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nebusokuxp · 4 months
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Chapter seven of jubilee is up! :D
BOOK LINK
If your interested in it please give it a look! I've worked hard on it :D
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heatherstyles · 2 years
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bitches swear they are depressed af and then their favourite fanfic writer updates a new chapter of their favourite fanfic and suddenly they're happy again
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500 notes on this and you write that angsty mars fanfic
JKDHGHOIJWEHBGEHUIWO FINE!
sigh im making the deadline to 5th May despite knowing this will reach half the goal in under an hour
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tteokdoroki · 1 year
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Bakugos hands traveling from shoulders to thighs rqq!! Then squeezing that soft flesh and working his way to the lower lips and massaging his way to a squirting session if he's not careful
𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — how to be a good boyfriend + katsuki bakugou.
૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — smut, nsfw, mdni 18+, aged up characters, oil massages, fem!reader, oral!sex (f!receiving), heavy!praise pussy eating, finger fucking, overstimulation, squirting, spitting, needy and soft dom!bakugou.
im assuming this is about the bakugou/oil massage post so hehe here
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katsuki is a good boyfriend, the best boyfriend. he prides himself on that fact and you know that it’s true too.
he’s always in tune with your needs and your moods— he’s a little more affectionate and full of praise when he can tell that you’ve had a good day, he’s playful and pinches your sides when he can tell that you need a little cheering up. and when your days are rough? he’s caring, the first person to scoop you into his arms and let you bitch about the coworker that stole your lunch or your project proposal. he does one of three things— make you dinner, run you a bath or offer you a massage. sometimes all three.
but today, when you’d walked through the door— clinging onto consciousness with your shoulders stiff as bolts and your eyes dropping with exhaustion, katsuki had taken one look at you from his seat on the couch and decided. “get naked ‘n on the bed in ten, baby. ‘m givin’ you a massage.”
bakugou already knows your favourite oils, the scent of lavender filling your bedroom as he heats a squeeze of the viscous liquid up between his molten hot palms— he smiles, slick and slow once he spots you in the middle your shared bed laid out bare for him and on your tummy. “you’re so pretty, baby,” he tells you, chest bristling with pride when you whimper out for him to touch you. to soothe your aches and pains away. “s’it okay for me to put my hands on ya? the oil’s hot, don’t wanna burn ya.”
“s’okay, kats.” you pout but your words fall away into a quiet gasp as your boyfriend digs his oiled thumbs into your aching shoulder blades and rolls them around the knots in circles. “o-oh, there. right there kats…”
you feel the bed dip under his weight as he moves to straddle your back and works his way down it— massaging the skin nice and deep underneath his warm palms. “here, princess? want me to work ya here?” bakugou’s voice is like honey running through your ears as it muffles your logical thought, his touch his particular as if his fingertips know just where to squeeze and pull at your flesh— kneading you just right, sending tingles of pleasure right up to your brain and happy hormones into your bloodstream. “so tense sweets, what’s got’cha so worked up, hm?”
by now, your blood blisters and lustfully tremors just underneath your skin, one that makes your jaw go slack and makes it harder to fight to keep your eyes open. you hear the faint click of the bottle cap in the distance, katsuki humming to himself patiently as he heats up more lavender oil between his palms and forces them into the base of your spine. he doesn’t push you for an answer, he’s too cruel for that— the blonde takes pleasure in watching you squirm and rack your brain for words just as he does in seeing you feel good.
you fist the sheets between shaky fingers, an adorable and pathetic sight to your boyfriend. he likes how you tremble underneath his magic hands, letting him lather you up and see stars in such a sensual way. you even shine like one too. “c’mon sweetness,” he coos, grabbing a healthy hold of your ass and squeezing it in his grip. “i know there’s somethin’ you wanna ask for.”
“k-katsuki, please!” you heave brokenly, like you want more of him. like you need more of him.
“alright sweetness, calm down. i gotcha,” and that’s all it takes, katsuki leaning forward to kiss behind your ear— his sweltering chest pressed against your sticky lubed up back before he peels off of your body and settles behind you, his hands steady on the fat of your hips. “arch yer back f’me baby, you know how i like it. that’s right, such a good girl, hah? c’mon…ass in the air, fuck.” katsuki would be lying if he said seeing your slicked ass and equally slick pussy on display for him didn’t affect him, make his cock twitch in his boxers as he pulled your ass cheeks apart and watched strings of your arousal break between them. he’d be a fucking liar if that wasn’t true, but tonight isn’t about him or about getting his dick wet.
it’s all about you.
three fingers press against your soaked slit, katsuki instantaneously rubbing slow circles against your clit and groaning at the raunchy squelching sounds that drip from between your pussy lips. “look at that, yer s’fuckin’ wet,” he moans, voice barely above a whisper. “such a nice, wet fuckin’ pussy beneath my fingers…let’s get one inside ya, huh?” you can’t help the loud, almost pornographic, whine that escapes you when two of those fingers slips past your fluttering entrance— curling against your sopping walls to find that spot that makes you lose your fucking mind.
bakugou massages your insides like a man moulding a work of art from clay— fingertips drifting along all of your pleasure spots that only serve to make you babble brainlessly and clench down on him tight. “you like that, sweetness? when i finger fuck this pretty lil’ cunt, stroke these walls…uh-huh,” he’s relentless, scissoring his digits and thumbing at your clit until you’re a mess that’s chasing after every shot of ecstasy he gives you. you squeak when katsuki spits down on you, moving faster and faster as he watches the bubbly and frothy mix disappear into your tight little hole. “sloppy…sloppy fuckin’ girl,” he says breathlessly, as if he’s in a trance. “droolin’ all over my hand, my fuckin’ god.”
his words make you twitch, have your juices running into the seat of his palm and down your quivering thighs in clear streams. a symphony of nasty squelches and salacious moans intertwine with the lavender scent in the air— only tainted by the smell of sex and the nectar oozing in fat droplets from your pussy. “oh fuck, katsuki…s’so much…it’s so good,” you grunt, though your words are muffled by the pillow in your mouth. you can’t get enough of what he gives you, fucking you deep and stretching your puckered little hole with thick fingers, hot fingers. you can’t help but throw your ass back on him, rut against the digits that fill you up like they’re bakugou’s cock, playing with your insides until you think you’ve seen the pearly gates. “fuck me, f-fuck!”
“yeah i know baby, jus’ keep gettin’ my fingers wet…keep rockin’ those hips, i’ll make you cum,” bakugou laughs softly, endearingly not daring to tear his eyes away from how your cunt sucks him in so selfishly. “pussy feels so good, baby. love havin’ you like this. oh fuck,” he moans as if it’s his cock snug against your rippling walls, as if you’re riding his dick to hell and back— creaming all over it and choking the life out of him. it just goes to show how important your pleasure is to your boyfriend, how getting you off is more than enough to satisfy him, especially when he has to hold you up— stop you from collapsing each time his blunt finger tips graze your g-spot.
tears begin to sting at your eyes, your breath short and the room spinning— you’re sticky and hot and the knot deep within your lower tummy threatens to unravel with your orgasm. “k-kats! ‘m…’m close! i-i wanna—!”
“you wanna cum? make a mess on my fuckin’ fingers like the slutty lil girl you are?” bakugou taunts but drops his head until he’s eye level with your swollen, sopping mound— you sniffle in response, shaking your hips back onto his fingers that keep you plugged full while his warm breath coasts over your throbbing clit. “lemme take care of it baby, lemme be good t’you…” the blonde’s words are lost on you and before you can register it, his molten lava mouth latches onto the pretty pearl tucked between your raw and ravaged pussy lips. “have t’taste you…”
his words are licked into the length of your slit, weak whimpers laid out on katsuki’s tongue just from the mere taste of your sweetness spreading over it. “o-oh baby, taste so fuckin’ good, look so pretty when i suck on this swollen fuckin’ clit,” he coos…sounding like he’s on the verge of begging for more of you. for you to paint his face with your nectar, for you to drown him in your juices. when his fingers pull back from your greedy little hole, his tongue runs eager laps over your sex, the tip of the pink muscle writing his name against your clit while his desperate moans rise in octave—growing higher than your own.
