#yeah it's a lonely feeling but i'm good at managing things like that

[noxtivagus]

ALHPY IS SO CUTE 🥺

[adore-gregor]

My rants

[elliewithcellie]

Protector

summary: After months working for the BAU, your harbored feelings for your boss seem unrequited until your hunt for the unsub goes awry. (hotch x fem!reader)

wc: 9.8k (oh my god)

cw: slow burn, boss/employee dynamic, age gap pairing, criminal minds level violence, mention of alcoholism, implication of father issues, hurt/comfort, reader gets hurt, fluff, angst, SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, Hotch is a professional at heart and takes work boundaries seriously

a/n: Back in the saddle with a new man to hyper-fixate on. Hotch can GET IT. Also, let me know if anyone wants the SFW version I'm working on

“Looks like we’re doubling up,” Hotch announced, a sigh escaping his lips.

Before you could even process his words, the rest of the team sounded off, choosing their roommates for the duration of the case. All that remained were you and your boss. With the team dispersing, you awkwardly shifted your duffle bag to your other shoulder and looked up at Hotch.

His stern expression didn’t change as he looked back at you. “Come on. We’re 202.”

You followed him to the elevators, still unsure what to think. This was not only your boss but someone you had garnered quite a fondness for since you joined the BAU. Of course, you had managed yourself professionally thus far, but you were sure this was going to test your limits.

You understood the immediate pairings among the rest of the team. You were still fairly new, not quite to the rapport that the team had formed with each other. But it also made you think about how no one chose Hotch. The pressure to be Unit Chief also had to be lonely.

The elevator chimed, and the two of you shuffled in. You kept to yourself, trying to maintain composure. The lift from the first floor to the second felt like an hour, the silence deafening. You couldn’t shake your nerves. The doors opened, and he stepped out. You quickly followed.

Hotch opened the door and allowed you in first. The two double beds, office chair, mini fridge, and small bathroom were all less comforting to you than normal.

“Do you mind if I take the bed by the door?” Hotch asked, his voice softer than usual.

You blinked up at him, stirred from your preoccupation. “Yeah, of course. I like the window side anyway.”

“Thank you. If you’d like, you can have the shower first. I’d like to call Jack before he heads to bed.”

“Sounds good.”

You began to unpack your belongings and sighed in dismay. You had assumed that you would have a room to yourself as usual, so your pajamas were a little more revealing than you’d prefer your boss to see. Still, a t-shirt and shorts were reasonable sleep attire, so you tried not to dwell on it. You collected your things as Hotch dialed a number on his phone.

“Hey, buddy, how was your day?”

You smiled to yourself as you entered the bathroom. His “dad” voice was more upbeat, yet calm and soothing. With Hotch distracted on the phone, you could relax in the shower. The boiling water stung your skin, just the way you needed it. As you relaxed, you realized how silly it was for you to stress over the rooming situation. Hotch was here to do his job, just like you. And other than his intelligence, his kindness, and his fierce compassion for kids, you were sure you were only infatuated with him.

You finished up your shower and towel-dried your hair once you could no longer hear his muffled voice through the door. You were desperate not to waste Hotch’s time. With your hair still wet and your large t-shirt hanging over your shorts, you timidly exited the bathroom back to your bed, on your toes as if you were sneaking around. Hotch sat on his bed, his coat jacket now on the desk chair. He flipped through channels with the remote in one hand and loosened his tie with the other.

“All yours,” you spoke, struggling to get the words out.

Hotch looked up at you and gave a small smile. “Thanks.” He gathered up his things and closed the bathroom door behind him.

Another sigh of relief left your lips. You grabbed the book from your duffle and climbed into bed. You rolled over to turn on the lamp next to you and began to read, but before you knew it, sleep overtook you.

------

“Hotchner.”

You woke up to Hotch answering his phone. The sky was still dark. The only light illuminating the room was the alarm clock. You realized that you hadn’t turned off the lamp before you fell asleep, nor did you place your book carefully on the side table with a hotel pen as the bookmark.

“Alright. Yes. Right. Understood. We’ll be right over.”

You looked up at Hotch expectantly. He looked at you, then averted his eyes as he got out of bed. “Another young girl missing. She’s only 16.” He paced the floor for a moment, a short-lived break from the stoic leader he always has to be.

“I’ll call the others,” you said sitting up. His eyes returned to yours, the strain turning into relief. He only nodded and headed for the closet, suiting up right there.

You called the others and followed suit, leaving the hotel parking lot by 3:46 am.

------

The next 18 hours were long, stressful, and only moderately successful. The team was able to work out an arrangement with the kidnapper before their 24 hours were up. The girl, Heather, was returned to her parents with only a few bruises. But the kidnapper got away, practically goading you all at the ability to remain anonymous. The team was exhausted and out of ideas.

The team drove back to the hotel without a single word exchanged. The kidnapper’s voice rang in your head. He was so confident, arrogant even. There was almost never a moment where he fumbled over his words or cracked. His ruse lasted for hours. But he got sloppy in the end, fessing up to her location just enough for Garcia to triangulate. But something wasn’t adding up to you: his willingness to run instead of killing her when he had the chance.

Hotch spoke up, stirring you from your ruminations. “We need to start from scratch. Reid, give us a rundown on what, where, and why.”

“Well, we know his victims are all young women now ranging from 16 to 23. They come from middle to upper-class families. He sends messages to the families always demanding ransom within 24 hours. Three women have been killed, and now two have survived. The strange part is whether or not he stays truthful to his word. The parents have always given him what he wants, but then it’s up to his discretion whether he follows through.”

 “Based on these girls,” Prentiss interjected, “this guy’s intelligent. He prides himself on the ability to get away with this.”

“That’s good,” Hotch said, eyes still on the road. “But why work with us sometimes and not others?

The SUV hummed as its passengers sat in silence.   

You decided to speak up. “Prentiss said he prides himself on the ability to get away with this, right?” Everyone sat still, expectant for you to continue. “We’re looking at this the wrong way. This isn’t a sadist who gets off on killing. This isn’t a psychopath with a compulsion. This is a narcissistic sociopath who has been evading capture for weeks now. This is a game to him. It’s a game he knows he can win.”

“Which is why when he’s pressured, he releases the girl.” Hotch nodded along.

“He can take a loss where he can because, to him, the ultimate win is to not get caught,” Reid agreed.

“Great work,” Hotch said, parking the car. “You guys head in and get some good sleep. I’ll fill in the other van. Be ready for a big day of planning.”

You walked up with Reid and Prentiss, a small smile refusing to leave your lips. You cracked it, you thought to yourself.

Your two teammates teased each other up to the rooms, you following close behind. You weren’t the type to inject yourself into other people’s conversations, which ended up making it hard to connect with them. It was as if you had been adopted into a family that has known each other their whole lives. You were respected, sure, so there was no need to complain. You just wished that you could make jokes with them and have the levity they had during intense cases like this.

Still, even hearing your teammates laugh was enough for you tonight. You longed for a moment longer, but they said their goodnights and headed off.

You entered your room, much more relaxed than the night before. You had yourself all worked up, and for what? You gathered your things and headed to the shower, sure that Hotch wasn’t far behind and would call his son again.

As you exited the bathroom, Hotch entered the room. You jumped despite yourself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“It’s ok,” was all you said in response. You returned your things to your bag and slid into bed. You turned on the lamp and began reading while Hotch took his turn in the shower.

You were still reading when he returned, the book more interesting now than it was the night before. You glanced up only for a moment. Hotch wore striped pajama pants tonight, contrasted to the boxers you accidentally noticed earlier that morning. You looked back at your book but couldn’t read it. Your mind wandered to the message Hotch could be sending. Maybe your shorts were inappropriate. Maybe you weren’t meant to see his boxer shorts at all. Maybe he was just cold.

“Good work today,” Hotch said, interrupting your thoughts.

You smiled up at him. “It was a team effort.”

“We may have never come to the conclusion you did. Take the compliment.” Hotch’s lips raised to a subtle smirk, something you’ve only seen a handful of times and certainly never directed toward you.

“Yes, sir,” you said. “Thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Your eyes drifted back to your book.

“What’s your book about?”

Was Hotch trying to make conversation with you? True, it wasn’t as late as yesterday’s arrival, but in all of your months of working for the BAU, any discussion with the team had been strictly professional. Still, you blushed at the question.

“It’s a romance,” you confessed.

“I have to say,” Hotch began, “I’ve never read a romance novel. What about it appeals to you?”

You thought for a moment. “I guess it’s the suspension of disbelief. The relief to enter a reality where people love in big, romantic ways. Don’t you ever want to get swept off your feet?”

You cringed at the question, debating on whether it was appropriate to ask your superior about romance.

“I think I’d rather do the sweeping,” Hotch said thoughtfully.

You smiled at his words.

“You don’t think people love in romantic ways in this reality?” Hotch asked, looking up at the ceiling. His breaths were calm, and his face seemed to soften from serious to curious.

“I don’t know,” you said sincerely. “My sister is about to marry a real stand-up guy. He’s caring and has a good family who loves her, too. It’s one of those one-and-done fairy tale deals. Like truly made for each other. But I wouldn’t say that’s the norm. It’s not my norm, at least. So, yeah, I guess you could say I’m skeptical.”

You crossed your legs and fiddled with your thumbs. You tried not to reflect on your history, tried not to give any clue to your boss of your true beliefs. It didn’t ultimately matter to the conversation, anyway. The silence stewed as it stirred up new thoughts and old patterns, feeling yourself shut down the conversation. You didn’t mean to. You hated being seen as the one that was boring outside of work. The one that wasn’t friendly enough to get to know.

“I’m sure you don’t know,” Hotch began again, shaking you from your anxious thoughts, “but bringing up your sister reminded me that I met your dad a few years ago.”

You shot up. “You know about him?” You covered your face with your hands.

“He was nationally awarded for his work in counterterrorism. Of course, I know about him.” He laughed softly, a sound you weren’t used to but would never complain to hear it again. “I met him on a job in Bakersfield. He knew the town like the back of his hand. Is he why you joined?”

“In a roundabout way,” you sighed.

“He brought up his girls every chance he could.” Hotch smiled and turned to face you. “One was a soccer star in South Carolina on track to be a doctor. One was a track star a semester away from graduating with honors and applying to Physician Assistant programs, I believe.”

“My sisters are overachievers,” you said.

“Then it’s you he talked about the most. The musician, the future psychologist, the one who found fascination with the minute details of life.”

“My dad said all that?”

“He did. He had offered us beers when it was all over, and he shared photos of you all. You’re certainly much more grown now.” He chuckled.

Your cheeks flushed red at the comment.

“I showed him Jack playing tee-ball, and we both shared some stories before it was time to go. He had some great advice to give.”

“I’m sure he did,” you mumbled. “Sir, I don’t want you to think I got in because of him. He didn’t know until I made it to Quantico. I mean, yes, he always pushed the army and West Point like him, but I did this all on my own, Mr. Hotchner, I swear.”

“Hotch is fine,” he gently corrected. “I’m not worried about where you came from. I knew the entire time. But your qualifications are what got you on the team, not your father. Keep up the good work, and I’ll continue to remember that.”

“Yes, sir.” You thought to yourself for a moment. The candor of the conversation may have added to your bravery in this moment. “Hotch?”

He raised his eyebrows to imply he was listening.

“Umm, Is there anything that I can do to, like… never mind. I’m about to sound pathetic.” You huffed back down into your pillow. You couldn’t believe you were about to ask Hotch how to make friends.

“They’ll warm up to you, just like you’ll warm up to them. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’m sure they’ll see you for who you are.”

You sighed again. Of course, he knew what you were stressing about. He’s the chief profiler after all.

“I’ll let you read now,” Hotch said, getting up from bed. “I’m going to call Jack.”

You gave a small smile and nodded, and he left the room.

------

You woke up the next morning to Hotch returning to the room, two disposable coffee cups and a case file in his hands.

You jerked up from bed. “Am I late?” you asked, scared you slept through the alarm.

“No, no,” he said, walking over to you. “I’m early. Coffee?”

He held out one of the cups to you. You gently accepted.

“Thank you.” You looked over at the clock. 5:54. You rubbed your eyes. “Are you always up this early?”

“On the job, yes,” he said with no inflection. “Much to think about, and much to be done.” He sat back on his bed and reviewed the file you knew he had reviewed countless times. If he was anything like you, he was searching for some hidden puzzle piece, something that the team must have missed to solve the case once and for all. But it was never that easy. Still, maybe some fresh eyes could help.

You slid out of your bed and rested on top of his. “Can I help?”

“Be my guest.” He shifted the file your way for a better vantage point. You crossed your legs and sipped your coffee before getting to work.

You found yourself lost in thought, jotting down those thoughts in the margins. It helped to visualize your connections, even drawing physical lines to connect them. You noticed that the most recent girl didn’t fit the age range of the others, 19-23. You dug deeper, making a note to ask Garcia to run the connection between all of these girls. College? you wrote. There was a college campus within ten minutes of the hotel. One more thing struck you. All of the victims had their hair up in a high ponytail. You weren’t sure how that was associated yet, but you wrote beside each of the photos anyway.

As the early sun began to rise, you grew brutally aware of Hotch’s presence. His body leaned closer to yours, and you felt his eyes sear into your skin. You grew distracted, your mind wandering to the fact that you were wearing only a loose shirt and small shorts in Hotch’s bed. Was he noticing the same thing? Was this a breach of professionalism? Were you making him uncomfortable? Against all your will, you felt your body temperature rise in the form of a blush.

The alarm clock rang out, pulling both Hotch and your attention. You stretched over to turn it off.

“I’ll let you get ready,” Hotch said, jumping out of bed. He headed to the door, refusing to meet your gaze. “Meet me downstairs?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, slightly surprised by the questioning tone of your superior. He nodded and left the room before another word could be spoken.

-------

In the conference room of the local police station sat the team, all watching Hotch interact with the captain of the squad through the glass. You stayed facing the table with your head low. You couldn’t help the bounce of your leg. While the others inferred the conversation outside, your mind had fixated on the morning’s events. The heat of your boss’s breath had tattooed your skin, a branding to the back of your neck. The intimacy, the closeness, and then the flustered nature Hotch left in replayed in your mind. You couldn’t look at him until you could properly collect yourself.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” Morgan asked. Your head shot up. All eyes were on you now. You failed to hide the rouging in your cheeks.

