#idk what this is but i just wanted to use this gif

[dilf-docs]

Darlin', Can I Be Your Favorite?

dbf!boxer pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: it should be simple. helping your dad's best friend to train for his upcoming match in his hometown, chile. but turns out, world-renowned boxer the viper isn't just a menace in the ring.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (girthy), smut, p. in v., oral (m. receiving), rough sex, public sex, praise kink, humilliation kink, daddy kink (she's got daddy issues; idc if this is mischaracterizing you, you'll live), dom!pedro, use of pet names (doll/baby), some angst because that's my staple, idk shit about boxing my bad (i'm more of a ufc girlie kinda) so let's focus on the filth!!

word count: 5,874 words

side note: this very different albeit genius request got me a small hit tweet. song of choice for this piece i sped up because of my ovulation is favorite, by isabel larosa. there are several paragraphs in this that could be used against me and are proof i'm loosing my mind during this midterm/fertile week had to use a clint gif because freaky tales clint is so sexy might watch the movie on theatres with my legs open

You weren't new to this.

The small walls, dim light, the sweat, the blood... you were shoved into it. By your father, since you were a baby. Long before you could even walk, grabby hands trying to reach for a ring that seemed so far, the violence and the rage contained inside the quadrilateral.

So you grew up wanting it. The desire. The ichor. Rough and brutal.

You'd never step in, but always stood by your father's side. Until the age of boys, over-coated glossy lips and blooming girlhood arrived. Long gone where the days were you'd be next to your dad inside the dim-light place, now filled with car rides and girly laughter about all and nothing. You changed the sweat scent of the place for vainilla, and the oversized t-shirts for skirts that showed your laced panties if you bent.

The fights started then, but the ring became your home. Slut, he'd call you, saying this wasn't the girl he raised. Your mother would cry, tired of trying to stop the fighting that extended sometimes until late at dawn, when you'd show up on the doorstep, skirt torn apart and panties wet despite the dry summer.

The beast laid dormant inside you. That primal raw hunger; it never ceased to exist.

Now it was on your roaring voice, refusing to shut up and take the harsh language spoken by your own blood. It was on the defiance, cutting your clothes even smaller, pushing the wearable limit. On the way your makeup and manners got more scandalous, and how you'd throw your door louder each time another confrontation took place, the once lively home now a wrestle between two forces refusing to back down. But when you weren't with a bottle in your mouth or a guy in between your legs, you'd think of his hands grabbing yours as he showed you the gym around, introducing you to regulars. My little girl, he'd said proudly, and you would smile like he did. You'd grab the broken frame you once threw against the wall in a fit of rage, crimson imprinted over the photograph below the broken shards you tried to miserably put together again. Fucking failure. But it's impossible to piece what's already broken back together.

But you were still a believer, despite it all: the same girl who saw the magic in the beasts trapped within the cage, thunderous brutality in the place you once called your second home.

Maybe that's why you agreed to help your dad on this. To see a bit of that smile that had faded in time like the colors of the rust painted lockers. To hear a good girl praise. Not slut. To see a glimpse of the man who said he'd pass this place to you, useless now on his mouth as the gym crumbled just like your relationship. In the end, you were his daughter, begging to be seen.

And you were seen. Not by him. But by him.

The Viper. Pronounced in a whisper, because out loud sounded like a curse, bound to risk too much.

He had been a casual before, remembering his days when no facial hair adorned his face and he'd talk with your dad while laughing in a boasting sound, like he knew he'd break out in the scene. He did. And then he stopped coming, because he was too busy winning and living life than to return to a place that was falling apart.

But then your dad came rushing home, like he was to bear bad news. And boy, wasn't he? The leather, the greys now starting to take over his hair like the bad choices in the form of women and alcohol, ones that had once carried a bad boy charm which now had ripen into a sour taste, a lifestyle that belonged to the golden years left in a past long left behind. He didn't belong anymore, but refused to quit. The violence was a vice, and despite loosing everything, he had never lost a match.

"He wants to train" your dad panted out to your worried mother, who thought worst. "For a match, in Chile, his hometown. He talks about coming back"

Your dad may have been the first to know such, but not the last. No, because what started with a call late at night on your dad's old office (He had said Remember me, old friend? oscilating between nostalgia and teasing, and when your dad called his name, a soft incredulous Pedro? he had let out one of his victorious golden laughs, like coins falling down, as to let him know it was still him, despite it all), ended up on the news.

He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. Like a warning before the big bad wolf struck again.

In a way, you think, as he stands before you, he is one: the sharp eyes and bearing teeth. A fighter never backs down, and he seemed to be always in guard.

Hadn't recognized you at first, blinking a few times before a lazy and easy sleazy smile appeared on his face.

"This the same girl that asked me to carry her on my shoulders?" and a chuckle. "I think I still could"

A low, dangerous rich rumble. A dare. Challenging. Pedro didn't know you too had changed in many ways, and he certainly didn't know either you had touched yourself at night to the sound of his velvety voice, wrapping you up like the sweat that set your skin ablaze, a fist in your mouth to stop his name from slithering past your lips, image set on the way his eyes roamed over your woman body like an all too well trap he always falls in like a vice, trying to think if it was real or just another one of the troubles you loved to cause yourself.

But once you're deep, you can only go deeper.

Your dad left for Chile a day earlier, to set preparations you could care less, which is why you're here.

You promised not to fuck it up, seeing a peek of that man who swore to protect you from the cruel world outside. You needed this. Wanted this. When his lips parted but closed, many words hanging on the air coated with burnt cigars and sweat (I'm sorry. I'm proud of you. Don't dissapoint me. Don't break my heart. Don't fuck this up. I love you), you decided you'd do everything in your power to get your dad back.

The task was rather easy: help The Viper train before his big match in Chile.

Easy, if said man wasn't your dad's best friend, Pedro Pascal.

You feel like a voyeuristic freak watching from a corner as he pounds into the boxing bag repeatedly. Drops of salty sweat begin to run through his back, the white cloth now near transparent with how it sticks to his tan skin.

Pedro is big. All boxers were, seeing them coming and going from your dad's gym. But he was beefy. Not the slender and compact, but the huge thick type. The one were just his hands alone looked like he could snap your neck in two if he wanted.

You're supposed to be out there, helping him, but after your dirty little session two nights ago, and yesterday's dinner at your home, you're just not capable to meet him in the eye, despite promises to your dad and the fire to get his affection back.

(He had come over for dinner. Your mom made lasagna, your favorite dish of hers, but the plate went cold as you took in his words like an oil, spreading the grave tone that coated your panties like a second skin. You pressed your legs together, a shaky breath escaping past your treacherous lips when he said how much you'd grown, blaming the sauce when he licked his lips. Your parents stood up to collect the dishes, and then he leaned down and whispered: Ain't you become a doll?)

(It was nothing. It was just a man who knew your father and no better. But you didn't, either)

Last night, to erase the spell he seemed to have cast upon you, you went to one of your old friends while he beat himself up on the gym, where you were supposed to be. But when your orgasm washed over, you said his name instead; no cold shower could scrub away the humilliation.

(And the house still smelled like him. Bitter coffee, leather and sweat. It was salty and citric, up in your nostrils with an invasion that was, if not, fitting. You were obssesed, with the champion and the legend, and he was an old man looking for a fresh doe-eyed girl who could take it)

You gawk like a man would, but, how not? Dude too appeared to be hung. What is it they say about men with big noses, big hands and big thighs? Big. Big. Big. Fucking hell, you needed to be locked up.

"I know you're in there, baby" his voice cuts through the silence. It's night, and you should be locking up already, scarce customers long gone. "Was never good at hiding"

You emerge from the shadows, sporting only a small black short and a white tank top. He chuckles. With you, nothing is a coincidence.

"Some things never change"

He snickers, "but glad some do"

You breath in, getting closer to him. Again, his scent intrudes your senses, making you dizzy like a drug. Your circuits are busy, and his high.

"You were supposed to help me 'round here" he motions the place. But you're stuck on his hands, wrapped in tape. Those hands, brief peek of his tattoo hidden between the white. "What would your dad say, huh?"

His tone is devoid of malice and full of teasing, but your stomach churns.

"He'd say what he always says" he shots up an eyebrow, as if daring you to speak. "That I'm a fucking failure"

Pedro seems taken back by the sudden change in the atmosphere, nonetheless, still charged with unspoken uncertainty.

"Your dad?" like he couldn't connect the man he knew to the one he is now.

"How would you know?" comes out harsher than you intended, a shameful bitter taste in your mouth. "A lot has changed since you left"

A quiet rage settles in his eyes, the beast caged behind the enclosure begging to be let out.

"Why you throwing it on my face? I ain't your daddy"

It shouldn't hurt. This is ridiculous. But, hell, it does; you're nobody's daughter.

"Good you aren't my fucking daddy"

The silence washes over you at the same time the embarrassment does. You realize too late the words that left your mouth, and if you're quick to try to run, he's faster, your back pressed to the material of the hanging punching bag.

"Say it" he demands, "again"

Your face grows hotter by the minute. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"First a terrible discreet and now a bad liar" his spit spurts in your face, each word with punctuation and a seethe. "Anything else?"

Yes. So much. You're drowning at this point, still not deciding if it's because of the smell his body is emanating or your heavy heart's fault. But he's the last person you'll tell all of this to.

"Not that it matters to you, anyway"

Yet, to an extent, it seems like he knows. As if he's able to see past the forced sweetness, the sarcasm and the layers of makeup and numbingly intoxicating vainilla. Pedro thinks at least he does.

So if you're on fire, he'll let you keep burning.

"I could be him, you know?" your ears start ringing at some point, and you're sure your heart stops. "I could be your daddy"

There's no going deeper than this.

"Thank God you aren't"

And it's like a slap to his face. The oh-mighty undisputed champion steps back. There is always a first, and maybe this is what loss feels like.

"Baby-"

Your ears keep on ringing as you move far from him, your heart dangerously close to leaping from your throat to the cold hard ground. Who does he think he is? He hasn't even been back for a day and has already found a way to break you from inside. To ruin you. As if he never left and has known every secret hidden between your ribs, his memory nestled since forever. But he's too picked apart your bones, in just a matter of seconds, biting down on the marrow of your deepest insecurities.

You hate him. You hate Pedro. You hope he looses, and you accept you've already lost your dad.

But then, as you realize your sat at the end of the gym, the worn out lockers on display, you have an idea.

With you, it was always about revenge, wasn't it?

The beast is awake, howling upon you. Ichor. Rage. This rotten girlhood that started with Malibu dreams and has ended on beds that reek of cheap whiskey and a quick fix in the name of forgetting.

"Pedro"

His head almost snaps looking in your direction. Not like he wanted to search for you to ask for your forgiveness. A match to mark his comeback and change his life will happen in just a couple of hours; he's got bigger problems than a girl who can't see things the way they are. He isn't an apostle of acceptance, but his wicked selfish nature finds pleasure in punishing you for his same sins.

But to play a game, you need two.

"In here" he answers, as if he hasn't moved since your little altercation.

"You need to shower" he catches in time the towel you throw at him. He chuckles dryly at your childish behavior. "You stink"

"You sure? 'Cause just a minute ago, it seemed you were into it" he's quick to quip, matching your energy.

That cocky motherfucker. So full of himself. You hate the sleazy smile of a winner. Does he think you're going down as easy as that?

Of course, you aren't blind. He's attractive, but is this worth it? You see his damp shirt and sweat drenched thighs. No. You look away, flustered.

