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souliebird · 3 months

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[[and then i met you || ch 16]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Words: 4.4k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

You dream of hands.

They are strong, calloused, and scarred, but they are so gentle with you. They dance over your skin, tracing over your belly to your sides and go down to your thighs. They come back up, pushing your panties to the side and examine your most intimate areas, and though you feel desire radiating from them, they do not cross the line into deviant behavior. They do not tease - they explore and memorize and make you feel like something precious.

Once they have soaked themselves in the slick your body can't help but produce, they slide up to just under your belly button and rest there. Everything inside you flutters at the gesture and your body craves to be full - for the hands to feel the push back of a life moving inside you.

They don't linger long - only enough to make you squirm and gasp - before they are moving again. They drag up your center, skirting your breast like they dare not indulge.

They wrap around your throat and give a small squeeze. They are powerful and could crush you without a thought, but they don't. They release you and continue upward. They brush your cheeks, and when a thick digit pushes past your lips and you begin to suckle at it, you finally wake.

Your bedroom is filled with bright sunlight, and you groan with disappointment.

Your instinct tells you to roll into your pillow and try to continue sleeping but your mind is faster than your body and groggy memories of the day before beat against your skull.

Your ear has no problems reminding you that you are ill. As you come more into consciousness, you become aware of how much it aches and how overly warm you feel. You vaguely remember being woken up to have ear drops put in and to coaxed into drinking water. There are flashes of sweet words and praise and being held while you drift back to sleep and gentle little kisses all over your face.

You force your eyes to open and are greeted by the cartoonishly large ones of Scooby. He's right beside your pillow, like he's watching over you, and he's been maneuvered into wearing Minnie’s miniature doctor's coat with her bright pink toy stethoscope clamped around his neck. Your heart sings with love for your little girl and you hug the stuffed dog to your chest, burying your nose in his oversized head.

How in the world did you get a daughter who is so pure and full of compassion and love? It certainly isn't genetic - you don't think your parents knew what compassion was. If this is from what you have taught her, then maybe, just maybe, you have finally done something right with your life.

You stay hugging Doctor Scooby until your bladder complains and you force yourself out of bed.

Your phone is nowhere to be seen, but you don't worry about it too much - you only wanted to check the time. You have a feeling it's around midday, but you can't be too sure - all you know is it feels like you slept forever.

You grab a change of clothes, then head to the bathroom, bringing your toddler assigned guardian with you. After you take care of business, you take the time to clean yourself up a bit before changing into fresh clothing. It does wonders to improve how you feel. Your ear still throbs, and you feel stiff, but you don't feel like you've been wallowing in your own sweat.

As you clean up your small mess, you note the carefully arranged bottles in your bathtub have been switched around. Minnie’s shampoo is in the wrong place and instead of any annoyance, you find yourself smiling.

Matt must have given her a bath. You can imagine how it went, as your daughter enjoys getting clean and playing with all her water-based toys. She also adores helping and following directions, and you can picture her instructing her Daddy on how to wash her hair just right.

You would have thought you'd never trust Minnie with someone so soon after meeting them - there's no way you'd let any of your friends give her a bath - but with Matt it is so easy. He wants so much to be a good father and he and Mouse already have such a good bond. You are just sad you missed their first bath time together.

You take Doctor Scooby and your dirty clothes and leave the bathroom. Your clothes go into the hamper, then you and the toy dog make your way to the living room. You can hear the television going, but it's too low to make out what is playing, and your daughter giggling. The noise warms your heart, and you yearn for her.

The scene you come upon is something you don't expect - Matt is sitting cross legged on the ground, back facing you, with Minnie standing right in front of him. On the coffee table beside her, her toy makeup kit is laid out, with all the different brushes scattered everywhere. Your daughter has a look of pure concentration on her face as she examines her father, a tube of what you know to be roll on glitter clutched in her little fist.

Matt must be getting his first princess makeover.

You can't hold back the delighted noise that comes from your soul at the realization and that of course catches both of their attention.

“Mommy!”

A rocket made of brown curls and a yellow sundress crashes into your waiting arms. You squeeze her tight, trying to absorb her into your being, along with the Scooby plush. The hug only lasts a moment, as she quickly pulls back, slaps her little hands onto your cheeks, and declares, “You're still sick!”

You push your face into her touch, and give a sad laugh, guilt bubbling in your belly, “I am, I'm sorry, Mouse. But I feel better now, I promise.”

She purses her lips at you before dropping her hands from your face and says in an authoritative voice, “Doctor Scooby says you need more sleep.”

You look down at the toy still in your arms, then hold him up to be face to face with Minnie, “My body doesn't want to sleep anymore. Do you think it would be okay if I came out here to be with my family, Doctor Scooby?”

She takes the dog from you and jams his mouth to her ear. She pouts and goes, “uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay,” before turning him so he is looking at you and you feel like you're being judged by him. “He says you have to stay on the couch. And no cookies!”

“No cookies?” Matt asks from behind Minnie, and you finally tear your eyes away from her to look at him. You have to bite your lip, so you don't laugh.

Mouse has gone above and beyond with her princess makeover.

Baby pink eyeshadow has been smeared over his eyelids, up to his thick eyebrows, and blended out to have a border of blue sparkles. His cheeks are rouged enough to make a flapper jealous, and a deep purplely-red stain has been carefully applied to his lips. Or as carefully as a three-year-old can do, which means the scruff around his mouth now has a nice tint to it. To top off his look, stick-on gems have been placed around his eyes, and the deep red color and shape of them mimic the glasses he typically wears.

He looks absolutely fabulous, and you need to find your phone so you can send pictures to Foggy and Karen.

“No cookies,” Minnie confirms, waving her plush at you to get your attention back onto her.

“Okay, no cookies,” you agree. You don't know if you actually have any cookies in the pantry to eat, anyways, so this will be an easy rule to follow. “And I have to stay on the couch?”

Minnie nods vigorously, “Doctor's orders!”

“Okay, if the doctor says so.”

You push yourself back into standing and your daughter takes your hand to practically march you over to the couch. You plop down in your corner and not a moment later, Scooby is back in your arms. Then, Minnie is zooming away from you and to the kitchen, calling back, “Daddy, I need help, please, thank you!”

Matt beams at you as he stands up and even with his face used as a coloring book, he looks handsome as ever, “I'm coming, my love.” His voice is full of joy and pride, and while you feel guilty, he is stuck babysitting while you're recovering, he clearly doesn't feel the same. You have the suspicion that every time Minnie calls him ‘Daddy’, his heart grows bigger.

You don't turn to spy as Matt disappears from your view. Your phone is on the table behind Minnie’s make up kit, so you grab that then pull the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrap yourself in it after adjusting to get a little more comfortable.

There are no urgent or interesting notifications waiting for you - a few emails about sales and calendar reminders about upcoming bills that need to be paid. You swipe them away then turn your focus to the television. It is one of the educational videos about animals your little one has started watching in preparation for her birthday trip to the zoo. The date is coming up fast and you wonder if she's been telling Matt about all the animals she's excited to see. You can't wait to take her to the park for her special day.

Minnie brings you from your thoughts with another yell of, “Mommy!” She hurries into your view and your heart swells with love. She's holding your water bottle, which she shoves at you, “Doctor Scooby says…he says you have to stay hide-rated. I asked Daddy what that means and he said you gotta drink lots of water! I got you water!”

You take your bottle and have to resist the urge to take her up in your lap as well. Your little angel is so sweet and thoughtful, and you very much want to wrap her up in your arms and never let go.

“Thank you so much, sweetie, I'll make sure to keep hydrated. Promise,” you tell her, fully meaning to do just that. You try to drink a lot of water anyways, so it shouldn't be hard to accomplish.

Minnie, however, either doesn't believe you or is over eager to take care of you. She grabs a hold of one of your legs and shakes it as hard as she can, demanding “Drink!” She drags out the word in a way only a toddler can and to soothe her, you take a long sip of water.

“What else did Doctor Scooby say?” Matt asks as he returns from the kitchen, and you can feel the grin in his words.

Mouse takes in the question, swaying slightly as she thinks, then breaks out into a big grin as she recites, “Lots of rest and…and a ...a towel on her ear! To help the ickies!”

“Exactly,” Matt practically cooes as he scoops up his daughter, swinging her around before securing her on his hips. He tilts his head towards you, looking proud as can be, “I think we have a little doctor on our hands.”

“I'm gonna be a veteran!” Minnie declares, puffing up her chest.

You know she means veterinarian and decide you aren't going to correct her. Instead, you're going to tease her about her past career goals, “I thought you wanted to be a hot dog vendor?”

Her eyes get wide at the reminder, and she quickly amends, “I'm gonna do that on the weekend!”

“So, veteran during the week and hot dog vendor on the weekend?” Matt confirms, blue sparkly eyebrows raised.

“Yeah!”

You and Matt both huff in laughter and your little one beams at the attention.

You take in Matt's appearance, with his devastatingly handsome face and boyish charm and a warmth churns in your belly. To push away those feelings, you ask, “are you still going to have time to give Daddy makeovers with all that work?”

Minnie looks at Matt and analyzes him, before starting to wiggle to be put down, “you need says-or-eases!” You guess she isn't done with him yet and talks of her future will have to wait.

He sets her on the ground, asking, “I need what?” but she doesn't acknowledge him, running off to the bedroom to grab more of her toys. You watch as he moves his head in minute movements, brow wrinkling up. He must be trying to figure out what his daughter is fetching.

“What is she getting?” Matt finally asks you and you take a sip of water so swallow down any smugness you have.

“Accessories,” you clarify. “You can't have a makeover without getting some new accessories.”

He mouths the word, and you know he has no idea what is to come - Foggy’s nieces must be too old for dress up and makeovers. He remains standing until Minnie comes waddling back. She's carrying one of the purses you've gotten for her, and she's stuffed it full of costume jewelry and hair clips. She dumps it all out on the ground by Matt's feet with a demand of, “Sit, please, thank you!”

Bewildered, he does as he's told, and your daughter wastes no time trying to determine what looks best with his makeup. She holds a necklace up, looking between it and him before setting it aside with a ‘no!’ This happens again and again as she goes through her necklaces, then clip-on earrings and bangles - none of which fit over Matt's hands and are abandoned - and finally hair clips.

You enjoy the process, sitting back and letting yourself wake up as Minnie describes each accessory to her Daddy as she decides if it matches the aesthetic. You snap photos to send to your new friends and Matt is good enough to even pose for a few.

The final look consists of a giant yellow heart necklace, blue teardrop dangle earrings, and Beauty and the Beast hair bow. He looks very dashing, and you tell him as much as you send the end product over to Foggy and Karen.

“If hot dog vending doesn't work out, your side hustle can be as a stylist,” you tease and Minnie beams at you, enjoying the praise. Matt examines what he is wearing, carefully touching the plastic jewelry to better understand what he looks like as Mouse reminds him of the colors.

As they do that, you check the time. It is a little past Nap Time, so once the conversation starts to change, you address your daughter, “Would you like to clean up your toys and get some juice?”

You know she knows this transition and she doesn't hesitate to nod and start to act. She starts with the things on the floor, stuffing them back into her purse and Matt jumps into Dad-mode.

“What type of juice do you want, Mouse?”

“Apple juice, please, thank you.”

“Half juice, half water,” you advise as he carefully navigates out of the living area.

“Is the cup from last night, okay? The sippy one?”

“The bunny one!” Is the almost haughty reply. The pink bunny is the pre-nap juice cup, and you think a fit might be thrown if tradition isn't followed, so you untangle yourself from the blanket and go to the kitchen. Luckily, no one calls you out for leaving the couch.

You smile at Matt as you pass him, and explain, “I ordered water resistant Braille label stickers but haven't finished putting them on all her things yet.” You open the cabinet that holds all of her various cups and pull out the correct one, then pass it over. “This one I did label.”

Matt takes it and runs his fingers over the surface until he finds the Braille, “Pink with bunnies. For Juice. Nap Time.” His face relaxes into something soft as he retraces the words. You don't know how descriptive you need to be with everything, but you know you don't need to spell everything out for him. His lips twitch into a smile and he whispers to you, “thank you,” before turning to the fridge to get out the juice.

You don't want to make things awkward by lingering, so you shuffle back to the couch and reclaim your spot. Matt joins you a minute later, setting the sippy cup on the table.

Mouse finishes cleaning up her toys rather quickly, then grabs her juice and crawls up to be between the two of you. You change the television over to one of the Pre-Nap shows - something calming to help everyone wind down - and out of the corner of your eye, you see your daughter snuggle into her Daddy's side and begin to sip her juice. Matt wraps his arm around her shoulders and begins to oh so gently pet over her arm.

She's out before she finishes her juice.

You don't miss the opportunity to take more pictures of Matt looking down at Minnie. You know he can't see her with his eyes, but you wonder what input he is getting and if he knows how sweet the pair of them look.

You sit silently and wait until you're sure she won't wake up, then reach to gently touch Matt's shoulders, “Do you want to put her in her bed?”

He nods slowly, his whole being screaming with love for his little girl. You take the sippy cup away as he carefully picks her up after standing and you watch as he cradles her to his chest. He stands there for a moment, holding her close, and you think he must be savoring the moment.

You don't disturb him and after a minute, he starts towards the bedroom. You wait until he's disappeared down the hallway to get up and go pour out the remainder of Minnie’s juice. You clean the cup, then grab some skin friendly wet wipes - you have the feeling Matt may not want to keep wearing his makeup. It feels gummy on your skin so you can't imagine how irritating he finds it.

You resettle on the couch and change from sleepy television to soul crushing television - the midday news.

You usually like to catch the top stories and the weather before switching away, but given Nap Time came a little late today, you miss those. Instead, you tune into the host interviewing some politician and the headline bar tells you he's a senator and they are discussing the Connecticut explosion. You turn up the volume slightly, so you can actually hear it.

“- leaked report states this was not an attack, but the attempted arrest of an Enhanced individual gone wrong. Allegedly, the destruction of a neighborhood and the 634 deaths, dozens of which were children, was all caused by one man with powers. What are your thoughts on this, Senator Kelly?”

You frown at the new information. One person caused all that pain? Or are they just blaming one individual?

“Thank you for having me, Vicki,” the Senator says, and you already don't like him. He gives off a slimy vibe - like he doesn't care about anyone but himself. “I've read the report and I've been on the ground, talking to the people whose lives were destroyed, and I've got one question in mind: why were the good people of Stamford not made aware they were living next to a bomb? This individual, whose identity is still being hidden, only released one attack. One!”

Your eyes go wide at the statement. That can't be true. Can someone really have that much power inside of them? You can understand people like Iron Man with a bunch of missiles strapped to him, but someone who is Enhanced?

“What do you propose, Senator?” Vicki asks and something like dread turns in your stomach.

Matt reenters the room just as the vile man begins speaking again. He comes to stand by the couch, putting his hand on the cushion behind your shoulder.

“The American people deserve to know who they are living next to. We implemented this policy for sexual deviants, and we should do the same for these so-called Enhanced Individuals! The Sokovia Accords talks about registering ‘super heroes’,” Kelly uses air quotes around the word, a disgusted look on his face, “but this man wasn't a hero. He was a literal ticking time bomb and who knows how many more Enhanced Individuals are out there just like him. How would you feel if your neighbor could blow up your house with a wave of their arm, or walk through your walls, or Heaven-forbid, control you with their mind? S.H.I.E.L.D showed us all those people existed! How are we supposed to protect ourselves against that? Whose stopping those people from causing the next Sokovia, or Lagos, or Stamfo-”

You turn off the television. You can't hear any more of that man's rancid words and implications.

You tilt your head up to look at Matt and your heart pangs for him. He's openly scowling and in the corner of your eye, you see him gripping the couch cushion tightly.

Your body acts without thought and you reach up to squeeze his bicep, “Matt...?”

“He's talking about people like they are uncontrollable weapons,” he grinds out, “this is McCarthy Era ‘everyone who isn't you is a threat’ bullshit.”

“I know,” you say to try to soothe some of the anger you see boiling in him. You understand the anger and you are angry, too. You think Matt falls under the umbrella of ‘Enhanced Individuals’ and if so, Minnie does as well. It terrifies you that someone who is supposed to be running the country is spitting out such words, but you want to believe he's in the fringe. You want to believe your government doesn't think your daughter is a threat just because she's different. “He's vile.”

With his free hand, Matt wipes at his mouth, still looking furious, “everything he is saying goes against the Constitution. People have the right to privacy.”

You gently tug on his arm, and he takes the signal to come around and sit beside you. You turn to face him, and he does the same, and you decide to take the initiative. You want him to feel better.

You are slow with your movements, so he can figure out your intentions, and unclip the bow from his hair. His eyes flutter shut before he takes a deep, calming breath, “I can't believe they let people like him on the news.”

You hum, then remove his necklace before going for the earrings, “I can. They love to stir the pot and giving those horrible people airtime gets them more views. They don't care about what's being said, only how much money they are getting for it “

“That's bleak,” he grumbles.

“It's better than the networks believing that bullshit,” you reply, as you pluck the red gems from his face. That makes him huff and a little smile form on his lips.

“You're good at this.”

“At what?” You ask as you set aside the jewelry on the table and grab the wet wipes.

“Defusing the situation, turning the negative into a positive,” he says. He keeps his eyes closed as you start to wipe away the makeup Minnie caked onto him, starting with his rouge.

“Is it a positive the news wants money instead of spewing hate?” You counter, a little bit of a tease in your voice. He reaches out and squeezes your knee and you can't help but smile. “Though, I guess it is better to be a capitalist than a Nazi.”

“That's the American way of thinking,” Matt jokes and you have to stop cleaning away the makeup so you can both laugh.