“Nothing.” You shrugged, though you knew the contradiction in your body language.

JJ chuckled. “Nothing? You’re so tense, so distracted.”

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” Morgan asked again, a smile growing on his face. “Hotch keeping you up all night?”

You flinched at his name. You couldn’t help it, but you outed yourself all the same.

“No, I slept fine. I swear.”

“You flinched!” Prentiss laughed and pointed. “It is about Hotch, isn’t it?”

“Leave the poor girl alone,” Rossi said, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

“Hon, you better tell us what happened in the next three seconds.” Derek swatted at Spencer’s chest. “Reid, help us out, here.”

“Based on the months we’ve known her, she tends to—”

 “Don’t you start profiling me, Reid.” You glared at Spencer across the table.

His arms shot up in the air as if to surrender, but a smirk remained on his face. “All I’m saying is that I know the physical signs of a crush when I see one.”

Your jaw dropped. The conference room filled with laughter.

“Leave her alone!” Garcia yelled from behind you. “She’s our sensitive little one!”

“I’m not 5,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. Penelope hugged you from behind as if to protect you from the others. The others continued to laugh, causing you to smile despite yourself. Morgan took a photo of you and Garcia, and warmth spread through you. Even with all the teasing, being here with the team felt good.

Just then Hotch rushed through the door. “Alright, let’s be seated and get to work. We have a big day ahead of us.” Garcia took her seat, but Hotch stayed standing, opting to position himself in front of the whiteboard. “After speaking with the captain and going through the case file with Y/N this morning, I determined our best attack on the situation. Though, it is rather unorthodox.”

The rest of the team stayed silent, waiting for the punchline. Hotch continued. “What do we know about our killer better than anything? His victimology. We know that he goes after girls and young women aged 16-23. They are middle to upper-class, and not the type to find themselves in trouble. Now, who do we all know who fits this very description?”

“Y/N,” Reid said.

All eyes returned to you, this time with a seriousness looming in the air.

“If we don’t want any other kidnappings, we need to give him what he wants. Going after the 16-year-old was off for him. He’s devolving. Which means we need to act fast before he kills again. This is the only way we can approach this head-on.”

“Hotch,” Emily began, “with all due respect, let me take this on. Or JJ. JJ has experience.”

“With his victimology going as low as 16 now, it should be someone who looks the part,” Reid replied.

“She’s just a kid, Hotch.” Morgan reached his hand toward your shoulder, but you gently nudged it away.

“But I’m not a kid at all,” you spoke up. “I have two degrees and the same job as the rest of you. I know I’m young and look younger, but I’m qualified. If my appearance can be used to put this guy away, then let me help. Let me do my job.” You looked up at Hotch, a sudden confidence flowing through your veins. “What do you need me to do?”

-------

For the rest of the day, the team helped you prepare for your role as a 22-year-old college student. The team strategized and planned, desperate to ensure your safety. Everyone added their two cents, but you were happy to receive all the insight you were given. You weren’t going to screw this up for them.

You, Hotch, Prentiss, and Morgan returned to the hotel to pick among your belongings to dress the part. Rossi, Reid, and JJ stayed behind with Garcia to set up intel at the station.

“The shorts you wore to bed,” Hotch began, “go put those on while we find a sweatshirt or jacket. In fact, wear the shirt you wore, too. The size could conceal the mic better.”

You nodded and grabbed your things before heading into the bathroom. It was not lost on you that your boss was thoroughly aware of your pajama situation, but due to the pivotal role you were to perform, it was easier to focus on the task at hand.

You returned from the bathroom where Emily greeted you with the mic. You lifted your arms, allowing Emily to snake the mic underneath your shirt, securing it to your sternum with sports tape. While doing so, Hotch and Morgan returned with a single sweatshirt in Morgan’s hand. It was grungy and old, not quite the goal aesthetic.

Still, Morgan handed it to you to try on. The three profilers evaluated your look.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Morgan said. Prentiss pinched her eyebrows together in dismay. Hotch stayed staring.

“Take off the sweatshirt,” Hotch ordered. “I think I have something better.”

You did as he said while he rummaged through his duffle bag. He pulled out a quarter zip of excellent quality, something he only wears on a successful plane ride home.

“Put it on.”

You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions. It was a large fit, hanging just above the hem of your shorts and the sleeves landing at your fingertips. The three of them looked at you, then to their reference photos, then back at you. Something was missing.

“Call Reid. Maybe he can find any other similarity we’re missing,” Hotch said.

“No, I got it.” You remembered the notes you made earlier that morning. You took the hair tie from your wrist and pulled your hair up into a high ponytail. “Now, what do you think?”

“That’s it,” Morgan said.

“And just in time,” Emily noted, “We gotta get you to the college fast.”

On the ride to the school, Hotch reiterated the goals in place.

“All you need to do is walk across campus using the roads. Keep to yourself, and most importantly, do not—and I mean it—do NOT, get into the vehicle under any circumstances. Stall him, flirt with him, do anything you can to keep him in place. We’ll be right there. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. I got it.”

“We’re counting on you.”

“Good luck.” Prentiss smiled with seriousness behind her eyes.

Morgan grabbed your shoulder, turning you around. “Be smart, kiddo.”

You returned a small smile and left the van to venture on your walk.

------

You had to have walked the streets for at least an hour. The campus was massive, larger than any school you attended. You did as you were told and kept to yourself. The sun had long since set, so there was no warmth to guard you from the biting breeze. A car or two passed periodically, but none slowed down beside you. There was a peace in the solitude. One could chalk it up to the calm before the storm, but you weren’t afraid.

Another car passed, but this time it slowed down. Your heart stopped and landed in your throat.

“Excuse me,” the man called out. The voice was unforgettable. The very same voice that threatened to kill the girl over the phone. The voice that replayed in your mind for hours. You knew it was him.

You turned to face him, trying to commit every detail to memory. He was a conventionally attractive man with lighter hair and a smile that you would have swooned over under any other circumstance. He wore a white polo and jeans and drove a two-door black convertible with the top down.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m looking for a party my buddy’s throwing, but I don’t go here.”

“I’ll say you don’t,” you chuckled as you walked closer. “Your car must cost my tuition!”

The man grinned. “You like? I could take you for a spin. But I’ll have you know; I like to go fast.”

“Mmmm, top-down, wind in my hair,”—you inched closer still, to feign some sort of interest— “but don’t you have a party you’re missing?”

“Well, if you show me where to go, maybe I’ll consider you my plus one.” He winked.

“Now, do I look like the partying type to you?” You laughed and rested your arms on his car door.

Without another word, he grabbed you by the upper arms and pulled you into the driver’s seat. You screamed at the top of your lungs. You tried to fight him from your disadvantaged position, but he was stronger, quicker. He forced you into the passenger seat as he wailed punch after punch into your jaw.

“Nice. Girls. Don’t. Scream!” he yelled. He punctuated his words with one final blow to the head. And as you drifted out of consciousness, you weren’t sure if the roof was closing above you or if the sky was turning black.

------

The sound of fireworks stirred you from your unconsciousness. Lights of reds and blues lit the night sky. You smiled at the serenity of the celebration. You didn’t want to go, but the strong hands beneath you lifted you away. You were much too tired to argue, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. The faint words “stay with me” echoed in your mind, and if staying meant remaining in the comfort of the person who held you, you’d be content to stay there forever.

------

You woke up to blinding white lights. This must be heaven you assumed. You blinked through the searing lights and realized it wasn’t heaven at all. You were in a hospital. The sheets, the gown, the blinking monitors, and a small TV playing all clouded your senses. You reached up to rub your head, but someone was holding your hand.

Hotch moved with you, stirring him out of his strained slumber. He had pulled a chair to your bed, his head resting next to your knee. He lifted his head and looked up at you, an urgency deep within his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” He didn’t let go of your hand.

“I—uhhh—Hotch, what’s goin’ on?” You found your breathing quickening at the sound of your slurred speech, the confusion becoming too much to handle.

“You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok. The doctor said they want to keep you overnight, but the team’s on their way.”

“No, no.” You pulled your hand away. “They can’t see me like this. You can’t see me like this! I’m not put together. I—I feel like I'm gonna be sick. I can’t feel my arms. Are my hands shaking? I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out!”

Hotch all but jumped at your ramblings, his eyebrows raised in shock. Before he could answer you burst into tears.

“Hotch, I’m gonna be sick,” you said through your convulsions.

Hotch jumped up in search of a bucket. He grabbed the trashcan at the corner of the room and brought it to you just in time. Tears streamed down your face as you threw up into the trashcan. Hotch held your hair back and gently rubbed your back.

Your nausea subsided, but your panic remained. Hotch sat on the bed, pulling you into his chest. You gripped him with all your might, desperate for the shakes to go away.

“You're alright. You're safe, ok? I think the medicine is messing with you a little. Take some deep breaths for me. I need you to relax, ok?”

You tried to take breaths at the pace Hotch set. Hotch’s hand combed through your hair as he tried to soothe you. Eventually, you were able to cool off. Hotch gently rested you back on your pillow. “Why don’t we go back to sleep for a little, ok? I think you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

You nodded, your face still wet from the tears. You repositioned yourself and fell asleep within moments.

When you woke up again, your mind was your own. Your head was pounding, and your body ached. You allowed yourself to adjust to your environment before searching for Hotch. There he sat by your bed, talking to a nurse. You cleared your throat effortfully. Hotch stood and approached you.

“How are you?”

“Everything hurts.”

“They’re giving you ibuprofen now. It seems like you were reacting to the morphine poorly.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all,” Hotch said seriously. “Do you remember what I told you? That they want to keep you overnight?”

“That does ring a bell,” you said as you rubbed your head. “Is the team here?”

“They are. I told them to wait outside until you were ready.”

“Oh, ok.” You thought for a moment. “Hotch?”

“Yes?”

“Can—Can you tell me what happened? Like, did we win? Is everyone ok?”

Hotch chuckled, but his eyes appeared sad. “Everyone is fine. We got him. Are you sure you want to talk about this now? Why don’t we wait until you—”

“Hotch. Please.”

Hotch sighed and took a moment to think. “Well, we knew we were looking for an expensive convertible thanks to you.” He smiled. “So, we began our search as you spoke. But then, we all heard you scream.”

You flinched at the word, your memory of the gruesome event beginning to reassemble.

“Of course, it was full speed at that point. He had you, and we weren’t going to lose you. We cornered him on a dead-end road just outside of campus. We didn’t let him get far. Prentiss shot out one of his tires, so he started running. Prentiss and Morgan ran for him, and I ran to you.”

He paused. He looked away as his bottom lip trembled. He took a deep breath in as he settled into his natural professionalism again.

“We had EMT on standby, so we were able to get here quickly.”

You nodded, realizing it was Hotch who carried you out. The fireworks, the lights, the “stay with me”, the reality of it all crashed in on you in the form of a shudder.

“It was you?” you asked.

Hotch knit his eyebrows together and tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“You pulled me out. I felt you. I think I heard you.”

“Someone had to make sure you were ok.”

The fact that it was Hotch warmed your heart. Still, a question lingered in your mind. “Is he still alive?”

Hotch shook his head no.

“Mm,” was all you could say in response. There was no room for emotion. No time to process an opinion. You were just glad it was over. “What time is it?”

Hotch checked his watch. “It’s 2:43.”

“In the morning? Sir, with all good intentions, go to bed. Go tell the team to—”

Just behind Hotch, you caught a glimpse of Spencer in the doorway. “Is now a good time?” he asked.

You smiled and nodded. Spencer peeked his head back out and in a loud whisper said, “It’s clear! Go, go, go!”

The rest of the team hustled into the room and crowded around your bed. One by one, greetings and gentle hugs made their rounds, and your smile grew bigger and bigger.

“It’s a party now,” you said, a giggle bubbling out of your throat.

“Oh, she’s got the right idea,” JJ said as she sat close to you on the bed. She carefully moved a strand of hair from your face.

Prentiss laughed. “All we need now is some good music, a dance floor, and some drinks.”

The room filled with a few laughs and overall agreement.

“Too bad you all aren’t even supposed to be here,” Hotch said, slightly scolding the team. “It’s probably time for you all to call it a night.”

“Aw, Hotch, just a few minutes?” Garcia asked.

“We’ll be quiet!” Reid said.

Everyone looked at Hotch expectantly. You looked around at your teammates. They all were begging for a couple more minutes with you. That alone allowed your pain to subside.

Hotch sighed. “Just a couple more minutes.” A small smile formed on his face.

Everyone crowded around the bed, content murmurs and chatter filling the room again.

“Now be honest, guys. How bad do I look?” You shot them all a cheesy smile to sell it.

A few of them chuckled at your antics.

“I think you’ll be back to dating in no time,” Prentiss joked. “Guys love a badass scar.”

“Yeah, ’cause she was dating before,” JJ teased as she played with your hair.

“Shut up!” you giggled, coughing a little.

“I’ll get you water.” Hotch shot up and walked off.

“I’ll go with him,” Rossi said, sighing.

A seriousness enveloped the room. Derek was the first to speak up. “You know, you really scared us today, kiddo. Not to get all big brother on you, but it was tough seeing Hotch carrying you like that. Just limp.”

“And imagine how Hotch must have felt,” Reid said.

You looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Just then Hotch and Rossi returned with your water.

“Drink,” he said, his arm outstretched. You grabbed the water from him, your fingers overlapping his. The memory of his hands shot through your spine. His frantic begging for you to stay with him, much more panicked than you remembered the phrase.

Imagine how Hotch must have felt.

“It’s getting late,” Rossi said.

The rest of the team grumbled and said their goodbyes. Hotch allowed the rest of the team to go, lingering in the room with you.

“If you need me to stay, I’d be happy to do so.”

“You need sleep, sir.”

“I’ll sleep on the plane,” he said as if it was nothing to him. “If you don’t think you’ll need me, I can let you be. We can be here early to pick you up.”