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kicktwine · 7 months
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A rly fun thing to do immediately once u get a grasp on a blorbo is put him in a situation Not tailored for him and see what he does. The opposite of a good time. put the little magic man in a knife fight. put the charismatic bard in a marathon ninja warrior race for a prize. put the strong girl in a mind puzzle. how does this little lab rat react when he’s out of his depth
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zelreedsandwrites · 1 year
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Me, opening Google docs to check if the author (who is me) has updated her fics:
Fics: *are exactly the same as I fucking left them*
Me:
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writeouswriter · 2 years
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I love commenting on so called “older” fics because personally I have no actual semblance of the passage of time, if you commented on my fic from 2017, I’d be thrilled because in my mind, I wrote that baby last week, that’s nothing
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scarletevening · 7 months
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stitches leave scars [ keegan p. russ ]
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someone reqd this n i accidentally deleted the post and im literally so upset over it it's not even funny
this is long asf btw i loved that req so much omfg
cw: near death experience/mentions of death, violence [not in detail, sorta game typical], severe injury, foul language, angst & comfort, mutual pining, gn!reader
"Two o'clock, hold it!" A gruff voice rang through the crackle of your radio. You wanted to growl back in a fuss, but he wasn't wrong. You wanted him to be, to impress him. Lunging, knowing you shouldn't, just a smidge of a moment too early, you attempt an assault on your enemy.
Keyword; Attempt.
Quickly struck down, your body flung to the floor, feeble attempts at escaping the violent blast of your enemies gun. The same gruff voice rang in your ears, your mind aching as it faltered, struggling to evade the darkness that was at your heels. Familiar crackle, and static of the radio drowned out, your open wounds numbing slowly from their agonizing burn, tripping over your feet as you fell into black.
He was right.
Keegans heart stopped. His mouth opened, the squeak of mind-shattering tension the only thing sounding, air escapes his lungs. Instincts went lame, trying to do anything but make his fingers twitch, to jump to you, to block the person who shot you, to take the damn bullet for you. The air was suddenly loud, the silence deafening. The radio static became meaningless, just as it may have been for you, he thought, eyes focusing on your slowly darkening eyes.
He's watched peoples life drain out of their eyes, but never before, has he wanted to look away so badly, only to be forced to stare by his fear.
Sound came crashing down on his consciousness, he mind moving faster than his lips as he screamed into his radio for medical, grasping for your body as he pulled you into the shadows. His hands never shook the way they did as they tried their hardest to act confident. Keegan's mind rushed to remember his basic life support training,
"Pressure...." His voice drudged in worry, his eyes were filled with a crazed look, unable to properly focus as he felt the burning panic rose up his throat, his hands clasping around your flesh. Sharp sounds of torn clothes, knifes against fabric, the lack of warmth.
The lack of you.
Although it had been a day, it seemed as though no time had passed. Muscles moved in memorized movements, shooting, announcing, ordering, and following without a hitch. But he wasn't there, neither were you. Keegans mind felt empty as he fell back into his seat at the debriefing, voices of his superiors becoming a buzz in his ears, broken by the vibration on his thigh.
"Hey, thought you would be interested in dropping by the infirmary?"
Never more in his life was Keegan grateful for the nurse he befriended. His knee bounced, teeth digging into the pink flesh of his lips as he watched the clock tick on his wrist. Each moment felt too long, the lousy mouth of his captain never seeming more annoying than now. Clock struck two. Two o'clock, just like it had when you were shot.
He shot up, disregarding the usual chit-chat he sat through with his teammates as he stormed to the infirmary, your name ringing like a cowbell, bringing him to you. His feet rushed passed familiar faces, glancing with a systematic nod, not stopping. Every step reminded him of every moment he didn't help you, when he watched blood spill from your body, when he watched as you were dying.
Hospitals were always eerily clean, despite the copious amount of lives that were held there. And it always made it worse when you realized ever beep that ticked in a, hopefully, forever constant beat, was someones life. The thought terrorized Keegan as he stood before the door with the dreaded sound of incessant beeping, murmurs of a T.V. screen just behind that piece of wood on hinges. He never thought that his skill to listen, just like it would in missions, would be used to make sure that the electronic beating of your heart rate monitor, didn't change, didn't stop. The door handle was just as cold as the rest of the hospital, bringing no comfort to the trembling hand of the wicked soldier.
Your ears perked at the sound of your name, head snapping to the door. Eyes sparkling, you smiled, so sweetly as you whispered his name weekly,
"Keegan?" The sound broke him. Even with tubes in your arms, dug in eye bags, and obviously a little delirious from pain killers. you still smiled at him. The strings of his heart tightened like a painful knot, eyes burning with irresistible tears. His bit-in lips part, your name barely a whisper on his tongue as he rushes to you.
"You look like you're doing well," He responds, tightly gripping the metal bars the sat on the side of you bed, looking down to your exhausted figure. His eyes glazed over each figure, making sure they were as familiar as they were a few days ago. "that's the least you could do after that move."
His tongue was sharp, unintentionally, causing the sting of hurt, pulling your lips into a straight line. You look down, whispering, "Y.... you're right about that, huh?" You chuckle, almost upset. It was hard to swallow your saliva when you heard him exhale sharply.
He always did that when you disappointed him.
"Look, kid" His fingers messaged his forehead, you knew without looking, head still hung low.
"M' not a kid, you know," You croaked, endeared by the name, but too defensive to actually accept it.
"You are to me." Keegan couldn't control the anger that seeped into his voice, his hands tightening around the cold metal. "You are a kid, when you act like that on the field," Nothing about his voice was kind, it wasn't loud, no, but it was full of a venom you've never tasted from him.
"C'mon Kee-"
"No." Firm, an order. His eyes glared down at you, hiding away the worry, the desperation to hold you, to celebrate the slight colour in your face. Taking a deep breath, he sighs, "I'm not angry,"
You roll your eyes at his sentence, turning away with a pout. He watched you, sighing once more as his shaky hand placed itself on your shoulder,
"I was... shit," He retracts his hand awkwardly, much to your dismay, to pinch his forehead. Your mind ran a million miles, trying, and struggling, to fill in the blanks as he thought of his words. Your lips parted, face timidly turning up to meet his eyes, apparent that you had settled on the worst possible actions.
"I thought I lost you."
Your eyes met his, the always unreadable sergeant's eyes filled with an overwhelming amount of emotion. Never, ever, did you expect the man you admired to deeply to look at the way he was looking at you, to return that burning adoration, the sight alone enough to make your lip quiver
It was never just admiration. For neither of you.
A small smile pinched onto the sergeant's face, a deep sigh passing from him as he tilted his head down, taking his gaze with him. Were it not for his prediction, you most definitely would have pounced on him. His hand laced with you, gently holding you still.
"A-are you alright?" A meek voice peeks in from beyond the curtain, in wrinkled nurse uniform. Blushing madly, you stammer and nod, waving her off. Your heart beat was on a screen after all.
Keegan on the other hand, snorts as he hold in a laugh, leaning in to grin down at you, "Do I make you nervous, pretty?" His eyes were sharp, fervor-filled as they bore into yours, too much to look away from. His face inched closer to your, slowly approaching you, grin descending into a small smile. "God," His voice hung like boulders as his breath brushed across your cheek, down your neck, hot and fast. His lips pressed to the corner of yours,
"You're just trying to get me fired, aren't you?" His voice was gruff, playful even. You blush as you look up at him, rolling your eyes as you let out the breath you forgot you were holding.
"You're such a tease."
"Says you, fucking getting yourself shot." You jaw drops, glaring at him as you stammer, trying to wave your hands as he still gently holds them down,
"You're saying you've never gotten shot on field?" The grin on his face would forever be engraved in your mind. His low voice rings in your ears as he finally moves his face directly in front of yours, eyes locking.
He smiles, his lips softly pressing into yours, the blaring beeping of your heart rate monitor no longer worries him, though maybe the nurse, as he pulls away, sighing into your neck as he whispers, smirking against your skin. "Not while trying to impress my crush."
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
"keegan is super perfectionis and reader is impuslive and they ifght n someone goes in near death experience and they go mua mua" <- thats how I remembered the req after I deleted it lmao
im not gonna shut up about that omfg im so upset over that like i swear to god. i think it was @/bad smth idk but the pfp was blue IF IT WAS YOU IM SO SORRY.