You fall back into silence as you start in on his eye shadow. He keeps his hand on your knee, slowly beginning to rub his thumb back and forth over your sweats. You can practically see the tension bleeding out of his shoulders and a bit of pride swirls in your chest. You feel guilty for turning on and listening to the news in the first place.

When it comes time for you to wipe away the stain on Matt's lips, you hesitate.

You've been trying to ignore the feelings that have been slowly growing inside you. You thought of them as weeds - byproducts of Matt being naturally charming and kind and the father of your child. You know you are attracted to him - you slept with him, after all - but emotionally?

You're terrified of that.

You're terrified of him not returning the feelings.

You're terrified you only see what he allows you to see, and when the facade drops, someone else will appear.

You're terrified of messing everything up - for yourself. For Minnie.

You don't want to think of your dreams, where you know it's him you are imagining. You don't want to think about how perfect it felt to be held by him and know you were safe. You don't want to think about how he still hasn't left you since you had to be taken to the hospital.

You can't fall down that rabbit hole. It's too much for you.

So, you try to rip away the things growing inside you before they bloom and push forward. You fold the wet wipe in half and begin to remove the last of the makeup. You don't rush, taking just as much care as you had getting rid of the blue sparkles.

“All done,” you say as you finish and pull away from him, turning purposefully so his hand slides off your leg. You pretend to not notice and focus on balling up the used wipes.

“Thank you,” he responds quietly, turning as well so he's facing the television once again. You fear things are going to dip into awkwardness, but Matt speaks again before you get to say something stupid. His words are soft and steady, but strike fear into your heart.

“There was something I wanted to talk with you about.”

You try to swallow down your anxiety and tell yourself that this isn't about your silly emotions - whatever Matt has to say must be regarding Minnie. It's the only thing that makes sense, so you come out a small “Yeah?”

“I wanted to talk to you about my mother.”

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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janearts · 4 months

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Hey, so you got to act 3 in the Astarion romance, right? How did Roisa feel about the romance scene in the graveyard?

I did! I finished the game back in September and played out the epilogue patch more recently. Roisia was happy to bear witness to Astarion mourning his past and celebrating a future of his choosing. However, she did take umbrage at Astarion's phrasing that he would be open to having sex that evening. Knowing his history and his relationship with sex, Roisia was really looking for more clear intent, more barefaced desire. I think his wording, "I could be persuaded", would've really bothered her even though she knew he meant it cheekily (e.g., a stupid easy persuasion check, if you will).

I've included a more thorough analysis of her feelings under the cut.

Ultimately, that night poked and prodded at deeper fears and insecurities. Roisia has been left before at the end of a grand adventure wondering how she could have missed the signs that the person she adored did not quite adore her back with the same ardour. Now, older and believing herself to be wiser, she is wary and this time, she tells herself, she will keep herself in check. She will be rational, level-headed, and even-keeled. She will not let herself get swept away by irrational desire, and her love of Astarion is a very irrational, incompatible, unwise desire.

When Astarion said that he wanted her, that she stood by him through bloodlust and pain and misery, that she had been patient, caring, and trusting, that he felt safe and seen with her, and that he didn't want to lose all of that, Roisia felt a sinking unease. A queasy sort of disquiet in her gut. Because she realised that everything he described, everything about her that he praised or acknowledged or thanked, was nothing particularly special in her eyes. As a [former] Cleric of Kelemvor, as an undertaker, as a professional mourner, she has done all of the above and more with the loved ones of decedents as part of her job. It's her sacred duty to stand by people at a low and loathsome point in their lives, through their pain and misery, with patience, compassion, and an extended hand. Hell, that's just another Tuesday!

Roisia couldn't help but feel that Astarion really only loved the things that she could do for him rather than her as a person outside of those acts of service. And those things he described could have easily been done by any Mortarch worth their salt in her place. So does he truly care for her? Or is he really just thankful for the things she's done for him? Those things that really anyone could do? It does not plant a seed, exactly, but it germinates a seed that was already present in her mind, a nasty little thought that she is not special and, therefore, not truly loved in the way that she so very much wants to be loved. That, sure, Astarion cares about her, but only because she just happened to be there and has assisted people in different stages of grief since she was a child. She is fundamentally, inescapably replaceable and it's only a matter of time until Astarion realises that and does what Eustace did: clap her on the back, thank her for her time, and move on to greener pastures whatever or wherever they may be.

It was hard for Roisia to hear Astarion say things like "I want you" and "I love you" when there is a part of herself that deeply, deeply doubts that. That thinks he is wrong even if he is not yet aware that he is wrong. She is torn between taking his words at face value, the words that her heart wants to hear, or reading between the lines, which is what the parts of herself that she calls Logic and Reason call out for her to do. I think in the moment she yields to the former, but after that night, leans towards the latter.

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #BG3 Roisia #Astarion #Astarion Ancunin #BG3 Spoilers #Act III Spoilers #rosecanons #roisiacanons #tagging for the meta for myself for later asdfkjalkfd

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icyg4l · 11 days

Text

PAC: What Do You Need to Let Go Of?

Hello beautiful people! Today is Saturday aka Saturn Day. In honor of Saturn Day, the day associated with banishment, protection and responsibility. Today is the day we let go of what no longer serves us; the day where we can no longer ignore what sits heavy on our spirits. So without further ado, please choose your Saturn.

**If you really loved this topic then you should book a reading with me, please read my guidelines and then message me privately! Also, if you had received a reading from me, don’t be afraid to leave a little feedback! Please and thank you in advance. 🫶🫶🫶

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-6)

PILE ONE: “No More Mr. Nice Guy” is what I heard. I feel like you tend to have a lot of love & compassion for people. This doesn’t necessarily translate over to the other person/people though. You need to stop being so nice, Pile One. I think you have a lot of growing up to do. There is good and bad in everyone but what really matters is how this person makes you feel. Stop caring about the feelings of other people if you aren’t going to take yourself into consideration. This is why you always get taken advantage of. It’s okay to be a moody bitch sometimes. Having a sunny disposition 24/7 just isn’t realistic. Don’t act naive when you know the truth about certain situations. Move intentionally and with wisdom. If you don’t think they won’t do that, think again.

Cards Used: The Star, King of Cups, 7 of Cups, The Fool, The Moon, The Tower, Judgment.

PILE TWO: The movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind may resonate with you. I feel like you need to let go of your ex, seriously. You don’t have to forget about them but you do need to move past this person. They have caused much turmoil in your life, especially when it comes to your mental health. They could have indirectly negatively affected your finances as well. But there is someone else who is on the horizon. They want you to see the bigger picture. They want to show you better. If you have been writing notes about what you would like to see in your future partner, expect for these qualities to show up in someone that will soon approach you. They have a beautiful, colorful aura and they will let you shine. Your ex fucked you up bad but you can recover from this. Don’t be afraid to see what love has in store for you, my love.

Cards Used: King of Cups, The Magician, 2 of Cups (RX), The Star, The High Priestess, 5 of Wands, Judgment, Strength, The Fool.

PILE THREE: You’re a Virgo/Sagittarius, aren’t you? You don’t have to know and control everything, honey. Let go of the need to be involved in everything. You have been neglecting your soul’s needs. You have a lot of potential to grow but you don’t know how to accept help nor do you allow yourself to just be. You’re so uptight and burnt out right now. It would benefit you to just walk away from stress-inducing situations. If you know you can’t take that extra shift at work, why even bother? Who are you trying to please? You are making it hard for yourself to maneuver through this world peacefully because you do not know how to enjoy what’s in front of you. If only you could see the beauty of your labor. Slow down. Why are you going so hard for? You’re so used to making things happen that you get frustrated when things don’t work out your way. A word of advice: Please just allow time to do its thing. Don’t work against it.

Cards Used: The Sun (RX), Ace of Cups, Strength, 2 of Discs (RX), King of Wands, 7 of Wands (RX), 3 of Discs, 10 of Swords, The Magician, The Hierophant.

PILE FOUR: Christmastime must be your favorite time of the year, huh? I feel like you could also have a strong connection to Mariah Carey as well. Her book is on my mind heavy as I’m reading for you. I feel like you are so used to dysfunctional relationships. You have the tendency to move fast with people. I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, they ain’t going nowhere! Let go of your lovebombing tendencies and show up as your real self. I don’t think you see this as that but it is. You don’t seem to be big on communication. I don’t think you had the best role models for any kind of relationship so you just do what you know. But this does not translate well with other people, which results in chaos. Unpack why you interact with others the way that you do. You too, have a lot of growing up to do, my friend.

Cards Used: Knight of Wands, King of Swords, Queen of Cups (RX), Four of Wands (RX), Ace of Wands (RX), The High Priestess, 8 of Wands, 3 of Cups.

PILE FIVE: “Shut up and dance.” No seriously, shut up and dance. I feel like you are someone that refuses to be seen dancing in public or just in general. There is no need to feel like that. Let go of your shyness, babe. I feel like you actually have good dance moves, you just don’t want to be seen for some reason. Dancing will help you get more comfortable in the spotlight. You have gotten too comfortable in your little bubble. The next time someone asks you to dance, accept the offer (especially if it’s zydeco, salsa or kompa 🙈). You’re never too cute to dance, pookie.

Cards Used: The Hermit, Knight of Discs, The Chariot, 6 of Wands, The Empress, King of Discs (RX).

PILE SIX: Why are you wasting your time arguing with everyone? You need to master the art of preserving your energy. Let go of the need to prove yourself/defend yourself to other people. You exist just like everyone else on this planet but somehow you always end up in a verbal altercation. Is it worth it? I’m sure there’s plenty of alternative options you could choose. Just walking away could do you some good. You are the type of person to catch someone in a lie. Instead of cursing them out, you could just laugh in their face or block them. You could channel this energy into something else. It is normal to experience anger. But just know that you could always get in trouble if you never control it properly. Get a handle on your emotions. Be more logical & cutthroat. I think you definitely could benefit from taking the high road. Your soul is tired. Give it up, babe.

Cards Used: Knight of Swords, Queen of Swords, The Lovers, 8 of Cups, Ace of Swords, The Hermit, Justice, The Moon, The Star.

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uravitypng · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄?

pairing: tenya iida x reader

word count: 2.0k

a/n: this was meant to be a lot shorter but it ended up being longer and took way more time than expected so hopefully this came out. i had a chubby reader in mind writing this. i've never wrote for iida before so i hope this turned out okay! anyway i won't spoil the plot or anything other than reader gets stuck. i wrote this late at night so i didn't reread and edit it thoroughly but hopefully it should be okay! if there's any mistakes i'm sorry ‧₊˚✩‧₊˚♡‧₊˚

warnings: dub con, power dynamic, pro-hero iida, unprotected sex, teasing, over stimulation, stuckage (i think thats the kink name <3 reader gets stuck), light impact (spanking), rough sex, 18+ mdni

Iida prides himself on his morals. Sure in the past he made a mistake involving stain but that was all in the past. However, he can't help but question his moral compass whenever he sees you, he wants to do things to you, things that he doesn't even want to admit to himself. It would be wrong though, he's your superior, you're a sidekick. The power dynamic is very clear, it would be wrong.

Whenever he sees you though it becomes so difficult for him to worry about the power dynamic when you look so pretty wearing your hero costume hugging your figure in all the right ways. It takes everything for him not to stare at you, especially when he's walking behind you and he can see your hips move as you walk and he swears he can see the outline of your underwear. Even at the new years party last year, your dress was shorter than Iida would typically deem appropriate but your plush thighs being more visible than he'd ever seen before made him keep quiet.

Iida loses all composure he has when you're patrolling together late one night, it was a quiet night and a uneventful patrol. Most of the time it was silent, Iida preferred not to talk much when patrolling just in case something happened, he liked to be alert and he took being a pro-hero very seriously. You never complained about the lack of talking it was always a comfortable silence walking beside him.

You heard a suspicious noise and decided to check it out, it turned out to be a cat but you wished you knew that before you tried to go between a gate. One second you were following the noise with Iida behind you, but as you heard it running away you began pursuing it, and whatever the noise was was on the other side. It was too tall and there was no way to climb up before the person or suspicious thing gets away. You wouldn't be doing your job correctly if you just left. The bars looked big enough to squeeze through, so you did, as soon as you did a cat emerged and realised this whole time a cat you were chasing a cat. You hear Iida behind you, he hadn't used his quirk, you realise that's because he realised there was no point. He knew it must of been a cat. he's just too good at his job.

You chuckle, as you look at the cat. "It was just a cat."

"Yes, i thought as much."

You chuckle again as you lean out the bar attempting to pull yourself out but failing. You try again harder this time, trying to wiggle out of the bars. This was incredibly embarrassing, at least for you. Iida noticed your predicament but stood on the spot as he watched you try and move. He couldn't help but look as you tried to get out, your ass shaking as a consequence and your whole body jerked side to side.

"This is so embarrassing, I can't get out. please help me out a bit Iida."

Before he even knew what he was doing he spoke, "what's in it for me?" He started berating himself for such an inappropriate question, maybe there's a way he can recover from this, he feels like a pervert. It was an immediate response without thinking and he doesn't know what will happen now, his reputation will surely be ruined.

Out of all the things he was preparing himself for he did not expect you to burst out laughing. 'Thank god, there's a way to recover this, it will just be a inappropriate joke. It's still bad but it's better than the alternative,' Iida thought to himself.

However he was even less prepared for the next thing that came out of your mouth, "I mean, you are right. It wouldn't be fair of me to not give you anything in return." He practically hears your grin.

Iida's mind was filling with so many thoughts, mainly- 'Fuck. This is bad. There's no way I can keep thinking like this but she was being so suggestive. maybe she was joking too? fuck, I want her so bad.' He looks over at you and sees you one more time. You're stuck there, you're not getting out anytime soon, he can do whatever he wants and you can't stop him, you look so hot. he makes up his mind as he sees you continue to try and wiggle from the bars, at least trying to get into a more comfortable position one that's not digging into your ribs.

He doesn't even say anything to you as he walks behind you and starts touching your ass, grabbing it, and making you gasp in surprise. You have a feeling he's not a talker during sex. His hands feel so warm on you, even through your hero costume. Iida surprised you again as he ripped off your hero costume, undoing the zip down the side, starting up at you neck and pulling all the way down, ripping it in the process. You shiver from the cold, only being covered by your underwear but Iida warms you up almost immediately by running his hands up and down your body. The logical part in Iida's mind tells him that this shouldn't be happening, especially in public where anyone could see but you looked so pretty and soft and felt so warm he couldn't stop himself at this point.

He kisses your back and kneads any part of your body that he can get his hands on you. Typically you'd feel self conscious from someone giving this much focused attention on your body but it's so hard to when Iida's treating you with such care, like kissing your stretch marks and tightly grabbing onto your hips. Iida's still mostly silent as he explores your body, leaving soft kisses in his wake. "Even softer than I imagined." He mumbles, he probably didn't even realise he said it out loud, either way it made your face heat up.

One of his hands makes their way down, grazing one of his fingers over your underwear, getting harder than he was already as he hears you moan at the action as you try to move closer to his touch, all in vain of course. He's decided this is his favourite thing ever, touching you but not enough to get you off, you want more but you won't get it, he has complete control over your pleasure. He focuses his whole attention on this idea, one of hands circling your nipples over your bra, and with his other hand he's still hasn't touched you skin to skin either. You start whining, you don't mean too but its all too much, you need him to touch you but he doesn't. You don't know how long this goes on for, it could be 5 minutes it could be half an hour all you know is you're getting louder, begging more, and getting more wet.

Iida finally decides to take pity on you and drags down your underwear, as soon as he makes direct contact with your clit you whimper at the stimulation. This whole time he's getting a serious kick out of controlling your pleasure. You're so wet, he knows that he could probably just fuck you without you getting hurt. He realises that he can do exactly that, it's not like you can stop him.

He discards his hero costume as quickly as possible, never regretting how finicky his costume is this much before.

You try your best to turn your head around trying to see what Iida looks like underneath all his clothes, you've always wondered, but you'll have to keep wondering as no mater how hard you try and turn your head it's not working and you can't see him. Because of that you didn't realise how big his dick was going to be but he suddenly plunged into you, hurting you with how big he is and the stretch being painful.

Iida gave you no time to recover and adjust to his size, he knows he's bigger than average, but right know he just has to be buried in your pussy and start moving. The air leaves your lungs as he thrusts into you quickly, hard and fast, the pace knocking the air out of your lungs. He grabs hold of your love handles, you know they'll bruise but you quite like that idea. Your body moves slightly pushing the bars, still stuck, but he see's your breasts bouncing between the bars, making him increase his pace to see your body move and jiggle more.

The stimulation he's been giving you all night is all to much, it's so much and it feels so good. You're chanting his name over and over again. He abruptly stops his thrusts making you try and move yourself back onto him, he pressed his hand down your back trapping you even more so you can't even try to wriggle out. "it's sir to you." You could definitely do that, he still doesn't move. He harshly spanking you he speaks in an authoritative tone, "do I make myself clear?"

"Uh-huh"

"Good girl."

You really hope he starts moving again because you think you're about to cry if he doesn't. Luckily for you he does, but unluckily that still doesn't stop you from crying, your eyes watery, tears falling down your face from Iida's touch. Your chants of 'Iida' turned into chants of 'sir' and now it's hiccups of 'sir' between your gasps and whimpers.