You thought for a moment. You didn’t want him to go, just in case. “Would you be willing to stay?”

“It’s why I offered.”

You felt your lip begin to tremble, the brave face for the rest of the team beginning to fade. “Hotch?”

“What can I do?”

“Well, I just… Can I use your phone? I think my mom should know I’m alright.”

“Of course.” He handed you his phone. “I’ll wait right outside for you.”

When the phone call was finished, Hotch returned and sat down in the chair.

“If you’re going to stay, I at least want you comfortable,” you said.

“The chair is fine,” Hotch said, taking his coat off for the first time today. “Get some sleep.”

You scooted to the side of your bed. “Here. At least sit up here where there’s some cushion.”

He didn’t respond right away. You knew you could convince him.

“I promise I’ll sleep,” you continued. “I’d be up worrying about your discomfort otherwise.”

Hotch sighed and stood up. “Only because I want you to sleep.”

He sat in the space you made for him at your feet. He stretched his legs alongside yours and rested his back against the footboard of the hospital bed.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you curled up on your side. The comfort in knowing that he was there to take care of you was enough to send you off to sleep in minutes.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

“Goodnight.”

------

You woke up to something you had never seen before. Hotch was asleep at the foot of your bed, resting his head against your shins. A hand was placed just below your knee as if he planned to protect you in his sleep. It was the most peaceful you had ever seen him. He didn’t look cross or serious. He was calm and relaxed. You smiled to yourself. You had to fight the urge to return his touch. You knew the moment he woke up he’d return to his professional senses, and you weren’t quite ready for this moment to be over.

The doctor walked in to check on you, stirring him awake, anyway.

“I’m clearing you. Take these twice a day. Your jaw is going to be sore for a couple weeks, so work up to crunchy and chewy foods. And please, no strenuous activity for at least a full week.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said, taking the bottle of pills.

“Thank you,” Hotch said. He stood up from your bed as the doctor left. He threw his jacket on and fixed his hair in the window’s reflection.

You sat up and swung your legs off the bed. Hotch spun around and met you at your side.

“How can I help?”

You chuckled. “I think I can stand on my own.”

His eyes shared signs of concern and disbelief. Still, he took a small step back and allowed you to gather your bearings. Standing on your own, you closed the small gap between you. You began to become painstakingly aware of your attire being only a hospital gown and rubber socks.

“You got it?” Hotch asked, his arms out like you were a baby taking your first steps.

“Mmhmm,” you said. “Are my clothes here?”

“Yes, let me grab them for you.” He rushed to the corner of the room where your clothes had been neatly folded, including his sweater. He handed them all to you, his hands brushing against yours. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he stood over you. You looked up at him. His eyes returned your gaze, though you weren’t able to read him. His chest rose and fell as if his breathing was slow and deliberate.

“I’m going to call the team,” Hotch said, his voice low. “Do you—do you need help with anything before I do?”

All you could do was shake your head no on instinct, your eyes not leaving his. He stayed still. His eyes scanned you like he was contemplating something. He backed up carefully and pulled his phone from his coat pocket.

“Wait,” you said.

He froze.

You felt your face redden as you worked up the courage to continue. “Could—could you untie the top for me? My shoulder—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly as he inched forward again. “Turn around.”

You did as you were told. He brushed your hair over your shoulder and began to work on the knot. His calloused fingers feathered your skin. His warm breath betrayed you as chills ran down your spine. He untied the knot, allowing cool air to reach the back of your now-open gown. Hotch turned to leave.

“Be careful,” he said at the door. “If you need me, knock on the glass.”

You nodded.

He closed the door behind him, leaving you alone.

------

The drive from the hospital to the hotel rendered the air stale. Hotch had insisted on helping you out of the hospital and into the car. But he didn’t speak. He drove while you sat in the back seat. Every once in a while, you’d catch him checking on you in the rear-view mirror, only to direct his attention back to the road.

When you returned to the hotel, Hotch stopped you from leaving the car.

“I’ll grab your things. You stay here.”

“I can get my things just fine.”

“Your bag is heavy. Doctor’s orders. No strenuous activity. Stay here.”

You huffed and sat back in your seat as Hotch closed the door for you.

The plane ride was the same: silent. Hotch sat opposite you as if he refused to allow you to leave his sight. But he kept to himself all the same. The others rested or played their card games, but you stayed put, almost waiting for Hotch to make his next move. He didn’t speak the entire flight.

Upon your return, Hotch dismissed the rest of the team.

“Thank you for the hard work this weekend. Rest up, and I will see you all Monday.”

You all headed out to leave, but Hotch stopped you. “Let me take you home,” he said.

You sighed. “Is driving a strenuous task now?”

“It’s late, and I’m not asking,” he said, returning your attitude.

You followed him to his car. He carried both his and your bag and placed them in the backseat before joining you up front.

Again, not a word was spoken between the two of you. You felt your blood boiling beneath your skin. It was as if the trip never happened, as if the distance between you never closed. The babying was the worst of all. You were sure he was seeing you as the rest of the team did now, incapable, fragile, only a child.

Hotch walked you up to your apartment. He waited for you to open your door, placing your bag directly inside.

“Well,” you began, “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

He stood in your doorway for a moment, something on his mind. “Are you sure you’re ok? Is there anything else you think you may need before I go?”

“Hotch, what is all this?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You tried to maintain your sanity, but the anger had bubbled into your throat. “All this, this, this coddling! You’re treating me like I’m fragile or, or useless!”

“Do I have to remind you that you were in the hospital this morning?” Hotch asked, aggravation coating his throat.

“I don’t need this from you, too, ok? The rest of them, I can take it, but you were different! I thought you were different.”

Hotch closed the door behind him and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you not noticed that all of them treat me like I’m a child? Derek literally calls me kiddo, and the girls act like I’m some innocent girl fresh out of high school. Reid and JJ are five years older than me. That’s it! Rossi, forget it. I’m like a grandchild to him at this point. But you, you never belittled me. So, what is this? Did I fail you? I’d rather you just tell me than refuse to speak to me.”

“I – you didn’t fail me. How could you think that?”

“You couldn’t even look at me after the hospital.”

Hotch’s face turned a light shade of pink, his eyes leaving yours for only a moment. “We were successful because of you. But you got hurt. I just want to make sure you’re ok. That’s all.”

You thought for a moment, still not satisfied with his answer. “Then why didn’t you talk to me? I thought we were—I thought maybe there was something—”

“Please,” Hotch interrupted, “don’t say anything you might regret.” He took a step back.

“Are you saying I’m imagining this? That I imagined this morning?”

“No, no, no. We’re not doing this.”

“The coffee, the book put away neatly,”

“I would do that for anyone.”

“What about when you stormed out yesterday? When we were going over the file on your bed.” Your voice started to shake.

“That’s when I—I realized we had to use you.” He looked down, almost ashamed.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear that you’ve outed yourself and maybe you were more delusional than you thought.

“This morning…” you said.

“You asked for my help, and I helped you. Just like I’m happy to do for you now if you need. Look, it’s late, and you’ve gone through a lot.”

“Then what did Reid mean?”

Hotch looked back up at you. He looked nervous, something you may have never seen in his eyes before. “What do you mean?”

“He said imagine how you must have felt when you found me. What did he mean by that if it doesn’t mean you care about me?”

“Of course, I care about you!” he exclaimed, moving closer to you. “I almost lost you! And when I found you, I thought you were gone. You were lifeless. So, forgive me for wanting to be careful with you, because I refuse to let that happen again. I refuse to lose you again.”

You looked at him in shock.

He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said any of this. Listen, the only reason you’re feeling anything for me is because it’s me you woke up to. Nothing more. If Reid or Morgan found you, the same thing would happen with them.”

“Do not chalk this up to some damsel in distress situation,” you said a little too boldly. “The whole team knows I have a thing for you.”

Now Hotch was in shock. He shook his head. “It’s not me you want.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know you’re desperate for romance in your life because you either don’t make time for it in real life or were burned so bad in the past, that you gave it up entirely.”

“Hotch, don’t you dare profile me right now.”

“I know you have a rocky relationship with men in general, rooted in your relationship with your father.”

“Stop it, now.”

“You refuse to associate with him in any way. You don’t even allow us to call you by your last name. He views you differently from your sisters for some reason, and you hate him for it.”

“Hotch, I swear to god—”

“You mocked him for giving good advice, and you flinched when I brought up getting beers with him. He’s an alcoholic, isn’t he?”

“So, what, honestly? Literally who cares if he drinks? He gets mean, so what? What gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot have?”

“But he’s not just mean, is he?”

The air in your lungs got caught in your throat.

“That’s it, isn’t it? That’s how he treats you differently.”

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice cold.

Hotch stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with both hands. You shuddered in his grasp. “You don’t want me, ok? I can’t fix what you’ve gone through. I can’t even protect you at work. Do you know the guilt I feel for what happened to you? I’m the one who got you hurt. And now I have to live with that. What makes you think that I can be what you need if I can’t even keep you safe here?”

You closed what little space was left between you. You looked up at him, your face only inches from his. “Stop telling me what I want. I’m an adult. I can make my own choices. You’re not going to push me away like this.”

Hotch’s breath hitched in his throat. His chest heaved up and down, and his eyes darkened. “This is wrong. I’m your superior. This isn’t appropriate.”

“If you truly don’t want me, I’ll stop. We’ll go back to how things were. But you have to say you don’t want me.”

His grip on your shoulders strengthened, his touch burning into your skin. His now wild eyes scanned you as if he couldn’t have fathomed this happening. A lump formed in your throat as you waited for him to find the words. Instead, he pulled you flush against him and pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was raw and desperate, rougher than your healing jaw could take, but you couldn’t care less. He wrapped his arms around your back and gripped your hair as if it was instinctual. Your breathing hitched, causing you to moan into his mouth.

He pulled away, slightly out of breath. “I need you to tell me this is ok.”

“This is ok,” you said, breathless.

“Good,” Hotch said, “because I don’t want to stop.”

A smirk formed on your face. You grabbed a hold of his tie and pulled him closer to you. “Then I think you need to take this off.”

You dropped the tie and kissed him as he took his coat off. Your mouth wandered to his jaw. Hotch let out a groan.

“Your room. Now.”

His words sent chills down your spine. You took his hand and led him to your room. You turned around and watched Hotch remove his tie, sliding it through his collar. His eyes stayed on yours, his already dark eyes now almost black with desire. The moment his tie came off, he was back on you, kissing you like his life depended on it. His hands wandered to your ass and lifted you up, his lips never leaving your skin. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to your bed.

Hotch laid you down, now hovering over you. His lips drifted from yours down to your neck.

“Seeing you in this had me thinking horrible things,” Hotch confessed, slightly pulling on the quarter zip you were still wearing.

You blushed. “Really?” you asked, a smug smile growing on your face. “Is that why you were avoiding me?”

“Was it really that obvious?” Hotch asked, his large hands finding their way under your shirt.

You couldn’t even answer as his hands ventured up to your chest. His hands pulled a moan from your mouth.

“Take this off,” Hotch said as he pulled the hem of your shirt.

“You, first.”

Hotch’s eyebrows raised as if surprised by your reply. He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. You practically drooled at the sight of him shirtless. You could only assume he was fit when he rolled up his sleeves or manhandled unsubs, but this was all the confirmation you needed.

“Your turn,” he said.

You did as you were told, revealing yourself to him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighed as he kissed your chest.

You fought off a moan. You couldn’t believe this was happening. This was only something you pictured in your wildest dreams, and here he was in the flesh.

“I wanted this for so long,” you found yourself saying out loud.

“Me, too,” he agreed. “You have no idea how much I thought about this.”

Your cheeks flushed red. He began leaving marks past your breasts, down your stomach to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I take these off?” Hotch asked.

You nodded.

“Use your words, honey.”

Your stomach did a flip hearing the phrase. “Yes, sir. Take them off.”

He all but growled in response. He pulled at your shorts, taking them off in a swift motion.

“So much for no strenuous activities,” you joked.

“I can be gentle,” Hotch said as he settled in between your legs. “Let me take care of you.”

Your head fell back onto your pillow. You knew you were in for it.

Hotch spread your legs apart, the stretch enough for you to arch into his touch.

A smirk graced his lips, and without another word, he licked into your core. His mouth against you was like a gift from God, something you had only hoped could feel so good. You couldn’t help but squirm against him, grabbing his hair to pull him closer, if at all possible. He placed a hand on your stomach to keep you still. You could feel him smile against you, turning you on even more.

“Hotch,” you breathed out. You were close faster than you had ever been.

“Say my name,” he said as he placed a finger inside you.

“A-Aaron,” you choked out, the new sensation too much to handle. He filled you with another finger, his hitting the spot your fingers never could.

“Fuck, Aaron, don’t stop. Please.” Your breathing quickened, and as he pumped his fingers in and out, you felt the coil in your stomach snap, expletives and his name leaving your lips. Hotch continued to pump you as you rode your high, a daze overtaking you.

When you caught your breath, you pulled Hotch back up for a kiss, your hands finding their way to his belt.

Hotch’s hands stopped yours. You looked up at him, confused.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“I want this if you do. Do you?” you asked.

“I really do,” he said. “I need to feel you.”  

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Then please let me help you.”

He released your hands and kissed your forehead as you unbuckled his belt. The moment felt ironically wholesome until you pulled at his dress pants. You couldn’t help but gawk at his cock springing free. You were suddenly nervous, not quite sure it would fit after all this time practically revirginizing. If your jaw weren’t so sore, you’d have him in your mouth without a second thought.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he said as if he could hear your thoughts. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Hotch hovered over you and kissed your lips softly. You returned the kiss and nodded.

Hotch lined himself up with your entrance and carefully pushed in. He and you both groaned at the sensation, the stretch of him filling you something you hadn’t experienced in years.

“Jesus Christ. You’re so, this isn’t your first time, is it?”

“No, no,” you said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s just been a while. Just, just go slow, ok?”

Hotch nodded and started to move. He rested his forehead on yours, sighs and pants escaping both of your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Hotch asked.

You chuckled at his question. “We’re a little past that, aren’t we?”

