaurant Carlos had personally recommended. The food was incredible, the atmosphere relaxed, and for the first time in weeks, it felt like you could both finally breathe.

Now, back in the quiet of your hotel room, you're winding down for the night, full, content, and maybe just a little bit tipsy on red wine and the heated glances shared over the candlelit table.

Technically it’s Isack’s hotel room, you have your own on another floor with the rest of the media team but what your supervisor doesn’t know won’t hurt them.

You’re freshly showered and in one of his shirts and some boy shorts just scrolling on social media waiting for him to finish up in the bathroom so you guys can cuddle and start a movie.

The bathroom door swings open, and without looking up from your phone you call out

“Zack, I swear if they don’t give you Rookie of the Year, I’m burning the FIA to the ground.”

He laughs, voice warm and easy. “Love the energy, bébé, but then we’d both be out of a job.”

You glance up to respond, but the words catch in your throat.

You’ve seen Isack shirtless before on the occasional social media post—but never like this. He’s standing by the dresser, back to you, rummaging for something, muscles shifting under damp skin. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, clinging just enough to make your mind go blank. His curls are still wet from the shower, starting to dry into that soft, messy wave you adore.

And it hits you.

That’s your boyfriend.

This sweet, ridiculously good-looking, insanely talented man is yours.

How the hell did you get so lucky?

“You’re staring mon ange.” he says softly and you don’t even have it in you to pretend to be embarrassed because now he’s facing you while leaning against the dresser and you can see everything.

Your eyes zero in on the sweatpants again, they’re so low you can see his v-line and the trail of dark hairs leading down beneath the waistband.

You let your eyes trail upwards over the naked skin of his torso, still glistening from the shower practically begging you to lick the droplets of water up yourself.

But honestly it’s the chain around his neck that does you in. It’s shining against his skin and it makes you want to wrap your fingers around it and tug him closer to you like a leash, makes you want to watch it dangle in front of your face, makes want the feel the cool metal pressed against your own heated skin while he poun-

“Ehem” he raises his brows in amusement and your face does heat up this time.

“You just look really good right now” He preens under the compliment, standing straighter and flexing under your gaze.

“Oh? is that why you’re looking at me like you want to eat me?” he steps closer to the bed.

“Amongst other things.” you give a sly smile, scooting towards the edge of the bed.

When he reaches you, you stand up on your knees so you two are face to face. his hands find their place on your waist and yours around the back of his neck. You go to lean in for a kiss but before your lips meet you feel him, solid and warm against your leg.

It’s your turn to raise your brows in amusement now and he scoffs playfully. “I can’t help it, bébé—you’re in my shirt and barely anything else, telling me how much you want me.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence, though the curve of your mouth betrays you. “I didn’t realize stating facts was such a crime.”

He steps closer, eyes flicking down for the briefest second before settling back on yours, smoldering. “It is when you say them like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you know exactly what you’re doing.” His voice is low, thick with the weight of restrained desire.

You bite your lip, a slow smile forming. “Maybe I do.”

He lets out a soft, breathy laugh, hands rubbing soft circles on the skin of your waist with maddening ease. “Then don’t start something you’re not ready to finish.”

“I’ve been ready since Monaco,” you murmur, fingernails lightly raking down his chest. “And I always finish what I start.”

He lets out a stuttered gasp—your turn to make him breathless.

You tilt your head up and your lips meet in a passionate kiss, all teeth, tongue and weeks of build up.

Isack kisses you like a drowning man gasping for his first breath of air. It's desperate, consuming. Like he’s trying to burrow his way into your very soul. And you’d let him. You’d let him claw through your ribcage and settle into the space you’ve always kept open just for him.

Your lips part ways and you fall back onto the bed, slowly scooting up toward the headboard. He follows without hesitation, crawling over you until he’s hovering above. For a moment, you both pause, eyes locked. There’s no awkwardness, no uncertainty you might expect from a first time, just a quiet heavy knowing that every heated moment before now has been leading to this.

“__ are you sure?” he asks softly. You want to tell him that you’ve never been more certain about anything in your life. That there's nowhere else you'd rather be than right here, taking in every detail of his face, the way the city lights cast golden shadows across his features. But the words catch in your throat, too full, too much.

So instead, you just nod and reach for that damn chain, pulling him back to you once more.

your lips meet the skin where his jaw and neck connect, nipping and sucking there lightly just enough to leave a faint mark.

“I still owe you from Monaco, yeah?” you breathe into his skin.

“No you don’t have too.” he denies but you just scoff playfully and switch your positions so he’s lying on his back and you're on top, legs straddling his hips.

“Gotta finish what I started.” you grin and peck his lips before making your descent down his body. you pause at his chest tugging one of his nipples between your teeth softly just to hear that pretty little whine again before kissing your way down to the edge of his sweats.

The imprint of him is hard to miss and you can’t help but run your hand over the bulge and squeeze. his body jolts like he’s been electrocuted.

“Oh mon Dieu bébé, s'il te plaît, ne me taquine pas!” you don't know exactly what he's saying but the impatience of his tone gives you a clue. Oh my God baby please don't tease me

“Relax baby, I'm gonna give you what you want.” your fingers curl around the waistband of his sweats and you pause there, looking up into his eyes again with a silent question. He nods supportingly, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his hips raise towards you. His sweats and boxers come down together.