Its a surprise for both of you when you start asking Iida if you cum, you've never asked permission to cum before, you'd honestly never dream of it but it just feels so right with Iida. Iida wasn't expecting the request but he wasn't one to turn it down, he wanted to feel you clench around his cock. He takes one of his hands off your hips and reaches to your clit, "go on then, be good for me," just like that, as soon as he gives the slightest attention to your clit and give you permission you come undone, cumming around his cock so hard that your eyesight goes white for a second due to the pleasure with the most intense orgasm you think you've ever had. Iida fucks you through it, keeping his pace, groaning as he feels you clench up around him.

You start whining more and squirming due to the over stimulation. Everywhere is so sensitive. "I'm about to cum, you can give me another one right?" He asks in a ragged voice. You weren't really sure what he was referring to, all you could do was feel the extreme sensitivity and pleasure. "I'm taking that as a yes." He reaches down to your clit and starts to touch you again, it's so sensitive and it hurts.

"No, no, fuck Iida its too much." You near enough scream out. Iida ignores you and keeps going, however he doesn't have to long, as you soon cum for a second time just as intense as the last one with your body shaking, barely having any energy left.

Iida feels you around you tighten up one more time as he quickly pulls out and cums on your ass, watching his cum start to drip down your ass down to your soft thighs.

"Iida can you get me out now?" You ask but your voice seems quiet and he starts worrying. He gently helps you out and looks at you. You look so exhausted, you've got tear stains all down your face and you're completely naked. After seeing this his rational brain starts up again and he realises how fucked he is. He just ruined his hero career...

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youaintnothinbuta · 2 months

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“I’m telling you, honey, you ain’t gon’ like it.” — Elvis Presley x reader

Summary: you push yourself too far out of your comfort zone and get upset at Elvis for it, but he’s very patient with you <3

Pairing: Elvis Presley or Austin!Elvis x reader

Word count: 865

Warnings: fluff!! Minor argument but very a patient Elvis <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I’m telling you, honey, you ain’t gon’ like it.” Elvis stated through a small chuckle of disbelief as he shook his head.

“Oh, Elvis, of course I will.” you replied, smiling, though inwardly determined to prove yourself on the big rides. You wanted to impress him. Amusement parks were enjoyable, sure, but you were tired of being the one too scared for the fast and tall rides.

“You won’t.” He argued through his laugh, like he could see right through you.

Not earning a reply from you, he kept going, “I truly don’t mind going with the fellas, baby, you don’t need to do it for me.”

Unfazed, you pressed on, “I’m not doing it for you, Elvis, I’m doing it for me.” Grabbing his wrist, you pulled him towards the queue for the biggest rollercoaster, the Cyclone. Cliff, Billy, and your brother Bobby exchanged concerned glances, but joined the line with you.

“It’s not too late to back out,” Bobby teased, leaning over your shoulder, his voice a mixture of jest and genuine concern for you. Elvis held your hand as you stepped into your place in the cart, preparing yourself to face your fear. Once everyone was settled, the operator turned the ride on and slowly you started moving, going up a steep incline. It’s not so bad. As the rollercoaster climbed to its peak, your heart pounded in your chest, and as it plummeted down, screams erupted from your lips. But these weren’t screams of exhilaration; they were screams of terror. With each twist and turn, you felt sick to your stomach, regretting every moment that led you to this point. Elvis’ arm around you provided little comfort as you endured the ordeal.

Finally, the ride screeched to a halt, and you stumbled out, feeling shaky and nauseous. Moving out of the exit of the ride, that feeling of nausea was quickly replaced with one of anger.

“I can’t believe you let me do that! You knew I’d hate it!” You lightly punched his chest, upset. He fought back a laugh, feeling bad, he knew that thing had scared you to death.

Instead of arguing back, Elvis guided you away from the bustling crowds to the quiet solitude of the car park, letting you groan and whine as you needed to. The distant sounds of laughter and excitement echoed through the air. The soft glow of twinkling lights overhead cast a gentle illumination. With a sigh, you leaned against a nearby railing, the cool metal soothing against your skin as you closed your eyes, attempting to calm yourself. Elvis stood beside you, letting you have a moment to breathe, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as you sniffled.

After a moment of silence, he turned to you, his expression softened with concern. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice gentle. With a shaky breath, you shook your head, unable to find the words.

Without hesitation, Elvis pulled you into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively as you buried your face against his chest. You allowed yourself to lean on him, to find solace in his comforting presence. With a soft sigh, you pulled away from Elvis’s embrace, meeting his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and apology.

Your eyes glossy with unshed tears, you mumbled, “I’m sorry. It just gave me such a fright. I don’t ever want to do that again.”

Elvis’s expression softened even further, his eyes filled with compassion and understanding. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice gentle. “I shouldn’t have let you. I know. Next time, listen to me though. I’m only here to care for you.”

You nodded, thankful.

“Do you want to go back to the others, or are you done for the night?” he asked, his voice gentle, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you needed.

After a moment’s hesitation, you met Elvis’ gaze, your decision clear in your mind. “I think I’m done for the night, I wanna go home,” you admitted softly.

Elvis nodded understandingly, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. “That’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. “Let’s go for a drive and head home, just the two of us.”

He opened the passenger side door, you promptly plunked your bottom down. With a soft sigh, Elvis turned the key in the ignition, and the car roared to life, the engine rumbling beneath you as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the open road.

After what felt like an eternity, Elvis pulled up in front of his house, the soft glow of porch lights welcoming you home. With a grateful smile, he turned off the engine and turned to you.

“Here we are,” he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “Tired, baby?”

You nodded, as you stepped out of the car and followed Elvis up the path to the front door. As he unlocked the door and let you inside, a sense of relief washed over you, grateful for the familiar comfort of his home. You stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping you, you could have just fallen asleep right there.

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moonstruckme · 4 months

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Hi hi hi! Can i please ask for a remus fic where reader is very like scared of hosputals in general.

In in the way she'd be with needles or meds nah, she can still go but kind of goes on autopilot when she does?

I had to suffer for three months when i was just 8 in the hospital back to back so everytime anything related to admission or long visits just kind of scares me and brings it back.

Doesn't have to be dr! Remus but you can do whichever you'd prefer love❤️

Hi lovely! Thank you for requesting <3

cw: hospital, reader has pneumonia, mention of needles, also I used temperatures in fahrenheit but for ref 102F is ~38.9C

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 984 words

“We won’t be long,” Remus assures you, hand between your shoulder blades as you walk through the parking lot. “I promise, love, as soon as we get your fever to come down, I’ll take you straight back home.”

You manage a hum. You’re trying to avoid talking, wary of another coughing fit. Or a crying jag. You hate this. You hate being here, it makes you want to crawl out of your skin. But though Remus tries to hide it, you can tell he’s really worried about the turn your flu has taken. Your fever had been coming down, but then it skyrocketed, an ache blossoming in your chest that was exacerbated by deep, painful coughs. So you’d let him negotiate you into a short visit to his work. To mollify him. Still, your anxiety makes the air around you staticky and tense.

“Hey,” Remus says, stopping you just outside the door. He sets his hands on your shoulders, leveling you with a serious look. “I’m going to stay with you, alright? Nothing bad is going to happen to you, and I’m going to hold your hand the whole time.” His eyebrows dip up in the middle, concern mingled with compassion. “Try to relax, sweetheart.”

You do your best to seem it, giving him a wan smile and reaching up to squeeze his wrist.

“Okay,” you manage.

He smiles back, taking your hand to lead you inside.

The automatic doors open, and despite your boyfriend’s comforting words, your thoughts go all scribbly.

Remus takes you over to the front desk to check you in. He must know the nurse sitting behind it, because his expression is friendly and his tone familiar, but you can’t focus enough on the words to make out what they’re talking about. You try not to cough too loudly. Remus’ hand comes up anyway, rubbing your back absentmindedly.

Soon, he’s leading you out of the waiting room. You hear him speak, but you’re not sure if it’s to you. You don’t try to keep track of the hallways, letting his hand on the small of your back guide you to a small, private room. He sits you down on the bed, taking your hands. You try to focus on him. The soft, worried look in his amber eyes. The faint smattering of freckles over the bridge of his nose. The calluses on his hands, rubbing gently against yours.

“You with me?” he asks quietly.

You blink. “Yeah.”

Some tension around his eyes relaxes. “Good,” he says, sweeping his thumbs back and forth over the backs of your palms. “You doing okay, love?”

“Mhm.”

“I asked you that a few times, you know.” He gives you a small smile like he’s teasing, but you can hear the concern in his tone. “I think you checked out for a little bit there.”

“Sorry,” you mumble, trying to breathe shallowly to avoid coughing. “I really don’t like it here.”

Remus’ mouth purses, his eyes going sad. “I know. You know I wouldn’t ask you to come if I didn’t think it was important, right?”

You don’t get a chance to answer. The coughing wins. You take a tissue out of your pocket, pressing it over your mouth as your eyes water. Remus grimaces, rubbing between your shoulder blades. He keeps going even when the fit ebbs and you fold the tissue, tossing it into a bin beside the bed.

“That’s what I mean, lovely,” he says, gently but not without a bit of told-you-so. “That doesn’t sound like the flu, that sounds like pneumonia. Do you want me to fill you in on what’s going to happen while we’re here?”

You nod, touching your forefinger to your bottom lashes to clear away the tears hanging there.

“In a minute or two, a nurse is going to come in and give you an IV of antibiotics.” His tone has apology embedded in it, anticipative of your reluctance. You can practically feel the sympathy pouring through his palm on your back. “I’ve already put in a request for an x-ray, so when they’re ready for us we’ll go back, just to confirm it’s pneumonia and not a chest infection. Then, all we have to do is wait for the antibiotics to do their work.” He frowns. “I don’t think you need oxygen, but—”

“No thank you,” you say hastily.

Remus presses his lips together and nods. “Alright, only if it comes to it,” he capitulates. “Once we get your fever down, we’ll pick up some oral antibiotics and go home.”

“Down to 102.”

He gives you an odd sort of look, and then the corner of his lips twitch. “Are you trying to negotiate with me? We said 101.”

“101.8,” you bargain.

“You can’t change the terms of the agreement after we’ve left home.”

“102.2.”

“Oi, that’s not how it works,” he laughs, incredulous. “It’s 101, love.”

“102.5.”

“This is how I know the fever’s gotten to you. You seem to have forgotten who has the car keys.”

“102.6.” You start coughing, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth to muffle the wretched sound.

“Okay, okay.” He rolls his eyes, rubbing your back a bit more firmly. “101.5. Final offer.”

“Deal,” you wheeze.

“Alright, stop torturing yourself, sweetheart,” he says with a good heaping of fondness. His hand is steadfast between your shoulder blades. “Just take it easy.”

You’re prepared to try, but then the nurse comes in.

“Hello?” she says. She has a warm voice. It’s a shame the sound sets your heart racing regardless. “Are we ready?”

Remus’ touch migrates over to your shoulder, pressing you against his side in a quick, comforting half-hug.

“Hi,” he says, turning to her with a kind smile. “Yeah, we’re all set.”

He takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He keeps ahold of it until you go home.

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animehideout · 5 months

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Your MBTI, Your Relationship With JJK Characters Part 2.

Read part 1

part 3

part 4

a/n: Currently working on the other requested mbti types, they'll be included in the coming parts ✨.

Thank you @goofbye @wakatsukikanae @zoldyi for requesting INFP, and @lostmymarblesstuff for requesting ISTP. I really really hope you like them though. 😭🫶🏻💖.

INFP:

Choso Kamo = Fiancé

Both of you find solace in each other's arms, you don't need to vocalize your love since your energy alone is capable of conveying the love, admiration and respect you have for each other. He appreciates the idea of becoming a family and building a home together filled with familial warmth. He's also a good listener whenever you vent. You accept each other for who you truly are without faking anything. You are both authentic and genuine. You show your love through acts of service, so he enjoys cooking your cravings for you.

Toji Fushiguro = Enemy

You have no respect for people who lack empathy or compassion, and Toji is one of them. He's vile, hostile and manipulative. He is the complete opposite of you. You have a strong sense of justice, fairness and sensitivity so Toji's actions trigger a strong negative reaction out of you. He is a threat to your values and peace, so you can't help but develop an enmity. He sees you weak for including your emotions so he always tries to change you into his liking or simply provoke you.

Toge Inumaki = Bestfriend

Most of your Hangouts are at home where you sit comfortably enjoying the peaceful quietness. You understand each other's emotions and troubles. He provides a safe space for you to express yourself, he takes your feelings into account and never judges you. He enjoys sitting comfortably while you talk about your dreams and thoughts. You inspire him a lot and he appreciates that you trust him enough to share personal things with him. He makes you feel that it's okay to be different as long as you are true to yourself.

Megumi Fushiguro = roommate.

You respect each other's personal space and that what made you good roommates, living under the same roof peacefully without any obstacles. At first you found difficulty to get into conversations or just hang out together at home; given that both of you are introverts. So you just limited yourself to small chats, but you grew to enjoy each other's presence and chill together. Both of you share similar standards for cleanliness so you divide tasks to keep your shared space tidy. Despite growing closer and more comfortable, the boundaries that both of you had set are still sacred. It is easy to live with Megumi.

ISTP

Toji Fushiguro= Husband.

The powerful duo, a thrill-seekers. Toji is the perfect match for you. You have mutual qualities such as using the power of mind, pursuing financial success and enjoying the spontaneous adventures. You have a healthy marriage life, following a pragmatic and rational approach. He is attracted to your determination and mindset, even after being married for too long he still looks at you with the same admiration and love he has for you since the first time he had laid eyes on you. Flirts a lot with you and drowns you in compliments. Your honeymoon was a thrilling and exciting experience literally risking your lives but you enjoyed every bit of it. You are attracted to his straightforwardness and cleverness also to his teasing and playful side. At some levels he doesn't take life too seriously but instead he faces it with humor and mockery. He is the perfect husband for you.

Yuta Okkotsu = Has a crush on you.

He would find himself uncontrollably attracted and drawn to you. The way you reasonably handle things, issues and conflicts impresses him. He also admires your independence and self-sufficiency, you are mentally strong and intelligent. And despite being introvert and reserved he would be surprised by how quick you can adapt to different situations and how you enjoy the thrill of new experiences and adventures. It leaves him blown away and intrigued by you and without hesitation he would develop a powerful crush.

Nanami Kento = Colleague.

You equally share a mutual respect for each other's skills. Both of you hate working overtime so most of the time you blend your competences to get done early with the work. You have a formal and professional kind of relationship which is task-oriented. Your emotions are put aside while working together. What matters is that you succeed in reaching your goals or solve problems. You are an effective team and can work in harmony.

Maki Zenin = Bestfriend.

You feel comfortable enough around Maki to enjoy engaging with various activities with her. Most of the time you train together. Maki has a strategic planning so she always comes up with interesting plans for both of you to enjoy, on the other hand you are a spontaneous person, so you make life more fun and full of surprises. You make each other even more stronger; both emotionally and physically. You keep each other stable and on track, focusing on your goals. Both of you are independent so you only provide emotional support, words of encouragement and comfort.

This piece of writing is just for fun, also it is imo, so it's not necessarily accurate 🫶🏻

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drchucktingle · 10 months

Note

Hi Chuck, no pressure to answer this. <3 I watched a lovely review of Camp Damascus and, like me, the lady gave it 5 stars and loved it. But she mistakenly called it Satire and believes it to be very much a Satire. I want to explain to her how something doesn't have to be serious to not be satire, and that our trot's a good trot, and that her way of loving the book is good but could be hurtful to people who see it as a reflection of our own lives, and you too. do you have any advice on how to talk to her? you have such compassion for others that I want to walk in your footsteps.

dang first of all THANK YOU for seeking this way of standing up for what you believe. i appreciate your passion for chuck and for the tingleverse and this ART. you are very kind buckaroo

personally i think you do not need to say anything because i am not sure whether camp damascus IS satire or not. it was not really written that way but maybe. this review might be correct actually, because even though i wrote the book i am not the TOP AUTHORITY on what it is. your take is just as valid as mine and so is hers and i suppose i can see why a buckaroo would think it has a satire way. satire is not diametrically opposed to sincerity. you CAN make sincere satire.

so even though in broad sense i do not see my work as satire (although by definition there are satire moments) i can see why buckaroos could feel that way. there is a FEELING TONE about what i do that seems like satire even if i do not understand why. GET OUT is maybe similar to CAMP DAMASCUS in this way and is huge influence on the book and the tone. feels like calling 'get out' OR 'camp damascus' satire is almost too simplistic, but i will admit there is SOMETHING there at least satire adjacent.

all this is to say that genre is COMPLICATED, and so is art. the buckaroo reviewer is not wrong or right about this issue, and neither are you, and neither am i. thats the BEAUTY in art. i just wrote about how buds do not take me seriously sometimes or think my erotica is not 'real" art, but for as much as this happens and as much as i talk on it, it DOES NOT bother me in any real sense. my feelings on buds not taking me seriously just kind of ARE, and THAT IS FINE, because art deserves many different interpretations. all are valid. so instead of feeling the need to correct her i would say change that to perspective of awe and wonder over someone seeing this art and arriving at this other take.

its VERY exciting to see art unfold before our very eyes buckaroo, thank you for being a part of it. im also thankful for the reviewers, good or bad, right or wrong, theyre just as important as i am. its all just part of the big wonderful piece swirling all around us

#love is real #art #chuck tingle #camp damascus

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botboots · 9 months

Note

Saw that your requests were open so what about TFP cons with an adorkable teen human reader? A really close friend (the emotional support bundle of joy™) that is really artistic, kind, understanding and just a pure cinnamon roll, what would be the bots reaction to the lil' human? Optimus, Ratchet,Bulkhead, Arcee, BB, and if you do the kids then the kids. If not the other bots, stay safe!

