#if I hadn’t decided to ride along to the store

[sodacowboy]

the sunset today literally looked like a lava river and I am not exaggerating in the slightest

[mydarlingclaudia]

and if we had a moment, could you face it?

note : this didn’t really turn out the way I wanted it to be but I’m still kinda ok with it. mdni

wc : 2.6k

desc : you finally decide it’s time to take you and Leon’s relationship to bed. smut!! - riding (p in v), fingering, established relationship, not proofread, pet names (baby), fem!reader, ID!Leon

If there hadn't been construction going on along the main route you took to get back to your apartment from work, you wouldn't have met Leon. You decided to go a different way that night, you walked to and from work most days, so it wasn't much of a difference. Leon had run into you, literally, when he rounded the street corner without seeing you and stumbled into you, not knocking you over, but instead spilling his coffee all over your blouse. You didn't know why he was drinking coffee at five p.m. at first, but you later found out that it was because he had been in a rush to go do more work for the DSO and that he needed to be awake for it. That didn't stop him from stopping what he was doing and awkwardly trying to help you clean off your blouse.

Leon ended up walking you back to your apartment, offering to buy you a new blouse even after you told him he didn't need to. After a few minutes of you assuring him it wasn't a big deal, he backed down, smiled at you, wished you goodnight, and left. He completely forgot to ask you out to dinner.

He did get the opportunity to ask you out, though, when he ran into you a few weeks later at the grocery store. Leon had been expecting another rejection, but you had simply smiled and said yes. Hearing you say yes made the rest of his week, he didn’t know what made you say agree to a date with him, but whatever it was, he was happy about it.

Leon had tried to be a bit more gentlemanly to you on the night of your date, thinking about how close he had been walking next to you, trying not to pull on a push door, doing his best not to scare you off. He really wanted this to go well, he thought you were pretty, and you had already given him a chance, so that had to be a good sign, right? He hadn’t been on an actual date in what felt like years (because it had actually been years), and even if the two of you didn’t become an item, he still wanted to take you out on a couple of nice dates.

One date turned to two, then two to three, then three to seven, and now Leon can’t get you off his mind. The two of you were very obviously attracted with each other, but you both had your own fears about dating one another. You were worried that you’d put a bunch of time and effort into the relationship only for him to discover he didn’t want to be with you and leave, and Leon was worried that his job would scare you away or that you’d find all of the problems he carried around everywhere he went to be a burden and that he wasn’t worth it. But you didn’t think he was a burden, and he was determined to stick this out with you for as long as you’d let him.

Leon was at your beck and call, as long as he was in town. He felt embarrassed for liking you so much so early on in your relationship, but when you flirted back with him, he swore he could feel his heart stop for a second before he came back at you with something cheesier to say, he couldn’t really say no to you.

You liked Leon a lot, and you knew he liked you, but his job did scare you a little bit. Not that you knew much, but you knew it was dangerous. As your dates with Leon grew in number, he assured you that he wouldn’t put you in any kind of danger, and you believed him.

It’s been a little over seven months now, Leon was willing to take this as slow as you wanted, the two of you had only ever kissed, barely even made-out, really. Leon wasn’t around all the time, you knew that would happen when you started dating him, but he always tried his best to make up for lost time when he got back to you.

You just wanted to jump his bones sometimes. He’d sit across from you at dinner, the top two buttons of his shirt left unbuttoned, revealing just enough of his collarbone for you to want to see everything else. Or when he’d put his hand on your thigh when he sat down next to you, or just letting his hand rest on your waist. There were a lot of things, really.

You knew Leon felt the same. You’d catch him staring for too long when you wore a tank top with a neckline that dipped down a bit too far, he wouldn’t even apologize when you caught him, he’d just smirk a tiny bit, glance down again, then go back to what he was doing a few moment before.

Leon did want to take things a bit slow with you, but he also knew that there was something missing from his relationship with you. But he wanted you to be absolutely sure you wouldn’t regret anything. You knew he was nervous about it, sex was a topic that the two of you didn’t talk about a lot, you really only spoke about it in jokes, but you knew he was being serious when he said he could rock your world.

Leon’s been in meetings for most of the week, but he cleared time to take you to this fancy restaurant tonight. The food was good, so was the wine, and of course, the company. Leon wasn’t planning on staying the night at your apartment, but you had asked him to, because you knew he wouldn’t say no.

He had watched you kick your heels off at the door, letting you grab onto his shoulder for support as he toed off his own shoes, then quietly followed behind you as you moved deeper into your apartment. Leon could feel his brain shut down for a second when you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and tug him closer to you to find his lips in a sloppy kiss, which he eagerly returned.

Leon’s hands found their way to your hips, pulling you even closer to him as you let go of his shirt and instead wrapped your arms around his neck, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. You didn’t keep your arms there for long, one of your hands slid down to try and unbutton the rest of his shirt, fiddling with the buttons for a few seconds before your other hand joined.

His breath caught in his throat slightly as he felt both you easily unbutton his shirt, he broke the kiss and grabbed one of your wrists, leaning his face away from you a tiny bit.

“I know what you’re doing,” He murmured, you only smiled at him and slipped your hand that he wasn’t holding inside his shirt, groping his chest gently.

“Then don’t stop me.” You giggled, kissing him again.

He groaned into the kiss, his hand leaving your wrist to cradle the back of your head as you continued unbuttoning his shirt while walking him down your hallway and towards your room.

“Your hearts beating really fast.” You say breathlessly as you pull a few inches away from Leon’s lips, he snorts softly.

“I have a pretty good idea as to why,” His hand falls from the back of your head to rest above the curve of your ass

“Tell me.” You finally got the last button of his shirt unbuttoned, your hands go up to begin sliding it off his shoulders.

“Maybe because my pretty girlfriend has me in her apartment, trying to get me naked.”

“You want me to stop?” You ask, pausing momentarily.

“No.”

“Good,” You smile, taking his shirt all the way off and discarding it on the floor outside your bedroom door. Leon kisses along your jawline as he pulls you inside your bedroom, you make work of your hands once again, sliding them down his torso and to the front of his pants to tug at his belt before you begin unbuttoning it.

Leon doesn’t stop you this time, his hand moves higher up your back, running his fingers along the zipper teeth on the back of your dress, continuing to kiss your jaw and down your throat. You giggle as he starts pulling the zipper down, at the same time, you pull his belt free from the belt-loops of his jeans, he groans at the feeling.

Leon backs away from you, leaving your dress zipped up only halfway as he pulls down his pants, stepping out of them as they pool at the floor. You smile widely at him, taking in every inch of his body you hadn’t seen before and were eager to get your hands on. Your eyes flick from his face, to his heaving chest, and to the erection starting to strain against his boxers.

You don’t let him pull those off yet. Instead, grabbing his bicep and pulling him closer before pushing him back onto your bed. Leon huffs as his body meets your mattress, but he’s quick to adjust, sitting up on his elbows and staring up at you as he waits for your next move.

You reach around your back to find the zipper, it’s down low enough on your dress for you to pull it down the rest of the way. You quickly pull your dress down and let it fall to the floor, stepping out of it as you try not to fall onto Leon. When you look back at Leon, his eyes are wide and there’s a look of awe etched onto his face, you watch him as he trails his eyes up and down your body, like how you had done with him. When his eyes meet yours again, he smiles and you step closer to him.

Leon’s hands land back on your hips as you stand between his legs, your own hands find his shoulders, pulling him closer so you could kiss him eagerly once again.

Leon breaks the kiss for a second, leaning back again and tugging lightly at the elastic band seen inside the fabric of your panties. “You still wanna do this?”

“Very much, yeah,” You nod, he smiles and pulls on the elastic band, letting it snap against your skin when he lets go of it. “There’s a few condoms in my nightstand.” You nod your head towards the nightstand next to your bed, Leon lets go of you for a second and reaches over to pull one out.

“You planned this.”

“Of course I did.”

“Of course you did.” He chuckles and shakes his head softly, placing the condom down next to his thigh as he moves his hands to tug your underwear down.

You groan softly at the intrusion of his fingers in your slick cunt, you steady yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders, bending your leg and bringing it up to rest against the outside of his right thigh as he runs his fingers through your slick folds before he stops at your clit, rubbing gently.

Leon says nothing, continuing to rub your clit as he moves his head to your shoulder, kissing and biting along the skin he finds there. Soft mewls fall from your lips as he continues on his mission. Leon stops for a second shifting slightly on your bed and readjusting his hand, one of his fingers slips inside of you, he pumps it in and out slowly as his kisses move from your shoulder to your throat.

After another moment of Leon fingering you, he adds another finger. He uses his other hand to push you more upright, his face is in front of your bra-covered breasts, his unoccupied hand comes up to pull your bra straps down your shoulders, then he pulls down the bra cups and slips his hand underneath them to push your breasts fully out of the bra.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” He whispers to you, he continues to kiss down your throat and to your breasts, beginning to bite and suck at the soft mounds of flesh, listening carefully as you keep whining at the feeling of him curling his fingers inside of you. “I’m almost done, baby, don’t worry.” He mumbles reassuringly looking up at you through his eyelashes as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

After another minute or two of Leon fingering you and sucking on your breasts, he withdraws his fingers, wiping your arousel on his thigh before he grabs the condom and opens it.

You don’t don’t watch him as he takes off his boxers and puts the condom on, instead unclasping your bra and tossing it onto the floor. When he’s done, he grabs your hips and pulls you closer, leaning back as you hover above his cock.

It’s your turn to cover Leon in bite marks and hickeys, you grab his jaw and start kissing at his throat, he holds your hips gently as he slowly pulls you down until the tip of his cock brushes up against your entrance. You stop kissing his neck, pulling your head back to look at him as you slowly sink down onto him. You both groan at the feeling, his fingernails dig into your hips as he bucks his own hips up slightly to meet yours.

Once he was fully inside of you, your mouth returns to his throat, biting down on his Adam’s apple as you start to move. He groaned once again, squeezing your hips tighter as he started to help guide your movements.

“Goddamn,” He grunts, “You f-feel so good.”

“So do you,” You whisper against his ear, kissing down his jawline as you grind against him a bit harder.

“You- fuck- you’re t-too damn good to me.” He panted, laying back against your mattress. You leaned over, kissing along his chest now as his hands slid down to your thighs and Leon’s silently praying for this to become a regular thing.

“You sound really pretty.” You murmur against his skin as you start to bite his pecs.

“Pretty?” He chuckles breathlessly.

“Mhmmmm,” Your hum of approval trails off into a whine as you pick up the pace again.

You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching after a few more moments, you can tell that Leon feels the same because of how his fingers keep digging into your flesh and how his breath catches in his throat.

“God, baby, please-“ You brace yourself against his chest, leaning forward to kiss him once again. His hips buck up to meet your downward thrusts, trying to bring you closer to your orgasm.

Not even two minutes later, your orgasm rips through your body, you whine into Leon’s mouth and collapse down against him. He wraps his arms around you, continuing to thrust into you, his own orgasm following not too far from behind yours.

When the aftershocks finally die out, you sit up straight, bracing yourself on Leon’s chest once again. He looks up at you with a smile, bringing his hands up to cover yours.

“You’re way too good to me.” He chuckles, squeezing your hands.

“Yeah, well, no one else gets this treatment from me.”

“They better not. I mean, that was just… goddamn.”

“That good?”

“Amazing.” You smile down at him, feeling his chest rise and fall underneath the palm of your hands.

“Well, if you liked that, then you should stick around and see what else I can do.”

“Oh, I plan on it.”

“Perfect,”

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (deleted scene)

⟢Alastor x Reader - The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (A Valentino Production)

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

Part 1 smut 💦 Part 2 smut 💦 Side Story Part 3 smut 💦 Part 4 smut💦 Epilogue sexual Deleted Scene smut 💦 📍

I simply couldn’t fit this in anywhere but it’s still a fun lil read so figured might as well share. Wrote back in like February 😅 you may see I cannabalized some lines from this as I never intended to post it

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x Fem Reader short smutty scene , love making???, Alastor is oddly affectionate and loving, you got him so fucked up, cream pie, riding him like a coin operated airplane in front of the grocery store, so like slow but still super fun?, deleted scene so starts and ends abruptly, redemption is for losers, Alastor moans」

Minors, hey,

hey

💥🗞️DNI

“I’m hopeless.”

“About what?” You glanced at him, a small laugh coming.

When he didn’t reply, you looked back at him, lingering a little longer.

His smile softened, eyes seeming to dilate ever so slowly as he stared. Finally, “Redemption. What a silly little thing.”

You hummed in agreement, going back to your phone, “Right? Who needs heaven when I have everything I need here.”

Had you said it on purpose? So easily cut into him? Was this surgical precision or dumb luck?

He laughed , “You always seem to understand perfectly, my little doe. How do you do it?”

Your smile reached your eyes, “I was made to be your undoing, remember? It comes naturally, mon cher.”

He pulled the phone from your hands and set it on the blanket, mouth coming to the well of your ear, “Say it again”

A chill ran down your spine, fine hair standing on end as goosebumps ran down your arm. “Mon Cher,” the words barely left your mouth before he kissed you, swallowing them into himself. Why? How? A hunger still foreign to him, rising from his lap and igniting his chest.

You felt his hands trembling on your chin, "Are you okay Alastor?

He shook his head no. "I want all of you, my love."

A word you hadn't anticipated. Hadn’t planned for. Hadn’t even dreamed of.

"You have my eternal soul, pretty sure I also threw my body into the deal," He kissed along your jaw then down your neck, making you sigh and relax against his mouth, "What else is there?"

"I don't know. I dont know what I'm saying." He pulled you onto him, setting you on his lap with bent legs holding you steady. Bringing you down for a soft kiss on your lips, "Why does heaven get to decide what redemption looks like?"

He moved aside your sleep shorts, humming happily to find you wearing nothing underneath.

Alastor famously hated you on top. You learned intimately what inspired him to be in the mood, and you on top was decidedly not it. He pulled down his own pajama pants, and began to rub his sticky wet head against your heat.

"Alastor, you -- I thought you didn't like me on top?" You asked, trying to not discourage him.

"I have an odd appetite today, dear. Entertain me?" He began to push in, hands coming to your hips to bring you down onto him. You rested both hands onto his chest for balance, breath already quickening with the burn of him stretching you out first thing in the morning.

When he began to lift your hips and move you up and down his length, you could understand why this would still satiate him. He was still taking the lead, still the one in control.

But something unusual was happening, he was uncharacteristcally vocal. Normally, the only sounds during sex with him were your own pants, his breathing, and the sound of his body slapping into yours. A rare moan tumbled from his mouth, making you clench around him. You licked your lips, wanting another. His eyes were on your connection, watching himself sink into you and disappear entirely. His face was…indiscernable. Somewhere between entranced and desperate.

You took a chance, seeing he was in a different mood than ever before. Putting his hands in yours, you brought them off your hips and laced your fingers into his. As his hands met yours, you leaned into them and let him hold your weight as you rode him. As you tried to find a pace, you watched his eyes tighten close, another breathy moan forced out of him.

Oh, the things that sound did to you. Was this was how good he felt when he was fucking you? Was this that high he seemed to be chasing every time you eagerly let him pin you down?

Unpracticed and clumsy, your hips rolled over his cock. Soon you were letting your full body weight fall into his lap as you plunged him as deeply as you could. You leaned in for a kiss, your own motions making your mouths slide over each other as your lips tried to make contact in the right places. Failing, you left kisses on his chin, his cheek, just below his nose. Another moan, a sigh, then--- did you hear your name ghost over your mouth?

That was all you needed, you slowed and ground down on him, friction bringing you to the edge and tossing your body over it with a violent shudder.

As you stilled, trying to ride out your orgasm, Alastor bucked up into you. A little scream as your softened walls jumped at the contact. Another thrust up, until he was fucking you through the after effects of your orgasm, chasing his own. You wanted to say something, but you didn't want to push. This was already so out of the norm, you felt the moment was fragile.

He whinced, a series of moans threatening to make you cum all over again as he met his release. You could feel his cock jerking inside you, twitching as he flooded you with his seed. What a lovely feeling, warm and full. You wanted to roll off before you dripped down him, another thing you knew he was uncomfortable with. But when you tried to move his hands went back to your hips and pressed you down. His head pushing deep against the end of your cunt.

"Please, just-- stay like this for me." His voice was low and soft against your cheek, a loud crack of static peppering his voice.

You'd stay like this until the inevitable heat death of the universe if he asked. You'd never leave his cock if he so much as mentioned the idea.

[hoseoksluna]

WHITE | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 8.1k

summary: craving white wine, your boyfriend would do anything for you—even let you dom him.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: alcohol consumption, wine!oc is dominant and she's enjoying it, plushie used in a sexual intercourse, dd/lg, jk is desperate and so horny, hand job, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), fingering, squirting, raw sex, the importance of sex being imperfect, use of sex toys — yes, plural, dirty talk, spanking, face riding

note: i'm genuinely sorry for this—SDFKJDSLFJDSLFJS. this is the last wine drabble <3 i loved writing about them again, ugh i missed my babies so much. would you, guys, also like me to write two drabbles about the steam series? i feel like it would only be fair like this. vote in the poll below, pwease. <3 hope you like this last installment.