Holy shit.

He’s not overly large, very proportional to his body but the thickness of him takes you aback. He has the kind of width that you know you'll be feeling for the next couple days. The tip is flushed red dripping in precum, your fingers wrap around the base and start kitten licking at his leaking head.

“mph-oh fuck” he makes a sound like the air has been punched from his lungs and your thighs clench together in response. His head falls back into the pillows. He’s so sensitive it’s driving you insane. Normally giving head is your least favorite part of sex but his reactions have you retracting that mindset.

You open your mouth and fully take him in going as far as you can, using both hands to cover whatever you can’t reach. his hips twitch up subconsciously and you gag.

“Putain, je suis désolé mon ange, feels so good” he rasps out. you just moan in response and the vibrations pull another breathless whine from him. Fuck, i’m sorry angel

you pull off of him with a subtle pop, hands continuing to work him over while you catch your breath.

“Do you want to cum like this Zack?” you ask and receive no reply.

He’s too blissed out, eyes closed, thrusting up into your fists.

you stop moving your hands and he cries out pathetically. his upper body bows towards you and when you meet his glistening eyes you almost feel bad for ripping away his impending orgasm. almost.

“I asked you a question.” it takes him a moment to find his senses and respond.

“I want it to be inside.” His voice is several notches deeper and the darkness in his gaze sets fire to your veins. His hands slide up your thigh, under the edges of your (his) shirt.

“Take this off cherie.” tugging it up with his assistance, you're completely bare with the exception of your little sleep shorts.

“C’mere.” he mutters softly, pulling you up to him again. Your lips connect, softer than your previous kiss but just as passionate. Your upper body presses up against his and the coolness of his chain makes you shiver in delight, giving you goosebumps.

You sigh deeply, body sinking into him further in contentment. He groans in response, hands tightening around your hips as he uses his bodyweight to flip your positions so he's on top. He presses up onto his palms beside your head. His biceps are on display like this and you can't help but lean up and bite one of them.

“Eh? What was that for?” he asks with a shocked laugh. You shrug with absolutely no shame.

“I've always wanted to do that.” he laughs again while you just gaze at him lovingly. When he catches your stare he bites his lip and the soft moment heats up again.

“Can I feel you now, cherie?” he asks softly, you nod and he's tugging off your shorts immediately, tossing them somewhere behind him. When you're completely bare for him he sits back on his haunches with a look of awe. You try to close your legs together under his unwavering stare but his hands grasp your thighs firmly keeping them apart.

“Ange, tu es tellement mouillée que ça dégouline sur les draps.” he says, thumbs rubbing warm circles on the underside of your thighs, it's nice but if he doesn't touch you properly soon you might explode. Angel, you're so wet it’s dripping onto the sheets

“Please Isack don't tease” you whine out. He smirk’s fingers lightly grazing over your center.

“It's no fun being teased, is it bebe?” he grins cheekily, “You had such a mouth on you earlier. Use it and tell me what you want.”

“Fuc- I want you to touch me.”

“I am touching you.” his thumb presses into that bundle of nerves rubbing light circles but you’re too worked up, it’s not enough.

“Ah Zack please!” you cry out grabbing his forearm in an attempt to drag his fingers where you really want them.

“Mmm ne pleure pas bébé, tu sais que je te donnerai toujours ce que tu veux.” his fingers slip into you and your vision whites out. Don’t cry baby, you know i’ll always give you what you want

“Oh shit- yes!” you moan, back arching off the bed, hands gripping the sheets. God his fingers are so nice, thick and callused from years of driving.

“Feels good baby? Putain, tu ne sais pas depuis combien de temps j'ai rêvé de ça.” Isack leans down on the arm not between your legs, brushing the sweaty hair from your eyes and laying his forehead against yours. Fuck, you don’t know how long i've dreamt of this

“Look at me, yeah? Wanna see you fall apart on my fingers.” you want to break away from his intense gaze but the hand grasping your hair keeps you right where he wants you. You’re practically drooling while his fingers abuse that sweet spot inside you.

When you feel yourself getting closer you try to warn him but all that comes out is “a-ah Zack i’m comi-ah!” before your eyes roll back and you claw your hands down his shoulders.

“Yeahhh fuck bébé that’s it.” he works you through your orgasm slowing his fingers down when you stop spasming around him. you feel him placing little kisses on your face and chest while you struggle to catch your breath.

You pull him in for a soft appreciative kiss and he melts into you. He slots himself in between your legs and you feel him warm and sticky against your inner thigh. You look down between your bodies and catch a glimpse of him, rock hard and tip fire engine red from lack of attention.

“You know, tonight was supposed to be about you.” you reach down to stroke him, he lets out a sharp hiss and grabs your hand to pin it beside your head.

“Continue comme ça et cette nuit se terminera tôt pour nous deux, making you feel good makes me feel good too don’t be silly.” he chastises you lightly. Keep it up and this night will end early for us both

Your legs raise higher up to his hips, opening yourself up to him more and he positions himself against your core, sliding between your folds covering his cock in your slickness before stopping at your entrance. He reaches over to the nightstand for his wallet for a condom, quickly tearing the wrapper and rolling it into himself.