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Ray TPN
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KLJDFKLVDK HIM THOUGH??
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(S1 Episode 6 | Chapter 181.1 | Chapter 93 | Chapter 119 | banana_slug_army's A Bizarre Proposal | 2020 Exhibition Interview)
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Ya know, I honestly believe that I could make a post about Merlin wearing bunny pajamas to bed,
and Arthur is questioning his life choices as he hula hoop’s on the castle roof,
all while the knights of the round table are polka dancing in the stable
and the post would take of flying
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mirkwoodmunson · 1 year
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Would you pretty please turn this picture into an Eddie munson fanfiction? I've been searching the Internet and have yet to find anything like this. If you not comfortable, I totally understand!!
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me: writing break!
mailbox: 🫶
me: …..umm ANYWAY *frantic typing*
I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH U HAVE NO IDEA
tw: cursing, angst, panic/anxiety attack, dissociation, night terrors, depressed/anxious reader, post-v2 (fixit)
it takes a long time for your nights to go back to a state of semi-normalcy. a long time of regaining the ability to lay in bed comfortable and calm and eager for sleep, a long time of healing and bandages and pained tears, a long time of struggling for the smallest crumbs of comfort. but you had each other, and that made it easier of course — but it was still an uphill battle for those first few months. there was a lot of heartache, a lot of tears and strain, but far be it from eddie and you to let the darkness come out on top. you were both fighters, and when the battle got too rough for one of you, the other always managed to gather enough strength to keep the both of you pushing, moving forward. persevering.
when the darkness got the better of you, eddie was there to blind it with his brilliance.
nights… you’d come to dread them. during the day the sun could blot out your thoughts, soothe worries with its warmth, and you had things to do and places to go and people to see; the day didn’t give you the time to worry. but when night fell, when it was just you and eddie and the quiet — not that you didn’t enjoy those things, but with the night and the quiet, and the memories you and eddie now shared… nights were still sometimes difficult.
the thing is, eddie doesn’t remember that night. he doesn’t remember anything after the bats.
but you do.
you remember, and you’ve had to watch it again, and again — at first it was every time you tried to sleep, then just when you slept at night, but always sleeping during the day became a problem. then after a while, after nights started to feel somewhat tolerable, it was every other night. every few nights. you were down to once every few weeks now, but even then, the idea of just trying to get some rest had become so stressful it was just a frustrating cycle of exhaustion at this point.
and how could you bother eddie with this? he knew, but you didn’t complain beyond the initial waking up from the dreams. sure he didn’t remember that night, but he still remembered facing the bats. he still had to go through the stint in the hospital, recovery at home. you were both dealing with your individual traumas. he always assured you you were allowed to feel it too, you didn’t need to act tough around him — you’d become so quiet. so tired. he would always tell you the way through was together, that he had your back. but you still felt like it would burden him. far be it from you to be a burden.
really though, there’s only so many times you can say you’re okay when you’re not before it becomes too much to handle alone.
tonight it takes you by surprise. tonight you fall asleep in eddie’s arms, but you wake up and, you’re there. you’re in the wasteland that is the upside down and you’re running but you can’t run fast enough and there’s not enough air in your lungs. the red flashes are too bright, too disorienting, you can just barely make out the swarm.
when they suddenly drop from the air, you see the body they surround and you drop too. it’s too much, too heavy, too real — the little air you have rips from your lungs and you crawl to him, you know you can save him if you just go fast enough but you can’t move any faster, no matter how hard you scream you can’t get to him any quicker, like you’re pulling yourself through drying concrete. you hear dustin crying.
you reach, so hard your muscles pull and you cry, and you grab his vest and drag yourselves together, gripping him tight light you’re about to be pulled away from him again. you try and talk him awake but your lips move slow too, it’s muffled in your ears like you’re underwater, clogged and distant. if you’re loud enough, cry hard enough, scream loud enough, maybe he’ll wake up. your foreheads are pressed together as you beg for him to wake the fuck up —
“please wake up please wake up please wake up,” his eyes snap open and he holds your face, talking to you quickly, quietly, murmuring a pleading song.
you feel like you’re being pulled up through water.
you wheeze deep and suddenly breach the surface, gasping wildly into a dark space, but that voice remains and keeps guiding you from the murky depths; it’s soft, always soft — calling to you with a tender earnestness.
“i’m here. i’m here — you’re safe; you’re awake.”
you start to wail, and eddie leans over to turn on the lamp before pulling you into his lap, into his arms, careful but quick. he tries not to waver, not to show how startled he is — but he can’t help the tremble in the way that he holds you, the break in his voice.
“it’s okay, y/n it’s okay — i promise. you’re not there. you’re home. i’m here.”
“i-i-i — fine — i’m fine — i’m fine,” it almost hurts to speak, takes effort between the deep breaths and hiccups and sobs. eddie leans you away a bit, pushes damp hair from your cheeks and cups them in warm calloused hands that are firm but loving, urging you to look at him.
through the tears you see his eyes are wide but tired, concerned and sad and alarmed, when you try to look away he holds you still, shaking his head firmly.
“no. no sweetheart you’re not okay.”
he looks at you a moment longer before pulling you back into him as you shudder, quaking with the force of it, gripping his shirt tight to ground yourself as you weep into his shoulder.
eddie shushes you softly, holds you so tight his arms tremble and hides his face in your hair.
“i’m here. you’re safe. i’ve got you. i promise.”
“wh-what about you??”
“i’m safe too, baby. we’re safe. we’re home.”
one of his hands slides around one of yours, soothes it open to release his shirt and then guides it down to the bedsheets.
“feel our bed? the sheets?”
he takes your quieting cries as a ‘yes,’ and smiles small, kissing your temple. you’re starting to focus on him, on your surroundings.
“feel my shirt? an’ my arms?”
you nod, running your thumb over the faded black fabric held tight in your fist, full of holes and tears. you’d got it for eddie when he took you to see judas priest, the metal conqueror tour. you guys hadn’t started dating yet. some dude spilt beer on you and shouted at you for the audacity, eddie had punched him in the face, and then you’d started dating.
“hey! there’s a smile!” eddie peers down at you with a smile of his own, and you sniffle but hold it for him through the stubborn tears. “there you go. where’d that come from?”
“you,” you respond simply, tearfully.
eddie laughs softly and pulls you in again, rocking you in his arms, muttering gentle affirmations.
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coffee-shop-gay · 2 years
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mxanigel · 15 days
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15 lines of dialogue
Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!
Thank you for the tag, @arendaes! It was difficult to stop at 15 lines, haha.
1) “Hurry up with the details before Hange attempts something we’ll all regret.” 2) “I don’t understand grief. Why it lingers. Why it rears its ugly head whenever it pleases. Rena died five years ago. Why does… why can I still ache this much?” 3) “Don’t sell yourself short. A terrible person wouldn’t offer to carry me through this forest.” 4) “Don’t you dare pull a Levi on me.” 5) “I’m still alive. I feel like I shouldn’t be. But as long as I am alive, I don’t want every moment to be dark. And if I can provide some light, some joy, even if it’s just a smile, I feel like my time with Rena mattered.” 6) “My home is with the two of you, after all.” 7) “She just likes to remind me what a fuck-up I am at every opportunity.” 8) “Pull me back up. I’m giving this another try.” 9) “Saving you is still a work in progress.” 10) “I need you to take the lead here. I trust you.” 11) “I-I’ll try to commit it to memory so I can draw you a picture.” 12) “I don’t want to take a life. When I do, I’ll live with that weight until I join them. But I’ll do everything in my power to help find a better path forward for what remains of humanity. And I’ve accepted that path sometimes requires fighting to the death.” 13) “I don’t hate you. I’m trying not to hate anyone. Including myself. Hate just makes everything worse. But hatred is hard, so hard to avoid.” 14) “I don’t envy the choice you had to make. Right or wrong, you’re the one who must now live with it. Like I do with the choice I made just now.” 15) “Th-There’s that too, but love isn’t about fucking. At least, it isn’t for me. That part’s… like a perk? When you’re in love. I, ah, like being close to the person I love. Physically. But that closeness can be the touch of a hand. Or it can be more. But it doesn’t always have to be. For me, anyway.”