Hotch smiled as he placed his lips on yours, much more tender than before. He moved a stray hair from your face and cupped your cheek with the utmost gentility. The urgency was gone, replaced by something deeper. Everything had culminated to this moment, and neither of you wanted to waste it.

Still, the need for more overtook you. “Aaron,” you said, your hips bucking up into his.

“What do you need? I need you to tell me.”

“Faster, please,” you said.

His pace quickened, one hand still around you. He used the other to stabilize himself, allowing you to view the tension in his muscles. You bit back a moan as the pressure inside you built.

“Don’t hold back,” Hotch said. “Let me hear you.”

He slammed into you, a smirk growing on his face as your breath caught in your throat.

“Just like that!” you blurted out.

He did just that, slamming into you again and again.

“Fuck. I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Hotch said, his voice almost shaking.

“I’m close, too. Please don’t stop,” you begged.

He pounded into you harder and faster, no longer a rhythm but a motive, a goal to achieve.

“Come for me, honey. I’ve got you. Just come for me.”

You clenched around him as you came, all but screaming his name. His pace didn’t let up as you rode your orgasm, your legs trembling around him.

“Oh, god. I’m gonna, where do I—”

“Chest!”

He pulled out and came on your chest, making the most attractive groans you had ever heard in your life. You watched in awe, absolute shock overtaking you. Never in your wildest dreams did you picture this. And for the love of god, you hoped this wasn’t the last time this happened.

Hotch crawled over you, still catching his breath, and captured your lips in a kiss.

“How are you feeling?” Hotch asked. “Is your head ok?”

“I’m good,” you said smiling at his return to his overprotective self. “I’m really good. I promise.”

Hotch rested his forehead on yours then kissed you, the tenderness returning.

“I like when you do that,” you said, your cheeks reddening.

“Me, too,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You don’t have to help, if you don’t want to.”

“What, and miss showering with you?” Hotch smiled. “Just lead the way.”

In the shower, the two of you washed up, and you couldn’t knock the smile from your face if you tried, until you thought about showing up to work Monday morning.

“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked.

“The team’s gonna know,” you said.

Hotch thought for a moment. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, well, I wouldn’t have done it in this order, but would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?”

You blushed, despite the state you were both in. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Hotch smiled. “I’m asking you on a date, yes. I have to be honest, though, I’m out of practice.”

“If tonight was you out of practice, I think tomorrow will go just fine.”

Hotch laughed and kissed you again, something you hoped would never fade in your memory.

************

ForeversTaglist:

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[balteredsworld]

wilson’s hypothesis. gregory house

🥼🩺 | according to wilson, house likes you and you like him. so, house confronts you with wilson’s hyposthesis.

masterlist: greg house n all

warnings/tags! fluff of sorts, angst if you squint, talks of self-sabotage, idiots in love, sherlocked reference!!! (just watched 8x18—house self-sabotages so bad my lord)

author's note: lowkey hate this but it's idk what're we thinking fellow ducklings???

"wilson thinks i like you," house airs.

you throw him a strange glance.

"crazy, right?"

"yeah? and you think i like cameron," you mimic, matching his dismissive detachment to comedic effect.

only, house is serious.

“no, wilson thinks i like you.” house ignores your joke, repeating wilson’s solemn hypothesis.

when you pause to look at his face, your mind goes off into complete nonsense like's just tipped you over and left you with internal bleeding in your brain, upon the realization that he does, in fact, mean those words he's telling you.

"what makes him say that?"

"i'm apparently connecting with you,” house indulges, relaxing into the cold bit of wall behind him. the moonlight hits him in a more subtle way, half hidden in the shadows. the blue of his wrinkled shirt melts into the glow it radiates.

you're not particularly sure what to say. thankfully, he elaborates.

“you share your food with me, i take your food, ergo it means something in wilson's romantic world,” house offers, before quickly dismissing the thought of his supposed feelings for you. "but you know wilson, he's always been a romantic. thinks he can diagnose emotions as easily as diseases."

you consider the argument, "well couldn't that just mean i can't finish my food and you don't wanna get your own?"

he squints at you, as if with drills for eyes. you're playing dumb, unless you really believe that. but you don't.

you clear your throat, "well, do you believe that?"

"well it's either that or i must obviously like you."

you gawk. "well, do you?"

"do i have to spell it out for you?"

"wilson had to," you snark back. "so, do you?"

"no," he says with a flat face.

something in your chest drops, just as your brows shoot up. "no?"

"no," he reaffirms.

you don't know if you manage to catch your frown. house doesn't say anything if you didn't. you're more than a little embarrassed, surely flushed. you're thankful that the two of you are under the dim veil of night.

"well good thing," you grumble.

house looks at you with a curious look, as if he was almost offended you would say that. "good thing?"

“we’re both lonely. lonely means self-sabotage,” you explain, fiddling with one of the main trinkets that line the ledge. you were sure you proving your point, coming up with an off-putting rationale to cover up your embarrassment. "two self-saboteurs, well, that's an equation with proven unresolved issues... so yeah, good thing."

you were internally cringing at the words you were spitting out, but you were trying to play it cool. it's something that's never worked in your favour though when you were near an attractive guy, and you always swore this was to make them repulse the inkling of interest. and you swore off doing this years ago, but the blunt rejection, if you could call it that, sprung the teenager out of you.

then again, house affects you like that. blue eyes and blue shirt and all.

he makes it no secret that he's a ladies' man, often hitching hookers into the hospital despite cuddy's gentle parenting to make him stop. but house does whatever he wants in the hospital, hence all the lawsuits you've had to deal with.

when you look at him again, he's somehow uncharacteristically quiet. you're unsure if his speculative eyes are because of a lightbulb moment, but one thing's for sure: he was thinking.

"you're thinking, aren't you?" you glean in a tilt.

house doesn't say anything, but turns away from you. when he does, you're unsure if you see his lip curl in disappointment—he hides it too well. some part of you hopes, but you know you're not his type. a bit too much like him in the overanalyzing and overthinking.

and maybe you're convincing yourself, but realistically speaking, your happy arrangement of sharing food in the middle of a hospital shift may work for lonely and misery, but not for anything else. two people who like self-sabotage is like a dumpster fire.

you'd rather have house like this, happy and alarmingly blue.

"aaand you've stopped listening. i shall take that as my cue to leave," you announce, hopping off the ledge in the same ginger fashion you had waltzing in.

when you land your feet, house airs his deduction, nodding along as if he was finally making sense of you and wilson’s hypothesis. 

“maybe he’s onto something.”

you turn to him with a tinge of a worrisome brow. 

“who knows? maybe i’ve been sending subtle signals that even i’m not aware of. so what do you think?” he croons his head, all ominous, arriving to a conclusion. you can practically see the cogs turn in his brain. “you like me.”

"i never said that.”

house looks at you, rising in a smooth motion, as if to showcase his towering height, forcing you to look up at him. sitting down, he's not so large, but now, all you can think is that he's tall.

"you might not, but your body does," he croons, dangerous smirk playing about his face. his eyes probe your face, confidently with a proven theory. "pupils dilated..."

house grabs your wrist, eyes practically lighting up in delight at his impending diagnosis.

"…and pulse elevated. i understand that wilson thinks that love's a mystery to me, but the chemistry's incredibly simple," he says, softening his grip on you.

house doesn't let go, lingering in this proximity, leaning closer like some ghost and spirit you'll always look for. your breath hitches, but house doesn't afford you time to quite think, capturing your lips in a kiss that you reciprocate, clutching onto his arms for balance.

you feel one of his hand snake to the nook of your back, pushing you flush against him. house keeps his other hand cupping your cheek and jaw, large enough to cover that expanse of your face. it's a little dry and rough, but you don't mind, all too preoccupied with his lips.

house makes good work on you. his lips are even better than you'd imagine, but you finally register his words and what you were doing, so you pull away. the furrow of your brows returning, apprehensive about his next words.

you whisper, “i thought you didn't like me.”

"i was lying," he shrugs. "i needed to see if i was right, and i was."

"so you figured me out?"

"you like me,” house concludes, triumphant. “i was right.”

“i thought this was wilson’s hypothesis?” you cock a brow.

“hypothesis,” he nods before flicking your head. “but i can’t give him the credit for my diagnosis.”

you let out an airy laugh, relieved that he didn't make you spell it out for him. "you're an ass, you know?"

his eyes are proudly heralding trumpets. you could practically hear the victory going off them.

"it comes with the sitting arrangement."

[lenaellsi]

after my latest rewatch I am even more convinced that crowley really doesn't have the intense self-loathing issues he's commonly depicted with. like he has some regrets and bad memories and insecurities like everyone does, and he's under an insane amount of stress basically always, but he's very confident in who he is. he's not particularly happy about being a demon, but that isn't the same thing as hating himself for it. he hates hell, not himself.

like. he’s not upset about being called one of “the bad guys” because he agrees, he’s upset because he knows aziraphale is wrong, and because this is evidence that aziraphale still believes in a philosophy that has divided them since even before his fall. he has never once considered himself less than aziraphale or any other angel. I think it's clear that he's pretty offended by that implication, actually!

“crawly” as a name is too squirming-at-your-feet-ish for him because he knows who he is, and he sees value in that person. his depression and his worrying relationship with his own life and safety come from his feelings on god and predestination, not from self-loathing. crowley does not believe in the system. he doesn’t believe in the idea that people are purely good or evil, and he’s sure enough of himself to know that he's not either. that's why he's able to make the choices he does. he's able to act in the gray spaces between heaven and hell (see: job, the flood, the "virtues of poverty," armageddon, etc etc) because he is confident enough to make those decisions without worrying about what the powers that be say about what's "right" and "wrong."

that doesn’t mean that he’s not self-conscious. he’s very concerned with what humans think of him, what aziraphale thinks of him, and (out of self-preservation) what hell thinks of him. he hides his eyes and puts on a cool, flashy persona to hide the more vulnerable parts of himself. I think everyone does that, to a degree, but it's especially obvious in crowley because of how it manifests in his glasses. he's been burned (literally) before, and he knows better than to show weakness when he could be hurt like that again.

and re: the "I never meant to fall" thing--he's upset about being a demon, yeah, because the fall sounds like it sucked, and his job tortures him when he's Good or just Bad in the wrong way, and he's deeply lonely, and the love of his life has a complex about their relationship, and he's trapped in a system where he has to blindly follow one of two nearly-identical sets of bullshit morality rules or be executed. but again, he's mad at god, heaven, and hell for all of that. I'm sure he's angry at himself for all sorts of reasons often enough, because crowley is generally a pretty angry person, but he doesn't hate himself in any sort of existential "I am an unlovable monster" way.

maybe sometimes he regrets falling. maybe sometimes he thinks it would be easier if he never did. maybe sometimes he hates his fucking line manager and wishes he could do any other job for a while. but no part of crowley thinks that he is any worse of a person after the fall, or any less worthy of aziraphale's company. he just thinks aziraphale thinks that, because of the amount of times aziraphale has told him so.

[monamipencil]

rival! seungcheol — pt. 2 !

genre; nsfw, some fluff, mdni <3 | tw; public indecency, fingering (f. receiving), pussy slapping, degradation (consented). | w.c; 1.2k+ | a/n; thought of this yesterday while going to sleep. and this is the part 2 to this! not proof-read. if you read it, reblog it.

“seungcheol, someone may see us!” you land a light slap to his chest but he doesn't listen, his lips attached to your neck, sucking and biting till the skin breaks.

“and?” he retorts with no care in the world. his hands sneak up your dress, fingers prodding at your nub through your panties. you bite down a whimper when he harshly rubs your clit.

“y'sure you don't love this, slut?” he hisses through his teeth, feeling your wetness as he pushes aside your panties. the silence of the library allows you both to hear the wet squelch.

much to your dismay, he removes his hand and steps back. but not before gesturing towards dress, and ordering “off.”

your eyes widen and you scream-shout at him again, about how someone could catch you both. but he's unfazed, simply crossing his arms and waiting for you. you sigh and roll your eyes, complying when he doesn't respond.

the condescending look in his eyes makes you scoff and huff in annoyance. he raises a lone brow when you sit up on the table in just your birthday suit. you do the same, questioning him back silently.

“off.” he orders again causing you to roll your eyes again. but again, you comply because you know he'll tear them off if you don't undo them.

things have been ... like this ever since that fated night at that frat party (which ended with you both 69-ing because neither of you would give up the power). and so much for wanting the upper hand in this weird power play between you two, you're currently submitting yourself to him, naked, in a isolated table at a public library.

you were supposed to be having a group study session, and everyone bailed but you two. and being alone with him meant...

“fuck!” you curse when he pinches your nipples and delivers a light slap to your breast. he harshly tugs you to the edge of the table and continues to suck and bite your neck and chest. you tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it and the other hand wanders to his toned shoulders and arms.

yes, he is having his way with you now but you know he'll come to you in a few days, begging to bury his head in your cunt. what are you both, anyways?

you hiss when he harshly bites your nipple, “ow! what was that for?!” you complain, and the ghost of a pout rests on his lips, big brown eyes staring at you with annoyance. “your mind is somewhere else.”

he straightens his back, and the condescending look returns to his face again. he slaps your cunt with slight strength, “slut.” heat licks at your skin and the wetness between your legs grows. you whimper, spreading your legs further.

he spits on his fingers, slapping your cunt again and spreading his spit on your folds. two of his fingers probe at your hole, and he pushes them past your folds, burying them deep inside. he scissors his fingers inside you before curling them against your g-spot.

“my slut. right?” he asks, looking at your fucked-out face and hearing your low moans. his hands make sharp contact with your cunt again when you don't answer him. you jerk, thighs trembling and you nod desperately, “yes, yes! i'm your slut.”

his lip corner lifts and he slaps your cunt, enjoying how you react to his touches. his thick thumb circles your clit, slowly, that smirk ever-present on his lips. “yeah? what else?”

knowing very well that your orgasm depends upon how good you behave, you give in. “i'm your cocksleeve,” you manage out between moans and whimpers. his smile widens and he rubs your clit, a bit faster.

on any normal day, you won't degrade yourself or let him do so, especially outside of sexual activities. if he did, his cock won't be attached to his body anymore. and surprisingly, right after you both fucked for the first time, seungcheol established this relationship with you. he asked you for your likes and dislikes and shared his, also affirming that you can always cut this off with him and stop him if you're uncomfortable.

to say the least, you developed a crush on him soon after.