"I think you need a break, old man. You're not who you used to be" you turn your back to him, so he doesn't see your red hot face, "seeing things that aren't real"

You start to walk to the changing room, and even if not spoken, there's an implication to follow you. So Pedro does, because it's night and Friday and he's got nowhere else to go.

He follows you into the locker room, but this isn't you.

Not the little girl who looked up to him like he could beat the whole world, hand in hand. Not the broken woman, who tried so hard to keep up a mask he could easily see through, maybe because it was akin to his own.

No. This is a fucking temptress. A siren call to drown.

"Sit"

He decided to be a boxer the day he knew he wasn't meant to be bent. The day he realized he hated being weak and wanted to always lead his own path. If it was through violence and punches, so be it.

But he's obeying your command, like a lap dog. If the change isn't noticeable enough, your wicked grin gives it away. He takes his place on the bench, sitting down with aching joints.

"What were you thinking?" you whisper.

A vein on his neck pops out aggressively at the remark.

"I can still handle it"

The way his voice drops to a lower octave, the scowl on his face prominent, like he's both offended and peaked in interest by your remark.

"Is that a challenge?" you tease, playfully. "I'm not your opponent, Pascal. Save it for tomorrow night"

Your fingers itch, and before you think about it twice, they're digging across the soft flesh of his broad back.

"What-"

You hush him almost instantly. "Let me"

You trace patters across the expanse of his hard planes, arousal pooling at the rough of his edges, the dry and scarred of his skin. It's also the sturdy built, what makes it harder to not... appreciate. You happen to be into appreciating the small things, that's all.

(But small, he definitely isn't)

"You're tired" you trace his worn muscles, lost in the way he seems to equally tense and relax under your fluttering touch. "Let me help you"

"What's this?" equally soft. A tattoo. But not the one's you've seen; you wonder if it is for your bad memory or because it's new. "Vae victis"

"Woe to the defeated" he's quick to answer. Taking your silence as a signal to continue, he adds. "It's a way to remember the ones I fight are people, not numbers"

If his voice carries a tinge of vulnerability, you must've imagined it.

"Never took you as the empath type" and your fingers leave his skin, as if it burns.

He lets out a soft humorless laugh.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, baby"

You don't let him have the last word, and to punctuate your final blow, you press a short kiss to the tattoo. He didn't see it coming-- your mint breath ghosting over his shoulder onto his face. Pedro forgets how to breath.

"I've always loved a good mystery"

Knockout.

He looks up from the bench, breathing still panting as he sees your retreating figure, until all that's left in the room is him and his worn-out body. Then, the soft pit-pat of the water hitting the tiles jolts him awake.

"It's ready" your voice says, but you're still there, and not back to the lockers.

Why were you preparing him a shower? It's not like he couldn't turn on the switch.

Pedro removes the towel from his neck and walks over to the showers, only to find you still there, white blouse as damp as his.

"What-"

"Get in"

He's about to repeat it, this time harsher and louder (Have you gone insane, woman?), but then your sweet persistent voice digs on his mulish character like a knife to a wound, and his reasoning has flown out of the window.

"You're gonna wet yourself" is all Pedro can manage to say.

The (possible) double meaning makes his belly rumble.

"I know" you repeat, answering for both. And then get inside.

The water starts to make your clothes hug your body, and he's lost in the curves of your ass and tits. Your muscles, while albeit not worked out, are both soft and strong, plush skin inviting for a bite. You've got both the firm and the soft that comes with age and womanhood, and his cock is itching to have his invite to your warm walls.

"What are you waiting for? Are you going to bath with clothes on?"

He rolls his eyes. "Look who's talking"

The cold water hits him when you too have taken off your clothes.

Couldn't get challenged because your too stubborn ass fell right into the bait.

His breath gets caught in his throat as your soapy hands explore his body. His adam's apple bobs as he gulps, enthralled by your firm yet gentle scrubbing, washing away remnants of sweat and dirt. All words are lost at the devotion, worship and reverance that seems to pour from your digits as you sweep his body.

"How?" your voice drowns out with the drops of water.

"Bad move" he whispers, seeing it across his arm. It's runs across almost all of his inner bicep, big. It didn't heal as good as he'd liked, but chicks seemed to dig it. "Had to go to the hospital"

You, however, seem more into the... understanding side of it. Not on the thrill and the danger, but on the damage that's healed in time but never left. More on the pain, and not the punch.

"And this?"

"Gloves"

"What?"

"Gloves" he repeats, still not that loud, as if he's ashamed. "They can create cuts when the skin is pulled during a strike"

"I don't get it"

And instead of mocking you, Pedro finds himself trying to explain it.

"It's because of the friction of the gloves against the skin" he sighs. "Was too dumb and too full of myself to understand it. Then it happened and I got this"

"What has changed?" you tease him, but it's as tender as a lingering touch. "Don't worry, Pedro. Everyone makes mistakes, even the greats"

It's a rather sweet moment, only broken by your teeth sinking into the scarred tissue, yet you're quick to soothe it with a wet kiss.

He groans, head falling back as your greedy little hands now slide through the hard of his chest, his nipples perked under the cold of the water and the warm of your touch; body electric.

"Fuck, baby. You're going to be the death of me" he groans, shivering at your insistence on making him break. "Keep tryin', but you won't make me beg, muñeca" (doll)

Still hellbent on denying you of himself, the hotheaded stubborn prideful bastard. Not even with your tits in the air, bare cunt aching.

"No?" you feign innocence, batting those wet eyelashes of yours. Then your lips find his scars, licking and pressing sweet warm kisses across the expanse of his chest and body, ending on the one across his face. For a moment, he falters at the intensity of your gaze, almost slipping on the tiles. "Still no?"

You fucking minx. "Fighters don't beg" he says, but every contact of your lips and tongue against his wet body send bolts of electricity to his aching semi-hard cock.

"But real men do"

Without further ado, you descend until your knees hit the tiles, water running through your legs like a river. You don't wait for an answer, all you need to know in his parted lips and his deep stare at you through dark hooded eyes.

A low, guttural moan tears from Pedro's throat as your tongue flicks a quick lick at his sensitive head. He's grabbing your hair with rough hands, tangling into your damp curls, his hips jerking involuntarily as your lips wrap around the tip, tongue swirling and teasing the most sensitive parts.

"Fuck" he groans, "aren't you trouble, doll? Really gonna make me beg for that release, ain't you? With that tongue of yours"

You give another proud lick at his throbbing angry red flesh, head already leaking with precum.

"What'd your daddy think about his daughter sucking his best friend's cock in the showers?"

You ignore him, too busy lost in the way his cock throbs and pulses in your mouth, his balls tightening with a pressure that built more each passing second.

"Not a talker, huh? Were that loud mouth of yours go?" he teases, his grip not faltering on your hair. "That's what y'r daddy said. Or maybe he was talking of another daughter. Not this little obedient slut who devours my cock like she's starved" his voice is strained. "Such a good girl, though, taking care of an old man like this. You like how it tastes?"

You pull out, making him groan.

"Why'd stop?" his voice is strained, rough with desire. His pupils are blown wide, circling with desbelief and something more primal. But he'll never say that, will he?

Too bad for him, you don't know when to shut up. Or quit.

"I want to hear you say it"

He chuckles darkly, his grip on your hair tighter now. "What'd say?"

"Me? Nothing" your lips part, words slurring before you think better. "You is I wanna hear"

"Fucking cunt" his eyes darken, "think you can tease me and get away with it? No, you'll be a good little cocksleeve and take it all"

You moan at his lewd words, thighs clasping together in search for some relief for the pressure building on your bare cunt.

"That's right, you dirty cocksucker. Look at you, thinking you can bend a fucking champion like me"

He knew his power over you. Frankly, he had to thank your old man for fucking you up so bad. Pedro loved how all your resolute seemed to vanish in the air, looking so eager and willing, desperate to please him. Be it for praise or for how much you wanted this like him, but it is this what makes him feel like a true winner.

"Don't you wanna suck this dick so bad?" his thumb tugs down your lip, "Be a good girl and I might give it to you"

Just like that, you're done.

"Please, I want to be a good girl. Use me, fuck me with your mouth"

He lets out a growl, voice low and rough. "Oh, t's alright, muñeca. I'll use this dirty little mouth of yours, all right" he fists your hair again, pulling you closer. "Gonna fuck you so good, you'll be feeling me all week: every time you taste, swallow and speak. Fill your dirty mouth so good with so much cum, you'll be tasting it for hours, for days, 'n for the rest of your fucking life"

Pedro thrusts his hips forward, pushing more and more of his thick, hard cock past your lips. He sets a steady pace, eyes locked on your face as he fucks your mouth with deep strokes.

"Just like that" he praises, breaths sharp as he looses himself in how his girth is nestled in your mouth. "Take it all, like a good little girl. So show me, baby, show me how much you love the taste of my cock. How much you need it-- crave it"

Your moan gets lost in your constricted throat, struggling to take him deeper, breathing and swallowing almost impossible with his girth taking up all of the space inside of your mouth. If Pedro felt like a king before, now he feels like a god.

"Such a perfect little cock sleeve for me to use, to fill, to fuck" he groans, his hips picking up speed, thrusts growing harder and more urgent.

His orgasm starts building, and he knows it by the way his balls tighten and his cock pulses inside the heat of your throat. Pedro knows he's close to coming, that he's seconds away from it.

Even if he's lost completely in the act, he's foremost a gentleman, but when he's about to pull out, your hands grip tightly to this thighs, and hold him in place as he tries to move. A rush of lust washes him over the cold water, a dark desire coursing through him at your pathetic display of eagerness and desperation.

"Fuck, baby" Pedro's voice reduced to a low, guttural rumble as he gazes down at you. You swear you can see a brief glint of admiration on his eyes. "You want my cum that badly, muñeca? Do you want to swallow it all down like a good little slut?"

He's rocking his hips forward, burying himself balls-deep in your warm throat, his swollen cock pulsing and throbbing against your tonsils as his orgasm crashes over him. Pedro throws his head back as so do his eyes, body shuddering and convulsing as thick ropes of hot cum shoot from his cock.

"You're doin' great, baby" he pants, his grip on your hair tight as he grounds his hips against your face, pushing himself deep into your mouth as he physically could. "Show me what a good little cumslut you are and don't waste a fuckin' drop. Swallow it all"

Aren't you perfect? Gulping and swallowing, trying your best good girl shtick as you take everything he has to give you, his musky sweat filled scent up your nostrils, despite the soap still covering some of his body.

"Fuck, y/n" he groans, body going limp. He falls back against one of the shower's walls, chest up and down with uneven breaths. "Greedy little girl with a greedy little throat"

He slowly pulls out of your mouth, his softening cock slipping from your lips.

"Get up, baby. Your father's bill will be brutal if we don't hurry up" he hauls you up and into his arms. "But truth is, I'ont give a fuck. I'm still thinking 'bout your lips 'round my cock"

Before you say anything, he's dragging your body again like you weight nothing, but this time, it's to crush his hot desperate mouth into yours with a rough kiss. Pedro can taste himself mixed with your sweet and drool. He groans at that, the sound painfully animal.

"Hey" he gently tugs you, a mannerism you would never associate with him. "Where you think you're going?"

You blink once. Twice. Then again, slower.

"What are you talking about?"

Your back meets the wall, Pedro brutally slamming your body until the tiles dig into your skin.

"Ow- wait" you hiss, "the fuck's gotten into you?"