“Can you give me one more?” you nod quickly and he grins “That’s my girl” The slow press of him into you has your breath catching in preparation of the thickness of him. He immediately clocks your hesitation and links his hand with yours, little pecks placed onto your lips in hopes of distraction.

“I got you mon ange, relax.” you do as he says letting out a deep sigh and he pushes in slow and steady until he bottoms out completely.

“You’re so pretty like this.” he nuzzles his nose against yours lovingly.

“Isack!” you groan out, hips grinding against his own with need “Oh God please move!”

“I know baby I know- just need a second.” he grits out, whole body shaking in barely contained restraint. He pulls his hips back until just the tip is there and then slides all the way in again. His pace speeds up and you’re losing your mind.

All you can focus on is Isack, the look of him all sweaty, lip between his teeth and his abs flexing as he pumps himself inside you again and again. You can’t even tell him how good he’s making you feel, the only thing coming out of your mouth is little ‘ah-ah-ahs!’ and broken intervals of his name.

Isack seems to be having the opposite effect though, his mouth won’t stop running.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long, since that fucking dinner party.” The hand not still linked in yours slides down onto your stomach and presses down just below your belly button and you scream.

“Fuuuck yeah bébé” he lifts one of your legs over your shoulder, cock reaching into you so impossibly deep.

“Wanted you so bad in Monaco too, would’ve told my manager to piss off just so I could bend you over that sofa in my drivers room.” he grunts out voice rough from exertion.

“And you’d let me too huh pretty girl, let m-oh fuck let me take you in that tiny room where everyone could hear how good I make you feel.” you clench around him hard at the thought. “mph-yes yes Zack please don’t stop!”

“Mon dieu look at you.” he’s babbling more to himself now, getting closer and closer to his peak. “Comment je suis censé penser à autre chose maintenant ? Je pourrais vivre dans ta chatte.” How am I supposed to think about anything else now? I could live in your pussy

His hips switch into a deep grind, pelvic bone brushing against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars.

Your orgasm hits you so quickly you don’t even have time to think let alone warn him. Your cunt spasming around him pushes him to his climax soon after and he wails out hotly against your throat.

“Holy shit.” he whispers before collapsing on top of you, sweaty and spent. He rolls over to toss the condom in the bin before immediately pulling your back into his chest.

It’s silent for a while, you two just basking in the afterglow before he presses soft kisses onto the back of your shoulders and neck.

“That was worth the wait, no?” you have no idea how he can sound so smug so soon after but you can’t help but agree.

“Of course, just never make me wait that long again.” you joke, turning in his arms to face him. Hands tracing over those beauty marks you love so much.

“We can go again if you want.” he says, wriggling his brows with a cheeky smile.

“Isack!” you laugh pushing his head away.

Ending was shit but thank you sm for reading! hope you enjoyed! 🫶🏾

[fantasmagoriazzz]

ㅤ⭒̲Learning to share ;

ㅤㅤㅤ 🕸️⠀⧽ㅤBedtime.

Scenario where, somehow, you managed to take home both Mr. Crawling and Scarletella.

a/n: This was supposed to be an One-shot but I had so many ideas that adding them all in one would be too long, so.... Part one, I guess?

Even in the smallest situations, that tension between those two entities was present.... Every second.

Consistently palpable in the air; like the nature of a cat and a dog, tense glances at each other as "their human" took care of any task that didn't involve them at home.

The vast majority of the time, Crawling was usually a few steps behind you, looking as if there was nothing more entertaining on his world, for him there wasn't, only you.

Meanwhile, Scarletella... Even if his body didn't seem present, the feeling of his penetrating gaze, leaving the weight of his dark pupils on your shoulders... Never left you alone. Sometimes, when the back of your neck would bristle for no apparent reason outside the house, you would come to wonder if he followed you through the streets simply so he could continue watching you.

When Mr. Crawling would reach out seeking the warmth of your body, rubbing his cheek against the smooth skin of your thighs as you stood, giggling, he would hug your legs and slide tentative caresses around your waist, begging for attention in whatever way needed, humming: " Touch! Touch! " And Scarletella would automatically appear, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, resting his head on yours and pressing himself against your back, as if the very idea of Crawling touching you a second longer than he did seemed unthinkable to him.

When it was time to rest this didn't change.

They had both adapted to your schedule in the human world pretty quickly. The long period of your absence from home, your nightly outings to fetch them food and enjoy your hobby, gosh, there wasn't an hour away from home when the thought of them confronting each other in some way didn't cross your mind, even if it was a fleeting flash of concern.

They were wary of your attention, Crawling and Scarletella seemed to agree on nothing beyond their love for you... And on that going to bed was their favorite time of the day.

Every night before you went to bed you took a bath, and every time you left the small room amidst the warm steam and sweet scents, they both waited outside the door like eager puppies. Their ghoulish grins would lengthen as they watched you walk to bed. Mr. Crawling would quickly climb over the sheets and laugh expectantly at the thrill of feeling your body next to him, Scarletella rather wait for you to lie down first and then press himself against you immediately after.

Previously in your life, the double beds all to yourself were a relief, such available space made you rest even more comfortably. But now, snuggled between two shadowy bodies every night, it seemed much more pleasant than any previous night in your life could have been.

As soon as you curl up on the sheets two pairs of hands desperately search for you.