“mhm, then?” you resist the urge to roll your eyes and to your horror, you actually enjoy it. hell, you've never ever been this wet. he pushes two fingers inside again, curling them and pressing them against that spot.

“your cum slut!” you moan out loudly, and your legs threaten to clamp shut. seungcheol shoves two fingers of his other hand into your mouth, “shh, you wanna get caught?” he hisses, but his composure breaks, seeing you suck on his fingers, fervently.

he scoffs, “you'd enjoy it, wouldn't you? wouldn't mind others watching you being slutted out, hmm?” he thumbs at your clit, two fingers still stimulating your g-spot. you suck on his thick fingers to avoid screaming. he smiles condescendingly when you gag on his fingers while clenching around his other two fingers.

“wanna cum, doll?” you hum around his fingers, pleading to him with your eyes. a warmth pools in your stomach and your breathing turns irregular. he thumbs your clit with more pressure and do the same with your g-spot. tears prick your waterline and your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into the toned muscles.

your scream is silenced by his fingers when you finally cum, violently clenching around his thick fingers. your hips buckle into his hand and you tremble. seungcheol pulls out his fingers, wrapping his lips around them and sucking on them as he holds eye contact with you.

he holds you, waiting for you to calm down from your high. you pull away from his embrace, after your breathing becomes regular. he smiles down at you causing a warm burst of emotions in you. you give him a small smile back and he moves to collect your clothes and then the reality hits you.

did you just let seungcheol finger you in a public library? and degrade you?

your cheeks warm up, knowing very well he'll counter you in class with a look in his face that clearly hints at what happened now. to remind you that you called yourself his cum slut and cocksleeve.

you refuse to look at him as he helps you dress up. he just chuckles, catching your chin to make you look at him. “that was ok, right?” he asks, worry laced in his voice and you nod shyly under his gaze. he smiles again, caressing your cheek with him thumb.

“meet you at the cafeteria tomorrow?” you nod again and to your surprise, he leans down, kissing your forehead.

oh, fuck you choi seungcheol!

he helps you pack your stuff and you do the same for him. your fingers brush with his as you both walk side by side to the exit of the library. by the exit, he catches your wrist, “uhm, i'll walk you to your dorm?” he tilts his head, smiling sweetly at you and you nod again with a small “yes.”

his smile widens, and he locks fingers with you, pulling you to walk with him. your cheeks are on fire and you bite down the shy smile as you sneak a glance at him. pink painted his cheeks and you could feel his heartbeat picking up through your hand that holds his.

you smile and tighten your hold on his hand. a moment later, you feel him do the same.

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy @jespecially

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @pan-de-seungcheol

(send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

[dira333]

A plush for a lover - Oikawa x Reader

Angsty fluff, trying something new

Haikyuu taglist: @lees-chaotic-brain

"Oh," Tooru pauses at the little display behind the Couch, "You've got plushies."

"Yes, I..." You're obviously flustered by his comment, yet you did not put them away before he came over, "They mean a lot to me."

"Really?" He picks one up, admires its soft fur and cute features, "It fits, you know?"

"You think so?" You step a little closer, your warmth seeping into him. Is he allowed to pull you in? Or would that be too forward of him?

"Yeah." He turns the plush so that you're face to face. "It's cute. Like you."

-

"I don't have to put it up," he claims, but your smile tells him that you don't believe him. Okay, fine, he wants his trophies where people can actually see them. So what? He worked hard for them.

"We could put them on Display over there," you gesture toward the wall. "So that everyone can see them when they walk in."

"Next to the plushies?" He asks and you halt, only for a second, but it's there, he saw it.

"I wasn't..." You start but he tuts as gently as he can.

"Nonsense. They've been a part of your life longer than I am. Not that I'm jealous or anything..." You giggle and he can't help but join. "But you should showcase them. They mean a lot to you, right?"

"Yeah." You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, an unusual sign of shyness.

"You never sleep with them, though," Tooru can't help but comment. "Why is that?"

"Oh, I do..." You confess, face turned away, "But only when I feel lonely."

-

He's not surprised to find you curled up when he gets home. He's even less surprised to find you hugging a certain plush. It reminds you of your mom, you told him once, because it used to belong to her.

Tooru lets you sleep, knows you need it. It's never easy to have a loved one in the hospital, even less when you're too far away to help in the way you want to.

"Hey," he mumbles softly when he sees you blink an hour later, "I made you something to eat."

"Did someone call?" You ask, voice raspy from sleep and emotions.

"No." His hand cards through your hair, trying to take the anxiety from you in any way possible. "But no news is good news too, right?"

-

The Missus: Hey, I'm on my way home, what do you want for Dinner?

Tooru❤: Shit, sorry, I had my phone on silent. I only got out of training now. Did you wait up?

The Missus: Honey, Hajime called to ask about our next trip. Can you call me back?

The Missus: Hey, I'm sure you're training hard. Don't forget to eat.

The Missus: Love you, going to bed now. Sleep tight.

...

Tooru barely manages to catch the door before it falls shut. The apartment is dark and the cars driving by give barely any light. He finds the light switch blind, a testament to too many nights spent coming home late. Something's wrong, but he can't really put a finger on it as he slips out of his shoes, hangs his jacket where it belongs.

He's tired and hungry, but too tired to eat. Still, he prepares a protein shake, watches the hands of the clock above the TV move as he drinks.

In a minute, he will get ready for bed. In a minute, he will slip into the bedroom as quietly as he can. But he needs a break, just for a second, where he doesn't have to think.

His eyes move around the room, looking for the one thing that's out of order, the one thing that keeps bugging him.

The plants are where they're supposed to be. Even the throw blankets are perfectly folded and placed away. He switches to his trophies, counts the numbers, and - there it is. The ugly little stuffed pig he won you at a festival, a sweet little fellow you named "Oinkawa" and called your favorite - it's gone.

He puts his half-empty shake down and tiptoes toward the bedroom. His heart thuds awkwardly in his chest as if it knows how guilty it should feel.

But when he opens the door, allows a sliver of light to fall in, you're not curled up around a certain pig. You're stretched out, back turned to his side, his own sheets untouched. It looks so foreign, all of a sudden like he's only just realizing that this isn't how it's supposed to be.

He opens the door a little more, eyes widening when he spots a lump on the floor. Oinkawa, he finds, hasn't made it into bed. Or he has, but the little pig has tried to make its escape... only to get hurt on the way.

Tooru picks up the plush. He wonders when you've last had to sleep with it. Was it during his last away game? No, that was last season and you told him on the phone each night that you were cuddling one of his shirts. Was it- He thinks of you, curled up around your mother's plush, and his throat closes up.

This isn't how it's supposed to be.

"Baby?" He asks, his voice a fragile thing in the dark room. You don't move.

"Baby?" He asks again, a little louder this time, grasping for your body. You wake with a shudder and a groan.

"Tooru?" You ask, confusion audible in your voice. "What's going on?"

"Don't leave me, okay?" He begs, "I'm an idiot, but I love you."

He presses his face against your neck and you, merciful as you are, pull him in. Maybe in the morning, you will cry, when the fog of sleep has lifted.

But as for now he gladly takes everything that you're willing to give.

my Kofi if you want to tip me

[sturn-wrld]

🏮holding back

pairing: chris x reader (established relationship)

summary: where you feel chris is holding back

genre: SMUT (locals dni)

requested: yes (anon)

warnings: this story is all smut (dni if makes you uncomfortable) swearing as well i guess.

a/n: this is horseshit tbh. green is messages

masterlist

---------------------------------------------------------

you and chris were definitely not scared of being sexual with each other but you had noticed from the few times you had done things that he seemed to be holding back. you didn't know what it was or why you felt that way but you just had a feeling.

It was yet another lonely morning in bed where your lover refused to come over because he had 'things to do' but you couldn't help but think about him and his hot body.

"baby please come over"

"but i'm busy babe"

"please i'm so lonely rn 😭"

"I have one more meeting and then i'll be there"

"alright love you baby 🤭"

"mamas what was that emoji. i don't trust that emoji"

"i think you know"

"oh. i know now. i'll be there asap dw baby 😉"

you squirm on your bed as you smiled and read your amazing boyfriends text message. you can finally relive this built up urge to be fucked. but as you continued to think about the amazing time your about to have with your boyfriend you started to think about the looming thought you continually have.

but before you could ponder for too long you got an exhilarating knock on your door.

"baby let me in" 

it was your amazing boyfriend.

"hey baby" you say with a lustful look on your face but a confused thought in your brain as you sat back on your couch.

it is easy to say that he could clearly sense this.

"what's up? what are you thinking about?"

"do you ever hold back anything when we fuck?"

"what?"

"i mean it sounds weird but I have this like feeling that your holding back while you have sex with me and i can't get the thought out of my head. so do you hold back anything?"

you look up to him as you finish your rant and see his face of regret as he avoids eye contact.

"i mean i thought i could hide it well but clearly i can't. um, i uh, you know how i constantly talk like all the time well that doesn't change during sex. but i didn't want to scare you away so i just hold it in"

you look at him in absolute shock.

"babe that's really hot"

"what?"

he looks at you with absolute confusion.

"that's really really hot babe" you say again as you start to move closer to him.

"really?" he questions as he moves even closer to the point where your faces are touching.

"yeah" you say leaning into a passionate kiss.

within milliseconds he had reciprocated this kiss and started deepening this kiss. he slowly started moving from your mouth to your jaw to your neck and ear.

"your so beautiful"

he started whispering sweet nothings into your ear in between his lust filled open mouth kisses. these seemed to not end.

"your amazing love"

"your an incredible girlfriend"

"i love you so fucking much"

with each passing compliment you slowly became more aroused for your sexy boyfriend and his never ending sayings.

you both slowly became more impatient. the kisses became more rough as clothes were being tugged from your bodies.

chris slowly pulled your underwear down as he saw the puddle you had created.

"my baby's all wet for me is she?"

he asked looking up at you from where he was in between your legs.

all you could do was reply with whining moans.

"come on baby i need words" he said now becoming level with your face and staring deep into your eyes

"yes all for you" is all you could get out of your mouth.

"that's it my good girl"

he starts pulling down his own underwear now as you started grinding up on him.

"i need you" you somehow managed to say as he finished pulling down his pants.

"oh baby. i know." he says pushing himself into you with a grunt and a moan from your mouth.

"my sweet baby likes that huh?"

"yes" you moaned out

"do you need me to go faster or slower baby girl?" he said looking at you with seductive eyes

"faster please" you said at an almost whisper

"anything for my beautiful baby" he said as he started pounding into at an unforgivable pace

"my baby is so tight around me"

"your doing so good gorgeous"

"look at my amazing girl taking me so well"

he starts talking with his captivating voice again. all you could do is listen in absolute awe as you had never seen this side of him during sex and you were loving it.

"are you close baby?" he asks as he felt you clench around him

"yes. so close. don't stop" you said in reply which just made him go faster.

"oh my god. oh my god!" you started screaming as you came around his big dick.

he pounded you a few more times as you came down from your high before pulling out as he came.

"wow" you stated in absolute shock from this new chris

"what?" he questioned playing with your hair

"i'm just surprised you haven't talked my ear off like that before. it's so sexy"

"i will be more often then"

[rogueddie]

On and On / Figure You Out

Corroded Coffin are at the peak of their popularity. They're not mainstream, or in any way big, but they're known enough that they're kept busy. Touring as an opening act, special appearences in little underground places...

Eddie hasn't been home for months. He'd known that he'd most likely be kept away when their manager started talking to them excitedly about all the opportunities.

He hadn't expected it to take such a toll on his and Steves relationship.

It had taken him a while to notice the problems too. He's always so tired after gigs... it takes him two weeks to notice how tired Steve sounds.

"Are you ok?" He blurts, as soon as he notices.

"I'm fine," Steve says.

Eddie can hear the lie.

"Are you tired?" He pushes. "Long day?"

"No. You don't need to worry about me. What were you saying about Jeff? Something about a solo, right?"

No, Eddie wants to scream. I was talking about us!

He doesn't say that though. He rattles off the things that happened in their last show- the things that are interesting, anyway. He doesn't mention how hard it had hit him, after the show, how lonely he is.

It's the same sort of conversation they always have. There isn't really anything different.

It feels different.

After saying their goodbyes, hanging up, Eddie hovers by the phone for a few minutes. Long enough for the others, who had been waiting nearby, to worry.

"Eddie?" Jeff is the one to walk over, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You ok, man?"

"Yeah," Eddie replies, automatically. But, frowning, he starts shaking his head. "No. I don't know. It's..."

"Hey, stay calm, it's ok. Did something happen? Is Steve ok?"

"Yeah, it... no. No. Nothing happened, but... I just have this feeling, man, like something really bad is happened and I'm seeing it too late and now-"

"Hey, hey, Eddie, breathe. Whatever it is, we'll help you out, ok? We can fix this, right?"

"Right," Eddie says. He looks to Gareth and Grant, then back to Jeff. "I need to go home. I need..."

"It's that big? Are you sure you're not overreacitng?"

"I don't know. I don't want to risk it. Like, it feels like something is about to break. I can't fix it from here- if I wait, it'll be too late, and-"

"Ok," Jeff cuts in, turning to gesture the other two over. "You go home, we'll find someone to cover for a few dates."

"I know someone who could cover for Chicago," Gareth offers.

"Thank you," Eddie manages to choke out. He knows it's not enough but, by their expressions, they at least understand some of what he can't bring himself to say.

"Go get your man," Grant encourages. "We'll be fine."

"Thank you," Eddie repeats. "So much, it-"

"Jesus, man!" Gareth cuts in, nudging him. "We know. We love you too. Now, go!"

"Go," Jeff says, nodding, when Eddie looks to him. "He won't wait forever, right?"

It takes too long to get a flight back to Indiana, and even longer to find a taxi willing to take him all the way to Hawkins. It ends up taking him 36 hours to get home, to get to Steve, after the phone call.

Steve is sleeping on the couch when he gets in, curled up in one of Eddies old sweaters.