"Think I'll let you go after this?" he growls. Then, chuckles, darkly so. "No, baby. I gotta try first" his fingers grab the supple skin of your ass until you feel them melt into it. He then spanks it, creating a weird sound with the combined water droplets. "Need to see if the pussy is as sweet as your mouth. So be a good girl and let me handle this, alright? As I said, I still can"

And for a reason, that feels like a threat.

His calloused digits venture dangerously close to your entrance, fingers going in. He coats it with your slick, making him laugh that laugh uniquely his.

"Fuck, muñeca. You're as wet as this shower head" Pedro presses himself into you, his cock touching your stomach. "Don't ever try to lie to me again, I ain't no fool"

Traitorous body. But his seething voice, the way his dominance slithers into jolts through your slick folds. You whine, pressing your tighs together. Pedro's quick to see this, and before you get to say anything else, he parts them roughly.

"I said I ain't no fool" he grunts while rubbing the tip of his cock over your folds, applying pressure on your clit. "Bad girl"

No warning, just his cock slipping past your wet dripping folds. Your hands fly to reach his neck for support.

"S'fucking grabby" he teases, slipping his pulsating dick between your folds once more, pressing and then pushing in slowly.

He swallows your whimper in a kiss, your poor pussy stretching to accommodate his thick girth. His big hands pull your body closer to his.

"But I'm the grabby one"

He growls. "Quit talking"

With one brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, balls pressed against the flesh of your ass. You grip his hair, chocolate curls tangled between your fingers. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. The pain carries waves of pleasure laced within, despite his aggressive thrusting and quick pace. You roll your hips upwards, eliciting a faint whimper out of your lips.

"No, doll" his fingers dig in your waist, a purple soon to follow. "You do what I say, clear?"

His cock grinds forward, stretching you out.

"Fuck-!" you choke out, "Pedro!"

He growls when he hears his name on your lips, an all consuming desire to make you his washing over him.

He then grabs you by your legs, hooking them around his waist.

You mewl out his name in a cry.

"See?" Pedro blurts out. "Told ya' I still had it on me, baby"

Your hands scramble to grab him by his shoulders, the pain and pleasure making your head spin. He can feel your tits jump with each bounce provoked by his thrusts, the rosy skin pressed against his chest.

"Gonna fill you up so bad, you won't ever doubt me again"

Pedro pulls back and uses his arms to push himself up and hover over you. He began to drive his hips faster, loud clapping noises mixing with the falling water.

"I'm- I'm gonna"

"Ask, baby. Remember what I told you?"

"Yes. Sorry, daddy" you whimper. "Please, let me-"

"Let you what?" Pedro chuckles.

"Cum. Let me cum. Please, daddy, please" the words slurred as you feel yourself on edge.

"Very well" grinning satisfied, "but don't you dare keep any of those pretty noises just for yourself"

A high-pitched wails falls past your lips as you throw your head and eyes back, your legs shaking.

"Pedro-!"

He grunts at the sensation of your juices on his cock, coating it. In the way your walls flutter around his length, pussy tight making him groan against your neck, where he has now buried his face.

"Stay there, baby. It's my turn" his hips snap and his thrusts turn sloppy. "Gonna paint all of your tight folds with my cum"

His grip tightens as he fucks himself silly into you, chasing his high.

"S'fucking tight" he groans loudly. "Such a good girl for me"

He comes undone, salty hot ropes of thick white cum spurting inside of you, his cock deeply nestled inside of your welcoming warm walls.

"Fuck. Need to fill you up, doll. Until you're so stuffed you can't move without making a mess"

The water keeps falling, as you whimper softly, burying your face in his neck. Pedro keeps rocking into you while riding his orgasm out, soft breathless groans leaving him. He places you down, some of his cum on your thighs. He uses his finger to push it all inside.

"We have been to wasteful to keep on being, right?" Pedro jokes before closing the valve.

"Be honest. You don't give a damn about the planet"

He lets out a hearty laugh.

"Guilty as charged"

There's some silence before he's helping you get back on your shorts.

(He smacks your ass, saying you did it on purpose. You agree. After all, he's quick to know when you lie)

"Good girl" he praises with a small kiss. "Did so well for me"

You kiss him back, fiercely, your mouth practically sucking his lips.

"For good luck, daddy"

Pedro chuckles at your antics. "You fucking minx"

He leaves you after that, going for his stuff. But you stand still in the middle, lost like a little deer. Your ragged breaths fill the room, and he feels a little guilty about having fucked his best friend's daughter on his gym before leaving first thing in the morning to his home country.

"C'mere" you turn your head. "What? C'mon, don't leave me hanging"

You carefully make way to where he is, back in the same bench.

"Sit" he orders.

Oh, the irony of it all.

Once you take place next to him, he makes sure to remove a strand of wet hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"When I win, which I will" you chuckle at his ego, "I'll be sure to remember you, doll"

So when your dad sends you a video of Pedro's match in Chile a day later and The Viper winks to the camera, you like to think it's for you.

[kanmom51]

Chapter 3 in the making

Traveling together to "film a show" was big (yes, this was to film a show, but we all know it was mainly to spend much needed time together, and if we didn't, let's be honest that we did, but if we didn't, then JK literally confirmed this for us in episode 1 of AYS). But back in 2023 when a public Jikook was a scarcity, left us with more question marks than anything else as to how this will actually be coming to fruition.

Enlisting together was HUGE. Like H U G E. Them being the only ones to do so not only within BTS but the first and only idols to do so. A choice made by the two of them. To do this together. With each other. Not with anyone else.

Are You Sure?! Do we need any words here? Like really? Because AYS was as loud as F$@&. No, seriously, idk what you want to call it, a soft launch, a smack in the noggin, whatever you do, it was quite clear to those who have eyes and a brain. With or without knowing who JM and JK are, their history, their culture. Louder to those who do know them.

Since their enlistment and even through Muse and AYS we got practically nothing from the two. Oh, we did have a couple of interesting pics from their basic training and graduation, a few pics from the unit, a shit ton of signatures, some more interesting than others (joint messages, pretty decorations...) and a few nice messages, but mostly silence from the two. This stood out even more so in comparison to the almost barrage we've been getting from NJ and Tae, both enlisted only a day before Jikook.

And then came December. With less than 6 months to go.

JK going live from his new place. Dare I say their new place? It's not like we haven't talked about this over the past 18 months. Speculating, wondering. But man (figure of speech y'all), these last couple of months, they are sure making me feel like what we saw as leaning to the delusional side or more so wishful thinking, ain't no delusion or wish, but more so a very possible reality to come.

But let's get back on track.

So, December gave us:

"We spend our free time together", "we sing together", "we sing while we shower daily together", not to mention JK's btw remark about seeking privacy away from others "to sing".

Then came JM in January with their "conversations before going bed" about "what kind of image we want to show" and "what kind of lives we will live moving forward".

And February rolls in and we think that we will be back to their silent treatment, but JK comes to us with a heartfelt message (they really feel the end and want out). But nothing prepared us for Hobi's birthday live and once again those two with their "we share a room" and "we have stories to tell, but not sure how much we actually can..." that won't scare us off, lol.

Funny how every single hysterical claim made by those who were hit so very hard by their joint enlistment has been shut down by the two of them by now!!

Anyway, do we see a pattern here? Can we call this a pattern? Is there more to come? Well, obviously there is post military service, but seeing as to how they have been in the past couple of months, I'm thinking that we will be getting more even before that.

I'm guessing that conclusion isn't a far fetched one, seeing what we got last night.

And OMG, that was another HUGE loud af Jikook statement.

Ribbon on right: "I love you 🖤"

Ribbon on left: "BTS Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook".

Yes, a statement.

I stand by that.

Because even if you don't think it's anymore than a cute thing, just another thing that Jikook do together, then you are not seeing the cultural context here.

So, several content producers/directors that were Hybe employees (directors of I am still, AYS and JM's production diary amongst others) have left the company to open their own company (Idk too much about the company they opened, but my guess is that they will continue working with Hybe as contractors rather than employees, but also allowing them to work with other companies and create their own content, including producing a new boy band). And they posted the congratulation they have received.

From Hobi.

Hoshi and Woonhoo of Seventeen.

Each sending a separate wreath.

Zico

And there are wreaths they received from more than one sender. Joint wreaths. But this was from companies (joint ceos), or business partners. Not two separate idols or people.

Now, if you don't see what's huge here, let me show you the K side of this to maybe get some perspective (although, let's be honest, you don't need to be on the K side to see this is a couple thing).

Yes, I wonder the same thing!!!

There is more.

So much more.

The K side of things is literally going mad. Good mad.

And there is a reason they are.

This is most definitley not something friends, as close as they might be, would do. Not friends, not multimillionaire friends. They most definitley can afford two wreaths. And that's one of the points here.

Once again.

This was a choice.

Not to send separate congratulative wreaths. They sure can afford to do so. Even if they aren't on vacation at the moment and are in the base. Seriously, two young men closing in on their 30s, independently financially sufficient and so much more.

Yeah, this most definitley was a statement.

And the frenzy K Jikookers are in at this very moment is well enough proof to that.

Btw, haven't been to the dark side, don't know just how crazy and rabid the cult and antiis are going, but my guess would be...

Anyways, sitting here smile plastered on my face, I'm kind of starting to think, that this is maybe, just maybe, going to become our new normal. Jikook doing couplie things, openly, proudly, unapologetically.

And if this is them even before they are discharged...

What a great time this is going to be.

[starcatcher-psywurm]

Tried my hand at making a page doll for my boy Phantasmagoria!

I haven't done pixel art in actual years, so I'm really happy with this. I think it'll make a great footer or header for his bio for when I do eventually get art comm'd of him.

[demonlorddiva]

Sugar daddy things Lucifer does

Idk man I just work here. Kinda set mid/end of game cause I like that mc can summon the boys 😈 also some pre dating going into actually dating

The first time he paid for something expensive, y’all weren’t even dating

When you were in the human world when Satan and Lucifer swapped bodies, a store caught your eye

You’ve wanted this item for YEARS but never had the money to pay for it

And of course he notices

“Seems to me you like that piece, why don’t you purchase it?”

You laugh cause “who has that kind of money?”

Little do you know he does

Satan is the one who suggested you all go inside and have you look at this item

Maybe it was him trying to one up Satan in the moment, or maybe he was just being genuinely nice, but with your back turned he purchased the item without a second thought

He won’t take no for an answer if you try to refuse. I mean it’s already paid for what can you do now?

Pays for your apartment

Starts off with him “not liking your apartment” and deeming it “not safe”

And who were you to complain? Well maybe a little, you liked your apartment and liked paying for it. But the trips to the devildom made it hard to hold down a job in the human world

“It’s too small, how are the brothers and I supposed to visit? Plus no security guards? We must find something decent for you.”

To him, “decent” is a penthouse apartment in the city, four bedrooms, walk in closet and your own private balcony

He makes sure the security cameras are new and they have an on site security team just in case

If you are actually dating you have a human world credit card from him (DONT TELL MAMMON)

At first if you don’t use it or just use it for basic essentials he gets genuinely offended

LIKE USE THE CARD what do you think he gave it to you for

He knowssss you’ve been talking to asmo about the clothing item you want so why haven’t you gotten it yet??