As far as you knew, they didn't need to sleep, not really. They could close their eyes and do so, resting next to you more for the pleasure of simply sleeping by your side. At other times one of them would lie awake, watching you intently, but luckily, the incidents of sharing a room didn't go beyond tense murmurs shared between those two ghosts.

The first few days you thought that sleeping on your back would be the most viable option, both could hug you in equal parts, you thought, but soon noticing that, when they both tried to cuddle on your chest and ended up face to face irremediably, the tension returned. Incomprehensible murmurs formed words you didn't yet know, only a few from your limited dictionary; " Human, mine. Don't touch. Me don't like you. " Cat and dog staring at each other, about to fight.

Well then, plan B.

You found that if you lay on your side, Scarletella would press his face against your shoulder and Mr. Crawling would snuggle into your chest, tame as little pleased puppies. There was something about your warmth that fascinated them, and when you lay down after a recent bath, with that warmth permeating your skin along with the wet feeling on it and the sweet scents wafting off you, they were both drawn to you like bees to honey.

Scarletella pressed his chest against your back, brushed the tip of his nose against the nape of your neck and sighed slowly against it, his cold breath ruffled the skin nearby, and somehow, he seemed to notice the soft tingles his touches left on you, that his icy touches, before warming against your flesh, would make you snuggle against him like two pieces that fit perfectly. He held you so close, your perfume invaded him completely as your warmth pressed against his cold body, when his lips brushed the skin of your shoulders he felt like he could go crazy, he could taste you, have you... Scarletella's hands were always reaching for your waist, going crazy when he can feel the bare skin under your clothes.

And Crawling had nothing to envy, the smiling entity wedged his face between your chest, the warmth and softness of your breasts made from time to time one of his gentle giggles drown against your skin and send warm tingles to the deepest corner in your belly, he adored your scent, he adored you, and he found the sound of your heartbeat equally or more intoxicating than having you in his arms. Tentatively, from time to time, his head would move a little higher, his hair tickling you as he seemed to seek your neck with his lips to simply brush them close to your skin. His corners were pulled a little higher as he felt the small sighs and pleased hums reverberate in your throat.

More than a kiss, the caresses of both cold mouths tried to emulate one by instinct, the instinct to want you, to have you, to desire you...

Usually, it was Crawling who made the first move.

As time passed and the warmth of your body filled theirs, between your scent and your soft sleepy caresses, a hand for each of them; something accompanied the firm embrace they both had on you. Something more noticeable, and harder.

Mr. Crawling pressed against your thigh, slowly, as the breath caressing your chest became shaky you could sense what he intended, and wanted. No matter how many times it happened, Crawling always pushed slowly, shyly almost against you.

" No sleep? " he would murmur in a huff, whenever he heard you sigh behind his movements, almost afraid that you might forbid him to touch you. You never would, to either of them, but there's something about his neediness that makes it adorable. " Me like you, can I...? " He strokes his hard erection against the soft bare skin of your thigh once more, and immediately, the length that all this time had been pressed against your ass mimics the slow movement, cutting off your breath.

"You... Mine. " Between the faint whispers, Scarletella presses his forehead against your shoulder, pushing his hips into you, just as slowly. Knowing he must share you adds another layer to the simmering possessiveness inside him, he clings to your waist warily each time, even if he seems ever watchful of the begginig of these situations.

In that position, watching his bulge rub against the fabric of your pajama shorts, knowing he can feel you, fascinated that you are his too... It's not clear if it fuel or calms his overflowing possessiveness.

They did nothing but hold you possessively, wrapping their arms around you and brushing their mouths against your skin. Both bulges brush against your body between messy thrusts, their shuddering breaths caressing you near the nape of your neck and against it. Lips that once delicately caressed the touch of your skin feel moist as they murmur to you the declarations of two obsessive lovers.

" love you, love you, love you. " In unison of a hot, sweet chorus, hearing them so close, feeling them harden against your body, feeling them so needy for you...

" Two... I like you two. " You whispered, trying to remember that strange language correctly when only they manage to occupy your head.

Immediately Scarletella's fingers on your waist tightened a little more, Crawling laughed. " You two, I like you, I like you, I like you. " You repeated.

So you cannot simply refuse the whims of the two beings you love the most.

Your hands sneak under the sheets, and they both know perfectly well what you will do, for their movements stop against the needs of the three of you, now, they don't want to get in your way.

You gasp through the darkness, awkwardly tug your shorts down, and you can feel a pair of hungry fingers helping you tug at any garment that might cover your lower half.

Wet, the first warm, fleshy length slips between your thighs, you're still not done hissing a sweet purr of pleasure when the second fleshy extension repeats the action. Two throbbing erections rub against your naked sex, soaking wet and just as dripping as both of them. Rarely, Mr. Crawling and Scarletella coordinate once more, as your gaze wanders upward lost in pleasure, both men begin a new, slow back-and-forth, making sure they can feel your intoxicating heat, one by one, you could almost swear they take turns rubbing your clit against each of their veiny lengths, lunging slowly in intermittent thrusts.

" Me like you... Me like you... " whispers the voice against your ear, kissing over your shoulder messily. You're still so lost in the wet sensation of Scarletella's cold tongue tasting your nape, that the slippery trace of one more lick sliding between your breasts steals your breath. "Like you, like you, like you. " Mr. Crawling lifts his chin, guiding his tongue down your collarbones and into your neck in a single long lick that continues until caress your chin. You squeeze your thighs together, and swear you heard them both moan.