"Sweetheart," Eddie whispers, brushing his hair back, gentle and soft.

Steve mumbles, nose scrunching in annoyance as he wakes up. He blinks at Eddie a few times, confused. "Eds? What- how are you here?"

"I missed you." Eddie isn't sure why he's whispering. The moment feels so fragile. "I needed to see you."

"But your tour-"

"Can wait. You're more important."

"What about that, uh... upward swing?" Steve pulls his hand off his hair, holding in both his own. "Once in a lifetime opportunity, right?"

"I don't care about that. On the phone, you... I had to come home, Stevie. You sounded so... I don't know. Tired?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, before admitting; "I missed you. Doesn't feel like home when you're gone."

"Good job I'm back then, huh?"

"For how long? One night and then you're gone again?"

"Forever, if you want. Or I can drag you out with us. Whatever it takes. Whatever you need."

"Just... don't leave me for so long."

"I won't. I promise."

"Ok," Steve finally smiles. It's a small, frail thing, but it's a smile. "Thank you, Eds. For coming here."

"Anytime." Eddie kisses the back of his hand. "Seriously, anytime. Call me and I'll come running. Whenever and whatever. I love you, so much. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I love you, too."

[osleeplessflowero]

hi! If it's ok can you do a Reaper sans x reader with fluff and in it they are dating and Reaper can touch the reader and their soul trait would be kindness

hii! an opportunity to use reaper..this'll be fun! thank you for your request Anon! 🌸

💚Flirting With Death🖤

Reaper comes to a stop once he re-enters the mortal realm once more, relieved that no one is aware that he's awake at the moment.. Although he may be the God of Death..he doesn't really feel like killing anybody. No, he'd much rather do literally anything else.

His eyes dart around until he perks up at the sight of a familiar face taking a walk down a path and letting a butterfly rest on their finger. He'd know them anywhere.

A strange figure that appeared in his world out of no where..an unexplained event. They don't know much of their origin themself, but..they're content, living in this world. And he's grown so very fascinated with them.. Someone who managed to slip their way into his guarded heart.

Floating over you, a sly cheshire-like grin stretches onto his face as he grabs your shoulders, spooking you. You jolt as you turn around, furrowing your brows as he lets out an amused chuckle.

"Not funny!" You cross your arms as more butterflies seem to make their way to you, resting on your head. "Quit doing that."

"i saw an opportunity, and i took it. anyway..movin' on from that, how are you today?" He leans down upside down. "haven't seen you in a while..guess we both got too busy."

"Come down here before I answer." You gesture, earning an amused chuckle. "alright then." He floats back upright, before landing on the ground.

The butterflies spread out, flying in varying directions, avoiding the God of Death so they wouldn't meet an early demise. He stands before you, using his magic to put away his scythe, leaving himself open.

"Much better..I like being on equal terms." You smile, holding a small basket in front of you. "I've mostly just been hanging out here..taking walks and stuff. Oh yeah, I've been making a bunch of paper crafts- y'know, like origami? It's pretty fun. ..When I'm not getting lectured for leaving a bunch of paper rabbits out." You mutter that last part, earning a chuckle from him.

"oh my stars, that's so..you." He grins, watching you as you begin walking and following without hesitation. "Creativity is both my blessing and my curse." You smile sheepishly, guiding him along a grass-covered path. He occasionally floats so he doesn't kill any flowers beneath him, listening carefully as you talk about this and that.

"What about you?" You turn to him, snapping him out of a trance of sorts. "oh, well..y'know. your typical scenarios. death, death, more death. this job's killing me." "How is it, up there?" "well..just do my job, talk to who i'm 'sposed to, and do daily tasks. pretty simple." "..You must be pretty lonely up there.."

He turns to you.

"I mean-" "it was pretty lonely, without you there. ..things don't feel the same up there, compared to when i'm with you. tends to happen, heh."

You gently hold out your hand, offering for him to take it. He looks between you and your hand for a moment, gently taking it and intertwining his fingers with yours. Wow, is that a strange sensation.. he's gotta learn to get used to all of this touching. Especially since you're so openly affectionate..

"Well..at least we're here together now, right? We've got plenty of time." You smile warmly at him. His cheekbones flush a light shade of blue..there you go again, tugging on his heartstrings. "..i guess you're right."

You continue leading him along like he's a lost puppy, taking a deep breath as the sun hits your face from above. It's always good to savor it while it lasts..and considering it's going to set soon, that time's limited.

"Now that you're back I wanna spend as much time with you as possible..don't get too sick of me, okay?" "that's what i'm supposed to say to you." "Yeah, right. I could never be sick of you."

He averts his eyes, hiding the bottom of his face within his hood as his face flushes even more.

You smile, stopping and turning to him as another breeze blows through, gently swaying your clothing to the side.

"i haven't..felt like this before, with anybody." He raises a hand, placing it on his warm cheekbone. "it's all so..new.."

"Can I touch your face?" You ask politely, and he nods, appreciating that. You lift a hand, gently touching his cheekbone and letting him lean into it. "..It's new for both of us, really. ..We've got each other, every step of the way, right?"

"yeah.." He smiles, putting his hand over yours. "i don't mind being touched by you. it's something i could get used to." "..You always have such..uncertainty, when you hold my hand. Why's that?" "i guess.. a part of me's scared that my...effect will work on you one day." His eyesockets narrow as he grimaces. "the idea of losing you is.."

You gently hold your hand up so he can see before you put it on his other cheek, turning him so he'll face you properly.

"Sans." You mutter his name, his true name, leaving him breathless. "I doubt that'd ever happen..I'm too stubborn to go anywhere. No matter what, I will always be with you somehow..even when you're up there with the fun police."

He snickers, moving his hand over to touch your hair before it slides to your cheek. Now it's your turn to lean..savoring his gentle touches. He treats you as if you're the most fragile thing in the world..one wrong move, and you could shatter into pieces. But at the same time, you're very sturdy.. you can handle yourself just fine. He knows that.

"You can touch me as much as you'd like to. I don't mind at all."

His face burns. "forward, much?" "Yeah. But I mean it." You smile. "If you'd like me to, I'll give you as much physical affection as you want." "..yeah?" "Yeah." "how so?"

"Well..may I?" You lean a little closer. "of course."

You then proceed to pepper his skull with kisses, getting a few laughs out of him since he's ticklish. Oh, would you use that to your advantage later-

"Mmmwah! There. There'll be plenty more where that came from." You smile smugly, watching as he slowly reopens his eyes, turning to you and..matching your expression? Oh. Oh no.

He gently grabs your wrists, pulling you just a liiittle closer.

"you're not getting away that easily. it's my turn."

Oh heavens.

[arminsumi]

♡ 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : you and Suguru were too confused to realize that you liked each other back then, and now look at you two; short-lived romances litter your lives and drunk confessions dissolve the next day. It's all a mess. Add to that the fact that Suguru broke you and Satoru up behind the scenes; it's a drama written by the number one drama queens; Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : fem reader / Geto Suguru / Gojo Satoru / college au

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : 🔞 Minors do not interact / 18+ / smut, plot, angst, miscommunication, mutual pining, breakups, Drama (with a capital D), alcohol/drunkenness, drunk s*x, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 : i found a drunk!suguru confession post in my drafts and rolled with it 🙈

playing it off. playing it cool. he's suguru geto. everyone likes him and he likes pretending like he's oblivious to that, but it makes his ego swell.

you think; oh every girl in my friend group likes him so why should i bother? he's going to overlook me. he's overlooking me right now.

he thinks; oh she's not into me. she must think she's too pretty for me. if i try to lure her in will she think i'm showing off? fuck it i don't care i'm showing off to her.

you think; oh he's a show-off but he does it so well. why do i have to like the ones who don't like me back?

he thinks; oh is she playing blind? or did she not see me at all. what do i have to do? make her jealous?

you think; oh he's got a girlfriend now? of course he does. yeah, of course he does... i feel sick.

he thinks; why is she looking at me so bitterly? am i fucking things up? maybe she used to like me back then.

you think; if he's dating someone, then i'm dating someone, too. i can't be alone and without him. this was manageable when he was single, not now.

*****

suguru geto comes up to you in the corridor with a confrontational tone of voice;

"why the fuck are you sleeping with my best friend?"

and he thinks you have some audacity to just shrug in response. he presses, but you avoid answering until he locks in on you in the corner of a classroom now, moving out of the corridor for some privacy. yes, much needed privacy.

"i'm gonna ask you again, nicely—"

"it's not really your business. i mean, i don't pry into your life, do i?"

your reply slaps him across the face and he just stays silent, then storms off.

*****

gojo satoru broke up with you a week after dating. figures. he was a playboy after all, and you knew it, so why are you crying?

"really, get it together. there is more to life than this nonsense. come on, get yourself out there again. buy yourself an expensive red dress. get your nails and hair and makeup done. and go strutting like the world is yours."

"... thanks mom." you reply in a sarcastic gurgle, eyes crusty from crying.

shoko is rubbing your feet, you're watching a soapie together because she claims it makes her feel better after dreadfully long shifts at the hospital.

"you know, i warned you about satoru, didn't i?"

"... yes, you did." you hang your head.

"why'd you chase after satoru then?" shoko asked seriously.

"dick."

"... be serious."

"... i really like suguru."

"oh. well. the plot thickens." shoko looks at the tv, then at you. "trying to go the roundabout way to meet him?"

"yeah. he's got a girl now, you know."

"... are you sure?" shoko looks at you suspiciously, "it sounds like you haven't stalked his socials in a hot minute..."

"what, why?" you perk your ears up like a bunny.

"uh, 'cause like... his "girl" just deleted all the pictures of him and her together and he did the same. sooo..."

*****

you do buy yourself a good, wine-red dress and although you selected it purely because you daydreamed of suguru geto romantically lifting it off of you, that never happened that night because everything went wrong and ended in a drunk mess.

avoiding satoru was not easy when you looked so good and he was so horny and lonely, so you let him heatedly mark you up with his lips in the bathroom and put his hands all over you. the way he squeezed and massaged your body made you think for a split second that he really did like you. and the way he kissed you? he kissed you like a romantic — yeah, horny. of course horny. but a romantic over that.

"... why do you look so good tonight..." he said, as if it was unfair.

"uh-huh." you reply. "that's thirty minutes up, playboy."

"daaamn i'm not a playboy, stop calling me that." satoru groaned, and like a sexy playboy.

"you sound like one every time you open your mouth."

"then silence me." he replied with a wink.

"... i'm going to go find shoko."

he made a whiny noise.

"but—"

"—no, satoru."

"okay."

satoru looked like he was holding back a lot, but you couldn't understand what he was holding back. did he just want sex? was that it? no, not with that look in his eyes. he didn't look at you like a wolf, he looked at you like the breakup was a robbery for him, and you were stolen.

stolen by who? who knows. i don't know. do you know? hm. maybe you can guess.

*****

i hate drinking, suguru thinks as he stumbles around the party bleary-eyed and swaying, leaning, into any wall that could care to hug him right now.

i hate it here, too.

he looks disgustedly at everyone, then goes into the quiet backyard where there's no life but the crickets in the grass.

why can't she like me as much as i like her?

he's mean and drunk. he's hurt.

that's why when the two of you encounter each other, an argument froths up.

"damn what's your problem tonight?" you asked after he made some passive aggressive comment.

"you."

"me? the fuck did i do?" you look at him.

"you ruined my life..." he slurs romantically.

"... what?"

he kisses you so softly. you tense up, far too confused to enjoy it even though his kiss is something you've wanted for a while now.

when he pulls back and sees your facial expression, he feels guilty.

did they lie? it seems like i'm not as good of a kisser as they said.

"... i love you." he says against your face.

"you're drunk."

"no, i'm in love." he says drunkenly.

"let's get you sober..."

"i mean it!"

"then say it when you're sober. i think you think you love me right now, but tomorrow you won't make eye contact with me. in fact, i know you'll pretend this never happened."

he sniffles, starting to cry.

"shit, don't cry. i don't know what to do if you cry."

"... just hold me... i'm cold." he says.

it's summer, but i'm cold and lonely and in need a warm touch.

you hold him.

for a while, he just stays there with his head on your upper chest. his nose gets stuffy as he keeps crying. unable to tell whether it's the alcohol or you that's making him cry right now.

"can i come home with you?" he asks.

and he asks it in such a soft, pathetic voice that you can't say no.

"alright. but no funny business..."

"yeah, of course."

i'm too drunk and sad, even if you'd want that i couldn't.

so you take the train home with him at 2 AM. the train handles sway overhead. there's a lot of empty seats. the lighting is stark. you're cuddled together like awkward lovers after an argument. suguru almost falls asleep from your body warmth.

*****

you herd a drunk suguru into your bedroom and turn the lights on.

"lay down." you tell him. "i'll get you water."

"i love you."

"okay." you reply flippantly, but his words struck you and they'd settle in your mind for days to come.

"just 'okay'?" he lifts his head sadly from the pillow.

"i don't know what to do with your "i love you". it's just too much right now. you've given me mixed signals for months and now you hit me with this?" you shake your head at him.

he pouts to himself, still incredibly drunk. all he can really hear and feel and need is you.

"... cuddles?" he asks.

"okay..."

so you lay with him and he's so overjoyed he blatantly smiles about it, soaking up your warmth and the softness of the bed. your bed. he's in your bed, cuddling you, just like he knew he would one day. even if it's under a strange circumstance. even if everything was confusing and messed up, in your bed everything made sense.

but you're laying there wondering, is he going to pretend this never happened once he's sober tomorrow? is he going to pretend the two of you didn't lay together, talking about your lives in hushed voices, sharing childhood memories with laughter — is all of this going to dissolve the next day just like the alcohol dissolves from him?

you don't know.

suguru's needy squeezing and soft breathing in your ear make you feel loved, even if it's just drunken love. and somewhere in the cave of his mind, he's hoping that by the morning his courage won't have evaporated and he won't become a coward and damn just love you.

"kiss me." he mumbles against your cheek.

"what, right now?"