Your boyfriend has an immense, insane amount of energy. 

You have partly yourself to blame. It’s Saturday night, summer at full blast and you felt it thrumming so deeply and intensely within your veins that you found yourself craving your most favored mood-lifter in the world. 

White wine. 

You’ve almost spent every weekend drinking myriads of different alcoholic beverages, but the white nectar is something you’ve quite neglected. Well, not so much as neglected, but forgotten about entirely. The last time you drank it, you and Jungkook were on far, far different terms. Fuck buddies with a degradation kink, skipping a party because you got horny again. You wonder if things would’ve turned out the same way if you hadn’t decided to spice up your getting ready time with that drink. Would it change the course of events that led him to confess his feelings for you? Would you have allowed yourself to fall for him, had he not made you drunk with his allure?

You only had to mention your thirst and Jungkook was quick to get up to his feet, take his keys, phone and wallet and he was out the door before you could say anything else. Your fond giggles vibrated across the room—so much that Bam lifted his head and jumped on your lap and so you spent the remaining time alone cuddling with the canine friend, catching up in your lovey-dovey dog language, kissing him all over until you dolled him up with red lipstick marks. 

He looked so good. Was happy about it, too, because when his Daddy came back, he was similarly quick to show him. 

And Jungkook, he laughed so hard that he clutched his own stomach, doubled over, his shoulders shaking. Then, he sat next to you on the couch, pulled you in for a hug as if he hadn’t seen you in years and very solemnly told you that it was his turn now. 

The words that tumbled out of you were so swift, without any kind of embrace of thought beforehand, that you didn’t have the time to consider the consequences they would come with until they dazzled you. Through and through, ridding you of your sense of sight. 

“You’ll get your kisses only if you show me that you bought the wine.” 

Jungkook’s eyes grew in size, darkened in nightly fashion. Twinkles flickering, dimly. The atmosphere, the dynamic and energy shifted, folding into something you haven’t yet experienced in such depth, calming your eyes until they blended back into normalcy. And you wouldn’t perceive it for what it truly was, had Jungkook not wordlessly left to fetch his bag from the convenience store, along with a corkscrew and two glasses, and had he not crouched in front of you. 

The view left you stunned. The blatantly obvious fact, too. 

The fact that, somehow, you were in control.

And it was so different from the last time due to a simple reason. Jungkook wasn’t the one who initiated it. Didn’t tell you to be in charge. Didn’t give you his control in words, in commands. No, it happened arbitrarily, on its own and Jungkook submitted to it. Submitted to you. Put down his control once he lowered his form between your knees, giving it to you this way, silently. 

A thing of utter beauty, filling you up with vibrancy, enthusiasm and… passion. 

He showed you his haul, unloading it onto your lap. Sparkling white wine in a golden bottle, dog treats, cheese and crackers and… Miffy. 

Miffy in a way you haven’t seen her before. 

Made into a sleeping position. Black eyes shut, round butt risen in the air, even rounder tail perked, body soft and drowsy. Bigger than the bunny resting alone on his bed in the other room. 

You purred, squeezing her hard before you hugged her to your chest, careful not to smear your makeup on her when you pushed her up to your neck. Looked at your quite small boyfriend with a ravening gaze as you said, “You got bunny a sister, how cute. Well done.” 

Your praise coaxed a noise out of Jungkook that you never heard before, one that stirred the eternally slumbering beast in you that had not once seen the night enveloping you. A concoction, most delicious and arousing, of a whimper and a hum. It settled within your core, teasing you there, making you want more. You told him, or the beast more like, to open the wine and he obeyed, right away. 

You watched him do it. Watched the flexing of his muscles, tense beneath the fabric of his tiger-print shirt. Watched him not spill a drop and then pour you a glass until it almost overflowed. He handed it to you, expecting you to take it from him, but you caught him off guard. 

“Taste it for me first.” 

His mouth fell agape. Remained parted when he immediately brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip. Your eyes followed the bobble of his throat as he swallowed and you gave him a big smile for it. A praise, too. 

“Good. Let me have a sip now, my hands are full.” 

In typical fashion, he drew close to you until your knees squeezed him in, legs wrapping around his torso. One hand wrapped around your hip, the other tipped the glass to your mouth and you looked at him and did not stop until you took a big gulp. 

“More.” 

He tipped it again. “Tastes good?” 

You nodded, liking the sweetness and the fizziness, but this time you didn’t swallow the nectar. Jungkook set the glass down, along with his haul, averting his gaze momentarily and you cupped his chin, bringing it back to you. Leaned in and, in a heated kiss, you spewed the wine out into his mouth. He gasped, pulling away, flushed cheeks a tiny bit full, lips pursed, one mouth end wet with a trickle flowing down. It would’ve been an adorable sight, had his eyes not narrowed, darkened further more and pierced you with such intensity that your clit gained a drum. 

Your finger felt for the top button of his shirt. “Swallow. Don’t be messy.” He did. Swore. Breathed hard. You undid the button, lifting your digit to wipe his chin clean, smearing it on his bottom lip until he opened for you. You plunged in. Let out a low sound of delight once he wrapped his puffy lips around it. 

And now here you are staring at each other, finger in mouth. His newly secured energy pulsating in him, seconds away from bursting, brutally. You can see it, vividly, and you prepare yourself for it—blaming partly yourself and, feignedly, the palatability of the white nectar for being the cause behind it. He’s waiting for the next move, countenance terribly solemn and stiff. His hands must be oh so itching to take over, but he sticks to the unspoken, patient and good. 

Taking out your finger gently, you undo the rest of his buttons, aware of the shudders zapping his body the more you reveal his smooth skin. Jungkook straightens for you, palms on your thighs, breathing heavily, a sound that brings out the strangest of oxymorons in you—simultaneous nervousness and confidence. Nervousness that you call the shots; confidence that the paintwork of his arousal is signed with your name. 

And it’s the latter that the beast plucks out, like a twig of flower off a tree. 

You push Jungkook back and slide into his lap, biting your lip at the contact of his hardness under the flimsy material of your ivory pajama shorts. His hands clasp around your small hips, but you pry them away, deeming that if you are in control, then it’s you who decides when he gets to touch you. His brows rise when you pin them down and at last he beams up at you, eyes lidded and drunk, despite the fact he merely had two sips of alcohol. Bunny’s sister rests askew in your joined laps, her head pointed towards your mound and it forces a certain idea into your muddy brain. 

One that Jungkook fleetingly interrupts. 

“You’re gonna take control of me?” 

Ooft, making it official. You hum your agreement, repositioning the plushie. Place her directly against his imprint and, pushing the soaked center of your shorts to the side, you sit down on her soft face. Begin to rock slowly. Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat, fists clench on either side of him as well as his jaw, chin upturned. He’s holding himself back with all of his might and it is only now that you feel your wetness dripping onto the fur, now when the vibrancy of the faint pleasure spreads across your every nerve ending, now when you know that he’s struggling to keep his composure. There’s something so incredibly satisfying about it that you rock your hips harder, whimpering, hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Can you handle it?” you murmur, already knowing that he won’t be able to the moment you decide to take things further, but you give him a slither of a chance to prove you wrong, rooting for him from within with a sly smile on your face. 

Jungkook pokes his tongue in his cheek, sighing, eyes descending to your neck and to your perky, pebbled breasts under your low cut top. “I’ll handle anything you come up with as long as I get your kisses.” 

His sweet response gratifies you so much that you arch your back, lowering your hands down to his chest, the thrum on your clit becoming unbearable, the soft friction of the plushie doing very little to alleviate it. You whine, picking up your pace. “Even—even if you don’t get to touch me?” 

Jungkook hesitates, biting his lower lip. A certain sadness coasts his now big eyes that makes you coo endearingly and slow down, feel so bad for him. “Anything for you.” 

You can’t halt the groan from escaping, the groan that roots from the passion and the love you carry for him, from the principle of his submission. You’ll make it up to him. Play with him just for a little while and you’ll give him his rightful upper hand right back to him, all because he was so quick to be your little toy. Without a thought, nor a word spared. Without a struggle. He deserves it. Has come a long way. 

“You’re just my little slut, aren’t you?” You grab a hold of his throat, tip his chin up, feel his vein throbbing. “My pretty little slut. Hard for me, hm? Will do anything for me?” 

Widening his eyes, mouth parted, he moans, sucking in a breath, chest lifting rapidly. Hand automatically lifting to palm himself, just in time to realize that he can’t because the plushie and your lap is in the way. “Yes, I’m your little slut and I need you so bad. Need your kisses.” 

You hum, terribly, terribly satisfied. Horny. A fire, personified. Fire and energy—a wonderful mixture about to meet. “Where, baby?” 

His breath shakes, his being radiated by you, glistening in sweat. “Everywhere, please.” 

You drift your hands down his chest. Think he earned them now by asking so nicely. You sit back on his thighs, plushie in hand, ready to chuck her away, but then another idea comes up. 

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, you use her to kiss him. On his jaw, on his neck, on his left peck, nipple and the mole underneath, making kissing sounds. Jungkook shudders at the contact upon his most sensitive spots and you can see his disliking for it before he voices it out. You revel in it, his desperation becoming your obsession. 

“No, not from her. Please, from you.” 

But in spite of that, your craving to give him everything is stronger. 

You toss her on the couch, hands instantly clasping around his neck. You kiss him, wetly, on his Adam’s apple and he whimpers, urging you to continue. The sides of his throat, collarbones, shoulders—you mark him everywhere with your red lipstick, making a pathway down his sternum before you go sideways. Create a large shape of a heart on the left side of his peck, coloring it in with bruises, with kisses so hard that his manhood twitches in his pants. You’re so focused on adorning him, on the citrusy taste of his skin, that you don’t even sense your hands as they rid him of his shirt, unbuckle his belt and undo his button, dragging down his zipper. 

You rise to your feet, out of breath, puffy mouth, lipstick slightly smeared, head spinning. “Take off your pants and get on the couch.” 

The golden buckle of his belt catches your eye as he stands up. You wrap your hand around it and tug it out of his belt hoops harshly. There’s a hint of timidness in the vast sea of his arousal once he looks at you, aware of what you’re planning with the leather band. With a giggle, you merely wink at him and Jungkook blushes, dropping his gaze in tandem with his pants. 

“Boxers, too?” 

You edge around his side and envelop your arms around his middle, mouth pressing against his spine. A big, red mark of your lips amidst the broadness of his back. Utterly, utterly beautiful. “Smart boy, yes—off with them, now.” 

Jungkook laughs, softly, shyly. You wish you could see his blush deepen as the clenching of his abdomen divulges to you how much he liked that praise. You also wish you could feel the fluttering of the butterflies inside, if there are any at all. You’re getting to know him in such a new way that you otherwise would have never had the opportunity to do so. The shudders, the tension under his skin, the lively energy that is yearning to burst and rain upon you—it is all so awfully exhilarating, even more so the fact that you hold it all in your tender grasp. 

And he lets you. In the name of love. 

He drops his undergarment and he goes to sit down like you told him to, but you squeeze him harder against yourself. No, he’s not going anywhere. The heat, his soft skin, his gentleness and shyness—you want it all close to you, close enough to seep into your pores so it can make bed there and live there perpetually. So snug, so homely—yes, that’s precisely what it is. Home. 

You skim your hands down the defined muscles of his stomach, feeling them move under your fingers. Take his wrists behind his back and keep them there, unrestrained yet, his belt curled on the coffee table. You bring your hands back to his stomach, lowering them down—

“Can you reach me?” Jungkook asks, head turned to the side. You’re so used to degradation in your sex life that at first you thought he was mocking you, but on the contrary—he’s asking in all genuinity. With his forearms pressed to his sides, he’s bigger than he usually is and he wondered if your small form can stretch enough to touch him. 

How sweet. 

“Such a good, thoughtful boy.” You grab his length. Had to do it from the side a little bit, but you don’t mind. At least you get to see him. See the way he twists his features at the contact, see his energy and his muscles straining. “I guess I can, huh?” 

You tug at his length rapidly a few times. His body shudders again, almost doubles over before he straightens his spine, whimpers trickling out of his mouth and rooting in your heat, soaking your pajamas. And when his sounds rise in volume, you swiftly let go of him. Fetch the belt and fasten it around his wrists, leading him to take a seat on the couch. 

Manspreading, cock hard, red and long, almost kissing his belly button, hands behind his back, muscles big and flexed, face features darkened by his arousal, ravagedly fixed on you—fuck, you could come from the view. 

You sink to your knees in front of him. Itch so fucking hard to take him in your mouth and make that energy paint you in white, but watching him like this—you plan something else entirely. Pressing one kiss on his V-line, you glide your lips upon the tip of his length, making him tremble in desperation. It takes all of your strength not to give it to him, but you know he will be overjoyed with the little thought that’s swarming in your brain. 

“Where’s your fleshlight, baby?” 

Jungkook loosens a hard, flabbergasted breath and his pretty, pretty cock twitches against your mouth. 

You knew it. 

You bought the toy together yesterday. It’s still unopened in a box somewhere in his bedroom; you don’t know where he hid it. He may have not wanted to spend money on it, but when you witnessed the way his eyes glowed, you convinced him to get it. Begged him. Told him you wouldn’t leave the sex shop until he bought it and he gave in, timidly. Much to your delight.

“In the closet,” Jungkook croaks out, clearing his throat and you kiss his other V-line as a reward, kitten licking his tip for a millisecond as you rise to your feet. He whimpers, again in desperation.

“You can’t get it, can you?” you taunt, lovingly, fingers hooking under your shorts and dragging them down your hips, your top following over your head. His eyes follow your every movement, fixing on your feminine parts, muscles bulging, yearning to touch you. You grow wetter, being looked at, being desired like that. “You’re just a helpless baby.” 

He moans your name, signaling to you that there’s only so much he can take and you understand. You’re quick as you hurry to his bedroom, quick to find it, quick to pull the toy out of the box and quick to return to him. 

There’s a trickle of his male arousal gliding down his length when you stand between his legs and your own desperation to pleasure him heightens in you—so much that you’re equally quick to unfold your plan. 

You grab his chin and tip it up, harshly. Kiss him so nastily that he moans into your mouth and then… then you stare him dead in his eye. “I’m gonna put the fleshlight under bunny’s sister and you’re gonna show her how hard Daddy fucks his girls, yeah?” He’s left speechless, breathing rapidly, coated in sweat. Eyes narrowed, still darkened but now glowing with that familiar light that you saw yesterday, black irises piercing you through and through. “You should give her a name, though. Have something to moan when you fill her up, hm?” 

It’s evident, the way his brain malfunctions, but he surprises you. 

“Vinny.” 

Vinny and Bunny, how adorable. 

You coo, pecking him. “Vinny it is. Such a pretty name. I’m gonna make you nice and wet for her. Would you like that?” 

“Please.” 

You descend to your knees and you don’t hesitate to immediately take him into your mouth as far as you can. You gag around him, but you relax your throat, bobbing your head only slightly, testing yourself, wanting to stretch your throat out for him. Jungkook groans, squeaks little mewls as he doubles over once more, and the sound is so obscenely loud that your clit throbs harder in response and you would touch yourself if your craving to pleasure him wasn’t stronger. 

You pull out until you can stack both of your hands on his length and while your tongue plays with his tip, you twist your wrists. Only briefly, just to make him feel a little better before you lick him all over—just to stay true to your words. And when it’s your name that comes out of his mouth once you slobber all over him, you withdraw altogether. 

“Please… please,” Jungkook whimpers, trembling and you feel terribly bad for him. So much that you pucker your lips at him and kiss his cheek endearingly as soon as you get on your feet again, purposefully ignorant to the way your cunt likes his helplessness. 

“I got something better for you, Daddy, don’t worry,” you reassure him, slipping into the dynamic your familiarity using the title. You grab Vinny and the fleshlight, placing her on top of the toy, on the armrest of the couch—her butt and her pussy facing him. 

And when you glance at him to see his reaction to your artwork, you’re stunned by the look he gives you. Mad, mad stare. Awfully dark and menacing. It would disquiet you if didn’t know that he loved you. There’s no way you could take the liberty in toying with him like this, had you not become exclusive—had he not created a realm of safety for you to do that in. 

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you for this,” Jungkook threatens and the sliver of normalcy in the middle of the role-play that he caught onto makes you giddy and feel so fucking alive. The threat, too. You quiver in anticipation and excitement, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re not walking after this.” 

You laugh, softly, thrilled. “I sure hope so,” you say, grabbing a hold of his arm to lift him up. “I’m dripping for you.” 

Jungkook hisses. Won’t budge. Remains seated, looking up at you. Doesn’t reciprocate your smile. Scowls, instead. “Can I taste you?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, even if it emotionally pains you. “Not right now.” 

He sighs and you take his arm again. This time he obeys—lets you lead him into the position that you want. On his knees, still on the couch, perfectly at level with Vinny’s pussy patiently waiting for him. Jungkook looks at her for a long time, studying the silicone shape of her clit and lips. You’re certain that if his hands were free, his thumb would’ve traced her soft vulva.

“Do you like her pussy?” you ask, your grin only widening, eyes blazing, emitting hot sparkles of light. You’re perhaps more excited and enthusiastic about this than he is. 