" You like me? " Crawling asked, weak, breathless, his voice trembling softly amidst the heat that makes him beg for more of your attention. Scarletella exhaled deeply against the back of your neck, you can feel his lips tighten after a particularly needy lunge between your thighs.

" You like me? " the redhead's voice repeated. Heavens, not now.

The thrust of both hips increased their rhythm, your voice cracking between whimpers that trigger the heat in the body of those two. They both collaborate in a messy massage to your clitoris, one against the other, relentlessly rubbing the sensitive little button peeking between your dripping folds. " Like me? You like me? " repeats the timbre of a messy voice between desirous moans. Did only one of them speak, or did their voices blend again as one, inside the intoxicated perception of your mind?

Scarletella takes his hand a little lower, slides his fingers until he can squeeze the spongy flesh on your butt.

Crawling, still sucking under your chin, he clutches his fingers between the soft skin of your thigh, guides your leg carefully up, raising it over his hip. Irremediably your lips quiver and your back arches at the new position. Now more exposed, your soaked, sensitive folds embrace the head of each erection as they brush against your most sensitive spot, threatening to slide inside you, never moving beyond thrusts against dripping nether lips.

" Like me? You like me? " Again, their voices interject one over the other as they beg insistently. You hear them whimper near your ears and gasp after each thrust, constant spasms leave your legs quivering with the perfect attentions to your body, but you still find it so hard to focus on any thoughts now.

You feel a thin trail slide along your corners, a thin thread of saliva threatening to create itself, picked up immediately by a wet, slippery caress against your corner.

" Me? Me? " Mr. Crawling's voice implores for an answer with the tone you'd swear belongs to a needy puppy, his tongue tasting the edge of your lips, and you immediately hear Scarletella mumble warily.

Scarletella sneaks his remaining hand close to your chin, turning your head just a little more, carefully, looking for his tongue to be able to reach the edge of your quivering lips as well. " You like me? " He asks, Crawling tightens the grip that caresses your thigh a little more, as if he might draw you closer.

You feel it once again, that look they give each other, the tense attention that seems to shoot sparkles through the how it bristles your skin at the danger of a fight, even now. You open your mouth, you should stop them, reproach them, but only.... "Two... Both... " You whimper, your watery pupils unable to focus on anything amidst the darkness, faint tears form at the edge of your eyes. It feels so good, so good you could sob with the hot tension melting in your belly every time one of them rubs against you. " Both.... Love... Me love both... " You spin the words somehow, a spark of lucidity still helping you find what you want to say, what you need them to understand.

"I Love both... Touch me more. " You command, and it is when they look at your disastrous expression, with half-open lips whispering sweet words and sinful moans, that their hearts delighted by you manage to form a truce.

Crawling slides his long tongue over your neck, his hot exhalations crashing against freshly moistened skin as Scarletella slides the beginnings of small bites to the edge of your shoulders. The room is no more than a disastrous chorus of three ecstatic voices, riotous compliments to you, loving words between the moans of both ghosts. Sweet murmurs that don't stop even as you squirt over both throbbing erections, desire-filled words that intensify and stumble awkwardly between syllables, as they both spill between your mixed fluid-soaked folds.

Crawling and Scarletella lie beside you, their chests, just as heaving as yours, breathing deeply as they cling to you and make you wonder if they really need the air as much as you do. Hot spurts spill between your thighs, both hiding their faces against your body as they purr incomprehensible moans and ecstatic compliments. They repeat how much they like you over and over, as you catch your breath.

So, you will have to take another bath in the morning.

[unoislazy]

Hello ! Sorry for my bad English, it's not my first language I do my best

First of all, I love how you write <3

Second, my request would be Hiccup getting jealous and confessing to fem!reader by accident

That's all !

Thanks for writing so well, I send you a little kiss

Hello!

Congrats you’re my first request!

I hope I could do your request justice, enjoy

Just Talk To Me!

Hiccup x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k words

Summary: You and Eret have gotten pretty close due to your constant fighting practice. Of course, a certain chief isn’t too happy about it but he has a bit of trouble trying to tell you why.

————————————————————

“You’re getting better at this!” Eret praised, ducking under your fist as you swung at him. He continued to dodge your strikes as you smiled.

You both had begun sparring together a few months ago, after the whole Dragon War fiasco. You realized that without your dragon, you weren’t as strong or as agile as the other Vikings, so you asked Eret to help you train.

You swept your foot under him, finally taking him down and putting your foot on his chest, signifying that you had one the fight.

“Have I gotten better, or have you just gotten worse?” You asked teasingly, taking your foot off of him as he smiled up at you.

You held out your hand to help him up. He obliged, taking it as he stood up once again, wiping off his clothes from that dust that truly didn’t even seem to be there.

“You’ve certainly made improvements since day one. I can tell you that.” He said, stretching a bit. “You could definitely do well even without your dragon, if you’d ever need to.” He continued, looking back at both of your dragons who were simply chilling off to the side, as they often did when you two fought.

“Hopefully there never comes a time.” You said in a lighthearted tone, but you truly hoped there would never be a time where you’d have to fair without your dragon.