He knows you won’t gamble or bleed him dry like mammon, so if you want something he wants nothing more than to make you happy

Ofc lavish dinners and outings with him are normal, he’s too quick with the check when it comes to the table for you to be able to pay ;)

I feel like this would work with mammon, diavolo, and Barbatos??? Thoughts?? Also kinda want to make a fic where Lucifer buys mc a Lolita dress cause that’s kinda my dream gn mc ofc cause who doesn’t like pretty dresses??? 🤣 love y’all hope your doing well

[kenzan-brainrot-mp4]

Idk more random small details about the pyih ending that make me insane because I can't shut up about this stupid game:

Idk how deliberate this was from the translation team (and I have my own mixed feelings about the caption translations from more recent rgg games) but I really like the (potentially unintentional) double-meaning from Saejima saying "Guys our age are supposed to be smart enough not to go chasin' legends." You'd think that because the entire conversation revolves around and constantly repeats the words "dream/yume" (cough cough Yakuza 5) he'd say "not to go chasin' dreams", but I think by using the word "legend" instead he's able to refer to not only the legend of the treasure that everyone's been pursuing the whole game, but also the living legend himself, Kiryu Kazuma (in jp and eng he is referred to very often as a legend/legendary ("densetsu no ryuu/yakuza" - "legendary dragon/yakuza")). Not only was Majima chasing after the legend of some miracle treasure but he's also been chasing the "legend" that is Kiryu himself (something something idolization, something something Majima always wanting to bring back that strength and vitality Kiryu had at the peak of his "legend" days (see: yakuza 1 with Majima trying to fight Kiryu constantly to help him regain his strength, trying to especially hard to support him since yakuza 3), even as the chance of that happening dwindles, even if reality is literally telling him to his face that they can't go back to those days, that everyone's getting older and not what they used to be). Which imo makes Majima saying "Well, still just a dream in the end." all the more heartbreaking. It's resigned, not only to the fact that he'd never find that miracle fix to save Kiryu's life but also the fact that he can't, no matter how hard he tries, keep Kiryu around forever, that he can't keep up the image of the legendary Dragon of Dojima up for him forever. Idk I just think that was very cool and sneaky as hell if intentional, especially since they don't switch out the word "dream" for "legend" anywhere else in the conversation.

Saejima mentioning how Daigo said "Majima's runnin' around like he's forty again". Okay honestly I'm just putting this because I think it's funny that even while Daigo was going through his emo era and pissed off at Kiryu for "killing" his dad, he still remembers how enthusiastic/energetic Majima was over Kiryu all the way back in ~y1, even though we never saw him in that game. I mean it's painful as hell to think about now, considering the present day in-universe and what would end up becoming of that enthusiasm as the years went on but uh, hey.

Majima being so god damn deflective while Saejima's in the middle of revealing all his motivations for going to Hawaii. He says 3 whole lines during that part of the cutscene but it's all so Majima-like it hurts (this part's gonna be Long):

• "Told him that, huh?" (responding to Saejima recounting what Majima told Shigaki about not wanting to go to Hawaii) - Majima trying to act nonchalant/aloof while knowing what Saejima's about to start bringing up, trying to act that way even though we all know damn well that he remembers perfectly (and probably painfully) well how he acted/what he said before going to Hawaii, considering the circumstances surrounding the whole situation. His body language also starts to change from here; he turns his head to look directly at Saejima when talking to him less often, spends more time looking ahead/up/down/avoiding direct eye contact in general even when Saejima turns to look him while speaking multiple times/for prolonged periods of time (istg I could talk about Majima's body language in serious moments like these literally forever but I'll try to keep it brief) • "Kid's always been a ball breaker" (lmao) - Paired with the line before this one (Daigo's reaction to Majima). He tries to sidestep the actual point of mentioning what Daigo said, (directly exposing just how much Majima changes when Kiryu is around/involved) with feigned exasperation, and once again does not actually acknowledge Saejima's point. His body language also changes again to something more restless; (adjusts his posture from the previously relaxed way he was leaning against the car, looks away from Saejima completely, starts tapping his foot/bouncing his leg, lifting his cigarette without actually taking a drag from it) • And then of course the big one: "Well, still just a dream in the end. Stupid or not." Up until this point, Majima hasn't said anything of any actual substance until Saejima directly namedrops Kiryu. It's about the most he actually says of any worth regarding his feelings towards Kiryu himself, but that line alone reveals so much about his feelings not only in that moment, but likely the feelings he's had throughout the series towards Kiryu. It's totally unfiltered, for once, showing off his resignation from not only his inability to help Kiryu by the end of this game but likely also the weight of chasing after Kiryu all these years (again, "Guys our age are supposed to be smart enough not to go chasin' legends." Cue Majima always chasing after Kiryu/what Kiryu wants for literal decades). It's a Singular straight answer after two deflections but it says so damn much, especially coming from Majima himself. • I also just wanna note the quick range of expressions Majima's face goes through when Saejima says "Yeah, too bad about that 'elixir of eternal life.'"

↓

‎

Apart from the different expressions he makes themselves, I think it's so fucking interesting (read: painful) how this occurs when Saejima (who, by the way, is at that moment not looking at Majima) is technically supposed to be the one that the player's eyes are focused on in that moment, since he's the one speaking. The camera doesn't try to manipulate the focus of the shot to hide Majima's expressions/feelings, they don't cut him out of the frame, they don't actually do anything to directly hide Majima's face at all, but most people (including Saejima himself) would miss this regardless, because it's done in a moment where, theoretically, nobody would or should be looking. Hell, even when the camera gives us a Direct close-up shot of Majima's face when Saejima mentions Kiryu ("Kazuma Kiryu. You never could give up on that one.") his expression doesn't betray too much of how he feels, but it's only once focus is finally taken away from him that he becomes most expressive. (rgg has always been so good with showing off characters' feelings with microexpressions and I feel like this applies to Majima especially. the same kind of thing happened in y0 when he saw Makoto at the end of the game (another scene that I could analyze for hours). The times when he doesn't speak and just. Reacts subtly and potentially subconciously with his face are ironically some of the moments where he says the most about himself. Go off king don't openly express your thoughts or feelings at all 🔥🔥🔥) • And then after all that (when Saejima looks at Majima again) Majima changes the topic to Noah. You could argue that Saejima, with bringing everything before that up, was trying to open up the opportunity for discussion on Majima's part about his behavior/feelings towards Kiryu, however this was largely unsuccessful. He only succeeds in this when he finally just says Kiryu's name outright (which, by the way, surprised me so much when I first watched the cutscene. I thought they were going to keep dancing around saying Kiryu's name directly/only implying him for the rest of that conversation, but I straight up gasped when Saejima said his whole name like that. It was significant, and Saejima wanted it to be, too), and even then that success is only marginal. It's enough for Majima to finally give away one of his "real" thoughts, completely unfiltered, about as straightforward as it's gonna get, just Once in that whole part of their conversation, but after that he immediately goes to pivot the topic of the conversation to something else. Which like, damn. Damn. That's pretty crazy.

The final detail I wanna mention, (this one I think mostly everyone got) was the way that Majima repeats his line from the beginning of the game "Where do I begin? That's right… (etc)." I love how they decided to have Majima say that line again differently, because the differences say so much. The version from the beginning of the game is said in a deeper more "intimidating" tone. The whole point of it is for story-telling drama, the theatrics, specifically to entertain/pique the interest of an audience, but the way he says it to Kiryu is much more easy-going and authentic. Ironically, it's once he leaves the player's sights and once he's with Kiryu that he discards the theatrics, where he simply shows off his fully genuine self re-telling the story. (One thing I will note is that the eng sub/dub translated that line so it would be different in the beginning and end ("Alright -- let's set things straight." (to player) -> "Where do I begin? That's right." (to Kiryu) even though he says the same thing twice in the japanese audio. I know that this is so that they can match up Majima's audio with his animations in the english dub, and they reuse the eng dub captions even for the japanese dub, and while I do not neccessarily. Like that. It does hammer in the tone difference between the way he speaks to the player vs. to Kiryu further (again, trying to be more intimidating vs. more easy going), which is an okay consolation if nothing else). I just think it's crazy to hear him talk like that with Kiryu after all this time, considering that he usually only talks this directly with Kiryu in fleeting moments. No high-pitched voice/fluctuating tones, no "Yo, Kiryu-chan", just being straightforward and to the point. Man. God.

It's been 4 days since I beat this game and everytime I see someone post about it or think about it for more than 10 seconds I die and explode into a million pieces. At some point I want to 100% this game so I can get as much dialogue/as many details as possible (also the game's just really fun lol), but for now I am just rotating this cutscene in my head forever and ever in an endless cycle. I am so sorry for posting about this game like everyday but I am so unwell over it it's not even funny I hope you can forgive me </333

[charmed-asylum]

I want to start with saying this among so many things I’m gonna say though out honey idk about u but damn u are talented like way you wrote this and wrote it so realistic so authentic so well amazing. Lee not perfect plastic version of himself or foam at the mouth monster but a more if this was everyday thing I see this and the reader too. He didn't mind. Everyone talked about him too. Granted, he was a bit shady sometimes, with his secret businesses here and there, but it was something he had in common with you. Both of you fell outside of what was appropriate.

As I said we start right off the back on an odd way to start him out ( which he probably done so often ) eating lunch on watch or should I say watching her. ( which u so wonderfully done brought it back and put a bow on it ) He noticed that about you. How your body moved almost fluently away from others. You didn't like to be touched. I mean it in my mind feels or looks what a ballerina would look like . All in her own little world .

We know from his little thoughts to himself that he been watching her for a long time . How long is she like 5 years younger or so and he grew up with her or longer. Fascinated !! lol like from what goes around to watching to even speaking to your parents and they didn’t see the signs probably how reader been missing it but let’s be realistic sometimes it’s like that which is probably like many others I too find myself drawn and maybe 🤔 rooting for the two .

Isn’t funny how it’s the ones that don’t do or act the same like the general does that look away . Little things and poof they draw it up to a big thing “ Too different, too quiet, or too loud. You didn't say the right things, you didn't like the right things. You were too honest. “ I like how you add it more of a separation then the others. Because it makes it feel idk show more realistic not just oh she different because she has brown hair and blue eyes not blonde hair and blue eyes or what not which I mean if that’s your reader good but way u write it feels more like you ( as in the reader reading it) . Then we got him talking about his little fantasies hehe man OO man this man something else

It’s so sad but true how many of us can relate again to this reader, “ It was the time that you could disappear in a story and live a life you were never going to get. Experiencing all the emotions and adventures safely from your own home. Romance, and travels, fighting dragons or being a ruling Queen. In real life you liked things simple, but in your head you were free to do whatever you wanted. In your head people liked you. You belonged.” And again this is a prime example of why like me why this story means so much . I mean what do we do all time from a sport to video games to online videos or simulation games we all do something to escape. It’s funny because she this adorable girl and she so innocent huh something I’m sure Lee Lee drool a water fall if he knew knew maybe guess but not knew. And she reading smut fantasy fairy tales lord if only Lee can read your mind u be wrap his chubby fingers.

In all the places I assume Lee be somewhere else but to pick her at a library lord he bold. Hehe just imagining him in his uniform between those book shelfs . But dang a lang snap me out a brown paper bag and glass cup of ice and water bc I never thought I saw this but man o man was this such a scene.

“They said he liked the booze and he loved the ladies who gave it away for free. He had always been pleasant if you ever saw him, devoted to his work, but gossip still followed him” now silly but it’s a question he was always been pleasant do you mean like she always seen him but in hindsight or in general because this kinda goes with beginning when he lays the ground work on his history with reader. So she been aware of him but still doesn’t realize it. Man o man I can’t say a thing bc I tend to act the same way.