Jungkook looks at her for a split second more before he flicks his intense gaze to yours. “Yours is prettier.” Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart follows its footsteps, skipping a beat, springing up and grazing your vocal cords. You can’t get a word out—you’re stupefied, in love, so impassioned that you resemble him with all that fire in you, taking after his energy buzzing in him. You sense the same movement in you, hotter, more vigorous. Your mouth parts and, cheeks awash with color, you’re on the verge of bursting. “Let me touch your little pussy, please.”  

You bite your lip, pause a tiny bit just to regain your composure and you sigh, eventually, gripping his face in your hand, squishing his cheeks. “I said,” you start, emphasizing your warning just to see his flush deepen like you wanted. “Not right now. Can’t you listen?” 

For a fleeting moment, there’s a heavy silence filled with his hard breaths. 

Then, Jungkook glares at you. 

“I’m gonna destroy you.” 

You chuckle, girlishly—even though his threat yet again thrums within your skin, even though your body craves to submit to him, throw the playtime away, forget about it, entirely. “Talk all you want. See where it gets you.” With your other hand, you take his length and line it up at Vinny’s entrance. “Fuck her.” 

Now—now he finally grins, a puckish smile that unnerves you a little bit, as if an idea crawled up into that smart brain of his. 

And he proves you right. 

“I’m gonna show her how I’m gonna fuck you,” he mutters, drawing closer to Vinny, to the arm rest. “Where’s the lube? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” 

A trickle of cold sweat trickles down your spine and it’s you who’s left speechless now. You were so quick to return to him that you did forget the lube, mind void of rationality, filled with him that you forgot such an essential thing. You swear under your breath, feeling stupid. 

“Go get it before I rip this fucking belt apart and use it on you.” 

Wordlessly, embarrassed with your head down, you go back to his room and fish for his lube in his bedside drawer, noticing that it’s where he keeps the vibrator for you. You haven’t used it in so long in your playtime and you reminisce, briefly, on the last time he made you come with it. On this very bed, on his lap with bunny on yours as he rearranged your guts with the toy on your clit—teasing you by lifting it and placing it between the plushie’s legs, acting for her and screwing up his features in pleasure.

Your heart thuds at the memory, your thighs sodden with your essence, and a certain expectation creeps within its chambers. The expectation that the toy will make a comeback tonight. That is, if you even deserve it. 

You cringe at your wetness while your feet pad back to the living room. Jungkook stares you down, guilt written all over his face for being mean and it mollifies your negative feelings, dispersing them away from you. It’s enough for you—you don’t really want to talk about how you pitifully failed, nor do you want to hear a mention of it, but Jungkook seemingly does. 

Up close, his eyes are awfully soft as if he made a mistake with his last words. You don’t think he did—he’s always been the leader in your playtime, so you deem he only did the right thing. Besides, you’ve worked him up to the point of anger, so from your standpoint, he didn’t do anything wrong. You did. 

“Come here,” he says, gently, leaning in and angling his head. “Put your arms around me.” You do as he says, needing to, needing to be led for a little while before you can resume. You sink your fingers into his hair as you rest your forearms around his shoulders, even though all you want to do is rid him of his restraint and let him fuck it out of you. He kisses you with such tenderness that you whimper in sensitivity and amorousness, taking it one step further and moving your mouth against his, slipping your tongue inside. It’s a brief kiss, no matter its intensity, for he still has something to say. “You’re doing so well tonight. I never thought I’d ever get this hard from you being the boss of me. I’m sorry for snapping, you hear me?” he whispers against your lips, each movement causing his pillows to touch yours in faint, faint kisses that make your mind spin and your desire for him to lengthen across your whole body, deepening. You nod for him, hearing his words, needing them, too—glad for the honesty, for the check in, for the sliver of normalcy. “I’m just so horny and I need you. I didn’t mean it, okay? Daddy didn’t mean to talk to you like this. He loves you and you made him so needy that he’s frustrated, but it’s okay. He can handle it. Do you love your Daddy back, hm?”

You moan at the continuation of his words, running your fingers through his hair, inching closer to him until your chest softly collides with his. And his reassurement, the warm feeling of his skin, the potency of his love—it all erases your mistake, leaving only your sensual craving for him. You nod, again, like a little girl given a talking-to from her father, absorbing the lesson. “I love you.” 

Jungkook hums, pleased, pecking you. “Good. I’m gonna do what you want now, baby. Gonna make you proud, listen to every word like a good Daddy, hm? You can do anything you want to me. You’d like that? You wanna keep going?” 

You smile at him, sweetly, and he kisses your expression of contentment. It feels so good like this and you feel woozy, too. Sluggish, ready to be taken, on your way to cloud nine. You nod your head for the last time and squirt the lube all over him and Vinny’s intimate parts, your desire to take over him blending into your fuzzy feelings. 

With your help, he slides inside her, both pairs of eyes watching the slick intrusion, then meeting at once—your simultaneous groans of delight merging, fading into one another, creating one beautiful, heavenly sound, unheard by all angels and celestial beings. You hold the fleshlight steady as he bottoms out, his mouth parted, brows furrowed, eyes so heavy-lidded as he devours your gaze, your face, the pleasure he feels so overwhelming that you almost think he can’t take it. The flexing of his abdominal muscles, the roll of his hips that takes all of his strength while his arms remain restrained behind his back, his neck shiny with a layer of sweat—fuck, the sight is to die for and you melt into something boneless, jelly and gooey; becoming just a hole for him.

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. Perhaps it’s you, after all, who can’t take it. 

Jungkook begins to pound her, his mound hitting her clit with every hard motion and it strikes your awe. Your breathing quickens, the drum in your own bundle of nerves unwaveringly unbearable and what’s worse, he keeps fucking looking at you, perhaps imagining it’s your pussy that he’s ruining and your legs tremble, threatening to give out—

“Rub your pussy on the other end, please,” he begs, vocal cords so awfully strained, and this time you decide to gratify him. 

The first moan that your mouth emits makes him fuck the toy harder—so much that it slips out of your grasp. You prop your knee on the armrest, flattening Vinny’s face on the edge of the toy, so you can gain the friction you so desperately need and it works. Your cunt soaks her sleepy countenance and you flick your eyes to it, watching the fur get darker with each rock of your hips.

“Look at me,” he grunts—and you do. A hint of softness in the dark sea of his eyes, boisterous waves of arousal sloshing to and fro. “Use her like I am. Hard—” He shows you how by a stroke that reverberates through your body, stimulating your clit by bumping into it. “And then fast.” Quick thrusts that waggle with your form, your curls bouncing against your spine. 

And so you match his rhythm. It stimulates you far more than the pace you had going for yourself, your orgasm enclosing around you, inching closer and closer with each graze of your clit against the now more firm plush fur. Your brows knit, the coil in your stomach tightening to the point that it’s you who ultimately takes over and Jungkook follows, matching your rhythm, fucking Vinny faster—the silicone squeaking with each deep plunge of his length into her hole that causes your tits to slap against each other. But Jungkook doesn’t look at them. No, his eyes are set on you and you know that he knows that you’re about to come. 

Jungkook begins to pant, marked chest flushing, adorning him most finely. The knowledge is getting him there, too. “You close, baby?” 

You moan, sucking in a breath. “So close, I’m gonna come.” 

He moans with you, approving of it. “Come, then, I wanna watch you. Make her nice and wet for me, hm?” You rock your hips faster—closer and closer, gripping Vinny with all your might. “I wanna touch you so bad, princess. Kiss you everywhere. Lick that little clit. Fuck you until all that you know is my fucking name. Please—”

You come so hard that it takes both you and Jungkook by surprise, your body violently shuddering and colliding into his. He groans, deeply, following in suit, your orgasm triggering his and he sloppily fucks the toy while he watches you ride out your high, bliss enveloping you in angelic glow. 

“Yes, princess, just like that, fuck. You’re so pretty. My pretty little girl, coming so hard. Yes, fuck.” He’s losing himself, moaning your name over and over until there’s nothing left to give to Vinny, until he’s so spent that he sits back on his feet, eyes closing and opening, tongue licking his dry lips. He moans your name again, in post-high. “Please, get the belt—”

You don’t hesitate. With blurry vision and sex hormones swirling in your brain, numb by your intense orgasm, you edge around him and rid him of his restraint, flinging it somewhere away from the both of you, hating it, not wanting to see it again. 

You and Jungkook exchange a look full of soft smiles and love, with his joy like a cherry on top of that. He twists his wrists, standing up to his feet, the size difference and the sudden change in energy causing him to grow solemn. No smiles, though the love remains. You feel it thumping in the atmosphere you’re surrounded by as he completely overpowers you, naturally. And you welcome it, needing it—needing to be dominated and fucked until you’re brainless. 

“I love watching you come,” Jungkook murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. “It’s all I want to see for the rest of my life. Every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. It’s everything to me.” 

It moves through you, his words, almost painfully with their vigor and passion, passing down your body until they settle in your core. You drip for him. Still feel so terribly lightheaded and high. “Just that, huh?” 

“And your snores.” 

You punch his arm. Jungkook laughs and gathers your hair, pulling it away from your face, stroking it down your back. A grin of your own curls your mouth. You don’t snore, at all. And you tell him. 

“You do when you’re tired.” You gasp, lifting your hand again but he catches it in time, intertwining your fingers with his. “You did such a good job today. You learn well from me. Sounded just like me. Made me proud.” He strokes your hair again and you lean into his touch, even though you don’t believe him. You could’ve done a lot better and it could’ve ended just like you planned—fucking him with that fleshlight. You guess you can save that for another time. 

You shake your head. “I messed up.” 

“But you didn’t.” He angles his head, inching closer so the gravity of his words can pierce your mind, but it does no such thing. You still have one of your own. Solid as a rock. 

“No, I shouldn’t have forgotten the lube. It ruined everything.” 

Jungkook sighs, drawing back, fondling the back of your hand before he lets go of it and clutches the nape of your neck. “Sex isn’t meant to be perfect. You didn’t ruin anything, why do you think that?” He looks at you for a long time, but you can’t take it—you drop your gaze, still feeling terrible. He calls you by your name, firmly. “Who made you think sex is meant to be perfect, huh? Bring them to me.” 

You laugh, softly, at the ridiculousness of his question. It’s him who owns your virginity—you’ve never been with anyone else before him. It’s your own expectations that make you think that. “Right here.” You point to your brain. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead. Lingers there, giving you a million tiny pecks, as if erasing everything from there that he doesn’t like. It touches you, deeply, and you can’t stop yourself from submitting to it as it melts your brain. Your mouth rounds in a pout, your bottom lip jutting out and when he gazes down upon you and sees it, he coos at you, kissing it. “I made a mistake, too, didn’t I?” You remain silent—still think he didn’t do anything wrong. “But it was still amazing and we came together, didn’t we?” 

He’s right; you’ll give him that. “You really liked it?” 

He pecks you, vehemently, on the lips and then points to the fleshlight behind him in all its glory, dripping with cum. So much fucking cum that it makes a puddle on the hardwood floor. “Do you think I would’ve cummed this much if I didn’t? Tell me, baby.” 

You swear, unable to take your eyes off of the quantity of his male essence. It draws you in, magnetically, and you obey its call, lifting the fleshlight with your hands, turning around so Jungkook sees and darting out your tongue—

“Don’t.” 

You swipe the muscle across the silicone hole, collecting his ivory arousal. Most of it trickles down your neck and bare chest and it’s Jungkook now who swears, loudly. Grabs you by your waist and, flinging the toy away, he kisses you. You didn’t even have the time to swallow. He’s tasting himself on your tongue and it causes you to moan into his mouth. He taps the back of your thighs and you jump, wrapping your legs around his torso. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but at this point you give zero fucks. 

His tender bedding grazes your back when he lays you down on it with a harsh thud, breaking the kiss and taking your breath away. Bottom lip between his teeth, he studies your soiled body with his cum, kneeling on the bed by your form. He takes his first two fingers and collects his evidence of pleasure, flicking his eyes to yours. You meet him halfway, expecting him to plunge those digits in your mouth and you’re ecstatic, wanting it badly, but Jungkook pushes you down. 

In fact, he turns you around—ass up, face down. With just one hand. 

You swear, your arousal gaining new intensity. And it’s your needy hole that he plunges his fingers in, briefly stuffing you with his cum, placing his free hand on your lower back so you can arch your spine for him more. Then, he rubs your clit in hard, slow circles, making you cry out, making your legs tremble all over again—

A spank. A brassy, cacophonous spank that drives you forward, forcing you to grip onto the sheets. 

“I told you not to do that, didn’t I?” Jungkook rasps. Doesn’t alleviate the burn. “Answer me.” 

Fuck. “Yeah, you told me not to do that.” 

You brace yourself for another spank, but it doesn’t come. You feel his lips by your ear, his body heat cocooning you as he bends over you, his fists, pitifully, on either side of your back. 

“You’re such a filthy little girl. Licking my cum off like that? Making me hard all over again for you?” he tsks, the sound making you even needier. For him, for his cock, even for another spank. You grind your ass against his hip and he maneuvers so his cock slips between your cheeks. Swears, such guttural noise that you mewl in response. “You just do what you want, huh? I guess you don’t love your Daddy anymore.” 

He spanks you again, harder than before, and your vowel of disagreement breaks at the concoction of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. “No—no, I love you.” 

Another spank. Lips by your ear again, his body clinging to your side. “You love me?” He clamps your mouth shut, preventing you from answering. 

You do, anyways, your words muffled. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

Jungkook hums in question. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” He digs his fingers harder into your cheek, other hand rounding around your hip and attacking you with bolts of pleasure that make you quiver against him—rubbing your clit rapidly before he sinks his fingers inside you… and merely keeps them there. 

You move his hand away and he lets you, holding it, panting. “I love you so much.” 

Jungkook groans, sinking his fingers deeper. “Who do you love, hm?” 

He wants you to say his rightful title and you do, with all your heart. “You, Daddy. I love you.” 

At your words, Jungkook begins to pump his fingers and you cry out, placing your head on his palm, taking it. “Such a good fucking girl, making me crazy—” He growls, pressing a fat kiss on your cheek, curling his fingers slowly into that place that causes your breath to hitch in your throat, your orgasm quick to catch up to you. “Good little girl that loves her Daddy, fuck. I’m gonna give you everything. Gonna eat that little pussy, hm? You want that? Want Daddy to make you come with his tongue?” 

You squeak when he gives you one particular, hard stroke against your special place, mind numbing, a dam broken. “Yes, yes, please, Daddy, please—”

He draws away, instantly. Traces your back with his palms as he straightens, smearing your feminine essence all over your skin that he licks up. And then, his mouth—

Jungkook takes you in his mouth. All of you. Licking against your clit, sucking it, rubbing his face in your cunt and groaning against her. His hands squeeze your ass, painting it redder and he flicks your little bundle of nerves with his tongue until he senses your orgasm. Then, he pulls away for a second, stalling it. Thumbs your other, puckered hole. 

“My pretty little pussy. All mine.”

Mewling, you shake your ass for him and he growls, cursing, spanking your cheek, taking the flesh in his hand and squeezing it. Again and again, until you feel yourself drip, until you feel him spread your legs wider and nudge himself between them, opening his mouth for it to trickle down upon his tongue. 

“Sit up. Ride my face.” 

You moan before you even obey, sitting down on his tongue and grinding your pussy on it. He rolls it against you, back and forth, following your rhythm. Slow and romantic, kissing your clit every once in a while, sucking it as you keep up your movement, inching dangerously close to your orgasm. He’s in absolute control of you, though. Of your pleasure and climax, stalling it before beckoning it forth again. You lose yourself in it, in the profound and all consuming delight toying with all your nerve endings, creating something within you that diffuses you with confidence and allure, that inclines you to ride him harder, whimper a little louder and knead your breast until you leave your handprint in your wake. 

He lets you do your thing, but as you saw earlier today, there’s only so much that he can take. 

Clasping your hips, he angles them until your hole is at level with his nimble tongue, guiding you to lean back and use his chest to hold yourself steady. And like his fingers, he fucks you with the muscle, curling it each time. The filthy noise of your slick and his saliva, his breaths and hums, your obscene moans and then his thumb rubbing your clit rapidly—it’s enough, with his evident permission, for you to come. 

And you come so hard that you sprinkle his face with your dew. 

He laughs in utter joy, humming—humming deeply and you’re so obsessed with that sound that you come again, shuddering violently and he spanks you, holds you by your waist, digging in his fingerprints, allowing you to ride out your high, to use him until you’re so boneless that you slump against him. 

Jungkook drags you down, though, slipping, instantly, his cock inside of you. And it’s wild, wild butterflies that you feel in your gut owing to it, then pain so acute that you whine. Enveloping his arms around you, tightly, with no way of escaping, his wet face is so tender that you coo at him amidst the rush of your colorful feelings. Wipe away your dew, giggling, kissing him loudly as his cock adjusts in you and the bite from overstimulation withers little by little.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Jungkook whispers, beaming up at you, iridescent. “You feel so good around me. So tight. I love being inside of you.” 

Slowly, he begins to move, causing your features to scrunch up. In discomfort at first, then in relish as your stiffened nipples rub against the hardness of his chest. 