im back!! so sorry for the long ass wait, had so much going on in my life recently (graduating, going back home, etc.) but hopefully i'll be back to posting somewhat regularly! tysm for the continuous support :] love seeing the notifs pop up every day this is one of the first asks in my inbox (and i completely forgot that the prompt said reader was part of the cons... whoops) and i've wanted to get it done for a while now! have so many more to get through but will get them done eventually - this isn't the best but its cute <3 and you can 100% tell who my favs are lmao warnings: none word count: 939 (GN reader)

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Optimus:

he finds your outlook on things is a nice change of pace compared to the more pessimistic views that some members of the team can have at times

values your compassion greatly, often turning to you as a confidant over the time you’ve gotten to know each other. a mission went wrong and he’s putting all the blame on himself? you’re there to reassure him in a heartbeat, reminding him that he did his best and there’s always another chance; you keep him grounded

has an innate interest in art and writing - he used to be an archivist, after all

so he enjoys watching you indulge in your hobby, your excitement about it reminds him of his younger years of being a clerk at iacon when he would become giddy over a newfound archaic text

he’s very fond of you and makes sure you know it, taking note of the small things you like and getting you whatever little gift he can manage to find - genuinely thinks you’re cute and likes seeing you happy :]

Ratchet:

while it may have taken him a little longer than the others to warm up to you fully, he grew to start looking forward to your company (despite his his best efforts to hide it)

he appreciates your quiet company; you’re much less rambunctious than both the other humans and his own team - you complain a lot less too, probably one of his favorite qualities about you

like optimus, your bubbly attitude gives him a much needed break from the dreary duties that come with being the autobot medic

you often find yourselves working in tandem, with you sitting on the couch working on your newest project while he stands at his terminal typing away. occasionally you’ll walk over with a nervous smile, and with a roll of his optics he’ll lower a servo for you to climb into and lift you up onto the corner of the console, huffing when you chirp a thank you before the both of you quietly return to your tasks (he enjoys it, really)

while he’s not one to vent his frustrations to you, he’ll always be open to listen to you vent about yours. even if he doesn’t respond with much, he’ll offer logical solutions and observations for whatever issue you’re having

Bulkhead:

the big guy loves art, having been exposed to his fair share of it by miko, and is very encouraging when it comes to your projects

he might not get some of the nuances or meanings of the things you make, but he tries - oftentimes making you laugh a bit at the sheer amount he misses. it’s endearing though, and you appreciate the effort

too fidgety to sit and watch you do anything for too long, but he’ll offer to drive you to a vista for some inspiration while he does his usual scouting routes, miko tagging along of course. she’ll probably bring her sketchbook with her and sit next to you and draw, chattering the entire time while blasting some music from her ipod, offering you one of her earbuds

Arcee:

similar to ratchet she takes a while to get used to you, a little cold at first to your attempts at friendliness

she notices how happy you seem to make everyone else and eventually makes a legitimate pass at being friendly despite how awkward it feels

but with how eagerly you accept it she doesn’t feel as bad, sighing in relief as you immediately start filling her in on how much you’ve enjoyed your time with the autobots

she’s not much of a conversationalist (especially when it comes to humans) so your chattiness is almost a relief - not having to keep up fake interest and energy with someone puts her in a more comfortable position; especially since you’re not one to comment on it like others tend to

will sit and watch you work on whatever your newest project is, a comfortable silence shared between the two of you

rambles about random stuff from her past sometimes - you turn out to be one of the few people she trusts enough to mindlessly dump her thoughts to, both good and bad

Bumblebee:

one of the first to get to know you, overly excited about having a fresh face around

super curious when he sees you working on something, a barrage of questions translated from mechanical chirps and whirrs with the help (and annoyance) of ratchet

he’ll actually try and mimic some of your art on the walls of hidden ditches where he and rafael hang out, excitedly bringing you along to show off his latest work and buzzing happily when you praise it

will eventually, with your encouragement, try and make something original - he ends up finding it pretty soothing and an easier way to feel understood; communicating his feelings without words can be unsurprisingly helpful for someone who can’t use any of his own

you’ll spend hours hanging out and working on your stuff - he likes when you help him with his own art, adding your own brushstrokes to the concrete wall

he’ll let you sit up on his shoulder just to watch him make whatever he feels like making, or even just taking you on joyrides in the desert where he doesnt need to worry about anything going wrong

while it’s usually you, him and raf hanging out he does enjoy spending solo time with you - usually in silence or one-sided conversations, but you understand each other well enough without words

will also figure out what your favorite songs are and surprise you with them; he loves when you get all giddy about literally anything

#NO LONGER DEAD!!#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers fanfiction #tf x reader #optimus prime x reader #ratchet x reader #bulkhead x reader #bumblebee x reader #arcee x reader #tfp x reader #transformers x human reader #tfp ratchet x reader #tfp optimus x reader

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hypnos333 · 4 months

Text

Our Forever

Cha hyunsu x reader

Synopsis: You were hiding your baby boy from the world but it seems like the military already knows hopefully Hyunsu finds you before they do.

Part 1 - Your forever

Taehoon waddle around, eyes pitch black as he was fed grapes from you. As sweet as this little baby was he always gets what he wants. He even named him monster Teddy. You could only imagine what having a girl would be like.

“When will I see you again?” You whisper think instantly to Hyunsu,He sacrificed himself to get a cure leaving you heavily pregnant and alone but a monster helped you through it before it died. And Now you gave birth to Taehoon. Your sweet baby boy.

when you look at Taehoon you see his father. Taehoon nudged you before pointing at his mouth “Ah” he whined making you smile sadly before gently putting a grape in his mouth making him chew slowly.

You were surprised to find fresh grapes from the run down market. You haven’t ate anything making sure Taehoon gets enough protein and food.

You lift up your baby boy to put him to sleep but as soon as you picked him up he was out like a light.

Taehoon is indeed a hybrid with the same abilities as his father but when a human look deep into his eyes a human can turn to a monster. So sometimes he wears blindfolds.

One day Taehoon snuck out making your panic.

“How can a three year old be curious already” You mumbled but then gasp as you saw Sergeant Tak holding Taehoon.

You instantly rushed to him as he gladly gave the baby boy to you.

“A baby during golden hour that’s new one” He said making you tense but you can’t ignore the Sergeant.

“I was pregnant before all of this even happened Sir sorry for the inconvenience” You answered respectfully as you shift Taehoon in a more comfortable position.

“I see, you’re also not apart of the safe place, Would you like-“No thank you” You interrupted him making him tilt his head in confusion.

“What’s his name?” He asked slightly pointing to you baby, you looked at Taehoon his adorably before look back at the solider. “His name is Taehoon it means perfectionist and Compassion” You answered.

“Is his father with you or turned into a monster?”

“What’s with these questions?” You asked politely trying to be a good role model to your son.

“I know about you trying to hide your baby from us but I can assure you he is safe unless he attacks” Sergeant Tak said honestly making you hold Taehoon tighter in your arms.

“I understand” You said before walking back to your home.

As a mother of a hybrid no monster dared to hurt you. They avoided you or helped you scout for food for your son.

Days later you decided to take Taehoon out for some air. So a walk was ideal for the both of you, You packed a bottle of milk, his blindfold and pacifier. As he chew on a chocolate chip cookie that you found in a convenience store.

You held his hand as you both walked under the stars. The cold air blew luckily you gave Taehoon a big jacket otherwise he would be having a cold. But this wasn’t a typical breeze it was like someone was coming.

You held Taehoon close as you closed your eyes. This person must have been in front of you because-“Dada?”

What?

You opened your eyes and saw Hyunsu in front of you and Taehoon. Your baby looked at you for permission before you nodded making him with a little struggle instantly run to his dad.

Hyunsu took him with open arms as he spins him around in joy.

“I missed you so much Tae I promise I’ll never leave you and your mama again” Hyunsu said holding back tears. Both of your boys looked at you both extending their arms so you’ll come to them.

You smiled going in their arms. Now they were a complete family. Even though the world around them was still a disaster they still had each other to hold.

Pt.3

#cha hyunsu x reader #hyunsu imagine #hyunsu x reader #hyunsoo x reader #sweet home x reader #sweet home imagines

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yaut-jaknowit · 4 months

Text

An Accident

Pairings: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count:

Summary: What you believed was enough time to recooparate after the incident, you go back to planning. You follow your way through the halls, learning patterns and what was ways were the quickest with less foot traffic. It's easy... until the lights go out. And you terrified, trembling in the darkness without We'ar-ow near you.

Author Note: Heyyyy, I know it's been over a month since the last post of this series. Please don't be mad. I'm slowly chipping away at the others but I was rushing to finish all the requests I had as well.

P.s. I will be reopening requests shortly!

Masterlist

Ao3

Though half the size of We’ar-ow’s bathroom, this room offered plenty. The tile comfortably warm in the morning of the ship’s day cycle. A mirror hung above the sink a few inches taller than average.

With your back turned to it, your fingers softly grazed over the healed mark carved into the back of your neck. It wasn’t horrible. You shivered at the memory painted inside of your head. It played over and over. You scoffed, shoulders sagging. She had pinned you down in front of her tribe and marked you as hers… after defeating your ex-mate.

Thinking about it now, it didn’t bother you as much.

Constantly, We’ar-ow has shown you nothing but compassion. May it be a little on the rough side. Say, dragging you out of bed to either shower or feed you; forcing you to straddle her lap as she renewed her scent on you; taking you out to her throne room. It wasn’t anything near a royal treatment, but it was a content life.

Three meals a day; a semi social life; clothes on your back. You took a deep breath in to fill you lungs before fully turning around to face yourself in the mirror.

Nothing much has changed about your appearance. The bags under your eyes have disappeared after two week since the incident. We’ar-ow had allowed you to sleep in her bed for the first week.

Then came… the thoughts. You returned back to your given room all on your own. We’ar-ow said nothing about it. Nothing changed. Things went back to the new normal of your life. That was that.

A shirt was tugged over your head and hung off of your shoulders. You still looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to find something amiss. When you came up empty handed, you shrugged and exited the bathroom. The sight of your strange bedroom didn’t bring you much relief. You couldn’t help the scowl that morphed your features at the dog-like bed in the corner.

Out of all the things that have changed since you’ve been with We’ar-ow, that was the one thing you hadn’t grown accustom to. A pet. A real pet.

Dwainet may have claimed you as a pet for your safety… but he never treated you as such. We’ar-ow constantly reminded you of your ownership. She owned you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. But… her treatment was different than what you would’ve expected as her pet.

Something delicious wafted into the air. You breathed in a lung full, mouth beginning to water. Your stomach growled, longing for food. We’ar-ow had been gone in the afternoon yesterday, leaving you to fend for yourself. Since you’ve never cooked for yourself while being on the ship, you just went hungry. Plus, you were too timid to grab any fruits to hold you over until morning.

The door slid open at your presence. You peered out and found the lumbering giant in the minute kitchen, working on breakfast. A smile broke cross your face before you shook your head and strolled out.

Bare-footed, your feet made little pitter-patter noises on the metal floors. The metal was mildly warm to the touch. Quietly, you reached the counter and sat down on the stools meant for a creature at least a foot taller than you.

Right on time. We’ar-ow scooped whatever was on the pan and placed the plated food in front of you. A smile of thanks was thrown up at her. You gratefully dug into the food, starving. Actions like these made the title ‘pet’ not feel as bad. Your morals and emotions war with each on that front though. Unable to come to a conclusion that a life like this was fine. We’ar-ow wasn’t going to win you over that easily.

Mid-bite, a knock on the entrance door had you tensing up. Immediately, your heart begins to thunder in its bony cage. Your head whips around to stare at the dark metallic grey slab.

Ever since the scare on your first exploration… you were on edge. Someone had been stalking you, hunting you down that day. The mediocre knife that had been gifted to you would’ve done nothing to protect you from whoever that was. Said knife sat tied in its sheath to your waist band.

A warm hand jolted your muscles, gaze snapping to the person who laid their hand on you. We’ar-ow petted the top of you head in a soothing motion. “Do not fret, my pet. It is just Xilomere,” she explained, letting the limb slip off as she strolled over to the door.

Shakily, you reached down and rested a hand on top of your knife. Your eyes pinned on the door.

It registered in your mind what she had said only a few moments earlier. Your eyes narrowed. Xilomere? Who’s that?

The front door slide open and revealed a dark, moss green Yautja. Male by the size of him. Instantly, he bowed his head to We’ar-ow in front of him before lifting his upper mandibles. A smile. His posture lax, might you even say friendly.

His greying tresses were a sign of his older age, older than We’ar-ow. The extra wrinkles on his face aided that thought process. As you scanned his body, looking for anything that could be considered a threat, you noticed the lower portion of his right arm was gone. From the elbow down was missing. On his other arm, his pinky and the tip of his ring finger were missing as well. This Yautja had seen the hardships of this life to the full extent. Well, besides death, of course. You couldn’t help your hand tightening around the handle of your knife.

When his eyes moved past the face of We’ar-ow, they landed on you. Your whole body locked up, chest rapidly moving with short, quick breaths. The two of you staring each other down.

The moss green Yautja snorted with a chuckle. His arms lifted out at his sides at half-mast. “Ah, there is the ooman I’ve heard so much about!” His voice was on the higher pitched level when he spoke in Yautja. But the translator droned on about what he had said.

He slinked around the towering female and made his way to you. The whites of your eyes were easily seen. You froze in your spot, heart thundering loud in your ears as he stopped before you. “Such a small, little thing you are,” he jestered and reached out, hand heading for your chin.

“Mere,” We’ar-ow scolded, voice firm. The for-called Yautja grunted, gave you look as if you would know what it meant and spun around. His arm was raised in mock surrender.

“What? I’m checking out your new pet. I haven’t gotten to see them since they first arrived here,” Xilomere defused the situation. His hand dropped back to his side. “It’s not like everyday that you let a ooman on the ship, let alone have one as your pet.”

All she had to do was give a look before his shoulders were dragged down. “Ugh, you’re no fun.” In the midst of all of this, the most you could do was just stare speechless at this Yautja. Everyone in the ship worships the ground We’ar-ow walked on…

Xilomere… didn’t. He was friendly, playful even with her. We’ar-ow allowed for it to happen, letting him into her shared quarters with you.

Something burned in the back of your throat. The grip on the knife tightened before bite at the inside of your cheek and let go. This was a Yautja. A clearly well decorated one. He’d have you in five different pieces before you could even get within ten feet of him.

You swiveled in your chair and timidly finished up your breakfast. Xilomere left you alone after We’ar-ow gave him a warning. An action you were thankful for.

Once your plate had been cleaned and placed off to the side to dry, you peered around the corner of the kitchen and into the living space. On the couches, both Yautjas sat. Each on their respectful couch.

The translator embedded into the skin behind your ear picked up on their conversation. We’ar-ow and Xilomere were discussing things about the clan and mothership. Plans for maintenance on the engines and other projects along the same line. The lingering burn started to dwindle at their respectful conversation.

For a moment, you padded across the space and scuttled into your room. The device you were looking for was snatched off of the dresser close to the door. Then, you were back out, going over to the We’ar-ow. You stood five feet from her and clutched the tablet to your chest, waiting for her acknowledgement.

When she got to a good stopping point, We’ar-ow paused her conversation to look at you. “Yes?” Her usual softer voice was replaced with the voice of a leader.

Your shoulders scrunched up. “Is it okay if I go out?” The question hung heavy in the air. This was a perfect chance to keep… planning. With We’ar-ow distracted with this Xilomere character, I could go out without the constant worry of her watching me. It had also been a month since the incident. Whoever was out there… they must have lost their interest, right?

We’ar-ow’s darted over to Xilomere without turning her eyes then landed back on you. She dipped her head, tresses slightly swinging with the motion. “You may.”

With that settled, she returned to the conversation with Xilomere, not missing a beat. You took your leave through the front door and down the short hallway to reach the elevator.

Hesitation drew you to a stop short of pressing the button to open the door. Swallowing down the lump growing in your throat, you closed the distance and entered the elevator.

The trip down was short but not sweet. You clutched the tablet tight to your chest and squeezed it harder as the doors opened. They revealed an desolate hallway. The sight didn’t relieve you of any tension. You pressed on and stepped out into the new space.

Much to your relief, nothing jumped out and attempted to drag you into the dark corners of the ship. You took a deep breath before taking the first step down a hallway you knew would be part of your escape plan. From this one, you would need to take the third left before taking another elevator further down into the belly of this mothership.

To refresh your mind, you ran the entire course, measuring the time it would take to walk to the cargo hold. Far longer than you would like. The longer it took to reach the cargo hold, the more time it gave to We’ar-ow to hunt you down or even lock the ship down.

Escape and survive. Those were your two main options. Nothing else mattered. Get off of this damn ship.

There were passer-byers who glanced at you, some uncaring that you exist. Others either sneered or scowled in your direction.

We’ar-ow’s mark was your shield against any of them. If they dared to hurt you in any way, it would bring along the wrath of her. Rage none of them wanted to experience or endure.

After reaching the cargo hold, you turned back around and found an empty hallway to slither into. You sat down and began to type up all of your findings, mostly just about the time. On that same note of escape, next you need to learn about the schedule of the ships. Which ship to stowaway on as well. Something you could possibly steal… if you learned how to fly one. That was the last option because that would take extra weeks, maybe even raking in months of learning. Time you didn’t know if you had.

Your head hit the wall behind you with a groan. This was becoming longer than you expected. All you wanted was to go home. Was that so bad? To get away from all of this… craziness. These people, this species. It wasn’t something you wanted to be mixed with.

Darkness engulfed your form. The tablet’s screen is your only source of light in the pitch blackness of the hallway. You couldn’t help the yelp that surpassed your lips, eyes darting around but found nothing. What happened?