"of course right now."

you don't know where his sudden need to kiss came from, but you sympathize with the drunkard — they need a kiss to warm up and feel alright. but you also shake, just a little, because this is what you want, too.

one kiss doesn't satisfy him, he gets greedy. and greedier after each kiss, until his tongue is slithering into your mouth and he's leaning on you with his weight, pressing a boner into your lower half.

"suguru... don't. you're gonna regret it in the morning, probably."

"... how could i regret you?"

the shift in his voice told you that some of the alcohol had worn off, albeit not too much.

his fingertips press into your skin and it sends him to heaven. you're sighing under his touch, trying to practice self-restraint, because this drama keeps getting more dramatic and you didn't want to contribute to it more by fucking with the best friend of the guy you dated — er, whom you dated to get back at said guy for dating someone else.

suguru kisses your neck tenderly, and that's when you snap and give in completely.

"... i want you."

"then have me."

******

a shuddery moan escapes suguru when he slides inside you. he spreads your legs a little wider, snuggling his waist between them like he's found his home.

"kinda romantic, aren't you?" you tease. "i could practically see your pupils dilating there."

he hums at the sensation of your wet walls gripping him.

"yeah, romantic — i'm sure you noticed that about satoru, too, huh?"

"someone's jealous..."

he bottoms out in you so slowly that it's easier to take. he's not unbearably big, not unbearably thick, just perfectly filling you.

"... of course i'm jealous, why'd you think i told him to break up with you."

"huh?"

you don't have time to question this crazy revelation because he's driving into you back and forth hard all of a sudden, knocking you into a near-orgasm with how perfectly he angles into your g-spot.

"fuck, baby!" he whines into your shoulder, "you feel so good!"

"s-suguru..."

"yeah, say my name." he commands breathlessly, "say it over and over until i cum."

he sounds nearly pathetic, like he hasn't pleasured his cock in forever. he's nearly drooling. just going crazy for you but at the same time trying to maintain his cool "i'm geto suguru" — which slips completely when he cums prematurely.

"i love you, oh my god i love you so fucking much, will you have my baby?"

"y—y–yeah! i'll — fuck! — i'll have your baby, suguru!" you reply.

"oh, good girl." he moans, "get pregnant for me."

he's so whipped by your reply that even though his cock is overstimulated and sensitive from cumming, he still drives into you until you reach your orgasm. he even snuggles his fingers into your clit and rubs it frantically, practically forcing your orgasm to arrive. he just loves to see it wrack your body and make you curl in.

"fuck... you're so beautiful." he says as he watches you cum all over his cock.

"s—suguru!" you pant, totally incoherent for a few seconds because of how strong your orgasm came over you.

he's slowly sliding his softening cock in and out, until he slides it out your stretched-out hole and you can hear him slide out — practically hear how thick his cum is as it dribbles out of you.

"creampies are pretty romantic, huh?" he jokes, smirking down at you as you pant.

"... you're crazy."

"i'm crazy for you."

"... me too."

he cuddles you for the rest of the night as if that's all he ever needed to hear. and what consequences would come for fucking you when he knew satoru genuinely likes you?

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[fuckyeahmhawkefenris]

It is unbearably quiet on tumblr lately, and what little talking there is, it's all about the next game. Yeah, we're no longer in 2012, I get it.

I'll just keep entertaining myself however I can.

I've always wanted to talk about one fic I secretly refer to as one of the hidden gems in the fenhawke archives. I have never ever seen anyone bring it up, and in all these years I've never dared to recommend it to anyone... Don't think you can even find it so easily? For good reason tbh...

Thing is, it's a fill for da kink community on livejournal. Anyone remember that place? The safe haven where anyone could anonimously submit the kinkiest most shameless things you could think of - offering prompts, filling them... Those were some desperate times when we were painfully low on content, and it was very hard to find something to read. Finding a story with characterization that suited your vision was near impossible!

I myself was desprate enough to brave through countless pages of imageries I could not stomach, skimming through them just to get the general idea until something captured my attention.

So I found this, and honestly, to this day to me it is one of the best examples of... idk, not just good characterization, but the overall feeling of the fenhawke relationship, why I can't let go of them after 12 years? It's all subjective, of course, but no fanfic ever resonated with me as deeply as this. Also back then mage Hawke was not very popular and most stories featured rogues... I used to be very sad and lonely!

Warning: it's extremely triggery. I wouldn't even recommend reading the first part at all, because it's too difficult and painful to get through. Hell, I couldn't read it! I was looking through the text very VERY briefly to get only the most basic and vague understanding of what was happening, and it was still hard! There is a lot of abuse, rape, slavery things...

To get the idea:

The Alone quest did not get resolved as planned. Danarius managed to win that battle, captured Fenris and returned to Tevinter, gravely injuring Hawke in the process (Fenris thought he was killed). To break the remains of his will, Danarius threatens to erase Fenris's memories of Hawke, and he succumbs and stops resisting altogether. I don't want to recall the details, but it was awful. Go straight to part 17 (it's a flashback) to read a very lovely take on fenhawke first night together. It's super sweet and gentle, though painfully sad in context. Still, beautiful. Well, it gets worse before it gets better! Somewhere in part 19 Fenris's friends come for him (they sailed all the way here on Isabela's new ship) and he's rescued. What follows is an exceptionally touching tender reunion with Hawke. Oh, and then, once all is settled comes the second part - All the King's men, which is much less controversial and fairly easy to read. Fenris copes with his experiences, and Hawke is always there for him. There are some truly fantastic moments as they slowly get close to each other again! Isabela is pretty great here, and Anders... sorta made me warm up to his character? And it's all fairly believable and close to how we see them in the game.

I'm saying all this and linking this fic on the off chance that someone with tastes similar to mine ever needs something like it. I know I am grateful it exists, and still hold it very dear to my heart. Definitely never regretted finding it!

[otomiyaa]

Ticklish Rafayel x MC / First-Person POV

Written for my dearest @ticklygiggles!

Summary: Part two of Ebb and Flow - Rafayel is feeling better, so it's a good moment to, well yeah, return to that topic of a certain ticklish Lemurian...

Ebb day... Lemurians...

My dreams are a little funny. I wonder why, but when I open my eyes, and immediately see Rafayel staring at me, I know. I remember.

"You're up," he says. He looks like he has been waiting for a while.

"I fell asleep?" I look around. Looks like I really did sleep through the night.

Rafayel nods. "I didn't want to wake you up. Though, I felt lonely."

Pffft. The markings on his face are still visible. He's so pretty, but... I suddenly get up and grab his hand. He looks startled.

"Are you feeling alright now?" I ask. Rafayel nods slowly.

"I'm fine. It's fading."

I sigh in relief. His temperature seems a lot better too. "But these..." I reach out to carefully touch the marks on his face.

Rafayel allows me to touch him, but when I move towards his neck to touch him there, he twitches and moves his hand up defensively.

"There you go again," he complains. I can't help but smile at the memory. Rafayel is ticklish...

"It tickles that much? If I do it more, will you laugh for me?" I ask.

Rafayel looks at me with a defiant look. "Would you actually dare?" he asks. I hold back a giggle. How is he so beautiful, adorable and bratty at once? Noticing that he's feeling better, I decide to take a shot.

"I dare," I say, and I lean towards him and start to tickle his neck. My fingers brush softly against the skin around the markings, occasionally tracing over them, and the sound of Rafayel's sudden giggles is making me feel things.

"Hehey! Wohahah!" Rafayel giggles, and I climb on top of him to straddle him and access his tickle spots from a better angle.

"No haha! Dohohon't you dahahare!" he laughs, squirming weakly as I tickle his neck with one hand and his side with my other.

"I thought you dared me to do it? Rafayel, Mr. Lemurian, you say you feel better but you still speak in riddles," I say. I remember the things he said last night.

"You can't even run away... I'll do whatever I want to you. Does that ring a bell, too?"

"Nohoho! It d-doesn't!" Oh the pretty little liar. He's blushing so much right now.

"Not- not there, stahahap!" I carefully observe his reactions. He really does seem to feel better and he's no longer as weak, but still not strong enough to defend himself from my tickles.

"If I stop, will you at least tell me where else you are ticklish? Maybe, here?" I ask, and I slip my hand into his half-open robe and scribble my fingers against his stomach. The reward is even more laughter. Louder, brighter. I can't help but smile.

"Aahahaha! I wohohon't tehehell!" Rafayel laughs hysterically. I chuckle and add my other hand, now using all ten fingers on his stomach. It takes some balance to keep myself on top of him as he squirms and wriggles.

"You know that's basically like asking me to tickle you more, right?"

Rafayel manages to catch my wrist, but I simply turn the tables and grab his hand, pulling it up and pinning it above his head. With my other hand now free again, I poke and tickle his exposed underarm, and Rafayel's sweet giggles and helpless pleas fill the room.

"Hehehe! Nohoho! Huhuhumahahans ahahare the wohohorst!" he laughs. I smile fondly.

"And Lemurians really are ticklish and... beautiful," I whisper. I don't think he heard that last part.

Hoping I didn't bully him too much after such a rough night, I stop my tickle attack on him and cup his cheek, comforting him while he catches his breath.

"I'm sorry Rafayel. I couldn't help myself. Are you still feeling alright?"

Rafayel breathes in and out for a moment and nods. "I'm fine. I'll be more fine once I gather all my strength to tickle you back, which I will, sometime. But..."

He grabs my hand as I caress him, and he looks at me with those beautiful eyes.

"Right now, I want you to stay by my side a little longer. Can you do that?"

I nod. "Of course. I won't go anywhere."

He wraps me in his arms and even though I no longer feel tired, I think I could sleep like this, with the sound of Rafayel's pretty laughter still ringing through my head.

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Meguru Bachira x reader [ SYNOPSIS ] You're Bachira's good luck charm. idk there's no plot, don't think too hard about it. [ WORD COUNT ] 1.6k [ CONTENT ] Aged up!Bachira, he went pro (ayyyy), knife play, blood play, sadomasochism, praise, marking, scars, y/n is kinda needy (but so is he), vaginal sex, size kink (I believe in big dick Bachira), teasing, nipple play, overstimulation, pet names (baby), creampie.

You hated away games, loathed them. They were an inevitable occurrence, something you should have grown used to over time. But still the night before every flight you spiraled, lamenting that you couldn’t follow Bachira around. It wasn’t because you were insecure or lacked trust; you just hated sleeping alone. There was nothing more disappointing than rolling over in bed at three in the morning, reaching for him, and then remembering, Ah, yeah. He’s in Sapporo. You had always assumed you’d build up a callus, one to protect you from the melancholy known to overwhelm you on those lonely nights.

Unfortunately every away game was a wound reopened.

In six hours Bachira would be flying first class to Fukuoka, sleeping with his face pressed against the window. His team’s manager was less than enthused with this arrangement. He thought it was ridiculous to spend an extra day at home and fly out the day of the game, but denying the left back was easier said than done. Bachira’s beguiling whimsy and immense talent rendered most people under his spell. The world was effectively his for the taking, his manager no different.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you  sighed.

You tried to ignore the looming dread that hung around you, but it was nigh impossible while straddling him. He fluttered his long, dark eyelashes and looked up, leaving you bewitched by his golden gaze. It radiated a fervent adoration no other man was capable of. He was artful in his mastery, his affection unmatched.

“I know,” he said, pinching your cheek.

You batted his hand away. 

“You sure you don’t want to get some rest? I’ll feel moderately guilty if you fuck up tomorrow.”

“Stop,” he whined. “I’ll be fine. It’s a short flight and it’s not like I’m gonna be playing the second I get there.”

He would be fine, he always was. He had his ways; the absurd things he did in the name of good luck never failed him. So you surrendered yourself and bought into his vision like you had many times before. There was nothing to worry about, all you needed to do was trust him.

Still you couldn’t hide your melancholic expression. You’d miss him all the same, win or lose. 

“C’mon. You believe in me, don’t you?” he asked. He gave you a cat-like grin, one that would make you sign your life over to him.

“Yes, yes, yes. I believe you.”

“Then what is it?” he asked, tickling your sides.

You groaned. “I’m—ugh—I told you. I'm going to miss you, alright”

“Aww. I could come inside you if that’ll help,” he teased.

“You were going to do that anyway!”

He playfully stuck out his tongue as he slipped his hands under your shirt. His hands were big and weighty, but his fingers were elegant. His palms rough; his touch tender. He tugged at the hem of the shirt and giggled.

“You thief,” he said, pulling it off of you. “I was looking for this while I was packing.”

“Not my fault it’s the perfect nightgown.”

He tossed it in the general location of his half-packed suitcase.

“At least it’ll smell like me now,” you said coyly.

He sat up and buried his face in your neck, taking in the scent of your skin. He let out a dreamy sigh as he exhaled. It was such a lovely noise, one you wanted to hear again and again. You reached down and stroked his soft cock. You pulled back his foreskin and rubbed your thumb around his sensitive tip. He shivered with delight.

“I need all my stuff to smell like you. Go roll around in my suitcase for a little bit.”

“How about I give you some pairs of dirty underwear to remember me by instead?” you snickered as you squeezed the base of his cock.

He rutted against your fist. “Fine, but they have to be those tiny, cotton ones. They feel the best against my skin.”

“Anything for you.”

He looked so sweet lying beneath you. You braced yourself, placing your hands on his pecs, and felt the rise and fall of his chest. His warm skin was dappled with water, his sinewy body fresh out of the shower. The towel he haphazardly wrapped around his hair had unraveled, each strand exuding the scent of your shampoo. His cheeks were glassy, a sure sign he slathered on your facial serum and night cream. Even his skin smelled like yours. He wriggled under you, trying to guide your attention to his semi-erect cock. You decided you wanted to tease him a bit, make him earn it.

“Don’t you need a good night’s rest so you can win tomorrow?” you asked, dropping your arms to your sides.

He scoffed. “I have my ways,” he said, eyes fixed on the thin scars etched on your upper chest.

You decided to change your tune. Wasting time was criminal.

“Hm. Remind me of what those are. I forgot.”

He grinned and began to dig around the bedside table for his tools. He pulled out a wooden box with a floret of goldenrod painted on the lid. Inside were some single-use scalpels and a modest first aid kit. He pulled you close, hand resting on the small of your back, and licked the cluster of scars. Each one was a thin line about an inch in length and spaced close together like tally marks. They were all perfectly straight, the handiwork of a master. You were proud to bear them.