No-pressure tagging @ruthvelyan @poetikat @captastra @saraptor @druckkugelschreiber
@marythegizka @spindleweedss @korblez @nightingalesighs
@dr-paine @milesmentis @gardensystemtv and anyone else who'd like to play!
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lutavero · 4 months
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For Maddie @reyesstrand, I was your Tarlos Secret Santa this year! 🎄🎄🎅🎅 I was so elated when I got your name in the assignment email, it was so much fun to create for you! I debated on what kind of set to make for you exactly, but then this au just wouldn't leave me alone, for months by now!! And now, at last, I had an excuse to write it down. :'D
I found life (I found you)
Their first meeting is the furthest thing from the romantic ideals most people have in this city.
See, if your city is teeming with superheroes, you for sure wouldn’t be able to help yourself and imagine more and more cliché and romantic encounters. Getting rescued from a supervillain, flying through the air while held oh so close after said rescue mission, getting flirted with by the kind and selfless masked vigilante, maybe even getting a hand kiss in front of the reporters… you possibly imagined it all before even if you’d be ashamed to admit it to anyone.
No, the way TK meets Striker is the complete opposite of these dream scenarios.
♦♦
A Tarlos vigilante!AU,
[Read the rest on AO3.]
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wigglys-dikrats · 4 months
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i really can’t emphasise enough how wonderful it is to receive a comment on a fic
even if it’s a simple ‘wow this was great’ or ‘good job!’, i light up
it’s really encouraging to see that what came out of my brain translated well and was received by someone who also enjoys the thing i wrote something about
keep leaving comments on fics, you’ve no idea what kind of impact you could make on someone esp if they’re struggling with the motivation to keep writing
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redwithjoon · 9 months
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"Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested."
"You don't want to...?"
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Ultimately uneventful :/
HotchxReid
Word count: 8k
Just filth - NSFW!!!
An insanely stressed Hotch was ready to fight an inmate and is currently giving Spencer a seminar about how his wife wants a divorce pronto. Spencer decides that this just can't be and takes matters into his own hands. Quite literally. Oh, and he also finds out that his boss has a weirdly specific kink??
Read on Ao3
I come bearing food: @observaureium, @gay-in-a-jar, @castielryan
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"Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested." 
There it is. 
Spencer has been silently wondering why his boss 'escalated the situation' by losing his patience and was about to fistfight a whole serial killer so easily. Hotch had faced down more unreasonable, violent unsubs in the past, but for some reason, the moment he was baited by that man, he instantly snapped. 
"So we don't waste money on lawyers." 
Well, that'll do it. Having your wife screaming you down over the phone about how she wants you to officially divorce her already was obviously not an ideal start of the day but it can't just be that, can it? His boss is ridiculously pent up, and it's not like he had anyone to bitch to. After a few seconds, Spencer realized that Hotch wants some kind of response to his almost-confession but he's still unsure of what to say… like he literally has no fucking idea what Hotch wants him to do? Reassure him that it was going to be okay? Tell him that he's a good man either way? 
"You don't want to…?" Well, yeah obviously.
Hotch continues to randomly complain to him about his problem with his soon-to-be ex-wife and Reid just lets him be, trying to help him by giving responses he thinks would calm him down and make him feel the slightest bit better but there's only so much he can say. 
And to make it even worse, now they're stuck in traffic. In an absolutely insane traffic. 
Hotch subtly asks the taxi driver next to their car what exactly is happening and the driver just sighs. "I dunno, there's apparently a car crash not too far from here. They're rerouting the cars but…" 
"It'll take a while." Hotch thanks the man and rolls his windows back up. 
Christ. What can they do? Hotch is already irritated and now they have this. And the burden is not just mentally, Hotch has been driving for a while now and Spencer knows it's usually nothing for the man but it's a bit more tiring when you're stressing out about your imminent divorce, huh? 
Like a good friend, Spencer just listens to him, he listens, he listens, and he listens. 
But, fuck… there's only so much passive-aggressive talk about Haley that he can take.
"Are you tired?" Spencer cuts off Hotch in the middle of his mumbled rant, Hotch was talking about custody or something and Spencer has been listening long enough that he feels like he could be a divorce lawyer too by now. 
"Not really." 
"Well, I'm tired, it's the uh, the heat, you know, and I'm still a bit shaken from before." He is not shaken from before, but he'll say whatever it takes to get the hell out of this car. 
Hotch's previous potential outlet, a literal full-on fistfight, has been taken from him and now it has nowhere to go, no relief from the frustration. Too bad that they're not in the FBI's training room where Hotch can go berserk in shredding rubber dummies. 
"I see. We can pull over, but there's still no place to rest." 
Right. Ah… think, Spencer, think. You may not be under intense terror anymore and can't do your best work, but you need to come up with something. 
Hm… what will he do when he needs to let out stress– wait, no, not him, what would guys like Hotch do when he needs to let out stress other than sweating it out? Reid is tempted to just tell him to do laps but then a sudden realization hits him like lightning, so fast and shocking that he almost jumps on his seat. 
There's another way to sweat things out, right? 
But that won't do, does that even exist in Hotch's list of options of stress relief? Workout? Deep meditation? And…? 
"Hotch, do you want to rest? There's uh… well, there's a hotel there." Spencer points at a discreet-looking hotel. Hm… too discreet in fact with its own parking lot and everything. 
Hotch blinked. If it's any other hotel, he'll just chalk it up to Spencer needing that sweet coolness of AC and some subpar dining. But that's not that kind of hotel, is it? 
"That's not a proper hotel, Reid." Perhaps his subordinate just doesn't understa–
"I know." 
Of course he knows. Look, he knows a lot of stuff, a lot, some of them irrelevant, but even he knows that that is a love hotel, a short-stay hotel to be exact, paid by the hour for obvious fucking reasons. Hotch knows, he knows, he's just offering. 
It's silent for a while and Spencer's hyper brain is already thinking of dozens of different ways on how he would be fired (he's up to 57 potential scenarios by now), but shockingly…
Shockingly, Hotch makes a left turn, he drives down the rather empty road and parks into the almost-hidden parking lot. Quiet, discreet, just everything you need to make sure no one sees you come and leave. 
Hotch turns off the engine and Spencer is just… he's waiting for Hotch to unlock the car. He's nervous. Sure, he was the one that offered Hotch to stay in a love hotel for a few hours with the obviously very unprofessional, potentially damaging suggestions, but he's still nervous, okay? He just… wants to get Hotch's mind off of this downright spiral he is on and he's not the best in– 
"Are you sure?" Hotch's voice is as calm as ever, if Reid isn't a profiler he would've missed the slight tremble on his voice.
"…No one has to know." 
"No, Reid, are you sure you also want this…?" 
Yeah, Reid, do you want to fuck your boss? His brain is taunting him, asking him why he's offering sex to his boss but then again, why did his boss accept, hm? Why did he even consider the idea? He's not the only one in the wrong here. 
"I…" He clears his throat. "Can you just unlock the car…?" He could hear the door unlocked, Spencer walks out first, still looking everywhere but at Hotch. "…Do you have cash?" 
"Yes." 
"Okay. Good. So um, we're… good?" 
"Good." 
Spencer wants to scream from all the one-word answers. Of all times can Hotch just sound less formal? Just once, can he sound less formal when they’re literally going to have real sexual intercourse? 
…probably not, huh? 
The less they talk the better. Reid wants to hiss the moment they walk into their room, the thought of how dirty this room must be even though it looks perfectly clean considering the purpose of such accommodations but he pushes through it. 
Okay. Now that they’re here, uh… what should they do first? 
Spencer almost jumped when Hotch walk past him and sits on the bed. The first time they finally lock eyes with each other, as if creating a silent agreement, Reid lightly nods and put his bag on the chair. Okay, no thinking, (no bitching about divorce too,) only uh… only…
Okay, class? What should we do first? 
That's the limit on how his brain is functioning right now, thinking about what should they do first? What should he say to his boss? Should he, like, give him options? List out the menu like he's a waiter just asking when he wants for lunch? 
Hotch hasn't said anything and it's unnerving to be honest. 
Spencer sighs comically loud before he decides he might as well chose for him, if Hotch doesn't know what he wants then they just do whatever they can do. 