Remember how I said I see now and agree w Lee well haha that went to 💯 percent higher after watching they laugh at her about chairs CHAIRS really shit we all need a little bit of comfort Im sure no one laugh at Goldie locks so why her I swear ooooo I will attack w my small hands and sharp nails rawwww and kick them til they are nothing bit soup 🍜. Like really really well this is the world we sadly live in . “ So you had talked to your boss if he could make an exception, if you could keep yours, and store the new one. But of course he hadn’t wanted to. And you admittedly got a little upset. Word got out, or maybe they heard you. You had cried on the toilet, but tried very hard to gather yourself and continue like nothing was wrong. It didn’t matter. They knew. And they thought you were crazy.”

Then we hear what she feels about her parents. “Your parents were disappointed, no doubt, but they always assured you they loved you, and that it would be nice in their old day to spend it with the three of you. You wondered if they had a different child than you, if they had wanted to get another. Someone easier to handle.” I mean shit this poor girl can’t win. LEE SAVE HER OR USE I NEED AN ALIBI FOR WHOOPING THIER ASS. and in walks Lee once again coming to save the day. Again once again it’s like having to take it from page one. Hehehe like he doing it all and she so use to not being treated or ask her opinion she doesn’t know how to deal with it. Small convocations complements etc etc all I wanted to do was eeek with excitement and then again pass out grab a brown bag and glass of ice water . Like way she was so into the story and ask about chickens or how she blurted out her favorite color. And he offers her how to drive ahhhhh loving it. Way he spoke to her and kept giving her words of encouragement ahhh my god or calling her cleaver or what not I am getting tattoo this story name to my heart bc I’m who always was addicted went more by now even about wanting a cat or learning to drive being lonely my god I don’t know how she made it I be dead but in all it’s smart on him getting the ability to talk to her with no way out and calling her a good girl he won just with that even though I don’t think she realizes what happening being she was like oh I will help him find a good girl but also was left a smile and was like I need to find ways to talk to him better next time in all this was such a good 1st chapter

Dream Of A Girl

Part 1

Summary: The sheriff had his eyes on you for a while, the town's joke of an Omega. You never thought you'd find love, but around him you just can't help acting on your inner instincts.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x reader

Word count: 3899

Warnings: Lee, small town gossip and bullying, neurodivergent reader, slurs\insult of neurodivergent back in the day, no cats🥺, turns slightly non-con at the end, Alpha\Omega

Notes: absolutely loved writing this, got really into it, I hope you'll enjoy it, and make sure to drop me a comment, I would love to hear what you think!💕

Series masterlist

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

He was watching you again. Inside his car, on his lunch break, slurping from his milkshake as his eyes never left your form. Your head was turned down, watching the pavement as you moved, yet you seemed to be aware where everyone else was because you never bumped into anyone. He noticed that about you. How your body moved almost fluently away from others. You didn't like to be touched. You flinched if someone did.

You were alone a lot. Listening to the noises around you, or he would sometimes hear you murmur to yourself. Sometimes you made strange noises if you were excited. He knew what they said about you.

They thought you were weird.

He didn't mind. Everyone talked about him too. Granted, he was a bit shady sometimes, with his secret businesses here and there, but it was something he had in common with you. Both of you fell outside of what was appropriate.

Of course, he was the sheriff, so no one dared to say it to his face. But they did to you. He had watched you for years. With your pretty hair, and that body…

He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. You always had an effect on him.

He loved your eyes, although you barely look up to him. You do that. You glanced past people, or talked with your face turned a different way. Some people looked at you funny when you did.

But he knows why. Your parents told him once. When you got dared into doing something naughty. You didn't like it, but told him you had said you would do it before they told you what you were supposed to do. And you needed to keep your promises.

He talked to you sternly about how wrong it was of you, and you sat there with tears in your eyes. Head down. Like you had committed the worst crime. You were a good girl. Your parents told him that. It wasn't your fault. It was those kids. They thought it was funny. School talked to them. They left you alone. But you didn't make many friends.

Too different, too quiet, or too loud. You didn't say the right things, you didn't like the right things. You were too honest.

He liked that about you. He didn't need to wonder what you thought. You weren't two faced like all the other bitches. Who smiled at him in hope for favors, or in hope he would turn his eyes away from what they were doing. You were, you.

When you were alone, or thought you were anyway, your shoulders relaxed and he could sometimes see you smiling. Most times you would if you spotted an animal. Talking to it, like it was your friend. And you were good with kids. Really good. They flocked to you and you easily handled them. You didn't like sudden noises, and you were very clear about that, and they listened to you.

That's something people did like about you, they had no problem ditching their kids on you. You were a natural.

It was one of the things he noticed first about you. That drew him towards you. Your natural motherly instincts. He knew you would do excellent with your own. And the idea of you, one or 2 kids by the hand, belly swollen with another, made him rock hard each time.

God, you would be so pretty. He imagined your children; babies with brown hair, maybe a cleft in their chin, like his. The family Bodecker. You, all soft and sweet smelling. A ring on your finger. It made him come so swiftly once he touched himself.

He was happy no one snatched you up. They all couldn't look past your different behavior and see the gem underneath. They were blind to your qualities. What fools. But it worked in his favor though. Such a good, sweet girl. All ripe for the picking.

You were growing and seemed to not be aware of him. That was okay, he was fine with letting you have this time for yourself. Just out of college, young women needed to find their own way. He didn't want you to feel like you missed out on everything once he married you. That led some housewives to turn a little crazy, he saw it all the time, married at 18 or even 16 at times, high school lovers, and by the time baby number 2 was on the way, they looked worn out and disappointed in life.

Not you though. You finished school, you had a nice job, good parents. He gave you that time. He never was far away though. Watching you. Making sure you stayed out of trouble. Or trouble didn't find you. There weren't many boys to approach you, but those with eyes did, those who were too eager to be bothered with your quirkiness. He made sure to scare them off. He didn't need the competition.

He had a good job, a job that gave him power over this town, a nice house. He could afford a family. When the time came, he could convince your parents he was a good match. But most important was he needed to convince you.

📖

You walked into the library to return your books and pick up new ones. You came here at least once a week, often twice, as you loved reading. It was the time that you could disappear in a story and live a life you were never going to get. Experiencing all the emotions and adventures safely from your own home. Romance, and travels, fighting dragons or being a ruling Queen. In real life you liked things simple, but in your head you were free to do whatever you wanted. In your head people liked you. You belonged.

Lately you got very into fairytales again. Consuming every book you could find, rereading classics, daydreaming about the magic that was both wonderful and scary. The Alpha King, and Omega and the false mate, Sleeping Beta…they were all lovely stories and you couldn't get enough. You walked through the rows upon rows of books, feeling calm and like you were amongst friends. Here you were safe. Here you were liked.

Your hands occasionally picked up a book and read the cover, lost in thought. You didn't even notice the presence next to you, until a voice shook you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me.”

You froze and looked up. Sheriff Bodecker looked down at you.

“Oh”, you said, stepping away.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I didn't mean for you to leave. I just wanted to grab this book.”

You watched him as he picked up a faded green book. He flipped through the pages. You hadn't expected him to read. You scolded yourself after the thought. You didn't know him. It's just that…he didn't seem the type. You heard stories about him. They said he liked the booze and he loved the ladies who gave it away for free. He had always been pleasant if you ever saw him, devoted to his work, but gossip still followed him.

Gossip was tricky, though. For years rumors went around that you were stupid. That you were rude. That you were mentally challenged. They didn't understand you. And you honestly often didn't understand them. Luckily your parents loved you and stood up for you. They might not always understand but they didn't punish you the way other parents would have. They didn't make you feel bad for not always looking them in the face. Or for being blunt and too honest. How your head was in the clouds at times. Or how people overwhelmed you sometimes. But other people, they didn't get it. And they didn't like what they didn't get.

You watched everyone around you making friends and falling in love. Easily getting through events you struggled with. They got married, and started a family. It was difficult at times, to realize you wouldn't have that, but eventually you accepted it. You were comfortable with your life. You had your family, and one or two acquaintances, and you were okay. It was nice being alone. Quiet. When you were alone, no one expected something of you.

You watched out of the corner of your eye how he assessed the book, before he looked at you again. “Do you know if it's any good?”

You glanced at the title like you had to think about it. “It's a little boring. But I don't know what you're looking for.”

“Just a little something to entertain me in the evenings. I was never much of a reader, but I thought why not read a book once in a while instead of always putting the telly on, ya know?”

You nodded. “What genre are you interested in? Action? Or mystery.”

“Romance.”

You blinked. “Romance,” you quietly repeated. You're eyes gliding past the titles of books and thinking to yourself.

“I don't mind it being a little…naughty, might motivate me even more to be honest,” he chuckled.

Your cheeks heated, but you tried not to show any signs of your discomfort. A heated romance. Of course you could list a few, but it felt awkward sharing that with him. You hummed softly under your breath, more out of nerves than anything, but you grabbed a book eventually. “A little naughty, and definitely romance,” you told him.

He hummed and turned the book in his hands. “Thank you, I didn't know where to start.”

“The librarians are happy to help if you can't find anything.”

“Yes, I'm sure they are, but you seem like you know more about this stuff.”

Maybe you did. Maybe it was easier to approach a visitor than the strict ladies running this place? You continued your search, but he did not leave.

“Don't you have enough books?”

You frowned. How could anyone have enough books? And why was he criticizing you? “I like reading.”

He laughed. “ No, I can see that, but do you really read all these in a week?”

“No. Sometimes I read them in a few days.”

“Oh, really. Okay. That's impressive. I really need to catch up if I were to compete with you.”

“It's not a competition. You can read how you want.”

“Oh I know, I was just joking.”

It wasn't a very good joke in that case. “Oh.” You thought, then replied. “Do you need anything more?”

There was silence, then he answered awkwardly. “No, you helped enough.”

You nodded.

He said your name quietly and when he didn't continue, you looked to the side at him. Your eyes locked and you blinked before you looked away.

“Tell your parents hello from me, will you?”

You nodded. You would, if you remembered.

He walked away and you were left feeling a little weird about the whole conversation. Sheriff Bodecker, reading a romantic book. It seemed a little silly. But maybe he was a little lonely. He was unmarried and didn't seem to be in a hurry to get settled.

He asked for something a little naughty, though. If he wanted anything naughty he should've gone to a different section of the library. They had a few of those, although most people didn't dare to pick them up and give the ladies anything to gossip about. Sheriff Bodecker, with a naughty book. You smiled to yourself. It would be the talk of town.

🤎

You wrapped your scarf around your neck, it was a little chilly today. Maybe you were just tired. It had been a long day at work today, your hands were cramped from all the typing, and your colleagues had left you feeling a little upset. Normally you tried to not listen to their chatter and ignore if they were ever negative about you. But today…they had stood a little nearer and you had more trouble filtering their voices.

They had talked about Marcie, who had found herself a beau. If only it had stayed about Marcie, it would have been fine. But they had looked over at you and pretended to lower their voices.

“Spinster”, they had used. They giggled slightly during it. You pretended not to see them staring at you. Or how they didn't care if you heard it.

“She’s never going to find anyone, I mean did you hear her talk about the different office chairs to mr. Johnson? One would think she had to sit on spikes.