“You’re my good little girl. You take everything I give you so well. So well.” Jungkook picks up his pace, gathering your hair in his fist. Doesn’t pull on it; merely holds it. You whimper, his words loosening the overbearing tightness of your walls. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re just my little baby. Mine—” A hard thrust. Your eyes roll back. “My baby.” 

“Yes, I’m yours,” you croak out and Jungkook takes your face in his hands and pounds into you until all you see is stars. Pretty, pretty twinkling stars. 

Slapping skin, his grunts—you don’t even see your orgasm coming, coming over you so violently and yet in such an exhilarating way. Your dew forces him out, forces his chuckles out again and he brings you back to him, kissing you, plunging his cock back with ease. 

You’re so lightheaded that you feel like an angel, soaring in the sky. An angel that years for something more. And you tell him. “Jungkook, please, I want the vibrator.” 

He merely smiles at you, arm reaching over and pulling out the toy for you from his bedside table. Turning it on, you’re radiated by the light in his eyes and you whimper in impatience. Jungkook shushes you, like a baby, clicking on the intensity until he’s satisfied, placing it on your clit. 

And then he gets up. 

Pushes you against his closet, back against the wood, legs around his waist, vibrator on your clit and his hand clasped around your mouth, preventing your loud moans from escaping while letting you know how much he loves being in charge. Giving you hard strokes that secure him your soul on a silver platter before he fucks you so fast that you can’t see anything. Your surroundings are a blur while his face remains clear, painted in tortured pleasure for you as if he were holding himself back. 

“Come for me, Daddy,” you beg under his palm, your sound muffled, but it seems that Jungkook understands you. 

Pulling away, he turns you around and gets into position again. One hand around your mouth, the other holding the toy on your clit, his dick inside. He begins to play with you, not moving his hips at all, only the vibrator. Panting against the crook of your neck, he takes a second to merely breathe with you while you’re on the pathway to another mind blowing orgasm because he turns up the intensity. “How about you come for Daddy first, hm? I know you don’t need me to move when we do this. You can come just like this. So come.” 

And you do, embarrassingly, whining all over the place, twisting your hips to chase your pleasure, causing him to emit the same sounds—causing him to pound you so hard against his closet that he, too, comes in mere minutes. His fingers in your mouth, he’s loud and just as whiny as you, fucking you through his orgasm as you play with digits, sucking on them. 

He doesn’t pull away for a long time. Presses you against his chest and holds you like that, still connected. The vibrator buzzes on the floor, the air is stuffed, but you’re content, the happiest angel, held and stuffed, too. With cum and dick. Heaven on earth. 

Jungkook begins to kiss your neck, marking you there. Fondles your nipples, making you shudder and sigh, making you utter the three words that he deserves. 

“I love you, Ggukie.” 

Jungkook makes a sound that tears you apart. A whimper; the whiniest you ever heard him be. He pulls out of you, but stuffs you again with his fingers. Makes you squirt in record time, kissing you everywhere he can reach. Neck, shoulder, jaw, cheek and lips. 

You must be soaring again in the clouds because you can’t feel your body, especially not when Jungkook says, “I love you, my little squirter.” 

Your knees do give out, after all. Jungkook is quick to pick you up and cradle you in his arms. Wash you clean in the shower. Put on a movie for you while making you food, joining you as soon as he can. 

It’s love you feel—love most profound. And as you eat the food together and finish the wine with drenched Vinny on the other side of the couch, you fall asleep with that love thrumming in your heart. 

You’ll be his for the rest of your life. And he’ll be yours, too. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[austinswife]

RIDING BACK TO YOU - Benny Cross

SYNOPSIS — After a painful breakup with Benny Cross, a member of the Vandals Motorcycle Club, you moved away to the city, only to discover that you were pregnant. Life in the city became overwhelming, and four years later, you and your daughter, Ruth, return to the small town you grew up in. A chance encounter with Johnny, one of Benny’s closest friends, reveals the truth about Ruth’s parentage. You’ve kept Benny in the dark about being a father, but when the truth comes out, Benny Cross shows up at your doorstep, forcing a reunion and the long-overdue conversation you never thought you’d have. Will you and Benny find a way to navigate the past and the future for Ruth’s sake?

WARNING(S) — Themes of pregnancy and parenthood, emotional tension and reconciliation, mild language, angst with eventual resolution

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

The air in your hometown felt thicker than you remembered. It had been four long years since you left, and as you walked down the cracked sidewalk, you held Ruth’s tiny hand in yours. She skipped along happily, her blond curls bouncing with every step, completely unaware of the weight you carried on your shoulders.

“You doing okay, honey?” you asked, looking down at her bright face. Ruth looked up at you, smiling wide.

“Yeah, mama! Can I get a cookie at the store?” she asked, her voice high and excited.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you replied, squeezing her hand gently. You tried to push away the unease gnawing at you. Being back here, after all this time, stirred up memories you thought you’d buried. Memories of Benny.

You shook your head slightly, trying to focus on the task at hand: groceries. But Ruth’s resemblance to her father was impossible to ignore. The same intense blue eyes, the same mischievous grin. Every time you looked at her, you saw him. But he didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

You’d made that decision years ago, thinking it was for the best. Benny was deeply entrenched in the Vandals Motorcycle Club, and you didn’t want your daughter anywhere near that life. When you left town after the breakup, you hadn’t told him about the baby. Now, you weren’t sure if that was the right decision. But you had to do what was best for Ruth, and staying in the city had become impossible. It was just too expensive.

“Ruth, stay close, okay?” you reminded her as you approached the local grocery store.

As you reached for the door, you heard a familiar voice behind you. “Well, well, well. Look who decided to come back to town.”

You turned, your heart pounding in your chest. Standing there, arms crossed, was Johnny. His eyes sparkled with recognition, and his lips curved into a smirk. Johnny was one of Benny’s closest friends, another member of the Vandals. You hadn’t seen him since you left, but you weren’t surprised to find him still hanging around the old neighborhood.

“Johnny,” you said, forcing a smile. “Long time no see.”

He looked you up and down, a slow grin spreading across his face. “It’s been a while. What brings you back, huh? Miss us?”

You shifted awkwardly, trying to brush off his teasing. “Just… needed a change. The city wasn’t working out for me and Ruth.”

At the mention of your daughter, Johnny’s gaze shifted to the little girl at your side. Ruth smiled up at him, her face full of innocence and curiosity. Johnny’s eyes widened as he took her in, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“This your kid?” he asked, glancing between you and Ruth.

“Yeah,” you said softly, pulling Ruth a little closer to you.

Johnny squatted down to Ruth’s level, giving her a gentle smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Ruth!” she said proudly, her eyes lighting up as she spoke to him. “I’m four.”

Johnny chuckled, but when he stood up, his expression was more serious. His eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the wheels turning in his head.

“Four, huh?” he said slowly, raising an eyebrow. “She looks an awful lot like Benny.”

Your stomach dropped. You hadn’t expected this conversation to happen so soon—if at all. You glanced down at Ruth, who was blissfully unaware of the tension between you and Johnny.

“Look, Johnny…” you began, your voice low. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Johnny repeated, his eyes narrowing. “Is she Benny’s?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. The truth was right there, hanging in the air between you. You hadn’t planned to tell anyone—not like this. But it had been four years. Benny had a right to know, didn’t he?

“Yeah,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “She’s Benny’s.”

Johnny let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “Does he know?”

You shook your head. “No. He doesn’t.”

Johnny sighed, glancing back at Ruth before meeting your eyes again. “You know I gotta tell him, right?”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “I figured you would.”

He gave you a long, searching look, like he was trying to piece together the years you’d been gone. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll give you some time. But you know Benny’s not gonna take this lightly.”

“I know,” you said quietly, looking down at Ruth. “I just… I wasn’t ready.”

Johnny’s expression softened, just a bit. “Benny’s changed, you know. He’s not the same guy you left behind.”

You weren’t sure if that was supposed to make you feel better or worse. “Thanks for the heads-up, Johnny.”

With a final nod, Johnny turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with a storm of emotions swirling in your chest. You weren’t sure how Benny was going to react, but you knew that this was only the beginning.

That evening, after you’d put Ruth to bed, you found yourself standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes, trying to calm the nerves that had been buzzing inside you since your encounter with Johnny. You hadn’t been prepared for this. You hadn’t expected Benny to come back into your life, not like this.

The knock on the door startled you, sending a dish slipping from your hand into the soapy water with a splash. You frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late—too late for visitors.

Wiping your hands on a towel, you crossed the small kitchen and went to the door. When you opened it, your heart nearly stopped.

Benny Cross stood on your doorstep, his eyes dark and stormy under the dim porch light.

“Benny,” you breathed, shocked to see him standing there, after all these years.

“Johnny told me,” he said, his voice rough and low, the familiar drawl that sent chills down your spine. “About Ruth.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. This was the moment you’d been dreading, but you couldn’t run from it anymore. You stepped aside, opening the door wider.

“Come in.”

Benny stepped inside, and you couldn’t help but notice how different he looked. His hair was longer, his face more rugged, but his eyes were the same—sharp, intense, searching.

He stood in the middle of your small living room, his eyes scanning the space before landing on you. You felt exposed, vulnerable, like all your secrets were laid bare.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it, anger and hurt simmering beneath the surface.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the words. “I didn’t know how.”

“Didn’t know how?” Benny scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I had a right to know, didn’t I?”

“I know,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “I know you did. But when I found out, we’d already broken up. You were… you were in deep with the club, Benny. I didn’t want Ruth growing up around that.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenched. “So you thought it was better to just keep her from me? To let me go on with my life not knowing I had a daughter?”

Tears stung your eyes as you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared.”

Benny let out a harsh breath, pacing the small room. “And now? Now you’re back, and I’m just supposed to be okay with this?”

“I didn’t plan for you to find out like this,” you admitted, wiping at your eyes. “But she’s your daughter, Benny. I can’t change that.”

Benny stopped pacing, his eyes softening slightly as he looked at you. “Does she know? About me?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. She’s asked about her dad, but I wasn’t sure when the right time would be.”

Benny nodded slowly, his expression conflicted. He was angry—of course, he was—but there was something else there, too. Something softer.

“Can I see her?” he asked quietly, his voice rough with emotion.

Your heart clenched. “She’s sleeping. But… yeah. Tomorrow. You can meet her.”

Benny looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time since he walked in. His eyes softened, and for a brief moment, you saw the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he said, his voice quiet. “This hurts, more than I ever thought it would. But I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life.”

“I know,” you whispered, your heart aching. “I want that too.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of the past pressing down on you both. But there was hope, too. Hope that maybe, somehow, you could find a way to move forward—for Ruth’s sake, and maybe even for your own.

The next morning, you were up early, barely able to sleep after everything that had happened the night before. Benny had stayed the night, crashing on the couch, though the tension between you both made the air thick and hard to breathe. He had spent hours asking you about Ruth—what she liked, her favorite foods, her bedtime stories. Every question was laced with the regret of not knowing her from the beginning, and every answer you gave chipped away at the emotional wall between you both. It was clear he wanted to know her, to make up for lost time.

As you sipped your coffee, you watched Benny sitting at the kitchen table, his fingers nervously drumming against the wood. It was still early, and Ruth hadn’t woken up yet. He hadn’t said much that morning, but you could tell he was lost in thought, likely trying to figure out how he’d explain himself to the little girl who didn’t even know he existed.

The sound of small footsteps padding down the stairs broke the silence, and Benny immediately sat up straighter, his eyes fixed on the doorway.

“Here we go,” you whispered to yourself, taking a deep breath. This was it—the moment you’d been dreading but knew had to happen.

Ruth rounded the corner, rubbing her sleepy eyes, her messy blonde curls sticking out in all directions. She wore her favorite pink pajamas, the ones with little stars and moons printed all over them.

“Mama, can I have sandwich please?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

But then she noticed Benny sitting at the table. Her small body froze for a moment, her big blue eyes—so much like his—staring at him with open curiosity. Benny stood up slowly, his tall frame seeming even larger in the small kitchen.

“Who’s that, Mama?” Ruth asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You swallowed hard, kneeling down beside her to be at her eye level. Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. How do you tell a four-year-old that the man she’s been asking about for years is standing right in front of her?

“Ruth, sweetheart,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “This is Benny. He’s… he’s your dad.”

Ruth blinked, her little face scrunching up in confusion as she looked from you to Benny and back again. “My dad?”

“Yes,” you said gently, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Remember when you asked about your dad? I told you that you had a dad, and one day, when it was time, you’d get to meet him. Well, Benny… he’s your dad.”

For a moment, Ruth stood completely still, processing what you had just told her. Then, without warning, she broke into a wide grin, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

“My dad!” she exclaimed, her voice full of joy. She rushed over to Benny, her small arms wrapping tightly around his legs in a fierce hug. “Hi, Dad!”

Benny’s eyes widened in surprise, but after a brief moment of hesitation, he slowly crouched down to her level. His hands trembled slightly as he reached out to hug her back, his large arms encircling her tiny frame. He closed his eyes for a second, as if trying to hold on to the moment—his first hug from his daughter.

“Hey, Ruth,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Hey.”

Ruth squeezed him tighter, burying her face in his chest. You could see Benny’s shoulders tense, but he held her close, his face softening as he stroked her hair.

After a long moment, Ruth pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her big blue eyes filled with a mix of joy and confusion. She tilted her head, studying him carefully.

“Where were you, Dad?” she asked, her voice small but full of innocence. “Me and Mama were trying to find you. Mama said you were out there, but we couldn’t find you.”

Your heart clenched at her words. You hadn’t expected her to say that. It wasn’t true—you hadn’t been searching for Benny—but to Ruth, it must have felt like that. Every time she asked about her dad, every time you had to come up with a new excuse, it probably felt to her like you were both looking for someone who was just out of reach.

Benny’s face fell, his expression crumpling with sadness. He swallowed hard, clearly struggling to find the right words. You could see the guilt etched into his features, and you knew that he was blaming himself for not being there—for not knowing.

“I’m so sorry, Ruth,” Benny said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He cupped her small face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing her cheeks. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know about you, or I would’ve been here. I would’ve been with you and your mom.”

Ruth blinked up at him, her face serious for a moment as she tried to understand. “You didn’t know?”

Benny shook his head, his voice breaking just a little. “No, sweetheart. I didn’t know. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m here.”

Ruth studied him for a moment longer, her little brow furrowing. Then, without another word, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him even tighter than before.

Benny held her close, closing his eyes as he rested his chin on top of her head. You could see the tears welling up in his eyes, though he was trying his best to hold them back. He kissed the top of Ruth’s head, his voice a soft whisper as he spoke.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said again, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat as you watched them, your heart aching for both of them. Ruth didn’t fully understand, not yet, but you could see the instant bond between them—the connection that had been there all along, just waiting to be realized.

After a long moment, Ruth pulled back again, looking up at Benny with a small smile. “Can we go play at the park later, Dad?”

Benny chuckled softly, brushing a tear from the corner of his eye as he smiled down at her. “Yeah, Ruth. We can do whatever you want.”

Ruth beamed up at him, her excitement returning full force. “Yay! I’m gonna get my shoes!”

She scrambled out of his arms and dashed toward the stairs, her little feet pattering against the floor as she went to get ready.

You and Benny stood in silence for a moment, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. Benny turned to you, his eyes full of gratitude and something deeper—something that felt like hope.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice raw with emotion. “Thank you for giving me this chance.”

You nodded, tears brimming in your own eyes. “She deserves to know her dad, Benny. And I think… maybe it’s time we figure this out, for her sake.”

Benny took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he nodded. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out. For her.”

As Ruth came running back into the room, her shoes in hand, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay. It wouldn’t be easy—there were still so many things to work through—but seeing Benny with Ruth, seeing the way they had connected so instantly, gave you hope.

And that was enough for now.

[ak4e7a]

sweet disposition – psh

notes: high school au, slice of life, scifi, jay lives to torment sunghoon, angst, hurt, comfort, i learned quantum mechanics to write this, also the first draft of this got me into grad school so #slay i guess

wc: 10.7k

cw: mentions of violence, SA, su1c1de attempt (not actually, it's a metaphor), parent trauma

trailer: you were always stuck in your ways. what happens when you decide to change out of love for someone else?

starring: park sunghoon, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and aespa karina (yu jimin)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿˚₊

“just desserts” arc — episodes 1-4

You never liked your name. You thought it didn’t suit you. 

After all, it was supposed to mean something like “sound of the heavens”, and you hadn’t spoken in three years. It wasn’t like you were mute or anything. You just didn’t have anything to say to anyone. Like, ever.

Yu Jimin was the closest thing you had to a friend, often acting as a translator between you and the rest of your classmates. You got along well with Jimin because most things she asked would be in the form of a yes or no question, and if she wanted more, it only took one look into your eyes to get an elaborate answer. And you were glad Jimin wasn’t pushy when it came to the subject of your intentional silence.

“I heard they’re playing ‘Silent Penalty’ next week! Those boys are crazy, don’t you think so? Especially Jaeyun and Jongseong,” Jimin cried, clutching her textbooks to her chest with her free arm. You were on your way to your family's cafe, where you worked part-time—Jimin as a waitress, you in the kitchen (where you wouldn’t be bothered).