It's not like Hotch doesn't know what he wants. 
When Spencer turns around to grab something from his bag, Hotch can't help but watch and linger his eyes on Spencer's body. 
He admits that he has never, in the years and years of them working together, thought of Spencer as sexy. One part of it must be from the fact that he had started working with Spencer since he was a lanky, nervous 21-year-old who looked like a kid straight out of highschool. He never really noticed the change until now. 
Hell, even the word 'sexy' doesn't seem to fit him at all, with Reid always dressing up so conservatively. 
He always, always dressed like that, the only casual clothes Hotch had ever seen him in is his standard academy uniform and some shirt he wears strictly when the summer heat just gets too much. Even then he would wear short sleeves button up. 
Suddenly he remembers how surprised he was when one scorching hot day, he saw Reid with his long hair tied in a ponytail with the first two buttons of his shirt undone. It's not… he's not showing any excessive skin, the buttons didn't even show anything that can't be compared to Prentiss' shirt but it just looked… vulgar. It looked so vulgar merely because of the rarity of it. He remembered for a second that he almost looked away, like it's not something decent or proper for his eyes but then he remembered how illogical that is. 
That's something he didn't remember till now but it comes back at full force right this minute, when Reid bends down just the slightest bit to rummage through his bag to get…  
It's ridiculous how hot it is when Spencer pulls out a hair tie from the bag's tiny pouch, the man reaching back to gather his neck-long, perfectly curled hair. It's ridiculous how he feels himself getting more and more aroused just to see Spencer unbutton his cufflinks. 
The fact that he feels some kind of excitement seeing Spencer struggling to pluck his cufflinks off…
He needs to stop thinking and just enjoy it. Besides, isn't this Spencer's idea? Is he not in the wrong? Hotch's brain desperately needs some kind of justification as to why he's weirdly turned on already. 
Spencer, still pouting as he struggled with his right cuff, started walking towards Hotch. 
Spencer decides that he is going to straddle his lap, almost like he's used to if even. He only paused for a second, as if contemplating for the last time if he's going through with this or not but decides that there's no backing out now and he slowly starts to climb on his boss' lap. 
Spencer is nervous but he knows what he's doing. 
…Hotch doesn't know why that ticked him off, not in a sense that he hates what Spencer is doing, but in a sense that it shows this is Not Spencer's first time. 
Is it absurd of him to expect this 27 year old man to be… a totally inexperienced person? And why he finds himself feeling the smallest bit of disappointment when he realized Spencer isn't a fumbling, blushing mess. He's not aggressive in any way, still pretty much the Spencer that he knows, and yet. 
He got pulled out of his mind when he hears a relieved, tiny laugh as Spencer finally got the cuffs of his shirt off, then those same hands hold Hotch's shoulder, using them to brace himself as he tries to get comfortable on Hotch's lap, moving his knees subtly here and there on each side of Hotch's thighs to minimize discomfort, he expected Hotch to help him but–
Spencer feels hands on his waist to… push him away? 
The 'rejection' puzzles him greatly, looking down at the older man with the same pout, just more confused this time. "You don't like it…?"
"I do." Well. Then why? Spencer wants to ask when Hotch fully push him off his lap, making him stand up again. Hotch's hands are still holding Spencer's waist and Spencer could still feel the desire if the way Hotch's fingers are pretty much massaging his waist is something to go by so he isn't sure why the man is pushing him away. 
"I… like how you look unbuttoning your cuffs." 
The little confession made Spencer gasps ever so slightly. Hotch is actually talking to him about what he wants? Really? 
"I'd like to see you strip everything down yourself, if that's not too uncomfortable for you." 
Oh, how careful this man is. Reid offered sex and Hotch still asks if he's uncomfortable, truly a gentleman.
"I can do that. Do you want me to do it slow?" Spencer doesn't fucking know how to do a strip tease but he's good at improvising (as they both just saw) so he's sure he can do it right. Hotch's brows furrow in contemplation, he's also not sure what he wants but… he has an idea. "That's not necessary, I like it more if you do it casually."
"Casually?" 
"How you would strip when you're in private, like your bedroom for example. When you strip for a shower or to simply change clothes." 
"Oh… okay, then." That's a relief, though it is a weird request is it not? Act like he's at home? As if he's just relaxing alone? …Like doesn't know he's being watched? Hm… is that a kink? Is it, in and of itself, something sexual? 
Reid decides that he's thinking too much about it and thinking isn't what both of them want right now, right? 
Rarely has Hotch ever been this focused in anything other than work. He follows those trimmed, slim fingers slowly unbutton the rest of the dark, almost black cardigan off. Was it slow? He wasn't doing it slow, was he? No, he wasn't, he was undoing them normally so it might be Hotch's brain that's working slow. Not just his eyes, his ears also seem to be hyper aware to the slightest sound, because he got pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of Spencer's rolled up cardigan being tossed to the hotel's lone sofa, it feels like he could hear the lightest sound of the silk tie (always coloured or patterned) being unfurled easily by a single tug. 
Is he sweating? Because Hotch feels his body temperature going up for some unknown reason. (He knows the reason is arousal but he refuses to recognize how easy it is to get him hard.) 
Spencer then unbutton his white shirt one by one, this time he folds them a little neater before putting them on top of the cardigan. He's wearing a thin, loose tank top undergarments underneath. God, just how many layers does this man wear on the daily? Again, for some 'unknown' reason, Hotch finds that arousing. Probably because of how conservatively Spencer always dresses and he is probably one the only ones that gets to see his skin, because of that tank top, even if Spencer sweats or gets wet, no one can see his chest, his nipples or belly button. Yet he can.  
Hotch almost jumps when he hears the slightest frustrated groan as Spencer struggles to unbuckle his belt, eyes looking down and his lips pouting in focus. Wait, what? No. No, don't do that, get rid of that tank top first. Hotch is screaming on the inside, just one thin layer of cotton fabric and he could finally see his bare upper body. God, why is he being a tease?
Well, maybe he isn’t being a tease, maybe this is just how he– 
Can't think, Hotch can't think when he hears the thump of the belt buckle hitting the floor, Spencer accidentally dropping it, he picking it up and spun it into a circle. Hotch thinks he must look like a creep, eyes focused on every millisecond hearing that typical unzipping sound as Spencer pulls down his zipper. Pants pushed down to the floor and Spencer stepped out of it one foot at the time. 
There's something about this, he's not doing it to seduce Hotch, just like he requested, Reid just stripped like he's at home going to change from his work clothes to something more comfortable, no moving his hips or ever looking at his boss. Spencer is wearing a loose, bright blue underwear, his habit of wearing colourful clothes underneath all his formal look is endearing, especially seeing those mismatched socks, moss green with a star pattern on the left, orange with red stripes on the right. 
Spencer pulls off his tank top, unfurling his hair along with it, he bends down and was about to pull off his socks when– 
"Wait– what– wait!!" Spencer stumbles when Aaron suddenly stands up from the bed, his hands gripping Spencer's bare waist and manhandling a bit too roughly and it caught the younger man off guard. He lets out a surprised huff when Hotch shoves him on the bed on his stomach, gasping when he feels Hotch on top of him, trapping Spencer with both his knees on the sides of his thighs. 
He knows it's ridiculous, but Spencer felt the slightest bit of fear knowing that Aaron can just… do anything to him if he wants, he knows his boss won't hurt him of course, but the fact that Spencer is hanging on the belief that Aaron is a Good Person still makes his heart beat faster. 
Spencer hears the sound of zipper being undone, Hotch stripping on top of him impatiently. Oh… he wants to see that too… it isn't fair? How is it that Aaron gets to see everything while he's trapped on the bed? 
Reid swallow his silent protests when he feels Aaron's lips on his neck. 
This is the first time Hotch ever touched him more than hugging him and dragging him by the hand when he almost got shot for the 5th time because he thought it was a good idea to talk down an unsub without his vest on. Hotch is touching him and Spencer is dead silent about it, his mind still trying to wrap around the idea that he's basically naked under his boss who's stripping patiently. 
"Hotch– Aa…" 
"Aaron." Hotch finishes for him. "It's okay, Spencer." Reid didn't reply, squeezing the pillow under him viciously when Aaron grip each side of his underwear and tugging them down so roughly that Spencer hissed out loud at the feeling.