Timidly, your feet found their way under your form. No one was around the last you knew of. Despite knowing none of the Yautjas would step in to help you incase someone attacked you, you believed if there was another Yautja around… no one would try to harm you. Foolish to think that as your safety but it was all you had.

The tablet lit up your path as you retraced the needed steps to make it to a more populated area. Your chest slightly heaving with deep breaths to keep yourself level headed.

Everything went dark. The device in your hand had been ripped out of your hand and smashed into the ground, blocking out your only source of light. You screamed and froze, eyes not yet adjusted to any sort of darkness.

Behind you, you sensed eyes, burning holes in your back. You whipped around and staggered, almost losing your balance in the process. Only blackness greeted your sight.

Terror gripped your heart. You stumbled backwards, heel knocking into the discarded tablet. It slide across the metal flooring for a few seconds then came to a stop. You internally cursed, hoping you could somehow find it once more and use it for a light source again.

Tapping sounded behind you again. Once more, you spun around to face whatever was here with you. Your entire body shook, hands trembling at your sides. With no lights, not even emergency lights, your eyes couldn’t adjust. Nothing for the retina to send a signal up to your brain.

It clicked in your brain, far later than you would like to admit. The knife. Your hands whipped to where it was sheathed and wielded it in front of you. Disappointingly enough, you knew the quakes raking your body weren’t a sight to be terrified of.

Chittering laughter echoed in the hall, bouncing off of the walls. It felt like mockery. You whimpered, pupils blown wide and darting around the area before you.

Claws raked along your back. From the small of your back to the bottom of your shoulder blades, pain exploded like a bomb. Fire raced up with the marks, burning from the inside out. You cried out, knife dropping from your hands. You stumbled forward and blindly kicked the weapon away from you. It too was lost to the darkness.

Weaponless and injured, all you could was shake like a leaf and stand blindly. Tears desperately fought to roll down like raging rivers down your face. You briefly held it in.

All the ways you could die flashed in your eyes with the help of the blackness. Just your body, a bloody heap of flesh and bones, lying dead without the protection of We’ar-ow.

Fuck. We’ar-ow…. How would she feel after learning of your demise? Relief she doesn’t have to care for you? Sorrow possibly? You scoffed internally at the thought. These Yautjas don’t feel sadness. Just rage and lust. Nothing more than mindless beasts.

Something scaly and firm engulfed your throat, simply lifted you up, and slammed you down on the ground. You surely thought your skull fractured from the harsh cracked that rang out. Your ears began to ring.

The burn for air caused panic to surge through your haze. Your legs kicked out and struck a hard body. Yet, whatever held you, stayed. Unfazed from the strike and kept its mighty grip tightly around your feeble neck. Your hands clawed in desperation at the arm pinning you to the metal floor. But the scales were far too thick for your own dull nails to even scratch through the first layer of skin.

Tears poured freely out of the corner of your eyes, running over your temples and leaving droplets on the ground. You tried to scream, to cry, to alert someone of what was happening to you. As the prey animal you are, you wanted help, someone to save before this thing killed you!

All you could produce were gurgles and croaks. No one would come to your air. No one could hear your last noises. This was to be your grave.

The fight began to leave you. The lack of oxygen reaching your brain dwindled with each pump of your heart. Your hands fell away and thumped at your sides.

Air rushed into your lungs. You gasped so hard it scratched at your throat, forcing you to roll over and cough harshly, possibly bringing up blood. You blinked through the tears and squinted your eyes, blinded by the overhead lights. But there was light.

Through the haze of salty tears, you saw a blurred figure sprinting down the hallway and darted around a corner. Gone from sight. You flinched and swallowed painfully. Your throat hurt, feeling the aftermath of it nearly being crushed.

Despite knowing whoever just attempted to murder you could turn themselves around and finish the kill, you could only sit there. The threat of death still hung heavy like a rain cloud over your head. But, you just stayed on the ground, heaving for air. Death was almost a friend for a second. You should’ve never came here. It’s been one bad thing after another.

An unknown amount of time passed before you stumbled to your feet and used a wall for support. Nausea roared it ugly head at the new motion. On the ground, a few yards from you sat both the knife and now destroyed tablet. It had been stepped on clearly and couldn’t handle the weight. A croaked meant as a curse fell from your dry lips. You stepped over to the two items, sheathing the knife and scooping up the pieces of the tablet.

The screen completely shattered, some pieces were gone. With a pained groan, you turned around and started to trek back to more populated areas. Now though, your head was on a swivel, constantly whipping behind encase they dared to come back. The knife was back in your hand, white-knuckling the handle.

Your feet stopped in their tracks when you saw the first Yautja walking in the larger hallway. This path was part of the main route used by most of the clan. But this alien was walking in the direction as you. They didn’t even react to the tiny gasp that escaped your lips.

You started down the new hall, following the Yautja at least fifty feet behind him. He didn’t make an acknowledgement of your presence.

When another turned to use the walkway, you tensed up and stopped mid step. But she didn’t even look at you or your dishevel appearance. You scuttled along, going further into the main area of the ship.

More and more Yautjas moved around you. None of them acting differently besides a few giving you a double look. You had to bet bruises were making their mark around your throat. Plus, the back of your shirt had been shredded, dried blood sticking your skin. It flaked at each step and left behind a horrible, itchy feeling. You kept on marching on until you reached the first elevator.

A single Yautja waited for you enter before pushing a button. Timidly, you reached over and selected your own needed level. The alien made no noise of complaint or despise. Indifferent. An aspect you were thankful, even after they left and the doors closed again.

The machine came to a halt. You yelped; palms pressed to the metal wall behind you to keep you from keeling over. Bronze metal doors slide open to reveal the desired floor. You stepped out and into the new danger. The only thing that kept you from curling into a ball there was the fact you were closer to We’ar-ow. Or, at least, the safety of her room. No one would be stupid enough to break in and harm you. If they could even break through in the first place. And if she was there… she wouldn’t take kind of an intruder. Yautjas are very territorial and possessive.

As you took another step in the right direction, your vision teetered. It took a late moment for your brain to catch up. You put your hands out and caught yourself on the other side of the hallway, against a wall. You groaned, nearly dropping both the knife and demolished tablet. Again.

This same scenario happened twice more before you thought it best to use the wall as a clutch. Your hand glide acrossed the warm metal walls with each step. It not only held you up but helped you keep better balance of staying upright.

The sight of the last elevator door was like seeing heavens gate. You pushed off of the wall wobbled over to the door. The knife was sheathed into its pocket tied to your side. With the newly emptied hand, you leaned against the wall and stared at the digital keypad. A code. The code. What code? Code. You needed a code. What was the code?

For what had to be minutes, you gazed blankly at the keypad. Nothing came to mind. Not a thought of reasoning. Until a moment of clarity struck with enough time to remember. You imputed the code.

A set of doors slid open to reveal the personal elevator. You stumbled in while continuously using the walls for support. With your back to the wall furthest from the doors, you watched with bated breath until you were sealed in. Nothing came for you. Now, you were safe.

Your head pounded with each thump of your poor heart, creating its own beat of drums. This caused you to squint your eyes through the pain.

The realization finally dawned on you at the sight of We’ar-ow’s abode. Safety. A broken sobbed left your dry lips. You hurriedly stumbled through the short hallway and slammed against the shut entryway with a cry. Your hands clawed at the metal, desperate to get in. The thundering in your head only getting strong with each second.

The support was ripped away. You fell forward only to get caught in two strong arms cradling you into a warm chest. Instantly, you wrapped your arms around a neck and held on for dear life. It might have been for you. The tablet falling to the ground in a forgotten heap of electronics.

Air touched the bottom of your bare feet. You were lifted up into the air and brief carried before being settled into warmth and safety.

Tears stained your blazing cheeks. Broken, cracking sobs fell from your dropped jaw with each heave of air you could gasp in.

Hands gripped at your scrunched shoulders and gave a light shake. Through the cotton filling your ears, a voice tried to pierce through. Fingers pinched at your chin and lift it up. You gazed in your hazed sight at the large pink Yautja holding you in her lap. The translator sounding off in your ear, translating every word she spoke in her alien race.

We’ar-ow called your name in haste, demanding you to tell her what had happened. Fear continuously pumped through your veins, causing you to tremble worse than being stuck in the cold. She huffed that ended in growl and cupped both of your cheeks in her massive palms. “What happened, little ooman? Who attacked you?!”

It was an easy sight to tell you’ve been attacked rather this being all on you.

You whimper, hands gripping so tightly on her shoulders, crescent divots had to be left behind. With all of your strength that could be offered, you attempted to bow your head to hide away from her piercing gaze. The heat of burned into your very soul. Her palms kept you up right in her line of sight. “Tell me. They will pay,” she snarled, hands tightening just a fraction before loosening.

For a fleeting moment, you met her bright eyes before letting your gaze dart away. “I-I don’t… know,” you croaked out and fought against the pain surrounding your neck. “The lights. They went off. Something attacked me. I couldn’t see.” You were hopeful she could understand through the grumble of your throat.

The Yautja snarled a deadly note before standing up again. “Mere, call a meeting. I want every council member in there.” You tensed at the new knowledge of another being in here with us. We’ar-ow cradled you close to the protectiveness of her body and carried you over to her bedroom door. “An attack on my pet is an attack on me.”

“Yes, Monarch,” Xilomere responded, voice firm. The green Yautja pivoted on his heel and head straight for the exit. His arm lifted as he began to speak into his gauntlet.

She kept her pathing for her bedroom and entered said place. Despite weighing nearly four times your weight alone, her feet didn’t make a single noise as she set foot into the connected bathroom. You were set on the counter next to the sink. We’ar-ow had to practically yank off your arms and grabbed a bag from behind the mirror in front of the sink.

Said bag was set next to you. We’ar-ow moved her way between your legs. A clawed finger was placed under your chin and forced it up. You whined when this pulled at the bruising forming a dark path around your throat. Her body tensed before the muscles relaxed all on their own. You felt it more than saw it since your new sight was the bland ceiling of her bathroom.

Coarse finger pads danced along the column of your throat. You swallowed despite the pain. The touch was soft, not something you had grown accustomed to on this damned ship. Then, it was gone, replaced with a gel covering the new wound.

We’ar-ow preformed as a medic till every injured had been cared for. Afterwards, she scooped you up and carried you over to her bed you had once found sanctuary in before.

Deja Vu hit you as the pelt blankets were used to cover the majority of nearly naked frame. The shirt that once hung off your shoulders had been removed. She knelt down at the side of the bed and ran a hand over your hair. “I’ll be back. Stay here, ooman,” she ordered then stood up.

Her steps carried her over to the bedroom door where she stopped and glanced back for a short second. Then, the door closed, a lock clicking in place. Three doors from you to the main hallway. Three doors protecting you from harm.

Low lights kept the room illuminated and fought off any shadows your attacker could hide in. You nuzzled into the comfortable blankets, arms latching onto one of them. But sleep won’t come easy to you. A headache persisted worse than anything you’ve felt before.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #We'ar-ow

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futureplayboibunnie · 1 year

Text

‘’NEXT TIME (1/?)’’

Aaron Hotchner x bau! fem! reader

18+

- only got 3 more exams left and then i’m free ahhhhh. i’m working on like 3 fics at the same time to procrastinate lmao. but my boy aaron takes priority. i was planning on making this an even longer fic with like a super sad ending but its so damn long i’ll have to add another chapter. love yaaaa x

warnings: smutty smut smut so be warned. pnv. some angsty aspects lowkey. aaron being the dom we all know he is. some swearing and bants.

It shouldn't have happened. It wasn't right. Your moral compass was straying, but when you were with Hotch...did it really matter if it felt like you were morally grey?

Time was blurring into a pin sphincter, it was flowing out of your fingertips and your grip on it was as neglectful as it was pathetic. Six months of dancing around knives and eggshells with Hotch, to hide the unprofessional courtesy of a passionate love affair between two federal agents that are bound by their work…..and secretly each other.

All you could ask yourself at this point was:

How did it come to this?

How could you have possibly been this stupid? This weak. This subjective. Now it was going to be the death of you, in more ways than one. It all started with one look, one small moment of weakness within both of you would inevitably be your undoing. One stupid look, on one stupid night between two sad and lonely people desperate to feel something, anything other than the pain and horror that's experienced every day on this job.

You stopped in your tracks when you should've kept walking.

————————

12:34 am. You were so close, the end of this day was near, thank God. You had been rushing around all day- the case was nearby but it was especially difficult to catch the unsub due to Hotch's personal connection to this one. He had worked a similar case to this one when he first started the bureau and it turned out that this was a bloodline murderer and stalker- the unsub's father was the original killer on one of Hotch's first cases and he was just carrying on his legacy. Alex Wall was definitely an unsub worth remembering. It was hazy but solved, what was unusual though was that you noticed it seemed to affect Hotch in a way you've never seen before. You knew it was personal for him but you had never seen him crack as much as this, it was jarring and it made you halt in your tracks

Aaron Hotchner finally peeling back the brooding facade seemed like a lunar event that happened once in every blood moon. It reminded you that Hotch was just a man. Just human. Not this robotic machine that caught killers for a living. The thought made your gaze soften as you collected your files from your desk, your brain turning to static as these thoughts about your boss run rampant through the forefront of your mind. It made you think. Everyone comes to Hotch when they have a problem, and he always seemed to have a solution. But who did he go to when he felt like the world was asking too much of him? When the stress of this job felt like an eternal haunt? You dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

You and Hotch were in the same chilly waters. Ice blooded. You were both incredibly opposed to each other, even though you were both serious as hell about this job. If anything, you were supposed to get along like a house on fire as you inhibited the same outlook. He especially pissed you off on this case because you suggested that the unsub might have been stalking his victims for a span of 6 months and then attacking. You've never believed in anything this strongly about a case in so long but Hotch shot you down. But your gut wasn't lying. It never did.

You shouldn't be reading into this, you shouldn't even care about it but your conscious was poking at you. Plus you had some files you needed to drop off.

No. Not now.

It was late, you were the only ones here and you weren't sure if you were ready to indulge in conversation just yet. You could drop it off tomorrow morning. You walked past his office and caught a glimpse of him through his blinded windows, he was writing but he looked distracted. Agitated. Sad, even. Alcohol. It definitely caught your attention and you resented it deeply. You were too much of a good person, the thought made your eyes narrow as you stopped in your movements. Instead, you shifted and turned around and stared at Hotch's door. Taking a deep breath before knocking.

‘’Come in.’’ Hotch said curtly, lowering his pen and standing up from his desk so he was in your eyeline

‘’I have some files for you to close the case." You parroted his tone back at him as you handed him the files.

"Thank you."

You paused for a moment to study him. Maybe it was because of how dark it was outside, maybe it was because Hotch was looking incredibly attractive in this light right now but it seemed your tongue was moving faster than your brain.

"What's wrong with you?" You questioned brusquely, not in an insulting way but in a matter-of-fact way.

‘’I'm sorry?’’ Hotch raised his brow at your purpose. It wasn't that surprising that you spoke whatever it is that was prancing around in that mind of yours but it didn't mean that it wasn't disarming

‘’Do you keep spare glasses in your drawers as well as the whiskey or do you just splash a dose into your coffee after hours?’’ You attempted to conceal your smirk but it barely worked.

Hotch just glared at you with furrowed brows and a certain distasteful passivity that you'd grown to expect but he wasn't lashing out at you- he was too tired and drained. He opened his drawer and pulled out two glasses and the bottle of whiskey he indulges in after hours when a case had seemed to scramble up his head. He knew it would be useless to lie to you right now, not when you were looking this incredible this late at night. The thoughts occupied him when he poured you a glass.

‘’Sit.’’ He ordered and you comfortably obliged.

"Thank you." You chirped with a half smile as he handed you the drink and he resumed his position of sitting, his fingertips toying with the glass. You sat in silence for a while, studying each other. Noticing how uneventful and sad everything is. Hotch thought you looked beautiful in front of him.

"I think you don't give yourself enough credit.’’

"For what?"

"For how incredible you are."

Hotch's stare intensified, compliments weren't a rare occurrence for him to endure but from you, was…memorable. The words you uttered made his body still.

‘’Thank you. Coming from a woman like you, I'm flattered.’’ He was happy with his more than eloquent response.

"'A woman like me?"

"The smart and beautiful kind."

You chuckled dryly, your face blushing a cute pink at his compliment- he caught you out and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't completely happy with himself.

You on the other hand were afraid you were going to start sweating in front of him, your thighs were involuntarily clamping together.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hotched added, your sudden declaration piqued his interest.

‘’I’ve heard whispers of you transferring." You sighed as you crossed your arms. "I'm hoping it's not true."

This wasn't because of your own biased viewpoint of Hotch at all, the team would literally have a gaping hole without him. Quite frankly, the team would fall apart. Everyone would be directionless. You never really put weight to these rumors but there's no smoke without any fire. The thought soured your mood and it was written all over your face, you hoped he wouldn't notice it but as usual, it was impossible for him not to.

‘’I thought about it a while back, maybe to transfer to a white-collar crime division but I've found that I'm far too attached to this team. You won't be getting rid of me that easily.’’

‘’I prefer it to stay that way.’’ You said softly like an angel wistfully staring down from the clouds. Your face instinctively brightened at the fact he was staying here. He's the only one that could effectively lead this team and you also didn't want him to leave your eyeline anytime soon.

Now you didn't know what to say, you both shared a longing look- something so strange and hard to define. It was easy for him to get you like this, like the basest of sentimentality, like a child at prayer. You were so good at hiding things, it was a skill that you practically needed to have in order for the people you work with not to pry into your life. Now, it all felt superficial when your exterior was cracking under his brutal gaze.