You bit your lip. You did not want to cry in front of them. They had changed the chairs two days ago, the old ones too worn out to be pleasant. But you had liked them. You were used to them. And it felt like an old friend had been ripped away from you. So you had talked to your boss if he could make an exception, if you could keep yours, and store the new one. But of course he hadn’t wanted to. And you admittedly got a little upset. Word got out, or maybe they heard you. You had cried on the toilet, but tried very hard to gather yourself and continue like nothing was wrong. It didn’t matter. They knew. And they thought you were crazy.

And now they kept bringing other things up in their conversations. Like they enjoyed your discomfort.

You did your job well, however, so you were pretty sure if you laid low for a while, mr. Johnson wouldn’t fire you. You always made sure to finish all your work, even if you had to stay longer. Got the job done.

But now, at the end of the work day, you felt exhausted. It was tiresome keeping up pretense. The constant noise of the workplace around you. A short break to try and relax and be alone wasn't enough. You knew maybe things would be easier if you sat with them and told them things you heard, so they could gossip about someone else for once. But you didn’t like them. And they were too much. You needed your break to rest before getting back to work. You often sat outside on a bench alone, or took a walk.

You took a deep breath. Tonight you were going to read your new book, and ask your daddy if he wanted to play the piano. He didn’t do it as often as he used to, but you always enjoyed his music. He would do it for you, you knew it.

As a single Omega, you still lived with your parents. It was common to do so. You couldn’t live alone with your designation and it didn’t seem like you would ever move out and get your own home to look after. Your parents were disappointed, no doubt, but they always assured you they loved you, and that it would be nice in their old day to spend it with the three of you. You wondered if they had a different child than you, if they had wanted to get another. Someone easier to handle.

You walked past the shops, occasionally looking through the windows. You liked window shopping. Seeing all the new things on display, even if you didn’t buy much. You didn’t need it. But sometimes you saw something pretty and pondered if you should get it. You should buy a new dress. Most of the ones you had were getting a little old. But they were so comfortable and new dresses felt a little tight and rough. Perhaps your mother would buy some fabric and sew one for you. She knew your tastes.

A car honked next to you and you startled. When you looked around with a beating heart you noticed the car of the sheriff. He had rolled down his window and called out to you.

“Sorry, little lady, didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you walking and thought maybe you wanted a ride home?”

You blinked. A ride with the sheriff. You had never done that. “I’m fine walking.” You replied and tried to smile.

“You just look tired, is all. And it is going to rain soon.”

Was it? You didn’t feel much like getting wet. Still, this was weird. Different. What were you even going to say to him?

He opened the door from the inside though, clearly expecting you to get in, and you didn’t want to be rude. He meant well.

You clambered in, fixed your dress and your hair.

“Long day?” he mentioned. “You look tired.”

“Yes.” you answered.

“I get that, I’ve been busy since 5 this morning myself.” he sighed. “Got a call in for a robbery. Those damn Callen boys always stealin’ them chickens from the Bookers farm. Not exactly the most exciting job.”

You blinked, thought of how to reply. “Did you get them back?”

He chuckled. “Well some of ‘em. They ate at least two, but I arranged for them to work a few weeks at the place to pay them back. And I'll make damn sure they're going to show up and do the work.”

You nodded. The Bookers were cheapskates, but a theft was a theft, and you were sure they enjoyed the free labor. Those chickens couldn't be worth that much.

“You look nice today,” he mentioned suddenly.

You looked down at your dress. A little frayed around the edges. Your hair must've been less than proper because you tended to play with it if you were in thought. Maybe he was being nice. “Eh, thank you,” you mumbled.

He hummed. “That dress is a nice color.”

“Blue is my favorite,” you blurted out. You wore red today, you didn’t know why you said it.

He chuckled. “Is that right? Well I love blue.”

Your eyes looked anywhere but him, at the passing buildings and bushes. What else were you going to say? It was polite to talk back, your mother had told you. Ask about something!

“Ehm, this is a nice car,”

He turned to look at you again, not keeping his eyes on the road and you swallowed. “Well, it comes with the job, but it does its work.”

You nodded.

“Do you know how to drive?”

“Oh no. No, no. I do not.”

“I could teach you.” he offered, and your heart rate increased.

“No!...no. I don't think I can, I get nervous.”

“Well everyone gets nervous the first time, but you’ll learn soon enough, you’re a clever girl.”

You blinked at him. No one had ever called you clever before. You weren’t stupid, you werent, but no one thought you were particularly bright. “I get nervous.” you told him firmly.

He hummed “Well alright, If you change your mind, I'm more than willing.

“I don't mind walking.” you told him.

“Yeah, I see you walking around. You like looking at things don’t you?”

You looked down, ashamed, but his finger lifted your chin. You startled at the contact.

“Wasn't mocking you. I just see you sometimes. Gotta keep an eye on the crowd to make sure nothing happens, part of the job, I can’t help it. So I see you walking and befriending the neighbors cats.”

“Oh.” You didn't know what to think of this. Being watched. You always felt like you were. “I like cats.”

“I like them too. They’re a little feisty. You got one at home?”

You shook your head. “No, my parents don’t want one.”

“I was thinking about getting one. Might be nice to come home to something, you know? House is all empty.”

You understood. You’re parents rules, however, nothing you could do about it.

He sighed “ Yeah…. gets real lonely for a man by himself. You got someone waiting on ya?”

“Eh no. No, no one.” You felt nervous. You knew it was common for a girl your age to settle, or have settled already. It was embarrassing to admit.You had never even kissed before.The thought of it made you anxious though, How to even do that with a tongue, and how to move? It seemed mighty complicated.

“Me neither,” he admitted. “It’s a hard job, and not everyone can deal with being the wife of a sheriff. I’d treat her right, though. Yessir. I’d be a good husband. For the right woman. I always wanted that. A house, a wife, some kids. A nice meal when I get home…”

You hummed, like he had done before.

"You can cook?”

Your eyes moved rapidly over the car interior. “Why, yes?” it came out as a question.

“Yeah I expected you to. You’re a good girl after all. Momma raised you right.”

You felt warmth shoot through you. You didn’t know why. He was being nice. And you weren’t used to that. You actually were a pretty good cook. And you liked doing it. Relieving your mother from the hard work running a household was. And showing you cared. You know you weren’t always good with that. Often absorbed in your own head and your own feelings. So cooking was something you could do.

“Would love to have a home made meal again. It’s been so very long.”

You nodded.

He eyed you. And as the silence lingered he tsked. “Well, who knows, maybe someone will invite me someday.”

“Oh. Yes. I'm sure,” you were quick to agree. It would be nice for him. Someone cooking. Maybe Miss Oleson would, the woman was all alone and about 70, she probably would love the company.

You would ask her, so he wouldn't feel embarrassed. Miss Oleson would watch you sometimes when you were younger, and she was kind to you. She always gave you candy even if your parents had told her not too. You were fond of her.

You arrived at your house soon and you got out. He leaned towards the window again.

“If you want, I can come pick you up again tomorrow.”

You blinked. Why? Was it going to rain again tomorrow?

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s my pleasure.” he grinned. “Unless i’m being called away, but if so, I’l call you.”

“I don’t have a phone.” You eyed the laces of your shoes.

He laughed. “No silly, at your office, I can call the company.”

“Oh. Yeah that would work. I guess.”

“That’s settled then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” you mumbled and turned to walk towards the door.

As you heard him leave behind you, you suddenly remembered you hadn’t said goodbye, or thanked him. You felt your cheeks heat. You were supposed to thank someone for helping. You messed up again. Tomorrow, when he picked you up, you would make sure to thank him then. Maybe he wouldn’t think you rude anymore. And maybe you should find some questions to ask him about. So he didn’t ask you weird ones when there was silence.

You hung up your coat at the door, suddenly smelling a nice scent coming off it.

The fabric had absorbed some of his that lingered in the car. You sniffed carefully and then reared back in shame. It was kind of improper to just smell someone. You only did that to someone you knew better. Like family, or…or a suitor.

Still, the scent lingered in your nose as you walked away, and it was pleasant enough for you to feel a little lighter for the rest of the evening.

Part 2

[maybege]

Take-Off - FBI 14

Summary: Your nightly rendezvous with Morgan has some unexpected consequences.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: CM typical stuff

I love how I said this would be out by mid-January and yet here we are … Anyway, sorry not sorry. I had to move back to my parents for like 6-ish weeks, my country’s election resulted in a drastic shift towards conservative/right-wing policies and January (being the awful month that it is) had my depression returning for an unwanted sequel, you know how it is. Anyway, Part 15 is not yet finished so idk when it will be out but rest assured I am thinking about Hotch and I hope that after reading this next chapter you do too! Let me know what you think 🥰

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

There was still sleep in your eyes as you made your way from the car to the elevator, searching for your badge in your purse. “Thank you for letting me sleep at your place,” you said, looking over at Derek, “I – I have no idea how this would have panned out if not for you.”

Derek pressed the button and the metal doors closed before the little jolt of the cabin notified you of the movement.

“We are all here for you, kid,” he smiled, “You are one of us, you hear me? Anyone in that office would help you if they could. Garcia, Rossi, Reid, Hotch,” – your heart jumped at that – “Prentiss, me. All of us, okay?”

The elevator stopped, and you smiled. “Okay.”

Arriving at the office was nothing like what you had imagined your glorious return from PTO to feel like. For one, you had seen yourself wearing a glamorous new outfit that showed everyone just how happy you were to be back and how confident you were in returning to your post. Most importantly, it would’ve given you the emotional support to think that Hotch’s presence wouldn’t have any impact on your confidence.

Admittedly, what you had not thought about during your holiday was what it would look like to your colleagues when you and Derek would arrive at the same time, both carrying coffee mugs that said his name, and his shirt thrown over a dress that you clearly had not planned on wearing.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest?” JJ teased you, rounding the corner of your desk to sit down opposite you, “Disappearing without another word to get some,” she drew bunny ears in the air, “relaxing and,” – another set of bunny ears – “soul-searching done and now you show up with Morgan? Way to go, my friend.”

“Shut up,” Derek laughed, throwing back the last of his coffee, “You don’t want to know what she looks like under that shirt.”

You laughed, too, your heart feeling fuller by the minute of being surrounded by your team again. “It really isn’t –”

“You look like shit,” Emily greeted you dryly, a teasing smile on her lips as she crossed her arms, “Was it worth it at least?”

“We have no time for small talk,” Hotch’s voice sounded from the door to the conference room, “Everyone at the roundtable now.”

It should have stopped being surprising how put together he could look in the middle of the night, but your eyes still lingered on the white shirt he was wearing, how his tie seemed a little loose and how that was the only indicator that maybe it had been a little too early for him as well.

Reid and Rossi were already at the table when you entered and you sat down next to the older man with a smile. He threw a pointed look at your shirt and he did not even need to open his mouth for you to know what he was about to say.

“Shut up,” you grinned and he only laughed, good-naturedly patting your knee when JJ threw on the presentation.

“Alright, we have a child abduction in Montana,” Hotch opened. The image of a teenage girl was projected onto the wall. Blonde, blue eyes, preppy cheerleader outfit.

“Grace Donovan, 15 years old, was last seen at dinner with her parents when they reported her missing two hours ago.”

“It’s the middle of the night, how do they know she is missing?” you asked, frowning at the image, “Are they sure she is not out with her friends?”

You watched as Hotch opened his mouth to say something when his eyes met yours. And then they roamed over you, landing on the shirt you were wearing and Derek next to you and you could see the frown forming on his face.

Shit.