"I'm sorry…" Hotch's voice is so low, so… just so… It's doing things to reid and suddenly he doesn't really mind anymore. 
"It's okay…" at least Hotch is nice when he takes off his socks, it's sweet even, how he bends his legs and pulls them off one by one. Then, as Spencer suspected, Hotch rolls him to his back, the first time Reid is facing him when he's properly aroused. "Hey…" he whispers, pulling on Hotch's shirt collar, whispering at Aaron to take his clothes off first. And he does, but still when he's on top of Reid, when he keeps eye contact that makes the other squirm. 
He had never seen Aaron naked before, Spencer tracing his fingers on the old scars peppered on his body, to the little beauty marks on his neck and chest, and, aha… Aaron has a lot of body hair, a lot, it tickles him a bit and he just knows he's gonna get some kind of chafing later. 
"What, um… what do you wanna do…?" Spencer mumbles as he strokes Aaron's arm, going up to his neck and shoulder, sighing when he feels Aaron nuzzling his neck and his jaw… "I'll do whatever you want." Spencer adds. "Just… can't go all the way." 
Penetrative sex is a painful thing, at least at first, and it's unsaid but both of them are tired from the day's work and Hotch is mentally exhausted from all the stress. 
Spencer whispers to Aaron that hotels like these usually have condoms and lube stashed on the bedside drawer and he's right, but despite all that, it'll still gonna take a long while. Spencer would have to clean up, they both have to take things slow, foreplay that could take minutes till hours since that's what Spencer needs if he doesn't want to be a rigid, awkward mess. And both of them don't have the energy for that. What should they do, then…? 
Spencer reach around blindly until he finds the bottle of lube and squeezed a considerable amount into his hand, he hesitantly pulls Hotch into a soft kiss again when his hand move down ever so slowly until he finally wraps his slick, slippery fingers around Hotch's straining erection. 
"Sorry–" Spencer whispers between their kisses when he hears Hotch hissing loudly. "Sorry it's cold…" he has nothing to be sorry about but he gets sensitive during sex, sometimes he's extremely cheeky and insufferable and sometimes he gets just a little too soft and this is the latter. 
"Don't," Hotch replies, Reid is slowly stroking his cock, squeezing hard at the base and lightening up at the tip just how he likes it. Huh, how did Reid know what he likes? 
Hotch's hand moved from softly caressing his back to Spencer's shoulder, basically shoving him down on the bed, Spencer gasped in surprise when he– "Ah! Aaron, I– fuck…" Aaron shoved his hand away, hooking his hands on Spencer's thighs, spreading them, and hooking them on his waist as he forcefully grinds down on Spencer's groin. 
It feels so– it feels so good, it feels so fucking good, holy shit. Aaron is grinding down on him, squeezing Spencer's erection between their bodies, the fast, heavy stroke milking his cock from the mere friction alone. It feels good but it also fucking hurts, fucking Hotch and his fucking body hair, it's just everywhere! It scratches and tickles his skin and it– fuck, don't stop, don't stop, don't– "No…" Spencer groans loudly into their kiss when Aaron stops. 
Why the hell did he do that? What the hell is his problem!? He–
"I'm sorry–" Hotch blurts out. "I’m– I'm sorry, I have to stop…" He knows he pissed off his younger partner, but… "Had to stop, I was already close." 
Wait, "What…?" Spencer doesn't want to sound rude but he's actually caught off guard, they've only been doing this for a few minutes, so why? 
"It's you," Hotch whispers yet again, his voice is so soft, he must also feel humiliated to some degree. "I've never done this with a man before and there's just something about you…" Hotch started kissing his jaw, Spencer twitching from the feeling of Aaron's lips lingering on his skin, parting his mouth as he lick and suck in the softest way possible because Spencer has an inkling that Aaron’s a bit possessive when it comes to sex and he's fighting with every nerve in his body not to leave painful, glaring hickeys all over his partner aka him. 
Something… about him? Because he's a man or because he's Spencer? 
"It's okay," Spencer said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "We can just…" Spencer pushes Aaron away from his body, sure Spencer is loving all the kisses but he also needs something else. 
He slowly turns around and lays on his stomach, his legs spread wide as an obvious invitation that Hotch readily accepts, taking only a second before he slots himself between those thighs, his hands rubbing from Spencer's hips, waist and back slowly, going up and down in a firm, almost painful strokes with how deep Aaron is digging his thumb on his skin. 
"Can't do too much, Aaron, but I don't mind." Spencer is driving him crazy, Hotch is completely sure Spencer is doing this on purpose because those long, bony fingers of his are reaching back slowly spreading his cheeks apart till his rim strains, "Use me…" 
Use– Fuck, Hotch is so pissed off at the fact that Spencer knows, he knows this is driving him crazy yet he does it anyway, baiting Hotch to completely let loose and just, use him. If he can't fuck him, he can grind on him like Spencer’s just a toy, that's what he’s implying and Hotch is going to do just that. 
Hotch grabs both his wrists and forces them both to the pillow again. "Keep them there, don't you move." Spencer nods, he can do that, bringing his hands in and tucking it on his chest. 
He hissed when he smells latex and feels Hotch's thumb rubbing the liquid roughly between his cheeks, making sure that he's slick till the bottom, Spencer shudders when Hotch absentmindedly start massaging his perineum with his thumb, making Spencer whines as quietly as possible into his hand, it's nothing overwhelming, it just feels good.
Hotch stops much to Spencer's disappointment, but then he feels Hotch on top of him. Not just above him, he feels Hotch's body on top of him. Feels his chest on his back, feels his full weight trapping his body down. But that's not even close to the overwhelming feeling he gets after. 
Hotch shoved his cock between his cheeks and started grinding him down so hard that even with the lube, Spencer could still feel the burn of the movement, how his cock would drag low and slow and then push back up again, Spencer feeling his body being trapped by Hotch, how his damn heavy weight is making it hard to breathe but Aaron is enjoying himself and Spencer doesn’t want to stop that. Christ, he could feel how big Aaron is just by grinding on him, could feel his rim rubbed by the tip of his heated, rock hard erection, so hot and veiny, just… it makes him wonder if it'll even fit in him?
"Aaron–" Spencer gasps when he feels Hotch's fingers digging into his back, leaving white marks from his shoulders to the dip between his thighs, those same hands squeezing his ass painfully hard, grabbing them so roughly that Spencer can't handle it, one hand reaching back frantically only to have it pinned down on the bed, unable to wiggle them free no matter how hard he tries to get away. "Aaron, please…" 
There's a pause, Spencer gasping when Aaron starts kissing the side of his head, down to his cheek, his ear, damnit. "Shh… it's alright, Spencer. It’s alright." Alright, he said, but he didn't let up. 
Though he finally, oh god, finally… lift himself up and bracing himself on his elbows, finally letting the younger one breathe properly, letting Spencer's hand go. He can't blame Aaron though, he doesn't want to because he said it himself didn't he? Use me. And Aaron is doing just that. 
Aaron pulls apart his cheeks with his thumbs even more, enough to make Spencer hiss and grip the pillow tighter. 
It feels good for Aaron though, even better than before, he could get himself more snug in there as he continues to grind down on him. Fuck, he could just… feel his hole whenever he pulls back before thrusting up again. And this, this lust inside of him is infecting his brain with all sorts of sinful thoughts. 
He could do it, Hotch thinks. He could spread Spencer's legs apart and make him take it, he could pin him down, Hotch knows he's strong enough for that. Pin his back down with his body, pin his arms and wrist down with a forceful grip, use his legs to pin his calves in place and he could just make Spencer take his fucking cock, just take it, take it, take it. Just shut up and–
Wait, hold on, what was he thinking? What kind of depraved imagination did he come up with? Hotch got rid of those thoughts off of his head instantly. 
But he can't deny that this is so good that his mind is having trouble processing it. The way his precum is making it easier to slide his cock up and down, to grind in harder and harder, he could feel every single fucking time how the tip of his cock would brush past his hole, and it– fuck, it feels good, for some reason even something as simple as feeling Spencer clench under him every time is making his mind thought of those horrible things. He feels shameful, completely appalled by his wretched thoughts of forcing Spencer. 