The month of April tinted the otherwise muted color palette of the outskirts of Shibuya in blushed hues. You always walked home together; the stories of the Hello Kitty murder and the Setagaya Family and the Junko Furuta case so deeply ingrained into their memories that neither of you would allow the other to go anywhere alone. You and Jimin even carried dainty pocket knives in their bags; these were mostly used to open boxes at work or cut slits into the packaging of snacks from the convenience store by your school. But it never hurt to be too safe, especially as teenage girls in a big city.

You nodded, the wind blowing through your high ponytail, tousling several strands out of place. Sometimes you took pity on your friend, wishing you could be better company to the girl who had not left your side since you first moved to Shibuya. You often wondered if you should just tell Jimin how much you appreciated her, and how you wouldn’t leave her unless Jimin explicitly told you to do so. 

Tamago to chikai wa kudake-yasui, you thought to yourself as you continued to walk hand-in-hand. Why not just show her?

It wasn’t like you were a “bad” friend. You often helped Jimin with homework (you did it for her) and you were the one who taught her how to ride a bike. You prepared the best bentos, often shaping the onigiri to resemble the cats from Sailor Moon, and always brought an extra fruit jelly stick for Jimin, who would never fail to still be hungry after lunch.

You wondered if that was enough for Jimin. You supposed it was, since Jimin had never once complained… at least, to your face. But you also wondered how long that would last.

“But, I mean, their leader… he’s kinda cute,” Jimin trailed off. The boy in question was Heeseung, the quiet half of the Fox Club twins. Said “club” was known around Kokusai High School as a sometimes-rowdy, always-mischievous gang, whose members were all brilliant in their own right. “And I heard they’re looking for new members! We should try joining them! Even though… even though we’d be the only girls.”

You exhaled sharply, forcefully — your way of laughing with as little effort as possible. Sometimes, if you felt up to it, you would even treat Jimin to a smile. You followed the pebble you’d been kicking since you left Kokusai before stopping to pick it up and rub it clean with the hem of your sweater. Then you handed the polished stone to Jimin, who took it happily, saying she’d add it to her jar at home.

“I think joining them would be a good idea, even if we’d be the only girls… Maybe they’ll find a way to get you to talk again,” Jimin mumbled as you walked ahead of her. 

Sometimes, you mused, Jimin would say things and forget that you weren’t deaf, just quiet. Extremely, deafeningly quiet.

“Oh! Did you see that new experiment on TV last night?” Jimin asked, catching up to you. “The one about the snails getting their memories erased.”

You raised your eyebrows, and Jimin continued recounting the details from the news report she watched with her dad.

“I bet they taste gross. Don’t know why people have tried eating them. But you could probably find some way to fix that, huh?” she chirped, opening the back door of the cafe. “Since you’re so good at cooking.

You looked up, turning to Jimin with a playful gleam dancing along the outer corners of your normally blunted affect. You shrugged, as if to say, maybe, but it’s anyone’s guess, and helped Jimin tie her pink apron up.

It was a slow afternoon, the usual customers trickling in one at a time like the dregs of a coffee machine after it’s finished brewing. You noticed that Jimin was especially chatty at the register today, and sighed to yourself as you refilled the almond flour jar slower than your grandmother would have liked. How you wished you could join in the conversation.

It was a shame you were still convinced they’d hear you, but no one would truly listen.

When you finished every random task you could think of doing, you peeked out of the little window between the kitchen and the front counter. Its position was perfect for you to watch the television above the customers’ seating area without being caught by whoever happened to be working the cashier shift.

The program on the television that afternoon was a replay of Yuzuru Hanyu’s record-breaking short routine in figure skating at the 2014 Olympic Games in Sochi, Russia. Yuzuru had since become one of Japan’s permanent darlings, on and off the ice.

You frowned. That could have been you, had you not torn your right Achilles tendon right before high school started; had you not disappointed your entire family in front of a national audience; had you not landed on your ankle on purpose, because you didn’t know how else to tell your mother that your coach had been touching you in the locker room ever since you put your first pair of skates on. It’s not like your mother would have believed you. She was dating him, after all.

Maybe you would have been an Olympian had you not done any of those things, because no one gave medals out for lying and saying everything was fine.

“Y/N-ie,” Jimin called. “Where’s the milk bread?”

There was no answer, but that was a given. Jimin turned around to find your attention fixed to the television, eyes following Yuzuru’s every movement. If you still spoke, you would have been excitedly calling out each triple Axel and Lutz jump as you saw them.

But no sound came out of you, aside from the slow, deep breaths you took.

Jimin immediately grabbed the remote and changed the channel.

You snapped out of your maladaptive daydreaming, picturing yourself on that podium, and went back into the kitchen without any hesitation, and the milk bread was out of the oven several minutes later.

“Hello!” Jimin said. That was odd, you thought. You were about to close for the night. Usually, in the time you’d been working there, this part of your shift went interrupted.

“Oh… Is halmeoni not here?” went the soft, low voice.

Why are they looking for Grandma?

“No, not today. She hasn’t been feeling well lately. Can I get you anything?”

You crept toward the little window again, peeking behind the vase of lavender flowers that sat on the left side of the shelf that ran along the bottom. You recognized the person speaking. He was wearing the Kosukai boys’ uniform: navy blue blazer, a white shirt, burgundy and mauve necktie, and navy trousers. He was quite tall, with full, messy, dark-brown-almost-black hair parted down the middle, framing his tired, upturned eyes.

He was one of the Fox boys—but not one of high ranking, to your knowledge.

“Oh… um…”

“I’ll give you a moment to decide what you want. Pardon me,” Jimin said sweetly, before walking into the kitchen. The sound of the door swinging open startled you, causing you to nearly knock an open sack of flour over. You ducked down under the window before the boy could spot you. Jimin laughed. “What are you doing? Are you spying?” 

Pause. 

“Do you know who he is?”

No, said your pursed lips. You grabbed a sheet of scrap paper and a pen from the pocket of your frilly black apron and scrawled something down quickly. Jimin took it from you. 

I think that’s the boy Grandma told me about. The one she gives the unsold pastries to at the end of the day.

Jimin giggled. “Oh, no shit. He’s cute! But not as cute as Heeseung.”

You rolled your eyes at a specific tempo that Jimin perfectly recognized to mean shut up, he can probably hear you.

“Well, I’ll clean up here. You go give him the bread.” 

And with that, she pushed you through the swinging door as if she were moving a stack of heavy crates.

It was times like these that you wished she still had the will to speak, so that you could scream at your friend in disbelief. Jimin sometimes liked to take advantage of the fact that you would only physically protest if she thought it was worth fighting about. 

Your eyes softened when you looked at the boy, whose complexion had suddenly tinted the color of pickled plums. It was an uncanny look for someone who was seemingly so reserved and collected, from the times you’d seen him in passing.

“Oh. you ’re the granddaughter, right? Y/N? you ’re in class 3-A, right?” he said, his hands behind his back as he bowed. You nodded.

“I’m in 3-B… So it’s true, huh?” 

Pause. 

“You don’t talk?” 

Another nod.

“You can call me Sunghoon. Nice to meet you,” he said, to which he received a decidedly polite nod. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. I guess you can call me that in your head. Are you the one who does all the baking? If you are, it’s really good.”

You smiled like your muscles weren’t used to the strain before heading to the display case, a brown paper bag in hand. You slid the metal door open and used a pair of tongs to transfer the baked goods into the bag, deftly maneuvering each piece so as to not crush anything. You tied the bag closed with a piece of white ribbon and handed it to him, not allowing yourself to linger on how his cheeks had not let up on their rosy hue.

Sunghoon offered to walk you and Jimin home, out of politeness (and genuine concern for your safety, he said). Jimin accepted before you could even so much as blink a strong no, thanks, and so he waited as the two of you finished closing the cafe before heading in the direction of your apartment building. You tried your best not to panic. Being around the opposite sex was not high up on your very short list of favorite situations.

“I’ve never had a conversation so one-sided and yet only mildly uncomfortable,” Sunghoon said, having since regaled you with some of the more tame stories about the Fox Club. He told you about the time the twins came to school dressed in the girls’ uniforms, when he and three other boys (Park Jonseong, Yang Jungwon, and Nishimura Riki) got into a fight on the train after catching someone nonconsensually taking an upskirt picture, and the famous incident in which more than half of the Foxes ended up in the swimming pool, still fully clothed. “Y/N could hate me for all I know.”

You scowled. He adjusted the strap of your bookbag on his shoulder, clearing his throat. “No, wait, that’s not what you think it means. I meant that because you don’t say anything, you can spend more time judging me.”

You gave him a variation of the same exhaled laugh you only reserved for Jimin, shaking your head. You could already tell Sunghoon was kind by the way he walked on the side closest to the road, and never pushed you to speak the way others tended to do.

“You aren’t?”

I am, but I don’t think poorly of you. It’s the opposite, really.

Jimin chuckled. “She has other things to do besides complain. Like be my best friend. Right, Y/N?”

You nodded.

Of course. you’re pretty much all I have left, and that makes me more pathetic than ever.

—

The next Friday, you took the challenger’s seat at the Fox Den’s lunch table, on an otherwise bleak, foggy afternoon.

The entire cafeteria was in shock. The aforementioned seat was more of a symbolic gesture than anything; the Foxes rarely, if ever, gained new members because of how rough their games could get. The reward, however, was respect, notoriety, and the unyielding loyalty of seven teenage boys.

“Alright, hold on,” Jaeyun, the outgoing one of the twins and de-facto second in command, interrupted as the other boys cheered and swooned over you. He ran a hand through his dyed pastel pink hair cooly, eyeing you in front of him; your posture indicated that you were not scared in the slightest. 

You were everyone’s hallway crush, despite your cold exterior and refusal to even consider any confessions of their affection. Not one day could go by without you hearing usually-innocent comments about how pretty you were, garnering comparisons to different shoujo protagonists.

And to exacerbate those remarks, that week, you’d heard the boys giving Sunghoon shit after finding out he walked you and Jimin home; it was all they talked about in their free time since Monday morning, bombarding him with questions about what your voice sounded like and if there were really scars on your ankle and how you smelled. 

Everyone froze, waiting for the next words. Jaeyun looked at you as if you were a particularly difficult sudoku puzzle. “You sure you want to do this? I won’t go easy on you just because you’re a girl.”

You nodded metronomically.

Jimin cried out a sharp “No!” before covering her mouth in what you thought was a mix of devastation and realization, tears pooling in her eyes like spring dewdrops on blades of grass. When her eyes locked with yours, the universe was put on hold for a moment. You wished you could hold her hand and say it out loud.

I’m doing this for you.

Beside Jaeyun, Park  Jongseong, another one of your fellow third-years, brandished two long needles, previously wrapped in his white handkerchief. He towered in front of you like the Tokyo Skytree, his long black hair covering one eye, the other glinting playfully under the fluorescent lights of the cafeteria. He’d abandoned his blazer over the back of the empty chair in front of her, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, exposing the prominent veins along his inner forearms. “Who’s going today?”

“I’ll do it,” Sunghoon said over the voices of the other club members, easing his way through the slowly-growing crowd of students. “Let’s make it quick.”

“Who has the stuff?” Jongseong asked, spraying something onto the needles that made the club’s seating area instantly smell like a hospital. You grimaced only for a second, pushing back the memories of being in the emergency room.

There was an exchange between two closed fists, and before any more objections, Heeseung was announcing the rules to Silent Penalty, tossing a pair of dice in the air as he spoke.

“A roll of eight means you take a penalty mission. If both parties have eight at the end of the same round, both will face penalty. We’ll do two penalties. Keep a straight face through both, and you win. Back out, and you forfeit the whole game. Consequences will be decided later on.” He shot a glance at Y/N. “If you win, you will be the first girl in the club. Do you accept?”

You shook your head slowly. The boys whispered furiously behind you. You pointed at Jimin.

“Oh… She means that I get to come, too,” Jimin piped up, half-hidden behind Yang Jungwon’s broad back.

The dark-haired twin snickered. “Fine. That doesn’t bother me. Anyone against it? No? Then let’s start. Good luck, Y/N. Sunghoonie is our best Penalty player.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘best’,” Jongseong argued. “Luckiest, sure.”

Round one: you , 7; Sunghoon, 4.

Round two: you , 9; Sunghoon, 7.

Round three: you , 5; Sunghoon, 11.

“Shit, Seung,” Jongseong murmured to Heeseung as they stood behind Sunghoon. “Maybe you should have picked a different penalty number.”

Heeseung grinned, patting his friend on the back with a heavy hand. “It’s a thirteen-point-eighty-nine percent chance of rolling an eight. Not zero. Just be patient.”

Tensions mounted in the tenth round, but neither Sunghoon nor you were fazed. Not even when both of you rolled your first eight.

Jaeyun clapped, earning him a glare from his twin brother. “Oh, finally.”

“First penalty,” Heeseung announced, nudging Jaeyun aside. “Jongseong, the needles, please.”

Jimin gasped. “No, wait, what are you doing?”

“Ear piercings,” Jongseong answered with a grin as he began to sanitize two silver studs in his handkerchief. With his free hand, he held Jimin firmly in her spot by the cuff of her blazer. “Don’t worry, Heeseung is good at it.” Still clutching her, he used their joined hands to point to his right ear, a diamond earring in the center of his lobe. “Got this one last year.”

“Ready?” Heeseung asked, taking the alcohol-soaked handkerchief from Jongseong, hands already gloved up.

Everyone watched in silence as Sunghoon allowed Heeseung to confidently push the needle into his cartilage. Sunghoon blinked once, twice, then licked his lips all while the earring was inserted and the backing locked into place.

Taking the other needle, Heeseung sauntered over to you. You looked at him before turning to Sunghoon, brushing your hair away from your face.

“You already have a piercing,” he frowned, gingerly pinching your right ear between his pointer finger and thumb. “I’ll just pick another spot… is this okay?”

You nodded, feeling him graze over the protrusion covering the opening of your ear. You inhaled what could have been construed as the last breath of a dying woman, then exhaled as Heeseung pushed the needle through the thick cartilage of her tragus. He screwed the earring into place, smirking.

“Brave girl.” He turned to his brother. “Did she flinch?”

“Didn’t even blink,” Jaeyun praised. “Fucking sick.”

Sunghoon bit his lip, taking the dice out of your cold hand.

Round fifteen: you , 8; Sunghoon, 8.

“Damn, again?” Jongseong remarked. “That’s either very lucky or very unlucky.”

“The special lunch, Sunghoon,” Heeseung commanded. The boy ducked under the table to retrieve a bento box, blowing his bangs out of his face as he came back up. He looked like he was going to throw up. You thought the pain in his ear couldn’t have been that bad for him.

“Do we have to?” he asked. “Can’t we do something else?”

You answered on Heeseung’s behalf, leaning forward, propping your chin up with your hand, elbow resting on the tabletop as you looked into his eyes. Whatever it is, let’s just get it over with. Unless you’re too scared.

“No.” Jaeyun opened the box, revealing two snails and a small clear container filled with white crystalline grains. Sugar, you hoped, although it was most likely salt. “Here. We’re running out of time.”

You each reached for a snail, Sunghoon opting for the larger of the two.

“Wait,” Heeseung ordered, eyes narrowing to the point where he resembled the nickname he was often called—snake. You and Sunghoon waited, still clutching their own snails. “Sunghoonie, give yours to Y/N. She’s the challenger, not you.”

You resisted the urge to squirm as you felt a jolt run up your arm, like you’d accidentally touched the prongs of a plug that was halfway out of an electrical socket.

Sunghoon scowled. “This isn’t going to be pretty, regardless.”

Amane put her free hand over his, with an expression she hoped he would understand as  don’t worry, it’ll be fine, and they switched snails.

“Put some sugar and eat it,” Jaeyun chimed in.

Amane let go of his hand as he glared at the shock of pink hair sticking out in the crowd. “The shells, too?” he drawled.

“Don’t be a smartass, Hoon,” Jongseong laughed.

It was slimy and bitter, even with the sugar. You kept your focus on Sunghoon as your lips wrapped around the opening of the shell, sucking on the body until it slid into your mouth. you r first mistake was chewing, the snail guts oozing onto your palate. you r vision blackened around the edges, and in the span of several milliseconds the Sunghoon that sat in front of you was replaced by the image of a younger boy, with the same dark black-brown hair and dark eyes, albeit thinner, almost haggard-looking.

All you could do while you were frozen in place was swallow, watching the boy as he was pushed out of the front door of an unfamiliar house by someone who could have only been his father, a silver second-place trophy thrown after him. It clattered to the ground, smashing into several pieces that the boy gathered up into the hem of his black sweater. He ran through the old, worn-down neighborhood until he reached another apartment, knocking on the glossy red door until a dark-haired woman with glasses answered, letting the crying boy inside.

You felt the unwelcome but familiar sinking feeling of parental disappointment gather in the pit of your stomach, its endless tentacles swirling and wrapping themselves around the chunks of snail entrails that slid down your esophagus.