“I second that. It’s funny, I never thought I’d ever change my ways when it came to dragons. Yet here I am, looking after this beast.” Eret joked, patting Skull Crushers head lightly causing the dragon to groan and slightly shake its head in response.

“Well I’m glad you had it in you to change, who knows maybe I would’ve taken you down myself.” You gloated sarcastically, walking towards the pair as Eret smiled back at you, acknowledging your joke.

“Yeah you wouldn’t have made it even close.” He let out a chuckle as he watched your teasing smirk turn to a pout. You knew his teasing was all in good fun but realistically if it had come to it you would’ve taken him out if you needed to.

“Just cause I’ve gotten better doesn’t mean I wasn’t skilled to begin with.” You reminded.

“Fair. Now how about best two out of three?” Eret asked, getting into a fighting stance which you very quickly mimicked. Just as you both were about to start fighting you had heard a very familiar growl come from above. Your head shot up towards the noise and you spotted none other than Hiccup Haddock, the chief of Berk, flying above you.

“Guess not.” You joked, no longer standing in a ready position as you turned to face the aforementioned chief who had landed not too far away from the both of you. Hiccup hopped off of Toothless with ease, slipping his helmet off in the process, and walked over to the two of you with Toothless close behind.

“Morning you two.” Hiccup greated, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the both of you. “What are you guys doing all the way out here?” He asked but you noticed it wasn’t in the sense of his usual curiosity. There was an underlying tone that you could quite put your finger on so you figured you were just simply thinking too much into it.

You hadn’t really thought about it but you suppose you and Eret were more or less in the middle of nowhere in the woods. It was the most quiet place the two of you could find to practice in peace without going to the Arena.

“Eret and I have been sparring, I figured I should eventually learn how, considering most of my strength comes from them.” You said, gesturing to your dragon who was sleeping peacefully only to be startled awake by Toothless patting them on the head. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, Toothless always reminded you of a cat in a way, you found it adorable.

“Alone?” Hiccup asked, which honestly surprised the both of you. You looked towards hiccup in confusion only to see the shock he had on his own face. Clearly he didn’t mean to let it slip out but it was too late to take it back now.

“Well no… our dragons are here with us?” You stated but you were so confused about the reasoning behind Hiccups question that you couldn’t seem to phrase it as anything other than a question. You all fell silent as Hiccup swayed his arms in an awkward fashion, something he only does when he’s trying to avoid talking about something.

Eret looked between the two of you, realizing he had no part in the conversation he simply cleared his throat.

“I’ll just leave you two be, I have some… things to take care of..” He excused himself, quickly hopping onto Skullcrusher and exiting the awkward situation as quickly as possible. Once Eret had flown away you quickly turned back to Hiccup who was clearly avoiding even looking in your general direction.

“Spill it.” You said bluntly causing Hiccup to finally make eye contact with you. His face held a confused look but you both knew what you were talking about.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Hiccup said, again clearly avoiding the topic as he walked over to Toothless. “Have you seen the new addition I added to Toothless’s tail?” It was clear he was trying to think of anything to change the subject because obviously there was nothing different about Toothless’s tail and you both knew that.

You crossed your arms as you stared at the brunette before you, your face holding an expression that clearly said ‘seriously?’. He dropped Toothless’s tail with a sigh before getting up and walking towards you. Silence quickly swept over the two of you as you continued to wait for Hiccup to say something. You raised an eyebrow at him before he blurted out,

“Have you seen the new scale armor?”, giving one more quick shot to derail the conversation.

“Hiccup.” You said quite sternly. “Spill it.” You repeated, your arms still crossed over your chest as you watched the man nervously fidget. He may be the chief but he still held some of his nervous quirks. Sure he had the ability to look powerful and calm when his people needed their chief, but when he wasn’t the ‘Chief of Berk’ he was just Hiccup.

Just Hiccup.

And you’d be damned if you said you didn’t love him. Ever since you met hiccup you knew he always tried to meet everyone’s expectations only to have a long history of falling short. Hiccup as he was was always overlooked, everyone looked to him to be ‘the Chiefs son’ the ‘next chief of Berk’ and the one he really struggled with, was ‘Stoick’s son’. No one ever truly looked at him as just Hiccup.

Well everyone except you.

You liked him from the very beginning when he was just a scrawny boy obsessed with earning his fathers approval. Did you have the courage to say anything about the way you felt? No of course not, why would you? As much as you loved to see him as ‘Just Hiccup’ you couldn’t deny the fact that he was still pretty far out of your league, especially given his title of ‘The Dragon Master’. What title did you have? Nothing.

Well you had the title of being one of his closest friends so you stuck with that as being enough for you.

“I just don’t think you and Eret should be so far away while training.” He finally spoke up. It was clear he was still keeping something from you but at least he gave you something to work with.

“Why?” You asked, trying to nudge more out of him. He put his hands on his hips. As he began to pace slowly in a circle.

“I don’t know, I just think it would be safer if you-“ Hiccup began only for you to cut him off.

“Hiccup we have two dragons here, one of them being Skull Crusher. I’d say it’s pretty safe to say nothings going to attack us out here.” You argued, now mimicking his pose with your hands on your hips.

“Well still I just don’t like the idea of you guys being alone.” He said, looking up at you. You rolled your eyes in response,

“Hiccup I already said, we’re here with the dragons. We’re not alone.” You stated as if it wasn’t getting through his head. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was trying to hint at a different concern and you were missing the point entirely.