For some kind of reassurance, Hotch suddenly kissed Spencer's neck, making the younger one's breath hitch under him, Spencer's thighs shaking a bit when Hotch parts his lips, mouth sucking on the spot, way too wet for a hickey while his teeth ever so slowly push and drags on Spencer's skin. Only when Spencer whimpers did he stop. That didn't last long though because Hotch starts doing the same thing to his shoulder down to his shoulder blade, all the while he hasn’t stopped grinding down on Spencer. 
It's almost embarrassing how quickly he feels his orgasm brewing, how his breathing gets heavier, his body more tense, Spencer could barely move from how hard Hotch is holding him.
Spencer is hurting; Aaron is squeezing his arms so tight that it turns his fingers white, he kept thrusting so hard that Spencer feels the sensitive skin around his rim randomly stinging with every pull, and to be completely honest, Aaron's weight on top of him is making it hard to breathe. Though Spencer doesn't tell him to stop and is not planning to, he knows Hotch is nearing his orgasm, knows that if he breaks that momentum, he would probably feel too sensitive to continue, or his orgasm might not end up as satisfying and that's the last thing Spencer wants. This all starts with him trying to make Hotch feel so good he'll forget about his, uh, absolutely ruined marriage, for an hour or so, and he’s going to do just that. 
Spencer's a man too, it happens so quickly that despite being prepared, it still surprises him nonetheless. Because Hotch suddenly freezes, Spencer feels hot semen staining his lower back right after and he shivers with disgust. But it's fine, after a few seconds and a few more drops of warm come wetting his skin, he knows that Hotch is done. 
Now finally flaccid, Hotch slowly moves off of him, rolling to his back to take deep breaths. Spencer's waist and thighs are aching, the skin between his cheeks and especially around the rim starts stinging from the burn of previous friction, he desperately wants to just roll back and heave in some breaths but he can't fucking do that, can he? He's not going to smear this whole bedsheet with his boss' drying semen. Christ, this is both humiliating and irritating. 
Spencer pushes himself off the bed, still pretty much erect as he stands on wobbly legs, carrying the damp towel with him. He didn’t look back at Aaron once as he stumbled his way into the bathroom. 
Well. They finished what they set out to do, right? Spencer tosses the towel to the laundry bin and walk inside the shower, making sure that the water is hot before stepping into it. 
Spencer squeaked from the sudden stream, gasping in pleasure as the water relieved some of his tension. He reached back to, ugh, rub the slippery semen off his back, it just feels… wrong but the water cleaned it up so it's fine. 
His head thumps lightly on the wall, wondering what the hell he's doing. 
Whatever though, he's still turned on and hard and that's really numbing his critical thinking. 
The bathroom reverberates his moans when he wraps his fingers around himself, pumping up and down his length in an impatient manner. He just wants to fucking get off already so he can function normally again. 
It's a love hotel, these things are bound to happen, right? So he doesn't care if he's letting out sounds here and there, he's not being super loud and fuck it, if he wants to jerk off in the shower he'll fucking do it. 
His other hand hits the wall and curls into a fist, his mouth breathing hard on the tiles, he's not sure what's dripping down his chin anymore, is it water or spit? He spread his legs carefully, making sure he won't fucking slip and bust his head or something but he needs to thrusts into his hands, it feels good. It feels so, so good…
The hot water is fogging up the shower's glass and mirror outside and he couldn't care less. His hand moving from the walls to the glass, his shaking palm wiping up the fog, he's almost bouncing on his legs now with how good it feels and how much he wants to get off. 
Oh god, he's going to come, he's going to come– he's right there! Right– he just needs a few more minutes, just a little more… a little… 
"Spencer?" 
Fuck. 
He gasped loudly and had to bite down a loud groan from his frustration. Great, Aaron is here, just when he was about to come, that's just–
"Aaron…?" Reid whispers when he feels the shower's glass door being opened, the older man slowly stepping inside. Spencer… he knows what's happening but it's really hard to think right now, not with Hotch pulling him off the wall, not with him pushing Spencer on the glass door, not with Spencer feeling just how fucking hot the surface is. All that is forgotten when Hotch presses his back to his chest, kissing and pecking Spencer's neck and shoulder again as his hand rubs his waist roughly, his hips, his upper thigh, his– 
"Aaron! Aaron… oh god… fuck…" 
Spencer's forehead thump on the glass, lips bitten down and his face scrunch up in pleasure. It does feel different when someone else is jerking you off, someone who has the same sex as you, who knows just how to pull, tug and squeeze just right. Spencer feels his eyes rolling back, his eyelids fluttering close, mouth open in a silent gasp. 
Hotch grips his erection harder and Spencer keens, feeling his thumb pushing down on the tip with each fast stroke, would rub up and down his prominent vein and his slit and– 
"AH!! AARON– MORE, YES, yes just like that, oh god, god, faster, faster! More, goddamnit, I'm so close, I'm so close, baby, just like that… just–" 
Hotch's brain glitched for a second there. Reid's the type that slips in nicknames when he's having sex, huh? Well, he isn't sure what to do with that information, but it's sexy, god, that sounds so sexy. 
"Baby, yeah, more, oh god, Aaron, I'm gonna–"
When Spencer's body twitches hard and freezes, Hotch squeezes his cock oh so painfully tight, all hard and fast till he fucking comes in his hand, nails dragging hopelessly on the slippery surface, staining the glass and his fingers. 
He strokes him through his orgasm, then he lightens up ever so slowly, only letting go when Spencer's soft in his hand and so very, very satisfied…
It took the younger a couple of seconds to truly get himself back to earth. It was so fucking good that if he isn't so exhausted he would've loved a second round. Despite the orgasm, his brain is still numb from pleasure so it's not really his fault is it? When he turns around, humming and curling his hands around Hotch's shoulder, when he leans in close, so close that he's sure Hotch would pull back and push him away but… he's playing along? 
Their foreheads pressed together, both of them breathing hard, lips just a breath apart. "Thanks…" Spencer whispers. "That felt so good…"
And Spencer, Spencer was about to fucking kiss his boss when– wait. 
Wait– Fuck. Fuck, this is his boss. This is Aaron…
Spencer quickly pulls away as the haze passes, looking everywhere but Hotch's eyes. He sounds stupid trying to make excuses why he needs to shower alone but Hotch seems to understand, washing himself under the stream quickly before walking out. 
Spencer's left alone again and for a second he just stands there unmoving. Yeah, so… that happened.
=
Spencer feels awkward when he walks out only wearing a towel to see Hotch who's already fully dressed. Spencer, at the speed of light, managed to get his singlet and underwear on, he wants to put on the rest of his clothes too but he actually has long hair and he needs to blow dry them first. 
Hotch didn’t say anything, it would’ve been creepy if Spencer doesn't know his boss well enough to know that he's just… thinking. At least Spencer made him think of something else other than the divorce papers, right? Mission accomplished? Wow, he's trying to make this less awkward but it's not happening. 
The only brush he has is the flimsy one he got from the bathroom so it was a nightmare getting his hair to settle down, they always bounce back every time he tries to straighten them so he just gives up, putting the rest of his clothes back on. 
Hotch is trying, and failing, not to focus on Spencer dressing up, it feels… It feels weirdly disappointing when he sees Spencer almost fully dressed. He noticed how the younger is looking around for his belt and Hotch picks it up for him, hidden under the chair. 
"Thanks– I, um…" Spencer really doesn't know what to say when Hotch, without asking, starts putting his belt on for him. 
His fingers slowly pulling the tip after every loop, it feels kinda rough but nothing too hard. He buckled it up for him, Spencer doesn’t even realize how close they're standing now. 
Okay. So, that's weird. But when Hotch was about to step back, Spencer clears his throat to get his attention. "Hey, Hotch, uh, here." Spencer hands him the folded tie. "Put this on for me too." 
Oh, Spencer surprised himself with how bold he is, but what the fuck is he trying to accomplish? He just has this weird inkling that this whole thing, stripping and dressing up thing, kinda turns Aaron on in a weird way? Like not enough to get him hard obviously, but enough to make him want it. Spencer's testing the water but for what, exactly? This is a one-time thing, why is he taking notes on what turns his boss on? 