Hotch was a force of nature, you were sure even the weather bowed down at his feet. The thought made you bite your lip as you bashfully hung your head before meeting his eyes once more.

‘’Your tell.’’ Hotch stated.

‘’What?’’ Your eyes were bright with invitation and confusion, catching you and disarming you once more.

‘’You're nervous but I can't figure out for the life of me why.’’ Hotch announced and it made a deep pit form within your stomach, a strange heat swirling within your gut. Why was it only with him you felt this way? It was like he was playing God with you. You no longer wished to entertain whatever deduction he had going on, mostly for your own professionality and dignity so you stood up from your seat with your empty whisky glass in hand and leaned over. Face to face. Real close, placing your glass down in front of him. His scent was mystifying, his cologne was headily intoxicating.

You whispered. ‘’If I told you then transferring might be a good option for you to keep open.’’ Your voice was soft and serious, your face was hard to retain your reputation but your pussy was clenching around nothing. You leaned back and walked to the closed door, your hand placed on the handle, ready and willing to leave before Hotch also stood up from his seat and followed you to the door. Before you knew it, you could feel his massive frame and broad shoulders looming behind you. Turning around leaning against the door, you were met with Hotch's flaming and scorching eyes- his face was the nearest it's ever been to yours and you had to stifle any sound your body was willing to make.

‘’I meant what I said.’’ Hotch mumbled. You hung your head up to admire his dauntless eyes.

‘’So did I. You finished for the night?’’

"Yeah, let me just grab my stuff and I'll walk you out."

‘’I’ll just be a second.’’ Your hands twisted at the handle and you walked yourself out. You had to tamper down the shit-eating grin that was adorning your face but it felt like a near impossible task.

It only took a few brief moments to collate your things and swing your bag around your shoulder and before idling about it for too long, Hotch was already walking down the stairs with his eyes completely and utterly set upon you. Fuck. His eyes were unflinching, he drank you in as you waited so patiently and prettily for him, it was a sight beyond wildest dreams.

Neither of you said anything as you walked to the elevator and pressed the button, the tension between the two of you was egregious and so easy to spot. When the elevator dinged and the metal doors opened, Hotch being the gentleman he is, let you in first and pressed the ground floor. Time was going so fast, you had to do or say something before you never got the chance again. You felt his eyes burn into you, that serious Hotch face that's he so infamously known for etched on his defined features.

"What's going on up there, Hotch?" Your voice was flirty and breathy- there's no way you could possibly make it any clearer to him.

‘’You.’’ He declared, your body stood paralysed at the unexpected words.

He grabbed your face harshly and pushed you against the elevator wall, his lips colliding with yours in a battle against wills, a battle against the the longing and tension that hindered you both.

A kiss that was messy- no finesse. Something you absolutely wouldn't ever correlate with Hotch. It was like you wanted your mouths on each other but you knew you couldn't. Between breaths, you mumbled out a plea. ‘’No...no, Hotch…we can't.’’

His mouth traveled to the bare skin of your neck instead and planted kisses to atone for your sighs. They were becoming uncontrollable until he pressed his forehead onto yours.

‘’I know. I know. I just wanted to know what it felt like to feel your lips.’’ His thumb outlined the curves of your lips and and tugged your bottom lip down and all you could do was stare at him dumbly. ‘’I can't stop staring at them but I'm sure you've figured that out already." Hotch admitted in a hazed-out manner, all your body was willing to do was stare at him as he cradled your face, imploring him, begging him for something neither of you could have freely.

"You kissed me.’’ You remarked, completely oblivious and dumbed down by just a kiss. Your eyes were wide and glinting under the soft elevator light.

‘'You are quite the profiler, aren't you?’’ He said gently, traces of humor present in his voice as he stared down at you. You just smirked back at him, finally mustering up the courage to not look like a deer in the headlights.

"You're making me flustered.’’

‘’I can see that.’’ He shot back, almost as if he was goading you on. You paused to let the blood run back into your brain again.

‘’We shouldn’t.’’ You said heavy lidded, hoping he would back off because if he didn’t you’d jump his bones right now. It was like he could read your mind because he instinctively retracted his hands back to himself and instead resumed his prior postion by your side. In a half assed attempt to remain professional. ‘’Do you really want IAB down here probing on all of us?’’

‘’Yeah. We really shouldn’t.’’

——

You were in his bed. Hot. Wet. Aggressive. Bordering on delusional. Trying to hold out on him. Your naked body was all his to savour, all his to touch, all his to pleasure.

‘’Aaron…fuck….I’m-‘’ You were half hypnotised. Your clear thinking was long gone at this point but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

‘’Tell me what you want, tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.’’

His voice was gruff. Sincere. It was able to turn you into a pile of ashes in an instant, it was pathetic but reasonable. You didn't know how to answer him, you knew with all your heart that you wanted him and now you have him- you had no idea what to even do after that, you never thought you'd get that far.

Your head was dangling off the edge of the bed, hanging off as he kissed down your neck, making you writhe and squirm beneath him in the delicious process.

‘’I just want you, Aaron...I-m-‘’ You couldn't properly articulate a sentence, your brain was fogged up with arousal.

‘'Come on baby, be more specific with me.’’

‘’Aaron.’’ You warned.

‘’Or I'll stop.’’ He replied in a thick, heavy voice.

‘’Don't be cruel.’’

With that, he smirked at you and leaned up from your body to stare down at you through surveying and analytical eyes, another means to tease you- he knew you couldn't take it anymore, you were desperate and it made him all the more aroused. The thought was a chilling one. It was an irrefutable fact: Hotch needed control in every aspect of his life. Especially in bed.

‘’You're the one that's been cruel.’’ Hotch declared softly as if he was profiling you- it made you bite your lip, the way that he's literally got you in his bed and made you this fucking wet already but he still had a polite tone. Hotch reached for your face delicately and traced his thumb on your soft lips. ‘’Oh, honey. You really have no idea how cruel you've been to me over the past few months.’’

‘’Enlighten me.’’ You flirted back. He paused at the brashness of your challenge.

Hotch gave you a severe look and attempted to dismiss you but he knew it was futile, you were insatiable.

‘'Aaron. Enlighten. Me.’’ You enunciated, unafraid of the consequences he would so deliciously inflict on you. You were begging for it at this point.

‘’No.’’ Hotch replied simply and just grasped your hips harshly making you yelp. Your ears pricked up at the clank of his belt being unbuckled.

"Fuck you, Aaron.'’ You whined as he started to position himself at your throbbing pussy. Lord above, he was massive and you didn't doubt it one bit. But Aaron not baring his secrets only reinforced the reason why you disliked him in the first place, even when he's about to fuck you into oblivion, he's secretive and closed off.

‘'That's no way to talk, is it? Apologize.’’ He demanded as his eyes met yours.

"No.’’

‘’Apologize or I'll edge you until morning's end.’’ His lips fell into an undeniably serious frown, he wasn't joking- he looked angry and it only escalated your heart rate. Your mouth was running before you could stop it.

‘'You don't actually think I'd have any complaints about that, do you?'’ You raised your brow at him, passion and desperation oozing out of every pore, hatred spewing from your eyes.

Hotch contemplated your purpose underneath him, a fire boiling within him every second his eyes panned to you. You were squirming and bucking against him already, desperate for friction. Lord, you were frustrating. And completely beguiling. It was so difficult getting you to shut the fuck up at work and it transfers into bed too. He knew you'd pretend that this never even occurred. Going to work. Going about your day. Acting as if he didn't leave you shaking and dripping the night before.

Aaron was a calm and reasonable man when needed to be- but you were a force that made him reckon with his own calm and reasonable iudements

He wanted to do wicked things to you.

He wanted to make you weep under him.

If he were a smart man, he would let someone else have you. He would be selfless, he could do that if he really wanted to. But you were his: His sweet fixation.

His. Only.

‘’You're drooling all over yourself.’’ Hotch gritted through clenched teeth, the need to possess you clouding him when his hands flew straight to his belt and undid it so roughly you thought the buckle would snap. Your gasp was sweet and breathless and he wanted to inhale it.

'’Aaron just touch me. Please.'’ Your beg was a sore reminder of how desperate you were for the man that you once considered the bane of your existence, it made you lazily attempt to bite back a smirk. Now you were under him, filled with reckless abandon. You were too busy being flushed and wonton that you were entirely shocked to feel his tip graze you already. You couldn't do anything, your head was just hanging off the edge of the bed and you were locked within him.

‘’Where?’’ He asked, dragging it out.

‘'Fuck...you. You know exactly where.’’ You spat back at him, completely unimpressed by his need to prove something that didn't need to be proven.

‘’You never talk to me like this at work.’’ Aaron reached his hand and wrapped his fingers around the skin of your neck. His tone was severe. And a strange frisson of fear, arousal, and anger started to welt within you.

‘’You actually get things done at work.’’ You scolded, instantly regretting your response because of the reaction you were sure to get.

Aaron didn't even pause after you uttered those words. He pushed his throbbing dick inside of you, not even bothering to tease you into it, get you to ease up. He clenched his hand harder against your neck and he bit your neck. You were shocked. He liked it. He was being selfish, caring about his own suffering and pleasure more than yours. Bless your heart, he knew you regretted saying it but you said it anyway. He couldn't let this behavior pass, he just couldn't. It wasn't in his bones. You were moaning and whimpering as your bodies rocked back and forth. Oh, you were full of regret. It was adorable

‘’Apologize. Now.’’ Aaron demanded deliciously against your skin, biting and nipping at your collarbone to torture you and make you weak.

‘’No! You can't- you won't-‘’ You couldn't string together a sentence he was fucking into you that good, that heavy, that deep. words sank into your soul, the realization only dawning upon you.

‘’Say sorry.’’ He cooed.

A rumble of helplessness coated your chest, you felt so exposed, you felt so tainted by his presence. This was something to remember, something to keep close. Aaron. Just Aaron. The real Aaron. The Aaron behind the tight ties and tailored suits, the man behind the polite forms and cooler than fucking ice and steel. All you could do was whine like a bitch in heat. He was pounding into you so hard you were sure your pussy would remember the shape of him.

‘’Come on baby. Articulate.’’ Hotch smiled menacingly, his eyes spiraling in complete satisfaction at how dumb he's got you. An experienced profiler that's seen it all forgetting how to use her tongue. It was cute as fuck.

‘’I'm sorry!’’ You screamed at him, his fingers gripping the dip of your waist even harder than before.

"Now thank me.’’ He ordered cooly. This you could do. He was fucking you so hard and so good it made your head spin.

‘’Thank you. So much, Aaron. Fuck...so good.’’

This he liked. You being grateful. Compliant. God, his dick was so hard it was threatening to fall off. Aaron always seemed to avoid beautiful women, or just dating altogether after Haley - the women he wanted harbored secrets and made his life a living hell. You were no exception, but you were always someone he had to look twice at. Fuck, that face. He wanted to cum all over those pretty lips and in time he will.

‘’Good girl. My perfect girl.’’ He whispered and it sent your body into nothing but a blaze. Aaron knew you were clenching around him, your wetness spreading around his rigid dick. You were going to finish.

Woah. This was...fast. An indefinite ego boost.

‘’Aaron!’’ You screamed, your throat going raw as you wrapped your hands in his hair and tugged tirelessly as he bit your tits.

‘’I’m gonna-‘’

‘’Now cum.’’ He ordered again.

It was like your heart was being strangled and your stomach was doing flips. Your heat was spreading to every inch of your body and it felt like the man was corrupting you- ironic because he's just so damn good and an altruist. You convulsed and a loud throaty moan left you, it was like your soul was leaving your body too. Your cunt squeezed him tighter and Aaron gripped onto you just as much.

But then his hand reached over your mouth and his palm covered your lips to silence the scream that came exactly the same time. Damn, profilers. You came violently around him, your perfect body arching into him as your body relaxed. It was so immediate. It was the fastest you've ever came. Aaron could then clear the knots in his lower stomach as he gladly painted your insides. It was such a fucking relief from all this stress and this tension between you.

It was necessary. You were a necessity to him.

It wasn't professional, but he couldn't care when he was in you.

Aaron's insanely massive hands aided you in getting you fully back on the bed, you were starting to feel sore, and it made you feel alive. He handled you as if you were a dove, gently caressing your skin as he crawled back up into his bed, your head hitting the pillow. Your neck needed the support, the blood had rushed straight to your head and you still couldn't believe you were in Aaron bed. As he stood up to go to his bathroom, he took a second to admire you as you were splayed out like a goddess about the clouds looking down on him: he was just a man and you were an angel. Twisted in bedsheets with a sheen of sweat thinly coating your skin-you looked like a mythical being. Golden.

'What are you gawking at?' You caught onto his lingering stare.

‘’Nothing.’’ He dismissed, whipping his head around as he headed to the bathroom to get a towel. Brooding as always, even after fucking the woman that has plagued his dreams and thoughts for months.

You felt yourself get giddy at the sweetest oblivion. You couldn't escape it. You bit your lip and your pussy started throbbing again.

Aaron stared at himself in the bathroom mirror as he grabbed a towel and put his boxers back on. An apparent blush stained his face and his hair was in disarray. Wow, he really went at it. Some profiler. His whole body was coated in sweat and he felt his palm twitch slightly. He wasn't completely enthralled with the idea of his inability to keep his hands off of you, he was afraid this would transfer into his behavior at work. He calmed the swelling idea as he had to trust his instincts of being completely unbiased. Yeah, he could do it. He couldn't help but smile into his reflection, he felt elated with you. Like the man he knew he could be with you. He went back into his bedroom and there you were laying there wearing nothing but a smile. He doesn't think he's ever seen you this flustered. You felt like a teenager the way you were blushing a light pink.

‘’Now what are you gawking at?’’ Aaron parroted your question from earlier and it made you flick your tongue on your front teeth.

‘’You.’’

‘’Since when were you honest?’’ He joked as he sat back on the bed and helped you clean yourself up.

‘'Since you fucked me until I couldn't think.’’ You replied truthfully, completely impressed with yourself. ‘’At least I can admit it.’’

‘'Huh, I wonder what would've happened if you didn't listen to me.’’ Aaron scoffed as threw the towel on the floor.

‘’Let's try that out next time.’’ You flirted unashamedly. Eyes locking in a perpetual battle, two strong wills locked within mere gazes. Like a drug you knew that was bad for you, but you couldn't help but beg for hit after hit.

‘’There's a next time?’’ He flirted back with a wicked gleam in his eye.

‘’Or we could go back to work. Stripping each other with our eyes. Wanting nothing but to fuck like bunnies. Or maybe even being as unprofessional as bending me over and fucking me on your desk.’’

‘’You never talk to me like this at work.’’ He repeated from before when he was quite literally inside of you. Something that's not forming into your own personal inside joke.

‘’You actually get things done at work.’’ You smirked and he bent down and kissed your lips then the bridge of your nose and then your forehead.

Aaron crawled into the sheets next to you and held you, pulling you into his embrace, his big arms holding you steady. Your hair cascaded against the pillows around you forming a halo-like effect in your stature. Did this mean you were quite literally an angel? His angel? The thought made him hold onto you tighter, you felt it and it made you kiss his lips tenderly.

‘’Hm, so beautiful, so frustrating.’’ He mumbled and you giggled at him.

God, he was so good. He was the best at what he does and he was able to make you feel so safe in his arms and in his presence. A few thoughts occurred to you as you fell into his chest, inhaling his scent as your eyes went heavy. You felt happy. Your dark thoughts were quelled as his fingers traced around your skin. It was like you could see a future where you weren't constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop. You...deserved this

But you couldn't have this and your job.

No.

Not now.

You'll think about the consequences later. Right now, everything is just him.

————————

It felt as though Hotch's ears were ringing.

A dull, screeching sound awakened him from the best night's sleep he's ever had, with you, here, next to him. Lying on his chest, breathing in and out, long lashes fanning your face perfectly. It felt too good to be true, for him to have you in his embrace. The ringing of his phone lighting up the bedside table made him sigh, he couldn't deal with this right now. Not this late or early, not when he had you in his arms- that was his priority right now. But he had a job to do, he couldn't give that up. You started to stir from your sleep as the phone continued ringing.

‘'Aaron...phone.’’ You mumbled. Hotch reached for the phone and tried to act as if he had been awake for hours but in reality, he was twisted in bedsheets with his colleague.

‘’Agent Hotchner.’’ He answered as he put the phone to his ear, his grip on you becoming tighter than before.

‘’Agent Hotchner, this is Erin Strauss. We have an issue.’’ Aaron's brows furrowed and his face hardened, why was Strauss calling him at this hour? Your eyes blinked open as he looked up at Aaron, he was wearing his serious face

‘’Involving?’’

‘’Alex Wall. He escaped from prison an hour ago and he's already killed again. Washington P.D has no leads and they need the BAU back.’’

‘’I'll be right there.’' He replied flatly but his blood was burning cold and his heart was thundering within his chest, he wasn't sure if you could feel it.

'’Aaron, what's wrong?’' You gazed up at him.

‘’We need to go.’’

#aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner one shot #hotch smut #hotchner x reader #aaron hotch smut #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #criminal minds angst

579 notes · View notes

sbdskate · 8 months

Text

Laws Of Attraction (Part 7) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): fluff, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, hangovers, sexual themes, self-pleasure, references to sexual activities, NSFW

Word Count: 5,209

A/N: Thank you for your patience while I took a bit of a break. Hopefully it won’t be as long while I finish up *the last part (*hopefully but no promises - iykyk). I hope you enjoy, please don’t be a ghost reader! Constructive criticism is always welcome <3

Daniel woke up the next morning feeling like an anvil dropped on his head. He cursed the alarm but was thankful he had the foresight to set one. It was a tall order trying to sort through the details of the night before. He had his phone, keys, and wallet, so that was a win at least. What time had he gotten back to the hotel? He recounted the most peculiar dream that you had been in his room at one point – he reminded himself to lay off the melatonin, it always made his subconscious mind run wild. It took every ounce of energy to push himself upright, swinging his legs to the side of the bed at a glacial pace. Fighting the throbbing in his head, he almost missed the pills and water on the nightstand and a trash bin next to him on the floor. Drunk Daniel had never been so thoughtful or organized. Maybe it wasn’t melatonin after all. Those familiar butterflies he felt every time he thought of you fluttered away.

On second thought, definitely not butterflies.

After unceremoniously emptying the contents of his stomach, he gladly consumed the gifts you had left for him. He took a much longer shower than usual, doing his best to wash away the anxiety brought on by his hangover. He was going into the last race weekend of the year (maybe two) feeling like absolute shit. The thought of you putting him to bed initially made him giddy but it was overshadowed by fear of the unknown. His memory of the night before was fuzzy at best and but for the physical evidence you left behind, he would have gone on believing the kiss in Brazil was the last time the two of you interacted. Fuck, he had made such a fool of himself. What else had he inadvertently said or done last night? If you had walls up before, you probably now also had a moat, barbed wire, and trained militia on guard. In his efforts to get closer to you, you ended up pushing him away. You were the sun and he was Icarus.

But clearly all was not lost if you had helped him in his hour of need. If he could trust his “dream,” you had called him your friend. You had worn his clothes. You insinuated there would be a world where the two of you would be alone in a bedroom again. If all true, the culmination of those things did not add up to a person who wanted to completely shut him out. Then again, maybe that was you simply being you – that is, a good person who would show the same compassion to anyone whether they were your lover, friend, or stranger on the street.

He hadn’t had this lack of confidence picking up girls since he was an awkward teenager. From the beginning you had been a puzzle. You did not immediately fawn over him and fall victim to his charms. He sensed you may have even disliked him upon your first meeting, though he couldn’t blame you – he had severely underestimated you. Thereafter, every one of your laughs was hard earned which made them all the more sweet. You were accomplished in your own right and impressing you was a tall order, but when he succeeded it felt as though he had won Monaco a million times over.

He thought back to Austin. So much had gone wrong, but so much had gone oh so right. There was an ease about you that weekend that he had only previously been privy to in staccato bursts. Whatever internal struggle you had been fighting seemingly slowed, allowing him to peel back all your layers. Even in that sad corridor, he could’ve sat next to you in silence for all of eternity and he would have been happy.

Then there was that pesky elephant in the room. In just a few days, he technically wouldn’t be your client anymore. He could get lost in all the tempting possibilities, but he had to stay focused. He’d cross that bridge later. Until then, all he had to do was stay in your good graces.

When the day came for your first client meeting in Abu Dhabi, you weren’t sure what version of Daniel you were going to get. You wouldn’t be surprised if he froze you out again like he did after Austin. It would be disappointing but understandable. You had explained yourself more than enough at this point though, and the position you found yourselves in wasn’t your fault. Nobody could have predicted that your client would fall for you when you were selected as counsel for the driver. You couldn’t control his response, and if you reasserting your boundaries made him that upset then so be it.

No, there were no nerves this time but there was still an underlying anxiety that caused your heart to race. The partner was waiting at the offsite dinner location when you arrived. It was an elegant restaurant, so you had selected a pretty but conservative wrap dress for the occasion.

“Y/n, so glad you could make it,” he said as he extended his arms for a small hug.

“Me? I’ve been at every race weekend, not sure where you’ve been,” you teased.

“I know, I know, it’s been busy. I appreciate all your hard work through this. I’ve told the managing partner about your efforts, we’re all very impressed.” You couldn’t help the growing smile on your face, but you did your best to hide the absolute giddiness swelling in you. That bonus was yours to lose at this point and if this trajectory continued, you could make partner by the time you were 35.

“Thank you for the recognition, but I’m just doing my job,” you feigned in modesty. You knew how many hours of sleep you’d lost over the course of the last few months between the work itself and the constant travel. You knew how much you missed your friends and family during this time, and the other countless sacrifices you’d made along the way. But you would do it all over again for the once in a lifetime opportunity. And you never would have met Daniel - that certainly counted for something. Maybe after last week your relationship wouldn’t be the same going forward, but his companionship until now had offered you an unexpected fulfillment that felt foreign.

Then, as if someone had read your mind:

“She’s being modest,” you heard behind you, a hand resting on your shoulder. You turned to see him in nice slacks, a crisp white t-shirt, and sport coat. For someone that was probably fighting for their life this morning and suffered through a long media day, he cleaned up very nicely. You did your best not to openly ogle, though he caught the quickened rise and fall of your chest. You couldn’t help but smile back when he gave you his signature grin.

“Daniel, great to see you,” Joe said as he extended his arm past you to shake his hand.

“Likewise, nice of you to finally show up.” His tone and features were so pleasant that he could pass off the genuine dig as jest. Either way, the partner was unphased.

“Well, that’s why I brought in my very best associate to help me out as back up.”

“I suppose I should consider myself lucky then,” he said, smiling back at you. “Though, I don’t think I would call her ‘back up’by any means.”

The familiar heat rose to your cheeks as you bit your lip to unsuccessfully suppress your bashful smile. You gently elbowed him to convey your thanks. Both for defending you but also for the normalcy of the interaction.

You anticipated a level of awkwardness after your nondescript rejection in Brazil, thinking he would try to distance himself as he had after Austin. You wouldn’t fault him if he sat next to Joe, but he plopped down right next to you as though nothing had happened. An unexpected wave of relief washed over you. It seemed clear that you were “good”, whatever that meant. Sure, it helped to have Joe there as a buffer, but the two of you would have probably been fine on your own. The thought gave you solace.

The uneventful meal concluded with a plan of action in place for the rest of the weekend. The three of you made your way out of the restaurant towards the valet.

“I hope the two of you will enjoy the weekend at least until we complete the signing on Monday? Consider it a thank you.” It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that line before, but it felt different this time.

“I’ll have to take some calls here and there, but sure, why not,” Joe responded, oblivious to the fact that the message was hardly meant for him.

“Good, I’ll make sure you guys have your paddock passes for the next few days.”

Of course as if on cue the partner’s phone went off as you exited the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. But hey, great dinner. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Yep, have a good night,” you trailed off as he walked away, smiling through gritted teeth. You watched as he got into the corporate car by himself already focused on something else entirely, even though you were all going back to the same place.

“Typical.” You turned to Daniel, surprised at his observation.

“Could you tell?”

“Seems like we both have bosses who abandon us.” You smiled.

“What an unfortunate bonding experience.”

It was a heavy conversation, but the air was light. You both giggled at your misfortunes. When it died down, he broke the silence.

“Uh, thanks for making sure I was… accounted for last night.”

“Oh,” your cheeks dusted pink. You had such high hopes he wouldn’t remember. Maybe there was still a chance, perhaps Lando had simply filled him in. “Sure, no biggie. It happens to the best of us.”

“I didn’t do or say anything embarrassing, right?” Daniel tested the waters, partially playing dumb. His memory may be fuzzy, but he knew enough. You pursed your lips together.

“Nothing more than usual,” you said with a smile, playing it off. He felt slightly disappointed. He wished you would admit to the kiss along with the hopes you’d bestowed upon him – but maybe it was just in his head after all. Either way, you didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the conversation and that was a clear enough message to him. He knew what he needed to do.

“Can I just say,” he paused. He might need to go back inside for another drink. “- that I’m sorry. For everything. You’re just here trying to do your job, and I’m not making it easier for you. You’ve said no, and I keep trying dumb shit. I should have stopped.”

Your chest tightened. The apology was somehow welcome, appreciated, and warranted. But you also found it endearing which made you like him even more. And it also probably meant that he had lost interest and that last part didn’t make you feel great either. You wanted to tell him everything but doing so would only complicate things. Instead you bit your tongue and gave a polite smile.

“Thank you. Apology accepted.”

“No, thank you. I’ve made an ass of myself over and over again and you put up with it.”

“Well. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from my first celebrity client, but ‘ass’ was certainly in the realm of possibility,” you said cheekily. “Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.” The lie slipped easily through your teeth.

“So you assumed I was going to be an ass?” he asked with a laugh.

“What did Drive to Survive call you guys? ‘Talented, rich, and cocky’?” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, but his face was still warm and welcoming.

“Don’t tell me you watch that garbage.”

“For research purposes, obviously,” you said sarcastically.

He watched your eyes twinkle and the sly grin that graced your features as the desert wind gently blew your hair around your face, framing it perfectly. You fixed the strand he so badly wanted to tuck behind your ear yourself. Your wrap dress fluttered just so, allowing him to catch a quick glimpse of your upper thigh, contrasting the otherwise modest outfit. He wondered what it would be like to tug at the delicate bow at the side of your waist that kept the whole ensemble together. He caught himself in the middle of his thoughts.

“Since your boss left you stranded, can I give you a ride back?” You looked around, a serious look on your face. You whispered in a low voice.

“Is that… appropriate? I know men and women aren’t supposed to be alone together here.” He wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make you feel bad. Of course the lawyer wanted to follow everything to a T. He knew from experience that the morality laws were loosely enforced at best, but he wasn’t sure how much of that was attributed to his own privilege.

“If it makes you feel any better, I could pretend to be your chauffeur.” The line earned him a laugh.

“An F1 driver as a chauffeur. That’s rich.” He smiled, satisfied with his efforts to put you at ease.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yeah, but the expectations are pretty high.”

“You’ll have to let me know if I have a backup career as a personal driver if this whole F1 thing doesn’t work out.”

The valet pulled around an unassuming black SUV with tinted windows. Without skipping a beat, he opened the back passenger’s seat door waiting for you with an extended hand dipping into an exaggerated bow.

“Your chariot, m’lady.”

“Oh my, what service,” you contrived dramatics with a hand over your heart. Your other hand graciously accepted his while getting into the car. The familiar pulsating electricity coursed through the touch and lingered as you watched him close the door.

“Home Jeffrey,” you said, donning the worst British accent you could muster when he settled in the drivers seat. He peered at you in the reflection of the rearview mirror. You looked relaxed and happy, and that was enough for him. Your eyes locked, and you caught a glimpse of those dimples that could melt polar ice caps.

It was a comfortable ride back to the hotel, a little small talk here and there. He tossed the keys to the valet and helped you out of the car, again trying to memorize the feeling of your palm in his before reluctantly letting go.

He pressed for his floor in the elevator. He looked at you when you didn’t follow suit, wondering for a moment whether he forgot his manners.

“Uh, what floor are you?” he asked politely, hovering over the buttons.

“Oh… I actually ended up down the hall from you.”

“Oh.” A loud silence fell. It was unclear whether the arrangement was fortuitous or simply torture for both parties, the other so close but just out of reach.

The doors opened and you tried to hide a sheepish look as you started walking in the same direction.

“Are you following me now?” he joked. “I don’t need help getting into bed this time, promise.”

You stammered a bit, trying to find the right words but decided to keep your mouth shut. You had begged the concierge to find you any other room but she insisted the hotel was fully booked and there were no other options. But you realized in that moment it would only be weird if you made it weird. Humor was always the best deflection so you decided to lean into it. Your ability to hide your growing smile began to falter. Looking like the cat that swallowed the canary, you didn’t say a word as you walked past him when he finally stopped in front of his door. Only looking back in his direction to wave when you stopped in front of yours which happened to be the room over. You both snorted before dissolving into laughter over the absurdity of it all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try not to throw any ragers,” you said between fits of giggles.

“You mean I wouldn’t be invited?” he asked in faux disbelief.

“You know you’re always welcome, what’s a party without thee Daniel Ricciardo? I just wouldn’t want to disrupt your ‘high performance athlete’ routine before race day.” He cocked an eyebrow.

“If you threw a ‘rager’, everyone would be sitting in a circle doing face masks with Celine Dion playing in the background like some kind of selfcare séance. And it would be over by 10pm.” The laughter that had finally started to slow picked up again. His heart skipped a beat seeing your nose scrunch.

“Hey now, you forgot the scented candles. That open flame is a safety hazard.”

“You are just too wild and crazy.”

“You know me so well. I’ll do my best to keep it down, no promises though.” The laughter slowed again, but the wide grins remained.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow… neighbor.” You smiled, liking the way it sounded coming from him.

“I guess so, good night neighbor.”

You closed your respective doors, each acutely aware of the one wall that separated you.

Daniel rubbed the sleep out of his eyes the next morning, aimlessly palming his nightstand to turn off his alarm. He made his way to the bathroom, slowly shaking away his slumber. He was washing his hands when he realized there was more noise than what was coming from the faucet. He turned the water off and listened. He picked out the sound of running water. There may have been music playing from a phone, but it was drowned out by a muffled, unmistakable, offkey voice he could pick out anywhere.

Cuz when the night faaaaallls

My loneliness calls

Boo doo boo DOOP

Ohhhhh I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the HEAT with somebody

yeaAHH I wanna dance with somebody

With somebody who loves me

He smiled to himself listening to you try to do lead, backup vocals, and instrumentals of the Whitney Houston classic, reminiscing back to your performance with Lando in Japan. The warmth that spread from his chest to his toes woke him up, suddenly feeling a renewed sense of optimism for the practice sessions ahead.

As he left to head to the paddock, he heard another door close. His timing was meticulous and he counted his blessings that he should be so fortunate to share more time with you. He couldn’t help the giant smile that grew on his face at the sight of you, immediately imagining you singing in the shower. You double checked for something in your bag before you looked up to meet his gaze. You looked behind you to make sure his dimples weren’t reserved for someone else.

“Hi?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Hi.” He knew he looked dumb, but he didn’t care. He was allowed to smile at you, right?

“You’re awfully happy to see me this morning.” The corners of your mouth turned upward, marked with a cautious skepticism.

“Yeah, h-” He stopped himself. How was your sold out stadium tour in the shower? But if this was a ritual of yours, he didn’t want to miss out on future performances – he did still have three more days with you. “I’m just excited for the practice session.”

Your smile relaxed somewhat. “I’m glad you’re feeling confident. Do you wanna walk over together?”

“Oh, you’re going there too?” He mentally smacked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Where else would you be going?

“Well yeah. You invited Joe and I, remember?”

“Right. Wasn’t sure if you were off to do lawyer things.”

“I mean I am, but the track is a lot more fun than the hotel lobby. Y’know?”

He did. And the walk there was much nicer with your company. He enjoyed this new morning routine and would be sure to make it happen the rest of the weekend. On his own he may have felt the gravity of the situation more, may have simply gone through the motions to get it all over with, the weight on his shoulders too much to bear. But your presence invigorated him. Helped him believe that there were better things on the horizon. He just needed to clear this one last hurdle and he had the strength to do it. He was consistent in the Friday practice sessions, and your shower version of “Pocketful of Sunshine” the next morning helped him place P10 for qualifying.

You too found this morning pattern soothing. You were pleasantly surprise that you enjoyed your new neighbor more than you thought you would, and happy that what you thought would be a source of stress and awkwardness brought you peace and comfort. When race day rolled around, you had no reason to believe it would be any different than practice or qualifying, other than the fact it was a night race. So you caught up on work in the morning before you got yourself ready as usual. You decided it was a Celine Dion day, happily belting “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now,” unbeknownst to you that you had an audience. In another pleasant turn of events, Joe had given you the ok to leave the work at home, granting full permission to enjoy the race. You initially went for your yellow midi dress, but it triggered flashbacks to Austin. It was best to put it away, no need to risk the bad juju. You struggled to pick something else, changing no less than five times. Somehow you needed to be modest, but in something where you wouldn’t overheat, but it would cool down once the sun set, but it also had to be stylish because you were again going to be surrounded by A-listers across an array of disciplines who looked like they just walked off the runway in Milan. For once you wished you had the ease of just throwing on a suit and being done with the whole ordeal. But the thought got your creative juices flowing, and you settled on a sleek black blazer dress. You threw on the Louboutins you bought with your first Big Law pay check that only came out on special occasions, and topped off the outfit with some big gold hoops for good measure. You could always fake confidence with red bottoms, red lips, and gold hoops.

Even though you had no work with you this time, you had grown accustomed to arriving fashionably early to these events to coincide with Daniel. You gave a friendly knock on his door, expecting him to be ready at the same time as you as he had the last two days. But nothing could have prepared you for coming face to face with the Australian and his Adonis-like figure on full display. Of course he would have no shame answering the door in just a smile and a towel, though with a body like that it was amazing he wore clothes ever.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I. Uh. Um. I-” You continued to stutter as you tried to figure out where to look. You feebly tried to avert your gaze but his beautifully tan muscles demanded attention, from his shoulders, to his pecs, to his abs. You wanted to study and write a dissertation on the tattoos on his arms. You definitely wanted to memorize the line of the towel that hung just so on his hips. But you also didn’t want to make it obvious that you were staring. So your eyes darted from the ceiling, to his body, to the floor, then back to his body, in a chaotic loop.

“My eyes are up here.” His voice dripped with smugness. You definitely couldn’t look there. But you obliged, only to be met with the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen in your life. Your entire body was on fire, and the arrogant twinkle in his eye only stoked it. You knew he was hot. God knew he was hot. Everyone knew he was hot. And he knew it too. And he was having the best time seeing you flustered.

“When you’re done having a stroke, care to tell me why you’re here?”