Your response only caused Hiccup to groan as his hand shot up to his face. He dragged his hands down his face as he turned around, now facing Toothless who simply looked at his friend in utter confusion. The dragon looked from you, then to Hiccup, then back to you. You simply shook your head with a shrug of your shoulders before Toothless walked away, deeming him your problem.

“Hiccup I don't understand why this is such a big issue to you, we used to be in the woods alone all the time together. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.” You stated quite bluntly.

“That was different!” He shouted. His face had ever so slightly turned the faintest hint of red, but it was still enough for you to notice. He seemed almost exasperated as you continued to swim around the very vague point that he was failing to get at.

“How was it any different than what me and Eret are doing? If anything it’s safer now because we’re both adults. Granted we did have a Night Fury with us back then…” You began to mumble to yourself, accidentally going off topic. Hiccup sighed, walking up to you and grabbing you by your shoulders. He was stern but still managed to be gentle as he forced you to look at him.

“I can’t control what you do or who you spend your time with, but I just don’t like that you and Eret spend so much time together, so far outside of the village, alone…” Hiccup said, practically laying it all out for you.

“Hiccup?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not alone.”

Hiccup merely stared at you, eyes wide in shock as he tried to calculate your intelligence in that split second. He practically spelled it out for you and you still weren’t getting it.

What hadn’t occurred to him however, was that you had already caught on, you were just trying to get him to admit it himself. Granted, you had just caught on maybe seconds before, but you still thought it might be fun to mess with him a little. Besides, who were you to make the assumption that the Chief of Berk himself was jealous that you were spending time with another man. It could be considered a reach… Unless he just said it himself.

“Why don’t you want me to be alone with him so badly?” You asked, figuring you should try and at least break the loop that you two seemed to be stuck in.

“Because…” Hiccup began, trying to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to say. You waited patiently, just looking at him and occasionally switching your gaze over to the dragons who were chasing each other around.

“Because?” You repeated, waiting for his response. His green eyes staring back into yours. They looked almost as if they were trembling as they bounced between the features on your face.

“Why is it so hard to talk to you?” He shouted abruptly, quickly letting go of your shoulders and flung his arms into the air with an exasperated groan.

“If it was easier for you to tell me about the dragon you were keeping hidden from a village filled with bloodthirsty, war hungry Vikings, I’ m almost afraid of whatever this could possibly be.” You joked, trying to lighten his mood.

“It’s not the same thing.” He muttered in response as you laughed.

“How could anything you have to tell me be worse than that?” Hiccup sighed in response as he went back to pacing. Clearly it was his way of thinking about what to do next. It wasn’t a trait he often exhibited but you knew once he started pacing, whatever he was thinking about was pretty serious.

“It’s not about what I have to tell you, it’s about your response.” He finally said, you rolled your eyes lightheartedly. You’ve known this man for years, and in those years you’ve learned countless embarrassing facts about him that he had less of a problem about you knowing than ‘whatever he had to tell you’.

“What does my response have to do with anything? Hiccup, anything you have to tell me won't change anything.” You stated with a laugh as you tried to comfort him. You almost started to second guess what you thought he was going to tell you. If he was truly this worried about what he was going to say maybe it was actually a very serious matter?

“Ha, yeah you say that now.” He laughed sarcastically, quickly looking up at you before returning to his pacing.

“Hiccup, I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

If there’s one thing about Hiccup it was his stubbornness. Anyone would just shrug that off as a Viking thing but you knew if anything, it came from his father. As much as Hiccup would deny being able to compare to his father, he shared many similar traits with him. You knew it, his mother knew it, even Gobber knew it, but he frequently denied it.

Stubborn.

“Why are you so concerned about me and Eret in the first place?” You decided to bring up the last topic, because if he wasn’t going to get to the point, you were.

“Because…” He muttered quietly in response as if he was holding something back.

“Because what hiccup? Seriously, I know you have an issue with communication sometimes but you can't just keep dancing around the issue here-“ You rambled a bit but before you could continue, Hiccup interrupted you.

“Because I have feelings for you!” He blurted out suddenly.

You both froze. He turned away from you as you simply stared at him. He finally said it, he actually really said it.

“Hiccup…” You muttered quietly.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. The last thing he wanted right now was to turn around and have to face the potential of rejection.

“Hiccup.” You called out again, walking towards him and lightly placing your hand on his shoulder. He finally turned towards you slightly, but he still refused to face you all the way. “You’re serious?” You asked, to which he simply looked at you with confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“At least one of us finally admitted to it.” You joked. For some reason Hiccup had registered that you were making a joke, but not necessarily what you were joking about.

“Yeah okay, go on, laugh it out- wait.” Hiccup quickly turned back to you. You nodded with a smile, confirming his suspicion as he clearly thought he had misheard you.

“Wait but- for how long?” He asked excitedly, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Oh this is great! I thought you were going to hate me for even saying anything about it, but you’re not! You feel the same-“ He cheered, slightly beginning to ramble as all of his previous anxiety seemed to just melt away.

You smiled as you watched him celebrate before quickly planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

The man froze before you, clearly not expecting even such a small act of affection. You never knew him to be entirely bold, you always saw him as a very awkward man, but you watched as the awkwardness practically jumped out a window for a split second or so as Hiccup grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him.