Hotch pulls his shirt collar up, looping his tie around and actually putting it on for him, his tie turning out neater than it would whenever he did it himself. 
Again, when Hotch was about to walk away, Spencer stops him. "Can you tuck in the back of my shirt? I can’t really see…" Spencer turns around, and true enough, there's a slight wrinkle on the bottom of his shirt, not anything he needs help tidy up though and both of them know this but for some reason, Hotch just follows. 
Reid didn't feel anything for a second and was just about to ask when he feels Hotch yank him back by the waist, he pretty much shoved the shirt down and going a step further by making sure they're all neatly tucked by rubbing his fingers hard from the back to the front. Spencer has to stop his gasps whenever Hotch would shove in his perfectly tucked shirt roughly for no fucking reason. It seems like Hotch also has a limit on how much teasing Spencer dish out. Spencer's not complaining though. 
He almost stumbles when Hotch gives his waist one last squeeze before finally letting him go for real this time. Spencer’s done dressing up but he feels eyes watching the undone button on the bottom of his shirt from all of Hotch's rough handling. Hotch didn't make a move to fix it though, probably not wanting to touch Spencer's hip again. 
Spencer finished up the rest of his clothes, putting his socks and his shoes on, tapping the tips once to get them snug before walking to the door. 
Both of them have been silent till now, looking all prim and proper like they were before. Spencer went to crack open the door, the slightest orange light of the hall seeps in but it instantly disappears when Hotch slams the door back close and single-handedly turns Spencer around. 
Shocked and confused, Spencer doesn’t fight it when Hotch shoves him up the door and kisses him full. 
Fuck it, Spencer pulls on his shoulder and yank him flush to his chest and deepens the kiss shamelessly, his brows frowning and lips parting to roughly kiss Aaron's mouth, open-mouthed and dirty, Spencer would be disgusted when their spit wets his chin but he couldn't care less, not when Hotch shoved his tongue inside his mouth, when Spencer bites the other’s lower lip when they part for air till Aaron was groaning at him. Mm, that sounds nice, Spencer decides that he likes it and he's going to pull more of that off of him. 
It was Spencer that initiated more, telling Hotch that hey, it's not just a kiss, they're not going to stop at a kiss, no, Hotch opened the floodgates and none of them can stop it. Spencer grips Hotch's hair, keeping him in place so he could kiss down Aaron's neck. 
Spencer fucking hates how physically stronger Hotch is compared to him. How easy it is for the older man to drag him off the door despite Spencer's loud whining. 
Spencer felt Hotch pulling on the belt that he himself puts on just minutes before and unbuckling it with the patience of a toddler, roughly unzipping Spencer's pants and swallowing his loud moan with another round of rough kisses. 
Spencer's not going to back down without a fight, though. He pushed the older man off his body with all the strength he can muster, before Hotch can wrestle him down, he slip to the side and this time he shoved Hotch to fucking sit on the bed. He didn't even get to ask Spencer what the hell he's doing before the younger one went to his knees in seconds unzipping Aaron’s pants impatiently and– 
"FUCK–" 
Oh, he's cursing! He's cursing and that makes Spencer giddy. He got his head between Hotch's thighs, his fingers spreading the zipper apart as much as it can go before leaning in and dragging his tongue on Aaron’s cock through the thin material of his underwear, his putting his tongue flat and dragging it up and down as hard as he can, wetting the fabric with spit that Spencer obviously doesn't give a shit about. He knows it drives him crazy, it apparently entertains him and Hotch knows this. This time it's Hotch's turn to grip his hair in place painfully before shoving his underwear down with one push. God, he's so fucking hard already and it's all because of the cheeky thing sitting between his thighs. 
He knows Spencer can be cheeky when he feels like it. It drives Hotch absolutely insane when he looks down and he sees Spencer, trying to pull pry fingers off his hair to lighten the tension but still supporting that grin on his face. Hotch… he tries not to curse, he never does in front of someone else but he keeps doing it under his breath now, Spencer managed to pull all that out of him and he knows how smug he is about it. 
He's going to wipe that grin off his face though, he’s– "Gonna wipe this grin off my face?" The younger man says knowingly like the profiler he is. "After I turn you on just by letting you fix up my clothes, hm?" Spencer is teasing him, it probably gave him a big wave of satisfaction from knowing he manage to fluster his usually always stoic boss, and Hotch has to admit that he's impressed by his little game. He's going to make him regret it (not really, but oh well). 
Spencer whines when the grip gets harder, when Hotch yanks his hair up so hard that Spencer is leaning up on his knees, pulling a real reaction of pain from the younger. Spencer kept trying to get his grip off but he didn't fight it when Hotch drags him closer, even voluntarily opening his mouth as wide as he can go, sticking his tongue out in a blatant invitation. 
It's so fucking dirty, holy shit, he's so fucking shameless. Hotch's brain froze for a second from the sight of his usually awkward, youngest teammate now waiting for his boss to face fuck him. If it's anyone who he knows is naturally flirty, this image might not break his mind this badly but because it's Spencer… Hotch isn't sure how his brain is still functioning but it's functioning enough to grip his cock and slide it into Spencer's mouth. Sliding is such a soft word to describe him gripping the man’s jaw to make sure it stays open.  
"Ha… fuck…" Hotch moans when the sudden tight wetness envelops him, Spencer letting Hotch force his jaw open, Spencer trying his damnest to get that cock in as far down his throat on the first try. He didn't manage much, just 2 or 3 inches but the moment he starts bobbing his face up and down, the more he can get into his mouth. That's good, that's nice, but the thing is, Hotch is already feeling his orgasm coming fast and he needs to– 
Spencer sounds confused and alarmed when the hand on his hair lets go, that confusion turns into surprise as Hotch grabs each side of his cheeks instead, forcing him there as Hotch thrusts his cock inside his mouth and down his throat, making Spencer let out a real, almost panicked sound.
He kept fucking his mouth, gagging Spencer again and again, Spencer fighting every urge in his body to push Aaron off because he knows now that's what Aaron likes. What triggered his orgasm is Hotch looking down and seeing that previously smug face now turns all red and teary, nose flush and lips painfully spread open, he keeps eye contact until he, shamefully enough, comes in around a minute or two inside his mouth. He almost passed out when he felt Spencer's throat contracting around him as he swallowed his semen. Not like he has any choice, he would’ve gagged if he didn't.  
A wet squelching sound can be heard when Hotch finally, ever so slowly slides his softening cock out of Spencer's mouth. Spencer instantly heaving for air, coughing a few times and wiping the spit and semen off his lips and chin. Hotch could hear Spencer curse under his breath, finally getting his breathing back to normal. 
Hotch wonders if he's twenty years younger, can he get hard again so quickly? Because his cock twitched at the sight of Spencer looking absolutely ruined. 
That looks so good, Hotch wants to take a picture of it but then realized how vulgar that is and what a disaster it will be if someone accidentally sees it. 
Hotch grabbed Spencer's shoulders up, the younger falling to the man's chest with a soft 'oof', hissing when Hotch's hands gripped and squeeze his ass roughly, just about to yank his pants down too when Spencer whines, pretty much slapping his hands away. "Don't! You're gonna get me hard too and you never sucked cock before have you?" Spencer said with a pout in a matter-of-fact way. 
Then Spencer moves away from him, going to the bathroom to wash his face and rinse his mouth, thankfully none of that stained his collars and tie. 
When he got out, Hotch already zipped his pants back on, he looked disheveled and there were some stained spots on his pants but nothing that won't be covered with the bottom of his suit, small blessings. 
"Let's go." Hotch said and their way back out isn't so awkward this time. After Spencer paid the fee, Hotch even opened the car door for him, ugh what a gentleman. He seems much more relaxed than before, Spencer's theory is true, orgasm does help you relax, he just didn't know Hotch needed more than one. 
=
"Pretty boy! How was Connecticut?" 
"Hm… Ultimately uneventful." 
Thankfully, Hotch had his dry cleaning in his office so no one had to see his come-stained pants and sweaty shirt. 
Well. Spencer hopes that what happened earlier would be considered 'uneventful' compared to what will happen tonight. Tonight when Spencer promised to show his apparently not-so-straight, clueless boss on how to fuck a man proper. 
Besides, he would probably need those orgasms again after he signed those damn divorce papers, right? 
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