You guessed that Sunghoon was experiencing something similar, which meant that he saw the memory of a young girl gliding across a sheet of ice in a skintight jeweled red leotard and matching skirt with all the elegance and grace of a koi fish in water. Out of the corner of the girl’s periphery, a group of people gathered at a section of the plexiglass that framed the entire ice rink; one man smiled, and he saw you skate into a jump before landing with a resounding crack that caused every spectator in the stadium to get on their feet for a closer look.

He would have then seen that man run onto the ice and pick you up, cradling you too close to his body even if he were your father. His hands were in the wrong places, and Sunghoon would have to have wondered why no one was saying anything. Perhaps their focus was all on the blood that began to seep through your nude-colored tights.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” went one of the twins—your focus was too far elsewhere to distinguish or care about who it was. “Welcome to the Fox Club.” 

You ran out of the school building as soon as the dismissal bell rang, Jimin and Sunghoon calling out after you.

— 

“Umiushi,” Sunghoon said, pointing to the creatures at the bottom of the metal basin. You were in the kitchen of the apartment he shared with his aunt, who just so happened to be a marine biologist studying these so-called “memory snails”. “That’s what we ate. But it’s a special type. Jimin said she told you about them.”

You watched the sea snails in a curious disgust, afraid that they would somehow leap out of the water and down your throat. You nodded to affirm him.

“Yeah. Basically, they have some sort of molecule that can be blocked so that their memories can be blocked, too. There’s not much else we know about them… and I asked Aunt Mina—don’t worry, I didn’t tell her what I saw or anything, it was a hypothetical question—I asked her if it’s possible to transfer memories, and she said it’s impossible right now. Something like that would be magic.”

You grimaced. Magic was for children.  

It had been two months since that Friday afternoon that changed everything. Since that day, Sunghoon had followed you home, knowing full well what you’d seen from the snail he’d first touched, the one you ended up eating. He told you how his Aunt Mina took him in after his father disowned him for losing the chess tournament, and how they hadn’t spoken since. 

The next morning, you showed up at their house and handed him an origami crane with Why the bread, then? scrawled inside.

Sunghoon explained to you that he was saving all his pocket money to one day pay for a chess “tutor” to whip him into shape, so he could win enough matches for him to go home—the promise his father had made to him the last time they’d spoken, almost a decade ago. You appreciated the honesty of a mere acquaintance so much so that you returned to school after that weekend with a photocopy of several diary entries that pertained to the memory he’d intercepted.

Inside, you confirmed his suspicions. The man was your coach, and, incidentally, your mother’s boyfriend. No one believed what was going on, and your furious mother sent you to live with your estranged father’s mother in Shibuya. It was almost five hours away from Sendai, where you had grown up and trained with one of Japan’s future Olympic figure skaters, Yuzuru himself. Before the incident, it was pretty much guaranteed that you would reach that level, too, since everyone said you were blessed by the gods with such talent. But as your mother said, it was you who ruined everything. Not the gods, not the universe, not fate.

You stopped speaking, Sunghoon learned in your handwriting, because you felt as though no one would listen if you did. You said it was easier that way, less effort on your part. It was harder for you to make promises that you didn’t even want to consider keeping. It forced people to be direct, otherwise they’d get nowhere with you. You didn’t like talking, anyway. It was worth less than acting upon things.

The final page of the diary entries was a single line, a proverb you lived by. 

Tamago to chikai wa kudake-yasui.

Eggs and vows are easily broken.

— 

You stood on the rooftop, the frigid night air whipping your cheeks the color of the sakura trees below. You and Sunghoon had snuck to the top of one of the Tokyo skyscrapers way past midnight, on a whim. Now, as one of the Foxes, you would agree that life was a bit more fun with some trouble.

You were more than happy Jimin had finally confessed her feelings to Heeseung, and he’d reciprocated, even if it meant you and your best friend spent less time alone together. While Sunghoon could never take Jimin’s place exactly, he fit into your life just fine. Maybe it was because you made space for him to be there.

He loved fruit jelly sticks just as much as Jimin, so you started bringing an extra one for him as well. You noticed that when he took the leftovers from your grandmother’s cafe, the taiyaki in the bag excited him the most. He told you that they were called something else back home in Korea, but he thought yours tasted better. After that, you would always “accidentally” make too many, and give him the rest when you thought no one was looking. You once found him in the library playing chess against himself, and the next day you sat in front of him and played until the lunch bell rang, having learned the rules the night before.

You found out Sunghoon spoke the same language as you. Acts of service. He carried around a pack of Salonpas because you were prone to muscle cramps and the occasional shooting pain in your ankle. you ’d always blush and look away when he’d hand you a clip to keep your hair out of your face, ignoring how his fingers lingered on yours just a split second too long to be platonic. When the boys would tease the two of you about being constantly together, you would text your snarky comeback to Sunghoon, and he would say it out loud for you. And everyone would laugh.

You truly were practically inseparable, though. You couldn’t bring yourself to shut him out, not when he’d already seen what you considered to be the worst part of you and why you were the way you were, and still chosen to think the best of you. On Friday nights, when Jimin and Heeseung were out on yet another city expedition, the two of you would sit on the plastic-covered couch in your grandmother’s living room and watch Yuri On Ice, the anime about a competitive figure skater’s return to the sport. And Sunghoon wouldn’t make you feel embarrassed about crying, only comforting you after making sure it was okay to touch you.

You liked him. He could doze off at times, but he never made a big deal about it. You admired that. And you also appreciated that he never said he felt sorry for you and what happened when you were thirteen. It was unnecessary, you thought. The important thing was that he was there.

The Foxes always traveled in packs. For the boys, it was a sign of friendship. To you, it was protection. Being one of the two girls in the club meant they were extra protective over you, and Sunghoon was no exception. In fact, he was the rule. Every day, without fail, he and Heeseung would walk you and Jimin to school, then to work, then back home.

The world felt a little less lonely to you. And maybe, just maybe, you could stop running from it with one good leg to stand on. Maybe you could find it in yourself to forgive a world that took, since that world had Sunghoon in it. Almost as if it were trying to make it up to you.

His black scarf was wrapped around your neck, flooding your nose with the scent of clean laundry and musk. He’d let you wear it on the train ride over to Shinjuku, and you wondered if he was falling in love with you, too. You hoped that he knew you weren’t scared of being so close to him. Not when he was everything you needed from yourself.

“It’s time we started living for ourselves, don’t you think?” you asked, staring down at the city lights in all their neon glory. Every single speck represented another disappointment, another broken heart, another fruitless wish. None of it mattered. But it still did. “Maybe start chasing a different dream. Maybe the same one. But be in control this time. It’s more fun that way, isn’t it?”

The wind blew your pleated uniform skirt upward, and when you turned to see if Sunghoon was looking, he was. At your face. You had just mustered the courage to speak again, voice raspy from years of unuse. You leaned ever so slightly over the edge, arms spread out wide, feeling the strong breeze catch your body in the current. The tickle of the urge to free-fall played around in your mind.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon yelled before grabbing your wrist at the last possible moment and pulling you back hard enough for you to fall on top of him. You clambered off after a moment’s hesitation, sitting beside him and smoothing out the hem of your skirt.

You looked down, almost ashamed of your impulse. “You….”

“Y/N,” he wheezed, pushing his bangs out of his face as he tried to collect himself. “Are you crazy?”

Your brow furrowed as you examined the worried expression that painted his delicate, sculpted face. “What… What’s wrong, Sunghoon?” The roll of your tongue felt nice in your mouth; yes, you could get used to saying his name out loud. “Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Sunghoon retorted, to which you answered with your usual breathy laugh.

“I don’t think killing yourself is that funny—did I miss a joke or something?”

You smiled at him, taking his hand into yours. His was much bigger, and warmer, but felt right all the same. “I wasn’t going to kill myself at all,” you said. “At least, not literally.”

Goodbye, silent Y/N.

–––

“under the moon” arc — episodes 5-8

It had been four months since the snail incident. And while you certainly would have not preferred to have someone who was a stranger at the time witness the worst thing that had ever happened to you, you didn’t regret having the sticky ooze of entrails coagulate in your body.

Because you would have never guessed you would gain a whole new family out of it.

The boys could get rowdy at times, but they meant well—for the most part. Those occasional instances when they didn’t were usually because someone had decided to bother you  and force you to speak for them. You didn’t mind talking most of the time now; all that mattered was that you got to decide when you’d open your  mouth and to whom you’d speak to.

Being one of the two girls in the group certainly had its drawbacks, but you liked to think you balanced them out just fine. After all, their detention rate had gone down in the past couple of months thanks to you insisting they stop throwing water balloons off the gym’s roof and they stop sneaking into the basketball team’s gym to deflate all the balls.

“Y/N-ie,” Jongseong chirped as he sauntered over to the Foxes’ table with his bento in hand. He was the only one besides Jimin who used that particular honorific, and you only allowed him to do so because of how stupidly tall he was compared to you. “Where’s Hoon?”

You looked up from your food, stony eyes glancing at the other boys—and Jimin, who sat beside Heeseung—and everyone shrugged. You blinked slowly at Jongseong before answering, “He’s going to enter the cafeteria in… five seconds.”

“You’re just bullshitting at this point,” Jaeyun laughed, mouth full of rice. While he was certainly more in-your-face than his twin brother, the Foxes’ vice president was surprisingly still pleasant to be around. You would never say it to his ridiculous pink hair, though, because he’d never shut up about it if you did. “Damn, you eat one snail and suddenly you’re Yuuji Itadori or something.”

“She’s not making it up, Yunie,” Jimin chimed in from where Heeseung’s arm was around her shoulder. She pointed in the direction of the double doors. “Look, there he is.”

You lifted your bag out of the chair next to you without even looking to see if Sunghoon had already reached the table. It was like you had a radar for him and him only, and you’d spent the last few days staying up late thinking about how that was possible.

You both seemed to be able to sense what the other person was feeling, which meant that neither of you were ever hungry, tired, or in a bad mood for long. You often would run into each other during times you normally weren’t supposed to be together, the rare occasions where you would spend your weekends alone always seemed to change the moment the both of you left your houses. At one point, you two discovered that not only did Sunghoon have an insane talent for drawing, but he could accurately guess what you were wearing and how your hair was styled without having seen you prior to his sketches.

Thankfully, however, you couldn’t totally read each other’s minds. You would be embarrassed for Sunghoon to find out you’d come to love him if he could hear your thoughts.

It couldn’t have been the snails that did this to you, right?

“Sorry, Hiroto-sensei was chewing my ass out,” Sunghoon said as he shrugged off his uniform blazer and sat down. He placed a carton of mango juice beside your hand, the straw already punctured through the foil seal.

“You were sleeping in class again, weren’t you?” you asked, handing Sunghoon the bento you spent the morning preparing for him. It had all his favorites—pork curry, rice, natto, a soft boiled egg, and the taiyaki from your family’s cafe.

“At this point, I don’t know why he even tries,” he laughed. You smiled at him softly. You were glad you found it in yourself to speak, because your new family actually paid attention to you. They didn’t possess Sunghoon’s attuned nature towards you, but you appreciated them all the same. “I need my nine hours one way or the other.”

“You had nine hours last night.” You paused, chopsticks in midair. “Jongseong, why are you staring?”

The black-haired boy looked at you as if you should have known the answer. “It’s like you two have powers or something.”

“Why would you say that?” Sunghoon asked.

“You two are so connected, it’s romantic.”

You tried to hide the blush spreading across your face. “Shut up.”

You and Sunghoon both agreed that God—at least, the one from Christianity—wasn’t real. Something from a World War II history documentary they’d watched together said it best—a line carved into the walls of a jail in the Mauthausen concentration camp.

“If there is a God, then He will have to beg for my forgiveness.”

Certainly, that God was all sorts of fucked up to grant free will. To allow your figure skating coach to violate your body for years. To be unable to stop Sunghoon’s father from beating him for every game of chess he lost. To give the worst pain to the least deserving.

That is the problem of evil. That if there were such suffering in the world, and yet God could not prevent it, then He is not omnipotent. Maybe He didn’t even come close to the power that Izanami and Izanagi or any of the other Shinto deities held, and they were far from perfect.

Sunghoon once told you that he would destroy the whole world for you if he could, to which you simply rolled your eyes and said that that would be no fun. This was, incidentally, after he’d gifted you a painting he’d done of the ancient lotus garden in Kumamoto. Making art was his new hobby that you made him pick up so he wouldn’t be so burnt out playing chess all the time.

“And why not?”

“Because our suffering helps us delight in everything else that much more,” you answered, resting your cheek on his shoulder. You knew you wouldn’t have said that two months ago, that you would have instead told him that humans are put on Earth to suffer and nothing else, but after being around friends who didn’t take life so seriously (if they ever did at all), you’d learned to have fun with your finite existence as it was.

Of course, you appreciated Sunghoon’s sentiment all the same. It held you close and told you everything would be alright, that the way your life had turned out was not your fault like you’d believed it was, but rather a consequence of things you could not control. In your physics class, Hiroto-sensei had quoted Albert Einstein during a lecture on quantum mechanics.

“God does not play dice with the universe.”

That was to say, Einstein never believed in the idea that atoms were governed by randomness. He turned his nose up at the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, which itself stated that there was no way to accurately predetermine the speed and position of a particle at any moment. He asserted that there was no way that anything could be certain, that it wasn’t possible to describe things in terms of probabilities. He thought that the course of all events was fixed, that God formulated and prescribed a certain set of laws and sat back to watch the universe evolve in accordance with those laws.

You would have to disagree with him.

After all, what kind of vindictive God would— 

— 

“Sunghoon,” you said as you laid on the floor of your living room, listening to music in English because you promised each other that one day you would get out of the country together. On this particular night, your album of choice was Radiohead’s Pablo Honey. 

He had mentioned that the band, at one point, refused to play “Creep” live because it was the one song the audience came to hear. You knew what that felt like. 

Sunghoon turned his gaze away from the ceiling to look at you, his eyes softening. “Hm?”

“Do… do you still like chess?”

You knew that he would understand what you meant by that. In the past few weeks, you’d had to practice with him after it turned out that you were a better opponent than anyone in Kokusai’s chess club. Sunghoon was still dead-set on going back to playing competitively, all in the name of being allowed to return to his childhood home, to his father, one day. At least, that’s what you thought.

Something about that made you uneasy, but you knew you were in no place to cast stones. After all, you had your own share of disappointing your parents. Your own mother had not come to see you in Shibuya since the day she abandoned you there, effectively handing over any parenting duties to your grandmother. The phone works two ways, and she’d never acknowledged that fact of the universe. And, unlike Sunghoon, you had never been offered the opportunity to go back “home” to Sendai. As if that place had ever been your home to begin with.

The nuances between your circumstances were only sparing, to say the least.

“You’re worried about me,” he declared. “You think I want to win a tournament so I can go home.”

You hummed in agreement.

“Well, yeah. I want to go home. But only to drop that stupid trophy off at my father’s door and be the one who never speaks to him again. Besides, why should I return to that place when I’m completely fine here?”

Maybe Jongseong had a point, you thought. Maybe you two did share something more than a lunch box of snails. Maybe it’s romantic, after all.

“Are you really okay here?”

He returned his gaze to the ceiling, avoiding your eyes. “Yeah. Because it’s where you are.”

— 

Sunghoon knelt down at your feet, lacing up your ice skates.

However, your legs were bouncing uncontrollably, and it wasn’t because of how cold the indoor rink was. Part of you wished that your Achilles tendon didn’t heal completely.

“Look, you made it this far,” Sunghoon said quietly, brushing his fingers against your supposed bad ankle. The doctors had said you’d be fine to skate on it, that it was your mind that wasn’t allowing you to try again. “We can come back another time.”

You shook your head. How you’d longed to be back, pining for a time where you would be free from the prison of invisible hands gripping her limbs, pinning you down on the ground. “No. I promised you we’d do it today. I need to do this for myself, too.”

“If you can’t—”

“Don’t tell me you doubt me, because I’ve already got that covered,” you snapped, the words flying out faster than you could control them. Your hand came up to cover your mouth. “I’m sorry, Hoonie. I didn’t mean—”

He shook his head, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Don’t worry. It’s nice to finally hear what you think. But I disagree. You are so much more than you realize. I’m proud of you.”

Your eyes closed gently before you allowed herself to momentarily soak up those four words.

Then you shrugged off your coat and took his hand, letting him guide you to the rink. The frigid air tried to seep through your fleece-lined stockings but it was nothing to you as you began to wobble on the ice. You scolded herself internally and forced her muscles to relax. It was unbecoming of you to say you should have been an Olympian before the accident and then proceed to look like you needed a walker. 

It took several moments before you began to glide carefully, the blades of your skates just an extension of your body.

You didn’t need to go back to Sendai anymore. You could stand on both legs now, head held high.

For the next few minutes, you took your time getting used to the feeling again, silently willing all of your faith in yourself to return. You were different now. You could trust yourself. Protect yourself.  Being a Fox brought that out of you—your bravery, determination, the unabashed desire to take what the universe threw at you and spit it back in its face.

Of course, you had to thank Sunghoon for showing up when he did. Before then, you were what some people would call just waiting to die. Waiting for the possible day in which you would stop being who you were.

He never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do. He never forced himself on you. The first time you ever held hands, it was you who reached for him in your sleep as you napped on the floor next to him, the space heater keeping the two of you warm.

Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared.

You didn’t need to, anymore. You glanced over your shoulder to find Sunghoon watching you intently, head propped up with his hand as he leaned on the railing.

One, two… three… jump.

You closed your eyes and leapt, spinning three hundred and sixty degrees before landing with only minimal strain, the skirt of your dress fluttering. You could hear Sunghoon’s overjoyed cries faintly as you continued to swim through the air, feeling the rush that used to overcome you when you were younger, although this time, there was nothing looming over you like the shadow of the Grim Reaper. Your entire body vibrated, all of your electrons dancing along with you.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate when you came to him, pulling you in for a tight hug.

It was short-lived, though, because as soon as you came into contact,

you passed right through him.

“What… what the fuck?” he whispered, turning his head around to see you standing behind him. You were staring at your own hands, wondering what the hell just happened. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It didn’t hurt.” You looked at him with a mirrored wide-eyed expression. “I think we need to call Jongseong.”

“I knew it,” Park Jongseong said smugly, strolling into the lobby of the ice rink with his hands in his pockets and an unlit Seven Stars dangling from his lips. You and Sunghoon sat one seat apart, in fear that it would happen again.

“Don’t be crazy,” you muttered as you crossed your arms. You uncrossed them when you considered the possibility that your hands could go inside your body if you weren’t careful. “There’s no such thing as having powers.”

“Sure,” Sunghoon added. “But there has to be some sort of explanation for this.”

Jongseong grinned, pushing his black hair out of his face. “Yeah. You’ve heard of quantum theory, right? Atomic principles? Hoon, you weren’t asleep during that lecture, were you?”

“Maybe I was. What do atoms have to do with any of this?” Sunghoon asked, rolling his eyes.

“Well, basically… how can I explain this easily… uh… your atoms and Y/N’s were so perfectly aligned that you… y’know… passed through each other.”

You frowned. “But Einstein said—”

“He was wrong. People can be wrong. Shit, even the gods were wrong sometimes. Damn, do you sleep in class, too?”

“I—”

“Nothing,” Jongseong said, “is a guarantee. Except death.”

Take that, Einstein.

— 

“You’re beautiful. I wish I could draw you right now,” he said.

You let out a soft, nervous laugh. “Cameras exist. You could just take a picture.”

“That’s not nearly enough.”

Your hands trailed shakily along the lapels of Sunghoon’s blue blazer, fingertips grazing the hem as he edged closer to you. You wondered if the accident would happen again.

“H-hoon…” you whispered as you attempted to sink your head deeper into his scarf wrapped around your neck. “I’m scared.”

They were on the rooftop you’d killed herself on—in the metaphorical sense—all those months ago. Since then, everything as you knew it was different, from your voice to the way you presented yourself all the way down to how you felt. 

“Nonsense,” he quipped in the same hushed tone. Your eyes were locked on your shoes, feet pointed toward one another. “You’re damn well the bravest person I know. It’s contagious, actually.”

“This is different,” you replied. You rubbed the fabric of his blazer feebly. “I…”

“I love you,” he said, tucking his index and middle fingers beneath her chin to tilt your head up to look at him. “I really love you.”

I love you. I love you a lot.

“No! you  can’t just… you can’t just say it like that!” you protested, hands flattening against his broad chest and attempting to push him away from you. It was no use. Despite how lanky he appeared to be, he was built like an iron wall.

Sunghoon chuckled, wrapping his fingers around yours. “How would you rather I say it?”

You froze as heat rose to your face. They’d just discussed this in class; the story went that Souseki Natsume, a famous writer who once taught English, said that because the Japanese did not declare their love so loosely the way Westerners did, the most appropriate equivalent of the expression would be “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”.

And the most appropriate “literary” response to that came out of your mouth smoothly, like melted ice cream. “Shindemo ii wa.”

I would die happy.

–––

season finale: i know the end — episodes 9-12

When observed under a microscope, two particles both affected by one experience will no longer exist as individuals thereafter, but as two halves of one whole. This phenomenon is known as quantum entanglement, and had been used by several of your closest friends to describe the way in which your life had flipped itself over its axis on one April afternoon in your third and final year of high school.

Five years had passed since you’d graduated. Since the day you grew a spine and ate a snail with Park Sunghoon, the day you stopped living on autopilot. Since you’d fallen in love with him and regained the mastery of your own voice, both of these things you’d done over and over again, day after day. And it had been three years since you finally returned to competitive figure skating to prove that you could do more than just fine on your own, without your mother and certainly without a coach who would violate your physical existence.

But in those years, Sunghoon still hadn’t made it out of Japan like he said you both would someday. At least, you hoped, not yet. Not yet, but soon. You knew it had to be soon.

You sat in your small apartment in the Fairfax district of Los Angeles, an expensive neighborhood you were only able to afford because of the amount of endorsements you’d taken on. Your little black cat, Tai, as in taiyaki, as in the dessert Sunghoon loved so much, purred contentedly in your lap as you stared out of the window and into the street below. 

You’d agreed to adopt a cat together one day. You wondered if he already had one of his own by now. You assumed he did; on several occasions you could sense his presence, encouraging you, making you push forward and keep fighting against the universe, against Izanami and Izanagi, against God Himself.

This was what you did in your free time. Miss your life back home. You didn’t want to make any new friends. It was useless. No one could take or come anywhere remotely near Sunghoon’s place—or Jimin’s, or Heeseung’s, or Jaeyun’s, or Jongseong’s, for that matter. 

Soon, you promised yourself, you could show Sunghoon all that he’d missed out on. In your second year in America, you finally mastered the quadruple lutz after several doctors quelled your anxieties and confirmed your ankle really had healed miraculously. 

You decided you would also take Sunghoon to Little Tokyo, Los Angeles, where you’d go every time you felt like getting on a Boeing 747 to give up on this dream once and for all and go back to him, your other dream—if he’d still have you, that is. You didn’t know for sure.

You played with your phone in your hand, turning it over in your palm. You knew he was only a call away, but you were starting to go back to your old self, unsure of whether or not he’d even pick up. There was also a newfound sense of pride you had, not wanting to be the first one to cave in. If he was the one who pushed you forward, why should you be like Eurydice and turn around to look back?

But Sunghoon was the one who put it best, every single time you asked him why he gave up on playing chess in favor of going to art school after graduation—even though his victory in the championships would win back the respect of his father: “I don’t need to go home when you’re right beside me.”

Liar. Where are you?

That night, like many other nights spent lonely, you could feel him beside you, when everything was still except your own chest, aching for some sort of reprieve from the constant gravitational pull of your personal sun and moon, and the monotonous whirr of the electric fan that sat watch beside yoiur bed. You felt the ghost of his fingertips along your spine, and since you happened to be super lucky and lying extra quietly this time—you heard his voice, soft and low and warm like whiskey down your throat. It played on a loop until it lulled you to sleep.

“We’ll go together. I promise.”

He’d said that the night he admitted he loved you.

You also knew that he always knew where you stood on things as flimsy as words:

Tamago to chikai wa kudake-yasui.

Eggs and vows are easily broken.

And since he knew, why would he say that—when he was the one who could read you without even so much as a perfunctory glance? Why would he stand with you in Terminal 1 of Tokyo Narita without his own boarding pass? Why would he tell you to break up with him right before you got on that plane to California?

Stupid plane. Stupid distance. Stupid Y/N. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You had no patience for idiots. You weren’t excluded from your own disdain.

The only thing that kept you sane was the fact that somewhere deep inside you, in a place whose existence you were reluctant to acknowledge, you knew that one day, you’d see him again.

You had to.

You just hoped you’d still be able to recognize each other.

— 

To change the polarity of an electromagnet, two people are required. They use one snail for each person. Their most repressed memory will transfer over to the snail once it’s been touched. In order for the magnetic fields to switch, the parties must switch their snails and consume them.

The result should not end in repulsion.

The day Sunghoon’s atoms had lined up with yours so perfectly that you passed right through him was an indicator that some things weren’t just theories that could be disproved with a fallacy or two. That much was true.

You sighed, trudging through the farmer’s market in search of your favorite stand, which was run by a group of friends who reminded you so much of your beloved Fox Club back home. They sold baked goods that your trainer would frown upon if she saw them, but you believed that you deserved to eat them every Sunday.

And without fail, Sunghoon’s voice popped up in your head, reassuring you that you could eat them every day if you wanted to, just as long as you did it in moderation.

“Thank you,” you whispered quietly, still unsure as ever if he could hear your reply.

You paid for the decadent salted chocolate chip cookies and walked the four blocks home, debating for the millionth time over why you and him had to be forced apart. Did it mean you had to grow alone first? Would you be able to ever feel whole again?

You were able, however, to feel him missing you. So it wasn’t as completely one-sided as it seemed to be sometimes. It was always there, a slight tug in your heartstrings like a thread on its last life. It sat in your chest right beside where you missed him. On this particular day, it was strong. Stronger than any of the other days that came before, so overwhelming that you had to stop halfway home and sit on a bench to catch your breath.

Could quantum theory explain how he could feel whatever you were thinking? Or how you knew, back when you two were still together, what he wanted for dinner before you even asked? Or how your anxieties would disappear just as fast as they came, replaced by a flood of reassurances?

You had had a feeling that he failed his Visa interview on purpose, six months before you were slated to go to America. In the embassy’s lobby, he’d told you that the interviewer said he would have passed if you were his wife and not just his girlfriend.

Liar.

He’d assured you that he did want to go with you. He could find a job working for Pixar or Illumination or anywhere that would hire him for his talent. So why was the universe making it so hard for you to be together now, when the first two years of your entanglement were so easy?

Nothing, you learned, was supposed to make sense. You could spend hours asking “But why?” to every answer and there would be nothing to shut you up. In fleeting moments you would reconsider your decision to speak again, because the one person you spoke for was a little more than five thousand miles away.

So how am I able to be happy when he isn’t right next to me?

Not as happy as you knew you could be, but happy nonetheless. You were running after your first dream, after all.

Your phone rang when you got home.

“Jimin?” you asked, squinting at the screen. You were met with the image of your best friend, bouncing her seven-month-old baby on her lap, a little girl named after you. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Hey, Y/N,” Jimin’s husband, Heeseung, called, waving to the camera. It was so surreal for you to think that Jimin ended up with her high school boyfriend while you were twenty-three and still pining over yours.

“Have you seen it?” Jimin squealed over the sound of the baby’s giggling. A TV in the background could be heard, the voices speaking Japanese. “The first episode just came out!”

“Seen what? What are you talking about? It’s literally only ten in the morning here.”

“Sunghoon’s anime! It’s so good!”

Your heart stopped pumping for a split second as you heard the double saccharine syllables of his name. The little communication you had with him while you were gone were only simple, fond exchanges over congratulations. The last you’d heard from him, he’d gotten a job at a big animation studio. Of course he was too humble to tell you everything. “What… What's it about?”

“It’s a romance. Everyone in the world is assigned a soulmate and the main characters experience a lot of crazy shit the closer they get to each other. Sorry the summary’s so bad, I promise it’s way better than I just made it sound.”

Soulmates, huh?

— 

It has been said that the atoms of the universe have been rearranged to create the world as it is known now. Should that be true, two people can be born of the same star and not realize it until the moment presents itself.

You knew Sunghoon was there before you even saw him in the crowd. The air suddenly felt different, like you’d just dragged your bare feet through carpet and was just millimeters away from touching a brass doorknob.

On normal competition days you would have attributed the charged atmosphere to nerves or the ten-thousand volt energy of the spectators cheering on their favorite skater. But it wasn’t a normal competition day, unless the winter Olympics in Seattle was just some regular thing. 

You knew it: Sunghoon had made it out of Japan this time.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in third place, USA: Allison Steadmeyer!”

Cue music. Polite wave. Applause.

“In second place, Russia: Irina Khodorkhovsky!”

Music. Wave. Applause.

“In first place, Japan: Y/N!”

The single cheer of one person drowned out the rest.

“Why did you walk away from me?” you asked quietly; anyone around would have chalked up your tears as those of victory, of making a comeback worthy of an Oscar-nominated film. That was because they couldn’t feel the way you instinctively latched onto Sunghoon like an oxygen atom receiving its electron pairing. “Why didn’t you go with me?”

“I didn’t want to get in the way of your dreams,” Sunghoon said into the apple scent of your hairspray. You trembled in his arms, the dazzling Swarovski crystals of your midnight blue spandex dress digging through the wool of his coat. “I knew I would only be a bother to you in the end.”

“Liar.” Tears swam in your vision, blurring his face until he was only the galaxy of vanilla and cinnamon you saw every night behind your eyelids. “Didn’t you know? Didn’t you know that you were a part of them?”

“No.”

You were even stronger by then. The first time you ever tried to physically push him away, he was confessing his love for you. This time, he stumbled backward, albeit only by one step. “Liar!”

“I’m sorry. You know I love you and that hasn’t changed. I just wanted you to be free, I didn’t want to be a burden on you. But it seems as though we’re really meant to be together. I didn’t do what I did to hurt you. I tried so hard to make it not hurt. ”

“What do you mean?”

“As long as I tried to be happy, I figured that you would feel it, too. You know, like what Jongseong said when we were younger. We’re connected. But it was difficult. Every day, I felt you missing me as much as I missed you.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That even if we were across the entire fucking universe, we’d still be tied together. And nothing could come between that. I know it now, and I’m sorry.”

“I never want to hear you apologize to me ever again,” you mumbled.

— 

“Y/N?” 

You were lying on your hotel bed, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulder as his hand aimlessly played with your hair that was still wavy from being knotted in a tight bun for your performance that day.

One side of your face was pressed against where his heart beat in synchronization with yours. “Yes?”

“Did you ever feel… alone?”

You shook your head. “No. Just lonely.”

“Do you still feel it now?”

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

He pressed a kiss to the bony ridges of your knuckles. “And I’m never leaving unless it’s with you.”

a/n: surprise surprise! y'all thought SSV was gonna be my debut on here? well i lied. here's arguably one of the saddest things i've written so far besides that one angst i wrote in stella's dms last week. i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it. thank you to nia for encouraging me to post this :D taglist: @karinasbaby @enha-stars @intromortal @heeslomll @venomhee @heeheeswifey

[hotchnerobsessed]

For Your Eyes Only

Fem!Reader x Hotch | You surprise Aaron with boudoir photos and a new lingerie set for Valentine’s Day.

Warnings: 🤭+🥵 Tons of fluff (because Vday with Aaron would be nothing short of the cutest thing ever!!) Smut [soft smut, thigh riding, fem!receiving oral, hand job, fingering, unprotected sex (please be safe everyone!!) and lots of fluffy aftercare 🥺]

Word Count: 10,012

PREVIOUS

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Although this started as a stand-alone story, as I was writing it I couldn’t help but envision the same characters and scenarios that I previously wrote about in His Favourite Pair (PT1) / (PT2). [ie. the blush pink lingerie set, the fact that ‘tulip’ was their safe word, her calling him ‘my love’, and him being a big reason for her boost in confidence]. If you so choose to believe that this is a continuation of those stories, I would not be opposed to that 😉

**********

Late in the afternoon on a Saturday, you and Aaron were walking hand in hand across the tile floor of the mall. With Jack at his Aunt’s for the weekend, you two had decided you wanted to get out of the house for a bit. You hadn’t come here with anything specific in mind, you were okay simply spending time wandering around, just being together.

As countless storefronts passed by, few caught your attention. It wasn’t until the sign for your favourite lingerie shop was in sight that you felt the excitement to browse the racks. With a slight tug on his arm, you spoke through an excited smile, “Ooo, I want to look around in here!”

Looking down at you, he couldn’t help the smile that creased the corners of his eyes; the joy on your face made his heart melt. “Okay,” he nodded, “I’ll wait for you.”

With an exaggerated pout making it’s home on your face, you asked playfully, “you’re not going to come in with me? I just need a new bra.” You laughed softly, “you saw the one I was wearing last week, it’s seen better days.”

As his eyes scanned the storefront, row after row of lacy material clear as day, he finally looked back at you. You’d been together for a little over 2 years now, and he’d seen you in your underwear before. Hell, he’d seen you in much less than that. He’d only hesitated because he didn’t want to intrude on your personal time, if you wanted to do this yourself. But he couldn’t deny how good it felt knowing you were comfortable having him accompany you while you picked something out.

“You’ve got a point there,” he laughed, knowing it was definitely on its last legs, “I can come in if you’d like me to.”

Without a word, the excited giggle that escaped your lips made it clear you were happy with his answer. With your hand still gripping his, you pulled him towards the store, and only let go of his hand once you began flipping through the racks.

Even though you weren’t there for anything special, you couldn’t help but have a look through everything any time you were there. As your fingers trailed along the different fabrics, everything from the flowery lace to the irresistibly smooth silk, you couldn’t help but look up at Aaron every so often. Although he was doing his best to hide it, he looked like a kid in a candy store.

You took note of the way he lingered in front of one item in particular. As your eyes lifted from the rack you were looking through, you saw him hesitate, feet planted firmly in place as he slowly reached out to feel the material. A gorgeous royal blue set, elegant in how minimal the pattern was, hung on the rack beautifully. The thin lace trim along the edges was accentuated by a simple bow between the cups.