He was the last person you’d expect such a smooth act to come from, and honestly you didn’t mind it. His eyes drifted from yours to your lips in a matter of seconds as if he was silently asking for your approval, to which you nodded.

Before you knew it you were kissing the literal man of your dreams.

It was wonderful.

It was a very soft kiss, the perfect kind to be shared for the first time.

Once you pulled away you looked to hiccup before dramatically gasping.

“What? What is it?” Hiccup asked, panicking that he had done something wrong.

“Does that mean… you were jealous of Eret?” You asked with a joking smile.

“Oh come on- really?” Hiccup said, jokingly pushing you away with a laugh.

Safe to say you never let him live this moment down, and much to his dismay you had excitedly told your friends about it not too long after.

[bambisnc]

(   ➴ ) 𝒮𝖨𝖢𝖪 𝖮𝖥 𝖡𝖤𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖲𝖮𝖡𝖤𝖱 ♡ pretending it’s not a song about you

౨ৎ ˚ if getting drunk is what it takes to have the courage to confess, then that's exactly what myungjae will do <3

### . STARRING ⌢ m.jh ⋆ drabble + 0.8k // drinking ! + swearing + kissing + unedited ˖ ✧

𝓍𝗈𝗑𝗈 ─── gewd morning chat (it's 3.37 am) + [FILE.ZIP]

myung jaehyun had never been a fan of lychee soju. 

something about its saccharine stickiness just seemed a little too overpowering for his taste. the way its cloying sweetness seemed to linger much longer than necessary was simply … off putting to him.

so why was it that he was currently downing shot after shot of said drink like a man on a mission?

well if you asked him - his easy, candid answer would be that it was, in fact, all because of you.

it wasn’t like jaehyun had a problem with how unfairly gorgeous you looked that day, sitting right across from him in the now rather crowded bar. 

neither did he have a problem with the way you threw your head back and laughed at something riwoo said. he’d always found it rather charming really, your laugh.

however, he would've preferred it a tad bit more if it was him who was the one making you laugh instead.

jaehyun didn’t particularly mind the fact that you had yet to look at him, properly look at him since the beginning of the evening, either. 

you’d walked in together then, the cozy ambiance around you lit up by soft, warm lights — and he’d still had hope for the next 5 or 6 hours. but of course, things never really went how he wanted them to.

with the first onset of fresh faces, some recognizable some not, a sinking feeling made itself known. and before he knew it, he’d lost you to a conversation with some seniors. 

… so okay, maybe he did have some problems.

but it wasn’t as if he was about to blame any of them on you. he wouldn’t even dare to. 

hence, he now found himself lost in the haze of alcohol and thoughts of how he’d ended up in such a state, deprived of your company 

so lost in his reveries was he, that jaehyun almost didn’t hear you when you spoke up. 

almost.

“people are really getting drunk now, huh? i think we all need something to cool us down, haha.” you’d always been so considerate. it was only natural one would end up falling for you, he pondered.

“should i go pick up some ice-cream from the convenience store for everyone?”

an angel. you had to be an angel.

and before he even knew it, he’d all but lept out of his seat — hand raised in a sign of volunteering.

receiving a few weirded out glances and side eye’s really didn’t matter to him. jaehyun was more focused on the way you smiled and tilted your head, beckoning him encouragingly to come along.

-

drunk determination goes a long way.

that was the only possible explanation behind myung jaehyun managing to somehow walk in a straight line despite being absolutely shitfaced. 

as the two of you mapped your way to the store, you rambled on about how fun the evening had been so far, then about how the song playing at the bar was actually one of your favorites and lastly about how you were honestly glad to be out and getting some fresh air.

and jaehyun listens with all the patience in the world. his uncharacteristic quiet unbroken all the while you talk. until, at some point, the conversation lulls.

“you’re so pretty,” he mumbles, gaze suddenly turned away from you. “and you’re nice. and smart. and your voice is so … pretty. 

everything about you. so, so pretty..”

you blink, a little startled by the sudden compliments. “thank you (?) you’re way too sweet sometimes, y’know?”

“and … and i think i wanna confess to you.” he continues, stumbling a little — on the sidewalk, on his words, on the weight of everything left unspoken; yet his tone lets on zero hesitation.

you catch his elbow to steady him, brows furrowed but lips twitching upward. “you’re sort of already doing that, i’m afraid...”

“i am?” he looks confused, slightly glassy-eyed and flushed.

you can only huff out a barely audible laugh in response, mumbling a quick “yeah.”

his monologue continues as you reach out and lightly trace your thumb along his lower lip. just to make sure he knows what’s coming, to ensure he’s okay with it.

and then, you kiss him. 

the movement is gentle. soft. careful in a way that has him slightly weak in the knees.

“you’re such an idiot,” you can’t help but affectionately whisper as you pull away just a little. 

jaehyun immediately leans forward to reduce the newly created distance, “yeah,” he adds breathlessly. “but i’m your idiot now.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. 

tugging him a little closer, you kiss him again, right there on the sidewalk, with your ice cream mission temporarily forgotten. 

you’d always been a fan of lychee soju.

but now?

… now, it tasted a little sweeter.

𐙚 . regulars : @cuntyhoesstuff @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @flipitkickit @soonahuh @chrrific ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25