“You have to be there in less than an hour, I thought you’d be ready to go and we could head down together!” Your tone came off as frustrated. And you were, for more reasons than one. He rolled his eyes.

“We aren’t that far and I don’t take that long to get ready. Give me a few minutes, I’ll be right out.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be in my room,” you said curtly, and spared no time practically running back.

Daniel laughed to himself as he closed the door to continue getting ready. Seeing you lose any measure of control had become one of his favorite things, a stark contrast to your usual moda operendi. He paused though when an unfamiliar sound came from the wall you shared. He stood in front of it for a moment trying to decipher what it was. It sounded like an electric shaver, but why would you need one of those? His eyes widened and the blood rushed to his cheeks and crotch as it dawned on him.

Your hands were almost shaking as you got the door open. You rummaged through your bag to find your vibrator, practically ransacking your room in the process. You definitely had time to rub one out before he would be ready. The picture of his muscly tattooed thighs pressing on the back of yours flooded your brain, back bowed for him with his name falling off your tongue. Your body ached for it to be a reality, one that was so close yet so far. You fell on the bed and pressed the toy where you needed it, eyes squeezed shut, desperately wishing it was the appendage of your friendly neighbor.

Daniel had never gotten ready so fast in his entire life. No doubt, what he just witnessed was the epitome of sexual frustration. Knowing you, you would be quick and efficient about it – he could imagine you splayed on the bed with the hem of your dress bunched up. You probably didn’t even take off your underwear. An internal battle waged within him – whether to rub one out himself or rush to catch you in your immediate post orgasm bliss, the latter ultimately winning. He would have plenty of time later to take care of himself.

You were so close, when your phone went off.

DR: I’m outside your door.

The disturbance in your momentum should have thrown you off. But the idea that he was basically right there while you touched yourself pushed you right to the edge. Another fantasy intruded your thoughts, imagining what it might be like if he were to come inside and watch you. Your phone dinged again a second later.

DR: Come.

And you did.

You barely had time to come down from your orgasm as you smoothed out your skirt and grabbed your bag again.

“Hi sorry I’m ready,” you said breathlessly as you strode past him.

Daniel chewed the inside of his cheek. He didn’t miss the bright pink flush or the light sheen that graced your features. Your obvious glow matched the flyaways that now stuck out from your otherwise perfectly coiffed hair that made him want to drag you into his room and put that silly little imagination of yours to shame. Demand to know whether your dreams were as good as the real thing with a fistful of your hair in his hand as he buried himself deep inside you. Demand to know whether that stupid toy made you feel like half the woman he did. And that dress. That beautiful dress that hugged your body in all the right places, that showed off its peaks and valleys, that teased just the tip of your cleavage before sealing your tits away like a cruel riddle. He would ruin it. The stiffness in his pants pestered him, and he pushed the impossible thoughts away. He settled on tucking one of the out-of-place strands behind your ear, not missing the opportunity to tease you even if only a little.

“Everything ok? You’re all flushed.”

You bit back a whimper as the tip of your ear fired signals to your core and you suddenly wished your hair follicles had tactile sensors. You would’ve been blushing if your face wasn’t already red.

“Yeah… I, uh, realized I lost an earring. So I had to find it.”

“Did you?” The way his warm brown eyes bore into yours made your stomach do cartwheels.

“Yeah.” Why were you suddenly panting?

“Good. I’m glad you, uh… found your earring.” If you blinked you would’ve missed it, but you could’ve sworn you saw the flash of a smirk cross his face before it was gone. Were you still talking about earrings?

You continued to make your way to the paddock together, you stayed just a pace ahead still hesitant to make eye contact with the driver. You whipped around though when you heard a distinct *click* only to find him with his camera still aimed at you. Another *click*, the flash blinding you momentarily.

“Daniel!” The blush that had finally started to fade came back with a vengeance. He had tried to take pictures of you before, eager to practice his new hobby, and you had politely reminded him that it would pose a risk to your attorney-client privilege (it was mostly a lie, but he didn’t need to know that). But now he lowered the camera, revealing a ghost of a smirk.

“I figured it’s ok since you’re not working. Just want to remember everything from my last race day.”

“We’re in the hallway of a hotel,” you deadpanned.

“You’re right, I’ll take better pictures when we’re outside.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Natural lighting is so much better anyways.” You sighed, reluctantly granting your approval and he internally cheered. You didn’t need to know there was no way in the world he would delete the ones he already took though, that perfectly captured the curve of your backside and your beautiful, bambi eyes looking over your shoulder.

He could’ve gotten lost in his thoughts of you and he would do so happily, but he needed to get in the zone. He tried, but surprisingly the feeling never came. He found he wasn’t really nervous either. After basically processing the five stages of grief over the last few months over his career, there was nothing left for him to prove or fight for. That thought once brought him deep shame, but now it was freeing. Maybe the weight of everything would hit him later, but for now he simply wanted to be in the moment wherever the day led him. At this particular moment, that meant walking to the paddock with you at his side.

Tags: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

288 notes · View notes

auxiliuno · 8 months

Text

𝑵𝒐𝒆𝒍 𝑵𝒐𝒂, ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ ᵖᵗ.²

ᵀᵃᵍˢ: ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ˡⁱᶠᵉ, ᵖʳᵉᵍⁿᵃⁿᶜʸ, ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʳᵉⁿ, ˢᶠʷ

• When you get pregnant, he knows that it is very hard and would be with you every step of the way.

• He would take time off from the soccer world while you're pregnant so he can fully support you throughout your pregnancy.

• He is an amazing husband!

• Understands that pregnancy hormones are tricky to deal with, especially since you're growing a small human being inside of you.

• He would never get annoyed at your outbursts or emotional meltdowns.

• Holds you gently until you calm down or feel better.

• Cravings? Check. No matter how outlandish or what time it is; he will fullfill your cravings, even if it means going to the convenience store at 3 am, buying pickles and peach gummies together.

• Does housework for you (Even after you have children, he is such a sweet husband).

• When it is your delivery day, he is by your side the whole time through your contractions; holding you and reassuring you that you are so amazing and that you will always be the only love for him (plus his children).

• As you are giving birth to his children, he holds your hand and encourages you to squeeze it as hard as you can -- if it means he can take away some of your pain.

• Once you successfully deliver the baby, he doesn't even realize tears are coming out of his eyes; you will be the one telling him with a tired smile: "why are you crying Noa?" "Ah, it's nothing y/n....it's just you gave birth to the most beautiful baby girl/boy..." He would say softly, holding them and giving you a kiss on your forehead. "Thank you for giving me your everything, y/n. I promise I will give my all to our beautiful family."

• Once you get out if the hospital, he convinces you to take it easy and just let him take care of everything.

• All you have to do is make sure the baby is happy and fed; he will take care of everything else.

• Hates it when he has to go back to his soccer career, even though he postponed his return long enough that you've recovered from your first pregnancy.

• Because being abroad holds him back a lot from spending time with the family, he always asks to FaceTime you guys so he can see his wonderful wife and children.

• He always calls you and texts you before and after games or practices.

• Every morning, no matter what the time difference is, he will always make sure to send you a good morning text and tells you his schedule for the day: "Good morning mon cœur, I'm going to training now, and I have an interview later at 5. Remember to take care of yourself and call me when you're free okay? I love you. ❤️" .

• Tells you when matches are, so you can watch him on TV with your children.

• Your children(s) will look up to him so much; he is their superhero!

• He is aware that him going abroad a lot might be bad for his children because he is not as present as a usual father is.

• He still tries his best to be as present as he can in their lives. So, whenever he does have time with you and the children, he does everything with you guys.

• Takes the family on vacation, shopping, arcades -- anything that forms core memories with the family.

• Even if it's just at home, he plays outside with the children and teaches them soccer.

• He never yells at the children; gentle parenting all the way!

• Although, if the children still misbehave after a light scolding, he will pull them aside and tell them in a more serious voice why their behavior is bad. (Coach mode: on).

• Almost -- spoils the children too much.

• It's hard for him to say no to such cute face's; so you often have to be the bad guy and say: "No!"

• But he still knows when he is going too far and shouldn't give them everything they want; the last thing he wants is for his children to grow up to be spoiled brats that expect everything to be handed to them.

• Teaches them humility and compassion.

• He spoils you though -- buying you things, expensive or trendy, and always cuddles with you whenever he can.

• Even when he's away from you, he can never stop thinking about you and the children; you guys are his world.

• You gave him purpose in life.

• Before he met you, all he knew was soccer -- he was lonely even with all the wealth and fame.

• Every decision he makes now is based on how good it is for you and the children.

• You two rarely get into arguments; although he is bad at expressing emotions, he still tries to communicate everything gently with you. (He's so soft-spoken).

• If you two ever actually do get into arguments, he never raises his voice at you nor becomes petty.

• He apologizes to you for the thing that caused the argument in the first place and works out a solution with you.

• Finally, if you are a big animal person, he would raise any animal with you (just don't go too overboard with how many you raise).

Hi everyone! I haven't updated in a bit, but I had so much fun writing this! (Noa is so sweet I love him so much).

Hope you guys enjoy, thank you! Pt.1 here

-auxiliuno

#noel noa x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x you #blue lock imagines

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spacecowboyhotch · 4 months

Text

In Plain Sight: Family Dinner

summary: nathan meets your sisters— alternatively, you get grilled by your family (nathan joins in of course).

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+, SIBLINGSSSSSS, talks of dating, bi!reader, teasing, food mention, mentions of caretaking/sick parent, kissing, nathan is so in love (so is reader)

wc: 1,465

an: back at it with these two again. i adore them. i love them. this is lowkey chaos. and nathan sort of fits in perfectly with her family’s chaos which i was expecting to struggle with a bit. thank you to @juneknight for always being there to listen and brainstorm, you’re too good to me!

in plain sight masterlist | tiana | planted | little hamlet

3 months post To Atomize

“If neither of you are ready he doesn’t have to come. But, he’s very excited to meet you.”

Emma and Phillipa are sat on the couch as you stand— more like pace— in front of them. You shouldn’t be nervous, it’s not like this is the first time they’ve met someone you’ve been involved with. Nathan isn’t just somebody is he though? Asshole boss turned slightly less asshole boyfriend. The word feels weird in your mouth, not just because 6 months ago you were calling him Mr. Bateman, but because he seems like so much more than that.

All of his talk of being obsessed, about being consumed, well you feel the same way. You aren’t sure that the term boyfriend really compasses that. But, who would you be to shut that down— saying it doesn’t feel right, or strong enough— when Nathan had the most smug, giddy look on his face when he called you his girlfriend for the first time?

“Oh my god, don’t be a chicken, we’re ready,” Phillipa gripes, leaning back against the couch to more easily fish her phone out of her pocket.

“Hey, don’t call me a chicken.”

“You’ve been dating Mr. Bateman forever,” She says, scrolling on her phone. “It’s been on Twitter.”

“Its been 6 months. Call him Nathan, he's not some stuffy old man.” You say. Well— he’s not old at least. “And please don’t mention Twitter, I’m perceived enough these days.”

Emma pipes up finally, “Phil says that’s a hella long time.”

You narrow your eyes at the older girl who’s giving your younger sister a similar look. “Phil says hella, does she?”

“Emma you swore you wouldn’t tell!”

“I didn’t! I used it in a sentence!”

“Okay, okay— we don’t yell at each other.. You’re both sure?”

“Yes!” They say together with different levels of eagerness, though they’re both excited.

You regard them with wary eyes. Nathan’s excited. They’re excited. Your nerves are certainly there, but you are too.

“Alright but I need you both to be on your best behavior. Be the sweet girls I know you are. And no more cussing. Either of you.”

—

Nathan’s been uncharacteristically quiet but you know that he’s just gathering information, feeling things out. But, Phillipa takes that as nerves and being the rebellious teenager that she is, she wants to have some fun.

She mixes up the pasta in front of her, examines it as she nonchalantly asks, “Nathan, where do babies come from?”

Nathan bites back a nervous laugh. “Don’t they teach you that in sex ed? I mean scientifically speaking it’s a bore but—“

“Nathan,” You grit out in warning, your eyes meeting his.

He gets the message straight away, going in for a different method of attack. “I could make a baby with my bare hands. Program it to never cry or eat, to sleep its 16 hours.”

Emma perks up. “Like a babydoll? Mine is broken.”

“Emma, a new doll is on your Christmas list. It's not broken, you just want the new one,” Phillipa says, reaching for the red pepper flakes.

“I could build her one that's better than anything you could buy on the market. Those things crap out, they malfunction.”

Your brow furrows as you look over at Nathan, this is not where you expected this conversation to go, though you’re not ungrateful. “You’re going to build my sister a doll?”

“Oh, please? Please, please, Mr. Bateman!”

“I told you to call him Nathan, Em.”

Phillipa leans in, “Hey, what about me? Emma gets a doll what do I get.”

“Nathan isn't here to give you thinks, Phil, he was just here to meet you.”

“That depends on what you like Philippa. I can do anything,” Nathan proclaims, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms.

“Nobody can do anything.”

“That was before you met me. Name it.”

“I’m gonna think of something super impossible.”

“I look forward to proving you wrong, Phil.”

Phil studies him for a moment, trying to decide if she’ll say what’s on her mind. “You’re cooler than anybody she’s ever dated.”

“Oh really?”

“Phil, please,” You plead, completely abandoning eating in turn for twirling your pasta anxiously.

Phillipa ignores completely ignores you, grinning at Nathan’s interest. “Yeah, the last guy she brought looked like Goofy and sounded like Mickey Mouse.”

“Mickey Mouse, huh? You into rats, sweetheart?”

“What about the lady with the curly hair? I liked her,” Emma says softly.

Nathan’s brows raise as he trains his gaze on you. “The lady?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Your sisters and Nathan grilling you— together. This was simultaneously the best and the worst idea. They had to meet of course, what with you being pretty sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Nathan. But did they have to gang up on you like a well choreographed dance? Especially on the first go of it.

“We were friends. How do you even remember her, Em, you were a toddler?” You look at her with eyes that say back off but she’s 7, in her own world, having a great time.

Nathan’s building her a babydoll for gods sakes.

Emma grins, “She always gave me candies.”

“Wait a fuc—“ He stops himself, mindful of your sisters, repeating with just as much shock as before, “a lady?”

“Friends,” You emphasis again.

“I literally caught you two kissing,” Phil says, rolling her eyes.

“Philippa—“

Nathan throws his head back, laughing loudly, “Not much of an explanation for that, is there honey?”

“It never went anywhere— not that I owe to any of you to explain,” You give all of them narrowed eyes, your face feeling hotter than the surface of the sun.

“They were all nice at least,” Philippa muses, twirling some pasta around her fork.

“Like I would bring home somebody that would be mean to either of you.”

“Phillipa says people say Nathan’s a jackass,” Emma announces before stuffing more garlic bread in her mouth.

You fix Phillipa with an icy look, and she quickly looks away, suddenly very interested in the basket of garlic bread in front of her. “When I told you to spend more time with your sister, that really did not include teaching her swear words.”

“I like swear words!” Emma protests.

Nathan leans in, smiling wide, eyes glittering mischievously, “Emma, so do I.”

You lean closer to Nathan, whispering, “Honey, you’re not helping.”

“Right. Lips zipping,” He whispers back, straightening up.

You turn back to your sisters. “Less swear words, more dinner. Or are you finished?”

“I’m finished. Can we have the brownies Phillipa made?”

“Of course, little one. Phillipa? Nathan?”

Phil just gives you a nod, while Nathan says, “All good, sweetheart.”

Dessert is much more mellow, and afterwards Nathan offers to do the dishes for you so that you can make sure your sisters get to bed alright. Once you’ve said goodnight to them, you return to your room. You find Nathan there, fingers tracing the trinkets and family heirlooms that sit on your desk.

You shut the door quietly behind you, “I told you they were…”

“Like you?” Nathan suggests, his mouth sitting in that smug grin.

You scoff. “Nosy. I’m not nosy.”

“You’re pretty fucking nosy.”

“Am not.”

“I didn’t say I disliked it about you honey, don’t get your panties in a twist,” He reaches for you, crowding you against the wall near your bed.

“My panties are untwisted, Nathan,” You say matter of factly, unimpressed with him.

He grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “Can I take them off then?”

“My sisters are down the hall, so is my mom,” You whisper, a little breathless and Nathan takes note of that.

“I thought you liked covering my mouth?” He asks, pulling away from your neck to wag his eyebrows at you. You stare up at him, eyes alight, mouth flat. He wants to kiss you until his brain melts out of his ears but digresses. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bateman,” You say, your voice a little exasperated though there’s a smile pulling at your lips. You detangle yourself from him, starting towards the door. “I’ll get you some towels to shower and check on my mom.”

“You’ll let me know if she’s up for company?” Nathan watches you deflate, sorry that he even asked. But, he’s eager to meet the woman who raised you. He wants to ask questions and know more about the both of you.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” You murmur.

“If not, I’ll just write her a note. You know I’m good for it,” He murmurs, nodding head towards the note he’d written you that sits on your nightstand. “Come back here. Please.”

When you cross the room to him, he pulls in close, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that makes you so dizzy you can’t remember that you were sad.

“What was that for?”

He raises a brow at you, “What, I can’t kiss my girlfriend whenever I want?”

“You and that word are really going strong?”

“You jealous?”

“Nathan, that would make a negative amount of sense, my love.”

He starts to kiss at your neck like before, using a little more teeth this time. “Oh that’s new. I like that. Say it again.”

“To the shower, Bateman.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho, @redcake333

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman #nathan bateman fanfiction #ex machina fanfiction #x reader #in plain sight #not sfw #arson writes

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