Bachira held the scalpel between his fingers, his eyes narrowed and focused. You froze like a statue awaiting the chisel of a sculptor. The blade glided across your skin; you barely registered the sensation.

“Deeper,” you urged.

He ran the blade across the slit once more. Blood trickled freely from the wound. He made another cut underneath. It was deeper and hurt more than the first one. He watched as the blood made its way down your breasts and let out a giddy whine as it clung to your nipple. Unable to contain himself he swirled his tongue around it. Your cunt throbbed as he held it in between his teeth. He looked up at you, his eyes wild with adoration. You loved seeing him like this. You felt special, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

He licked up the trails of blood before rolling his tongue against the cuts. It was like getting stung by bees. You loved finding ecstasy in the ache. You’d forever be in debt to Bachira for aiding you in  your libertine awakening, for leading you hand-in-hand down the proverbial primrose path. He was the first to show how to walk the line between pain and pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” he whimpered before sucking on your breast once more.

You lifted his chin and kissed him. You ran your tongue over his lips, the taste of your blood still lingering on them. He eagerly opened his mouth, overtaking yours. His kisses were always sloppy, wet, and needy. His desperate passion knew no bounds and you wouldn't have it any other way. You slowly stroked his cock, his precum sliding in between your fingers.

He panted, “I need it now.”

You kissed his forehead and slid his cock inside your dripping cunt. He tossed his head back and let out a heavenly moan. You bounced up and down, driving his cocktip into your cervix. His girth was a gift from god. You felt so full, almost like you would burst at the seams.

He lapped at the blood trickling from your cuts. You tangled your fingers in his damp hair, letting the strands snake around them. You wanted to become a part of him, for your bodies to meld into one. Both of you were swept up in a euphoric frenzy. As he rutted against you he pinched your swollen clit. He couldn’t help but smile in the face of your desperate yelps.

“Gentle! Gentle!” you said, squirming.

It was too strong a sensation. You were so full as it was; you weren’t sure you could weather another intense sensation. You felt like his cock was buried deep in your stomach.

“Ah,” you winced. “Me—Meguru, it’s too mu—”

He forced you to look at him, his yellow eyes overwhelmed by dark pupils, and sweetly said, “Your body can take it.”

Five words was all it took to bewitch you. He alternated between pinching your clit and massaging it. You felt like you were ascending as your orgasm inched closer.

“You gonna come all over my cock?” he asked.

“Uh-huh,” you whined.

His thrusts were relentless, not a hint of mercy in his touch. It was maddening. You kept babbling his name, begging him for more. Shame was a concept neither of you were familiar with. Neither of you could quiet yourselves. It was a chorus of panting, whimpering, and moaning. As your orgasm crescendoed all you could do was choke out a few expletives and drool.

“That’s it, baby,” Bachira said, jaw clenched and completely charmed by your demeanor.

He held you close and took the lead, driving his cock into your cunt, lips pressed against your still bleeding cuts. You felt like you were operating on a different plane of existence. The only thing that brought you back to reality was the warm feeling of Bachira’s cum filling you up. You collapsed in his arms, and tried to catch your breath.

“Was… that… helpful?” you murmured.

“Oh yeah. I’m gonna bring you home a win,” he purred against your ear.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello, love your stories and I saw the alpha fic you wrote recently. It’s funny that someone asked something similar to what I was thinking for Gregor. I’ve never requested a story before but here goes. Would you write a sweet (spicy if you’d like) story about Gregors recovery and the person who helped him. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a nurse. Maybe it can be someone he meets as he’s recovering someone who he learns some cooking tips from. I dunno cover all the bases if you like or not ?

Thank you .

I'm Still Here

Summary: A large part of you dreads the day that Gregor regains his memory and he leaves. You’re not stupid. Or blind. You know he’s a clone. You know he’s going to leave. But for now, you don’t have to share him with the galaxy, and that will have to be enough.

Pairing: Captain Gregor x F!Reader

Word Count: 1611

Warnings: None

A/N: I'm not sure I managed to fill this the way that you asked, but I hope you like it anyway!

“I don’t think I’m doing this right,”

You stop kneading the dough that you’re working on to look over your shoulder at the man standing at the counter on the other side of your kitchen, “What’s wrong?”

Gregor glances at you and makes a face, “I don’t think this soup is supposed to be so runny.”

You release a thoughtful hum and set the dough back in the bowl to rise for a couple more hours, and then you wipe your hands on the rag hanging from your belt.

“Well, it does need to simmer for the rest of the afternoon,” You point out as you walk over to him and duck under his arm to peek into the pot, “It should thicken as it simmers.”

“Should?”

“Don’t worry so much, Gregor. You’re doing great!” You beam up at him, and you watch, amused, as color spreads across his cheeks and he averts his gaze. You almost want to coo at him, but you don’t actually want to embarrass him so you restrain yourself.

“I just don’t want to ruin this,” He says, “They’re your family.”

“They’re going to think you’re great, Gregor. Just like I do.”

“I don’t think most people in the galaxy are as kind as you are,” He counters dryly.

“Nonsense, people are inherently good.”

You can feel Gregor staring at you, and then you squeak in surprise when his strong arm slides around your shoulders, tugging you back against his chest, “That hasn’t been my experience.” He replies, and his arm tightens, “I worry about you, you know that?”

“How so?”

“People are going to take advantage of you. You’re too nice.”

You twist in his embrace and grin up at him, “Good thing I have you here to be mean for me.”

He laughs and releases you so he can set the lid on the pot, and you absently turn the heat down a little. Gregor’s smile is warm and focused on you, and it makes you feel a little warm.

But then, you’ve been crushing on him since the day you met him. You’d be more surprised if his smile didn’t make you feel like this.

“So, are we all set?” Gregor asks.

“Um…” You run down your mental checklist, and then you nod, “Yep. All set. Soup is cooking, dough is rising, veggies are marinating, and you’re here! All that’s left is to put everything together and wait for my parents to arrive.”

He pushes his hand through his hair, “What if they hate me?”

“Then they can go and eat dinner somewhere else.” You reply loftily as if it doesn’t matter. In truth, it’s hit or miss on whether they’ll like Gregor or not. Your father has always hated the people you introduced to him, and your mother would always go along with what he did.

And him being a clone won’t even have anything to do with why they’d hate him.

Your parents have always been funny about controlling the people you surround yourself with.

Needless to say, you had a very lonely childhood.

“That easy?” Gregor asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“That easy.” You agree, and then you grin at him, “And you remembered the whole recipe on your own.”

He looks surprised for a moment, and then a bright smile crosses his face, “Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

“That’s a huge step, Gregor!”

The brain injury he sustained, somehow, messed with his memory pretty badly. He’s been working on it for months now, and his doctor suggested that cooking might be a way to help his rehab.

Honestly, you thought that his doctor was a quack, but since it seems to be helping, you’re beginning to reevaluate your opinion of him. 

Though, you still think that not telling him that he’s a Clone is a shitty thing to do to someone. Surely Gregor deserves to know that he has an army of brothers out there?

But, even thinking that, you still haven’t told him. 

Oh, you’ve come close a time or two. But when he learns the truth, he’ll leave.

And he’s the only friend you’ve ever had.

You’re pulled from your spiraling thoughts at the sound of your comm ringing. You reach into your pocket to grab it, only it’s not there. Quickly, you scan the kitchen and then step into your living room.

Your comm is sitting on the table in front of the holo, and it’s still ringing.

You grab the comm and press it to your ear, and the person on the other end speaks before you’re even able to say hello. “It’s about time you answered.”

“I—”

“Not important. Listen, your father and I aren’t going to make it to dinner.”

“You—” Once again, you’re cut off.

“To be honest, darling, we don’t want to come. Also, we’re moving to Alderaan.”

“Wait—”

“We’re leaving in an hour, and you know how much I hate long goodbyes. Alright! Good talk! Bye, darling!” And then she hangs up.

You try calling her back, but she clearly turned her comm off after getting off the call with you.

A heavy sigh falls from your lips, and you drop your comm back on the table.

“Well, that was a conversation.” Gregor says from the doorway to the kitchen, “Everything alright?”

“...my parents aren’t coming.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, “No, it’s…” Your shoulders slump, “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have expected them to come in the first place.”

“They’re your parents. It’s alright to expect them to want to know the people in your life.” He flashes an awkward smile at you, “Besides, it’s not like I have any family that I know of.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, and you try to swallow your guilt, but this time you can’t.

“I…Gregor…”

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“You do have family.”

He blinks at you, “What?”

“I just…I…” You grab your datapad and pull open a recent article surrounding the clone army, and you pass it to him, “You’re a Clone, Gregor. I knew it as soon as I saw you.”

He scans the article, and then scrolls to look at the picture at the top of the article, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re doctor—” You pause and then you close your eyes and sigh, “No, that’s an easy answer. The truth is, you’re the only friend I have and I knew that if you knew that you had family you’d leave. I was being…selfish. As per usual.”

Gregor is quiet for a moment, “Do you know where my armor is?”

“I don’t,” You admit honestly, “I wasn’t the one who found you. No one knows who found you.”

He frowns at you for a moment and then turns on his heel. You hear your front door open, and then the sound of the door clicking shut behind him. You fall back on your couch and bury your face in your hands.

You can’t even be mad about him leaving. It was exactly what you thought would happen when he found out.

You honestly don’t expect to see Gregor again, so when your doorbell rings right before you get into bed, you don’t know who you expect to see.

So you wrap your robe tightly around your body, and open the door just a crack.

You, very nearly, jump out of your skin when you see the man in armor standing in front of your door, though the fright turns to confusion when he pulls his helmet off and reveals a clean-shaven Gregor.

“Gregor?” You ask, bewildered.

“I found my armor.” Gregor replies, “Can I come in?”

“Oh, uh…yeah. Of course.” You move to the side to let him into your home and then shut the door behind him. “Where was it?”

“Oh, just laying around,” Gregor replies with a shrug as he starts pulling his armor off and stacking it near the front door.

You watch him, politely bewildered, and then finally ask, “What are you doing?”

He glances at you, confusion on his face, and then he favors you with a tiny smile, “Did you really think I was just going to leave?”

“...yes?”

“Not a chance.” He walks over to you and lightly cups your face, “Come on, how could I just leave you?”

“I lied to you.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I wasn’t in any condition to return to the frontlines anyway.” One of his hands slides to the back of your neck, and the other settles low on your hip, and he tugs you so that you stumble against his body.

“But—”

“I’m still here, cyare.” He interrupts, “And I’m not going anywhere until we settle this.”

“This?” You repeat, uncertainly.

Gregor giggles and his eyes glitter with mischief, “While I do have to return to the frontlines, I’m not leaving without giving you a night to remember.” He leans in and ghosts his lips against yours, “And I’ll definitely be coming back.”

“You…will?”

He doesn’t answer, instead, his grin widens and he closes the distance between your lips, pulling you into a deep kiss. “Well,” He mumbles against your lips, “That depends on you.” He moves so that his lips are trailing against your jaw, “I don’t think I was imagining the thing between us.”

“You weren’t,” You whisper, a soft gasp falling from you as his lips move to your throat.

“Good.”

And, when Gregor leaves the following morning, he leaves with the promise that he’ll come back as often as he’s able, several dark hickys, and a promise of his love.

He also leaves you pregnant, though you don’t figure that out until several months later.

@imabeautifulbutterfly @n0vqni @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar @trixie2023 @kimiheartblade @padawancat97

@falconfeather23435 @etod @bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay @liz-stat @cc--2224

[cerastes]

Right. Pinch-Out Experimental Operation.

I think it suffers from pretty much the same problem as Contingency Contract, and that, in turn, means that they either didn't really get what made CC become a drag as the game got older, or it means that, in their eyes, that was never a flaw, it was instead a feature, because it feels like they doubled down on it: Absolutely mind-numbing amounts of bulk.

I personally think the concept of Pinch-Out is good, it's just, the execution was really bad, because the main map is really, really boring, and they insist on adding a lot of HP%+ to enemies. More or less the same as late CC: A lot of combinations end up defaulting to doing the regular map for 2-3 minutes and then you have 8+ minutes of just stalling while chipping away until the map is clear. I'm not going to account for the 6+ hours stall strategies because, quite frankly, you did that to yourself. Still, the same old principle of "stall HP sponges for hours" is the exact opposite of what Arknights does good: Short, intense maps.

The only time Arknights, in my opinion, has succeeded in making fun long bosses are in Stultifera Navis (Endspeaker) and the challenge boss fights in Lone Trail (Kristen, or some say, Kirsten). Other attempts have always felt really boring because they are grabbing old bosses and concepts that were never meant to be fought for an eternity, and then making them be fought for an eternity, whereas Endspeaker and Krikirsten were designed from the get go to be long fights, and thus, to have maps, mechanics, and characteristics that make them fun long fights.

Dorothy and the ZZ Gundams Brothers, however, aren't fun to have roaming forever. They are challenging, but they aren't fun, because there is no dynamism to the fight, especially when you give them 1500% extra HP. It's just a long map that you either prepare for right or wrong in the space of 1-2 minutes, and then have to see play out for the next 10, and if you got something wrong, then it immediately explodes and you need to re-do those 1-2 minutes to see if it works out in the next 10. Not thrilling! Not too good!

Pinch-Out's contract model is nice and fine! I like the way you have to connect things either straight up or by doing little challenges that let you connect to certain contracts without having to pass through the usual route. In fact, it's great that 600 Score (the Risk 18 equivalent in terms of rewards) is perfectly manageable without making enemies God, it just so happens that the Pinch-Out debut map is absolute horrid ass, and so the system gets caught in the drive-by. It's a nice idea, just, please, PLEASE, stop 1) making so many bulk-enhancing contracts for enemies, please, and 2) make a good, fun map, you guys do this all the time, and if it NEEDS to be super long, 3) use bosses apt for it, or outright just design a new damn boss that makes sense within the system and the length of the fight. You do it for SSS, you can do it for this as well.

But yeah, I think Pinch-Out has nice ideas and possibly the worst execution it could've come out with.