“She is not in her room and none of her friends know where she is,” JJ answered smoothly, not having noticed Hotch’s pause, “That and the security system seems to have been tampered with. This is beyond anything a fifteen-year-old could do.”

You nodded, looking down at the table and trying to avoid Hotch’s eyes on you.

“All right,” he said, throwing a look at his watch, “Wheels up in 10. We have 22 hours left.”

He caught up to you at the door, a dry hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling you back into the room. If the others noticed, they did not show it, simply leaving the room as Hotch pulled you back to the front.

The blinds were still closed, you noticed, and as the door fell closed behind JJ, you were completely alone with him. Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes completely taking him in. Standing tall at the end of the desk, he eyed you and your skin tingled wherever his eyes seemed to land – your calves, your thighs, your torso, your face.

When you had handed in your PTO request after an entire week of being ignored by him, you had fooled yourself into thinking that maybe distance was what you needed. That distance would get you to see him in another light and not the one where you thought about what dirty things his voice could whisper in your ears late at night.

Clearly, the racing of your heart proved that that was not the case. That even time and distance away from him didn’t get rid of the sudden need to feel his arms around you. Or his lips on yours. Or his hand between your –

Until he opened his mouth.

“Need I remind you of the fraternisation policies the FBI has in place, Agent?”

“Hotch –“

“I understand that you have been gone for two weeks and, quite frankly, it should be none of my business what you two get up to in your private time so make sure it remains none of business. Understood?”

“It – it’s not what it looks like!” you protested, knowing what must have been going through his head. But what was worse was that you weren’t sure if you wanted to convince him of the truth because of the FBI rules or because you wanted him to know the truth.

He made a big step towards you and you gasped, feeling his body heat radiate so close to you, “And what does it look like?”

You could not say anything, the lack of sleep and confusion at Hotch’s angry demeanour catching up with you. You could not remember the last time you had seen him so upset at you. Openly upset.

“I see you, wearing clothes that clearly have been worn a whole,” he started again, his voice cutting through the silence, “Shorter hem than usual, deeper cleavage, formfitting. Obviously showing off the best parts of your body. On top of that, I see a shirt that clearly does not belong to you. When I called Derek at four in the morning, he said JJ needn’t contact you because you were already there with him, which leads me to believe that this,” he tugged at one of the buttons, “is Agent Morgan’s shirt. Am I wrong?”

Had he just said you were attractive?

He scoffed, “I didn’t think so. So now, what does it look like?”

“Josh kicked me out,” you blurted out, swallowing thickly at how close he was to you, “Derek found me in a diner after, uh,” slowly you lifted the hem of the shirt, revealing the red-yellowish condiment massacre on the fabric, “He gave me his couch to crash on.”

Hotch did not say anything, a tiny furrow between his brows. You glanced down and saw his forefinger and thumb pressed together.

“I know the FBI rules, Hotch,” you continued with a small voice, “And I, uh, I am really not interested in Morgan like that. He was a friend when I needed one.”

“Why were you in a diner of all places?” he asked.

“I – I didn’t know who to call,” you shrugged, “I was emotional and confused and it was the closest thing that was dry and warm and open.”

For the longest time, he did not say anything and you kept looking at him. Your hand was still in his and sometime during his speech they must have slipped from your wrist to interlace with your fingers and you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

He was so close.

“Next time you call me,” he said slowly, his other hand going to grab something from the inner pocket of his jacket.

You looked down at the little white square in his hands, “I already have your business card, Hotch,” you reminded him gently.

“This is, uh,” he cleared his throat, letting go of your hand like it was burning him, “This is my personal contact information.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, looking at him with wide eyes before the reality of the situation hit you, “oh.”

You took the offered card, keeping it close to your chest as if he would decide to snatch it away from you any second. “Thank you,” you mumbled, cheeks and ears warm as your heart began to race, “I should probably go and – “

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, “You probably should.”

*

Hotch did not know what he had been thinking when he confronted you in the conference room.

He probably had not been thinking at all.

And when was the last time that had happened?

The team was quiet as everyone found their place on the jet, settling into their respective routines. Even after years of work, late-night and early-morning calls never got any easier. And despite the worry for the missing girl on everyone’s mind, exhaustion was slowing everyone down.

The first talk over the files had already happened as soon as the jet had started. Now all they needed was to wait.

“We won’t get any new information until we are there,” he announced, “So everybody get some rest while you can.”

General murmurs of agreement sounded all around him and as he set up his laptop on the table in front of him, he saw Reid settling down on the couch, Derek and JJ sitting opposite each other, each occupied with their own books while Emily seemed to be choosing which playlist to listen to.

He tried to ignore the fact that the only free seats now were with him and Rossi.

“How long will the flight be?” your voice piped up from the galley way at the back of the plane. You were wearing different clothes now. Jeans and a colourful blouse. Flowers, he recognised at a second glance at the same time as he turned away, because why did he need a second glance?

“Come join us,” Rossi offered, opposite to him and motioned to the seat right next to Hotch. His jaw tensed but he kept his eyes on the laptop screen, trying to focus on what the PD had already sent him.

“Thank you,” you smiled, sitting down next to him and he tried to ignore how your thigh brushed against his.

“Tired, huh?” Rossi commented motioning to his face, “You got that look of someone who had a long night.”

“Well, it is five in the morning, Rossi,” you answered good-naturedly, “I don’t think any of us have gotten enough sleep tonight.”

“Right, you are,” the older man said, reaching into his bag in the seat next to him,

Silence fell over the jet. “What are you doing?” you asked quietly, looking up at him. Not because you wanted to, obviously, but because you tried to show him you were not trying to look at government documents without his permission. And the soft look in your eyes, he argued, was just because you were tired.

“The responsible detective sent over some of his personal notes from the first victim,” He explained, his fingers tingling as he remembered how your hand had felt in his, “I wanted to get a head start on them.”

You hummed in understanding. “Always working, Agent Hotchner.”

His lips quirked up, “Is that critique I hear, Agent?”

“Sorry, Sir,” you grinned, a sparkle in your eyes that made his heart jump in his chest in a way he had not experienced in a very long time.

This was going to be a long flight.

And well, if your head fell onto his shoulder while you were sleeping, who was he to wake you?

[kiwikiwiandkiwi]

HARRY BEING HARRY ON TOUR — Love on Tour: UK + Europe Leg, 2023

[nerice]

— ʀᴇᴢᴇ-ʜᴇɴ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ —

[somegrumpynerd]

Does anyone else hc that Nightmare can like, absorb his tentacles back into his body sometimes? Like the way Stitch does with his extra arms?

[deoidesign]

important distinction.

Testing a few different things with this one

[fauna-and-floraa]

Hyunjin & Seungmin & I.N : 탄수 Vlog in Busan

[annalifes]

🌟

[honeymoonangell]

Should be studying for a math test…

[charmed-asylum]

And just like that snap she hook. 🫰 🫰 🫰 also idk why but song so this is love was playing in my head as I read this chapter. SUE ME OKAY I CANT HELP IT!!!! Kinda cute well let’s be realistic what the reader does is always cute. How she kinda excited but nervous about this ride ( third encounter btw) but second ride and she nervous something we all know about. But she so blunt and still innocent. I can’t like was your day good , No hehe. Buttttt the way he responded idk how I want to describe it , “ He tsk’d. “Alright, I know when to back off.” Like he kinds disaponted but also like if I ask you a question you need to answer but he aware and in this chapter you can tell how he slowly molding it to fit what he wants or make it easy to deal with . I have words but I don’t want to use them so oops 😅 on me.

Then way he calls her sweet names I mean he got bless with this one. Like the pretty girl comment talk was so 🥺 and I’m like damn we need to protect her or even the future chat like he got so lucky with her . I mean once again I wonder what he thinks like does he feel excited but again once inch closer to his girl of his dreams or disappointed that no one see what he see and reader poor thing she stuck she been so use to away that she truly doesn’t know how to deal with anything different.

Way he spoke to her huh idk what it is I think she said it best way , “ the way his voice lower made you agreed …. He sounded drunk. Like the men in your office at the end of the day sometimes. His voice felt like it was seeping into your bones, like you couldn't move” I can’t I would be just like her especially being he like close talking all that sweet talk like they haven’t done anything but sniff kiss talk and touch and she already dripping and sweetie I be real I am too huh I can’t. And that kiss if there was a chair I would slip out of it . If I had a wig I toss it off . Huh way he slip that in girl oh he knew he got jackpot way he made her feel huh huh huh and wow fact mom saw that when she got home and had her wash up and she was upset dang 3 time a charm I say!!! And how intimate without even more than a touch at this point at this point, they only kissed and touch and spoke to each other and even with those simple three things what it did to her and me as a reader OMG and I’m pretty sure Lee lost his damn mind.

I do ask about this comment on what he meant by it: “God, look at you. You're feeling real nice, aren't you, sweetheart? I am going to be a gentleman, though, and bring you back so you can be a good girl to your mommy and daddy. No need to rush. But who knew you'd be so responsive? I thought I was going to have to try harder, but it turns out you're just as affected by me as I am about you huh? 🤔 like I know he a soft dark you can tell with way he speaks to her or acts or even facial expression but what does he mean by this. Also our girl is deprive sadly shit I sagged too . Also cute way how he “ hold back “ mmmm we know you Lee Le.

Dream Of A Girl

Part 2

Summary: Lee continues to pick his girl up from work

Warnings: things are heating up a little, touching, kissing, Lee being eager

18+, minors DNI, the usual

Word count: 2949

Notes: I love this story!! I really really do! Please let me know if you enjoy it too 💕

Series masterlist

Previous part

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

The next day you finished work on time and looked around outside. Your eyes felt tired because you hadn't slept well. Thoughts kept running through your head, and no matter how much you tried to settle you just couldn't. You knew Sheriff Bodecker was going to pick you up today, and you were worried about what you were going to say to his questions. What you needed to ask him. Maybe you should just talk about his job. Your mother did that with your father. And then he asked her what she did that day, even if the answer was always the same. But they seemed happy together, so it was obviously working for them.

His car was waiting for you a few meters away and you Walked towards it. He opened it from the inside again and you took a seat. 

He smiled at you and you awkwardly smiled back. 

“You had a good day?”

“No.”

He seemed surprised, but recovered quickly. “ Oh? Anything you want to share?”

“No.”

He tsk’d. “Alright, I know when to back off.”

Back off what? You started sweating a bit, he looked…a bit annoyed? You should ask him about this day, right? That was a good start. 

“Did you? Have a good day?”

He turned to look at you again, with a smile again. “I did. Nothing beats knowing you have a pretty girl waiting for you.”

Did he meet someone since yesterday? He told you he was alone then. 

“That's nice,” you told him. 

“I meant you,” he clarified.

You started sweating some more. “I.. I -”

He chuckled. “No one ever told you you were pretty before?”

You shook your head. No. Maybe only your parents. But that was it. 

“They're so blind,” he murmured softly. “Well, their loss.”

It stayed quiet, you didn't know how to respond. Should you compliment him back?

“You want to hear about my day, sweetheart?” he finished the silence. 

You shrugged. “Okay.”

And so he started taking about the crimes he prevented, the paperwork that was never ending, how he was looking to get re-elected.

“That would be easier with a wife by my side.” He glanced at you, while you kept your eyes firmly pointed straight ahead of you. “I hope I have that soon.”

You nodded. You gave up hope a long time ago, but you understood for other people it was a normal thing to do. 

“You ever dream of marrying? Finding someone who give you his bite and a few pups to look after?”

“Not anymore,” you lowered your voice, too ashamed to admit. 

“Why not?”

“No one wants to. With me.” You said, feeling anxiety course through you. 

“Hey, hey, don't worry. I can smell your distress from here. Hold up.” He pulled over to park the car to the side and turned to you. He reached out his hand but you flinched, so it froze in the air until he lowered it by his side. 

“It's okay, sweetheart, we're just talking. It's just me. You're safe, right?”

You nodded. He was the sheriff. He would protect you. But he couldn't protect you from your fears and feelings. 

“So why did you get all scared, honey? Can you tell me?”

“Not scared,” you said, trembling. “Just not…I don't like talking about it.”

“But if you don't talk about it, I can't help you.”

Your eyes shifted, trying to look at something calm, something neutral. “You can't help.”

“Try it. Maybe I can." He watched you the whole time and you wished he didn't. “Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know as well. I'm not going to judge you. People tell me all sorts of things. I witnessed even more. No matter what you tell me, it won't surprise me, alright?”

You thought about it. And there was a suspicion he wasn't going to let go so easily anyway. You sighed. 

“I'm not like the rest. They don't like me. They don't want me. So…I know I'm going to be alone. It's alright. I've accepted it. My parents want me, it's enough.”

 “I like you.”

You looked at him quickly, surprised. “You don't know me.”

“I know you enough. I know your parents, they love you. I can tell. They're good parents. You're polite, you're smart and hard working, you never get into any trouble. And you seem very sweet.”

You felt a little warm with every word he said. It was too much. You brushed imaginary wrinkles out of your dress that didn't exist, just to be able to do something. 

“You're so pretty. And your smell…” he groaned. 

You felt heat shot through you. That was…it wasn't proper was it? You don't talk about smell. You.. kept it to yourself. Until you.. you mated. Why was he telling you this? 

He leaned in a little. Sniffing. “You smell so good.” 

His head was too near you, and you were trapped in the car, surrounded by his smell. 

And it wasn't.. bad. He smelled nice even. But he shouldn't. He didn't have to be this near. 

“Everytime you're near me, and I get a whiff of you, it feels right, ya know? Feels like home.”

You blinked. It did? You did? 

“I just want to bring you flowers, and take you out. Maybe to the movies.”

“Too crowded, too much noise,” you piped up.

He chuckled. “Then for milkshakes, or a walk. Anything you'd like. I'll treat you so well. You'd want for nothing.”

You breathed him in. When you did, you felt less nervous. His scent making you feel something you hadn't before. You didn't understand why it did that. 

“You'd like that sweetheart? Me taking you out? Showing you how good you are? You'd be making me so proud if you’d let me. Being around such a pretty girl.”

He talked like it was an honor. Like you were a price he wanted to show off. Like others would be jealous. You wanted to laugh. It would be the opposite. People would talk about him. Wonder why he'd show you interest. That he could do better.

“I don't…. I've never, I mean, you can't.”

“Why not? Are you telling me no?” His jaw tightened and he looked a little colder.

“You can do better than me. You're the sheriff. I'm not.. I'm not good.” You whispered, tears pricking in your eyes, having to confess that.

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” He moved nearer, almost touching you. “How could I not like you? You're always kind to everyone, I see you're great with kids, they love you, you’d make such a good momma.”

You felt warm all over. It was burning you from the inside. 

“With your pretty dresses, always looking so good, so beautiful. You should see yourself when the sun shines and your hair lights up. Beautiful. I’d be so proud walking beside you, knowing I'm your man.”

His finger touched the fabric of your dress and your eyes followed it as it rubbed softly against it. 

“They would all look at us, and they'd see what a great wife you would make. You’d be good for me right?”

The way his voice lowered made you want to agree. You struggled to keep it inside. His hand moved to your leg, warmth seeping through your dress and you trembled again.

“I know you'd be such a good girl. And I would be good for you too. I would spoil you. Anything you'd want. I would treat you real nice. Give you kisses whenever you wanted.” He sounded drunk. Like the men in your office at the end of the day sometimes. His voice felt like it was seeping into your bones, like you couldn't move. 

“Fuck it.” He murmured, he put his hands on your jaw to turn you toward him and before you knew it, he pressed his lips against yours. 

A thrill went through you. You wanted to struggle. You didn't like to be touched. But he was being gentle, and he smelled even better now, thick syrup, fresh lemon, spicy cinnamon…all the good things. His mouth was full and he moved it gently against yours. You didn't know what to do, but he didn't seem to mind. He let out a noise in the back of his mouth like he was in pain. 

You were burning up. You felt so warm. 

He pulled away shortly after, eyeing you carefully. Your eyes locked on his this time, like you couldn't even think to look away.

“Your first kiss?” He guessed. And you nodded. 

“That's a real honor, sweetheart. I feel very happy to be your first.”

You looked down quickly, too overwhelmed to keep looking at him. You wanted to touch your mouth. Let your fingers touch the flesh and memorize the feeling of his lips on yours. 

“You liked it?”

You hesitated, then nodded.

His scent thickened, heavy in the air, delicious. 

“Good. Because I might just kiss you again.”

Oh God, you pressed your hands to your heart, it felt like it was beating out of your chest. He was going to kiss you again, maybe. And you didn't think you'd mind. 

You laid awake that night, again, thinking over and over about that kiss. His scent was on you. Your mother widened her eyes when you stepped inside, but one look at you and she kept quiet, even if you thought she wanted to ask about it. Maybe she knew it was too soon. Maybe she feared you would get overwhelmed. Or perhaps she knew you wanted to keep it to yourself a little longer. 

“Go freshen up before your father gets home,” she simply told you, and her hand carefully touched your shoulder briefly, like she wanted to fuss over you. 

You were disappointed to remove his smell off you. But your father would want to know whose it was. And you didn't know what to say if he questioned you. The sheriff talked about dating, but he hadn't asked you out. You didn't know how serious he had been. Maybe you should ask him next time you saw him? 

You could still remember what he smelled like later, in your bed, and you felt yourself heat up again thinking about it. 

His mouth and his eyes. He was an attractive man. And he called you pretty! 

Squeaky noises came out of your throat and you couldn't help it. It was all too much. But it was good. You hoped. You thought. 

-

He picked you up again, and asked if you wanted to go for milkshakes, but you shook your head. You had started to get a headache. The office was especially loud that day and you felt the noise still throbbing in your head.

You pressed your hands against the side of your face, trying to squeeze out the pain until you felt him grab your wrists and remove them.

You wanted to pull away, but he wouldn't let you. He pulled you against him, ignored your struggling and shushed you. 

“Hey, hey! Sweetheart. It's okay. Shh, just smell me…here, come on.”

He pushed your face into the crook of his neck, right where his gland was. As soon as your nose was pressed against it, you sagged a little. His scent enveloping you completely. A whine escaped you. 

“That's it. Feels better right? you don't have to do anything, or think of anything but now. You're safe. Just relax.”

And you did, taking big whiffs of his scent, eyes closed, trying to relax. 

“You're being a good girl aren't you? Letting me take care of you like this.” You heard his voice murmur in your ear, felt the rumbling in his chest. Your hands gripping his shirt, not caring if you wrinkled it. “It feels mighty fine having you trust me to help you. You're making me feel real good sweetheart.”

No one had ever spoken to you like this. Like you were worthy. Like you mattered. Like they cared. You made him feel good? You made the most pathetic noise.

“I know. It's a lot. But you're doing so well. You like my scent sweetheart?”

You nodded. You did. You liked it a lot. You could stay here forever, blocking out the rest of the world. 

“I'm so pleased, sweetheart. I like yours too…will you let me scent you as well? I've been thinking about it all night. I would love to carry you with me. It will make the lonely nights better.. You can do that for me right?”

You nodded, mumbling something unintelligible, but he seemed to understand. He pushed your face up, gently, his hands holding your head up as he stared into your eyes, while you tried to focus but felt too dazed to manage, until he pushed his face into your neck. 

His nose against your gland made your shiver. It was like your mind stopped functioning. You felt the most pathetic whine bubbling up your throat, but you held onto his shirt for dear life, afraid to fall if you let go. 

His mouth…he moved it over your skin, something wet moved over that special spot and you spasmed.

He pulled back in surprise and watched you carefully. One you stopped trembling, and his face came into focus, he looked…you couldn't place how he looked. 

“Did you just..?”

You blinked owlishly. What? 

“Oh God, okay, it's okay baby. You did so good,” he quickly told you, but he sounded off. He looked tense. 

Maybe you made him mad.

“Nature’s calling, honey, I'll be right back okay. You watch the car for me.”

He practically ran out of the car and went into the nearest shop. You sat there, stunned. Had you done something wrong? But what he did felt really good. It felt like you got lifted out of your body and pulled back in. Like an elastic snapping back into place. 

You didn't know what happened, but he didn't seem to like it. You hung your head, hiding your face in shame. He was angry. You were sure of it. You didn't know what you were going to say when he came back. 

Maybe he didn't want you to be in the car once he got back? But he had told you to watch it for him. So you stayed. 

It took a while before he returned. His cheeks were rosy and he had a smile around his mouth. Maybe things were okay? Maybe he really did need to use the bathroom? 

He stepped inside again and smiled at you. “There we go. Sorry. Sometimes you can't hold it, can you?”

You nodded, hesitant.

“Aaw, sweetheart, are you shy? You don't have to, I liked it.”

Liked it? You didn't know what it was, but he wasn't mad that it happened? 

You gave him a glance, to see how he was looking and he seemed relaxed and good natured. He licked his lips. 

“Can I get a kiss, sweetheart? I've been thinking about it all day.” He stared at you expectantly. 

You pondered, but you had liked it yesterday, and you were relieved he wasn't angry, so you nodded. 

“Come on then, kiss me,” he said teasingly. 

Oh. You moved over to him, unsure if how to do this, but just decided to press your lips against his. Upclose he smelled very intense. His scent thicker than before, so you gasped. When you did that, his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, and his hands moved against your face holding you in place. 

It was wet. And weird. But his smell was so overpowering that it wasn't the worst. His tongue tried to coax yours into moving as well but you didn't know how. You just let him move and tried to move as well.

You had expected to hate it. The kissing, the touching. But it didn't feel bad. You liked it. He felt nice, he smelled nice. He said nice things. He made your body float, like you were in the water. Weightless. 

His hands stroked your cheeks, moved to your neck, and suddenly pressed on your gland. You moaned and sagged into his chest. 

“God, look at you. You're feeling real nice, aren't you, sweetheart? I am going to be a gentleman, though, and bring you back so you can be a good girl to your mommy and daddy. No need to rush. But who knew you'd be so responsive? I thought I was going to have to try harder, but it turns out you're just as affected by me as I am about you huh?”

You couldn't do much more than run your nose on his neck, so close to his gland again. 

He sighed. “I’ve kept you long enough, don't want your parents to worry. I want them to like me, show them I've got good intentions. Can't do that when you're coming back all ruffled. Come on sweetheart, back in your seat you go.” He moved you carefully as you blinked at him.

“It's alright, just some space, honey, we need to both calm down a little, huh? I still need to drive, and you have to fix your hair. I might've messed it up a little. You look good though,” he smiled tenderly at you. 

You touched your hair. He was right, it had come out of its pins, you tried to make it presentable again. 

“I would really like to take you out in the weekend, would you like that? Maybe we could take a walk in the park, or go for ice cream.”

“I, I like ice cream,” you admitted.

He smiled happily, “Then ice cream it is.”

Next part

[harbingersecho]