He wondered what the bold colour might look like on you. He laughed internally as he thought to himself, “she would look stunning in anything.” As his thumb ran across the soft material, he couldn’t help but imagine it sliding smoothly beneath his palms while you were wearing it. For a split second, his mind slipped even farther into the fantasy, daydreaming about pulling you into his lap, lingerie still in tact, your bodies impossibly close.

He cleared his throat, a sad attempt at ignoring the thoughts that now consumed his mind. Blinking a few times, trying to refocus on reality, he pulled his eyes away from the material. In no time, he was glancing over at you, and he was immediately aware that he’d been caught. The cheeky smile that was plastered across your face made heat rush to his cheeks, before you gleefully looked away.

Unwilling to be apart from you any longer, he made his way through the aisles until he was standing right next to you, his hand slipping effortlessly around your waist. With a slight squeeze of your hip, he asked, “any luck finding something?”

Holding your hand up, you showed him the two you’d found. The same style you always went for, one a simple black, and the other a gorgeous light purple.

“Yep! I think I’m good to go now..” you paused, looking up at him before hinting at the set he’d had his sights on, “unless there’s something you’d like me to add?”

His pupils dilated, he couldn’t deny the urge he felt to say yes. But he knew you didn’t need it. You already had a variety of different styles and colours, which you’d proudly worn for him in the past, every single one of which he loved. Besides, it was you he was attracted to, not some flimsy fabric. Laughing lightly, he shook his head, “no, it’s okay. You get what you need.”

Raising your eyebrows at him, you gave him a second to change his mind, but he didn’t budge. “Okay..”

As you made your way to the register, Aaron was glued to your side, hand still resting on your hip, and you could feel the tension beginning to build. Though you weren’t going home with a new outfit to show off, you were still going home with him, his mind now full of all kinds of wonderful ideas, and you were prepared for whatever was to come.

The second your card was back in your purse, and the cashier was sliding your bag across the counter, he was reaching for your hand. He swiftly made his way out of the store, pulling you along behind him. You couldn’t help but laugh at how urgent his movements were, “Aaron,” you laughed, “slow down, I have short legs remember?”

He was quick to reduce his strides, “sorry, sorry..” he apologized, “I just..” he cleared his throat, “I can’t wait to get you home.” He said those last words as he looked down at you, red hot desire burning in his eyes. Your lips parted as you breathed out heavy, and he couldn’t help but smile at the affect his words had on you.

As you reached the vehicle, you were both quick to climb into your seats, and before you knew it he was whipping out of the parking lot and racing home. The entire drive, he had his arm stretched out, his hand grasping the inside of your thigh, only inches away from where your body was now aching.

If simply seeing that set hanging on the rack had him this wound up, you knew you had to have it.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After the passion of that night, you’d found it difficult to push the memory of him running his thumb along the material out of your mind. As that tiny moment played over and over, you tried harder each time to ignore the urge you felt to rush back to the store and buy it.

Until an idea finally hit you; you were going to get boudoir photos taken in that set, just for him.

You’d always envied girls who were confident enough to take boudoir photos. The intimacy of sharing your body with someone else had always been something you struggled with, even if it was only to be photographed. But now, knowing Aaron, your sweet, loving, gentle Aaron, was going to be on the receiving end of them, made a thrill run down your spine.

You made a point of stopping at the mall on your way home from work the next day. Walking into the store, you made a bee-line straight for the spot you’d seen it hanging a few days earlier and flipped through until you found your size. Making a quick trip to the change rooms just to be sure, you couldn’t help the excitement that consumed you over how well it fit; it was almost like Aaron had just known it would be perfect for you.

In no time at all, you were back in your vehicle and checking your emails. You’d spent the entire evening before searching for the photographer who’s style you liked best. After settling on one you felt drawn towards, you’d emailed her and was now anxiously awaiting a response. As you refreshed your emails, you were sad to see your inbox free of any new messages, but you knew you needed to be patient. After all, it hadn’t even been 24 hours.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before you heard back from the photographer, and you felt nothing but pure joy as you read through the email. As you took in all the information about what would be included in the session, as well as pricing and final product options, made it all feel so real. In a matter of days, you had a date set, and now all you could do was wait.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The few weeks between picking a date, and the day finally arriving, were excruciating; you could hardly contain your excitement. And although it was a surprise you knew he was going to love, you hated that you felt like you were keeping something from Aaron. But the day was finally here, and the butterflies in your stomach were alive and well, in the best way possible.

You’d been informed that there was a limit of 5 outfit changes per session. Not one to miss out on the opportunity for variety in your outfits, you packed your bag for the day with 4 sets you already owned that you knew Aaron loved, along with the stunning new one.

As you arrived at the studio, you were in complete awe of just how gorgeous her set up was. The large space was home to three tall windows letting in a breathtaking amount of natural light. A sheer tapestry hung on the main wall, adding a colourful pattern as the backdrop for the set.

The bed was centered on the wall, but angled slightly to add some dimension, with space between the bed frame and the wall so the photographer could capture every angle. Along the back wall was a classy velvet couch, paired with a full length mirror. And to top it all off, there was a gorgeous patterned rug in the middle of the room that you would find out was perfect for showing off that arch in your back flawlessly.

You got along with your photographer immediately, having built a bit of rapport throughout your emails, the two of you really clicked in person. She’d asked ahead of time if there were certain poses you were for or against, as well as certain parts of your body you might want to accentuate or shy away from.

You were honest, making it known that as much as you were more than excited for the confidence boost this was going to bring you, you were doing this for him. It had been a long road to loving the body you were in, and you knew a lot of the progress you’d made was because of Aaron and his constant affirmations and encouragement, and you wanted to focus on that.

You knew how much he loved your hips, his hands seeming to find their way there in almost any circumstance, whether innocent or not. You knew your breasts needed to be a main focus, with the amount of love and care he constantly showered them with. And lastly, he was always drawn to your thighs, with either a gentle hand on your leg, or how frequently he commented on how right it felt when he was buried between them.

The shoot went incredibly well; you felt sexy, and confident, and you quite honestly didn’t want it to end. With every preview you saw of the photos in between poses, you couldn’t contain the joy you felt. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that you’d be here right now, you would have laughed. Instead, here you were, thrilled that you were giving yourself the chance to express yourself in such an intimate and empowering way.

When the session was over, you sat down with her as the photos all popped up one by one on her computer, and you began the selection process. With so many to choose from, you had to narrow it down to a total of 31 photos (typically to allow for 6 of each outfit, and 1 on the intro page), all of which would be printed in a photo album, one with a sleek black cover where you would have the phrase “for your eyes only” embossed in the center.

The last thing you did before finishing the selection of photos to be included was making one specific request; when the photo album was being designed and printed, you wanted the photos in that new royal blue set to be on the final pages. You wanted those photos to be the very last ones he saw.

As time passed, you found yourself more and more impatient as you waited for your photo album to be complete. It was the end of January when you’d received an email update from your photographer letting you know that it was ready. Picking it up from the studio, you two looked through it just to make sure it was what you wanted, and you couldn’t ignore the excitement that welled in your chest. It was perfect, and you could only imagine how Aaron would react once he had it within his grasp. You thanked her profusely for everything, and left feeling lighter than air.

On the drive home, you tried to come up with a plan for how you were going to give it to him, and that’s when you realized you were only a little over two weeks way from Valentine’s Day. Though it hadn’t been your original intention, and waiting the extra 17 days might just prove to be more difficult than you’d imagined, you decided you were going to wait.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

When February 14th finally rolled around, those same butterflies you’d felt on the day of the photoshoot were back. You two had decided on a romantic walk through the Moongate Garden, and a nice dinner out, before returning home to spend the rest of the evening in. You couldn’t wait to give Aaron his gift, and you eagerly anticipated what was surely to follow.

You’d picked this specific dress for a reason; it was an almost identical match to the colour of the new lingerie set you were wearing underneath. The way the dress hugged your curves in all the right places made your confidence grow, with the v-neck accentuating your breasts flawlessly, and the long sleeves giving it a light and airy feel. Turning around and looking over your shoulder in the mirror, you couldn’t help but smile at how well it followed the curve of your hips; Aaron was going to have a field day.

You slipped into your heels before exiting the bedroom to find him sitting on the edge of the couch, patiently waiting for you to finish getting resdy. As his eyes lifted and connected with yours, his jaw visibly dropped, as he blinked a couple times. Taking in the sight of you in front of him, he stood and immediately made his way towards you, “you’re absolutely stunning, sweetheart.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks as you reached your hands out to him, “thank you, Aaron. You don’t look too shabby yourself,” you admitted, gently grabbing hold of his tie.

He smiled down at you, before you tugged lightly on his tie, pulling his lips to yours and kissing him tenderly. His hands finding their way to your hips like they always did, he pulled you closer to him, and sighed contentedly against your lips. He broke away from the kiss so he could lean forward and whisper in your ear, “let’s get going, before I change my mind and decide to keep you home all night..”

An excited chill ran through your body and straight to your core, as you tried your best to play it off like you weren’t affected by his words, “always such a tease..” You spoke as your placed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, before letting go of his tie and making your way towards the door.

He eagerly followed, and before you knew it you were walking hand in hand through the stunning garden, just as the sun was setting. The warm orange glow from the sky made everything breathtaking; if you’d asked him, he would have said that included you.

A couple hours later, you were making your way back to your vehicle after enjoying a fantastic dinner at one of your favourite spots. Once you were both settled in your seats, you thanked him for the wonderful evening.

“I should be thanking you,” his voice was soft as he spoke, “you’ve been putting up with me for nearly three years now,” he teased, “I can promise you, I’m the lucky one.”

Although you knew he was teasing in that moment, you also knew there was always that hint of feeling unworthy of love that lingered in the back of his mind. Like at any moment the other shoe would drop and you would leave him, too. But you were quick to put his mind at ease, “Hey.. We’re in this together, remember?” He nodded gently. “I love you, Aaron.”

After that exchange, you knew you couldn’t have picked a more perfect night to give him his gift. You wanted him to know how much you cared for him, how much you trusted him, and how much you desired him. Surely giving him a photo album full of intimate photos, just for him, would do the trick.

He leaned over the centre console of the vehicle and kissed your lips tenderly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

Your eyes smiled back at him, “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

Before pulling out of the parking lot, he was reaching into his jacket pocket in search of something. As his hand came into view, you saw him grasping a tiny silver box with a simple red ribbon holding it shut. He was silent as he handed it to you, and you reached out to pick it up gently. You looked up at him and he smiled softly in return, “open it.”

Sliding the ribbon off the side, you pulled back the top of the box and a smile graced your lips as you took in the sight of the gorgeous necklace in your hand. He knew you so damn well. Gold jewelry, minimalistic in style, with the dainty outline of a tulip, your favourite flower, pressed into the metal.

You looked up at him, the love you had for him clear as day in your eyes, “Aaron.. it’s perfect.”

A bashful smile lit up his face, “yeah? You like it?”

Nodding your head, you leaned forward and kissed him gently, “I love it.” You smiled at each other as you placed one last peck against his lips, “thank you.”

There was no hiding the smile on his face, “you’re welcome. I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered, “I love you, too.” Excitement settled deep in your chest as you spoke once more, “and I have something for you, but it’s at home.” Nodding in response, he put the vehicle in reverse and was soon pulling out of the parking lot.

On the drive home, you’d pulled the necklace out of the box and fastened it in place. Pulling down the visor in front of you, you looked in the mirror and admired how perfect it looked hanging around your neck. With a quick glance to the side, he smiled, clearly agreeing.

Once home, he held your hand as he lead you up the front walkway and through the door. Flipping the lock, he turned to face you and you wordlessly stepped together, connecting your lips immediately. It wasn’t long before he was leading you towards the couch, not wanting to be without you on top of him any longer.

As he turned his back to the couch, getting ready to fall back and pull you into his lap, you paused. Pulling your lips away from his, you looked him in the eyes as you rested your palms against his chest and playfully pushed him backwards. Once his back was flush against the couch, and you were standing in front of him, you slowly leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “wait here.”

He exhaled hard as he watched you walk away. You glanced over your shoulder, teasingly making sure he was still sitting there, and he had to pull his eyes away from the way your hips swayed effortlessly in that dress to meet your line of sight. A cheeky smile spread like wildfire across his face when he realized he’d been caught.

Digging to the back of the closet where you’d hidden the photo album, you grabbed hold of it and swiftly made your way back out to the living room. He could tell you were holding something behind your back, and he raised an eyebrow at you in question.

Sitting on the couch next to him, the album still hidden, you did your best to explain what your intentions were, and how much it meant to you, before simply handing it over. “So.. this is something I’ve always wanted to do..” you trailed off, and he listened intently, an encouraging smile on his face, “but it took a long time for me to get to the point where I was comfortable and confident enough to do it.”

Although he wasn’t sure exactly what you were talking about just yet, he continued to listen, reaching out and placing an encouraging hand on your knee. “So, as much as this is a gift for you, it’s also a thank you. For helping me grow into my skin, and for loving me the way you do. You say you’re the lucky one, but it’s not lost on me how thankful I am to have you either.” The way his face lit up at your words made your heart swell.

Bringing his hand up to the side of your face, he leaned close and kissed your forehead gently, “I love you so much, my sweet girl.”

The soft smile on your face soon transformed into a giddy one, and the butterflies in your stomach made themselves known once again. “Okay..” you breathed out, “this is for you..”

Your whole body shook excitedly as you brought it out from behind your back, his eyes following your hands intently as you placed it in his lap. As he read the four words written on the front in gold script, “for your eyes only”, he ran his fingers across the letters as he slowly looked up at you.

Repeating his sentiment from earlier, you simply said, “open it,” as a soft smile pulled at the corner of your lips.

Glancing back down at the album in his hands, he pulled open the cover and was greeted with a stunning close up of you from the shoulders up, but it was still clear what you were wearing. Your eyes were closed and your head was tilted to the side slightly, with one hand grasping one of the straps and pulling it off your shoulder. A simple handwritten note underneath read:

“For Aaron: my joy, my heart, my world.”

Blinking a few times, he looked back up at you and you could see the realization on his face. The love he had for you was radiating from the smile that crinkled his eyes, before he pulled his gaze away from you, focusing back on the pages in front of him. The nerves that had settled deep in the pit of your stomach slowly dissipated once he flipped the page and let out an airy breath.

The spread on the first two pages was a collage of which outfits were to come, all close up shots of the details of each set; all of them except the royal blue one that is. As his eyes trailed across the page, if it wasn’t already clear they were photos of you, there was no denying it now, as he immediately recognized the different pieces you’d worn for him in the past. Reaching his hand out, he gently trailed his fingertips along the page, taking in each photo, one after the other.

The first photo was of a flawless white set, floral lace covering the surface and adding small pops of colour throughout. It was the first set you’d ever worn for him, on your first anniversary.

The second photo was of a sexy red set, tiny hearts scattered across it, the sheer material making your nipples visible. You’d worn it for Valentine’s Day the year before.

The third photo was of a gorgeous blush pink set, and one of his favourites, the lace making you look absolutely divine. This set was always a go-to for both of you, especially after a certain instance when you’d snuck the panties into his suitcase.

The fourth and final photo was of a stunning burgundy set, one that had added straps across the top of both of your breasts, accentuation their curves. He’d bought this one for you as a Christmas gift your second year together.

You watched his face intently as he took it all in; the way his lips parted slightly, and his eyes lingered on each photo, made pride well in your chest. He finally looked back up at you, and you could see the desire beginning to burn behind the love and care in his eyes. Leaning towards you, he reached his hand up to capture the back of your neck, before pulling your lips to his passionately.

Almost unable to contain yourself, you leaned into it and cupped his face with both of your hands, as your tongues danced with each other momentarily. You finally pulled back, both of you near breathless, and you rested your forehead against his.

“Fuck, I love you..” he whispered.

You let out an airy laugh, “I love you, too..” You kissed his lips once more before stating, “keep looking..”

There was no hiding the eagerness in his eyes now, but he pushed it aside for the time being, knowing both of you wanted him to finish looking through the entire album. Little did he know, he was in for quite the surprise, and you couldn’t wait.

As he flipped through the pages, image after image of you showing yourself off for him seared themselves into his mind. One particular photo he hesitated on was one of you kneeling in front of the mirror. Facing the camera, with your back to the mirror, it gave him the perfect view of all of you. The way your hair fell to the side when you tilted your head, with your fingers in your hair. The way your thighs looked, spread ever so slightly, inviting him in. And the way your ass rested gently on your heels, looking all too perfect for his hands to grasp.

After that one, he needed to take a second to gather himself. There were still a few pages to go, and he was already turned on beyond belief. He cleared his throat and swallowed hard, before breathing deep and looking up at you. “You are so gorgeous, my girl. I can’t believe I get you all to myself.”

You blinked slowly a couple times, the way his dominant and possessive side flickered in his tone made heat pool between your legs. You leaned forward to kiss his lips tenderly, “I’m yours. All yours.”

Your words made it next to impossible for him to continue, wanting nothing more than to toss the album aside and start undressing you right then and there. But he didn’t. With his jaw clenched, he turned back to the album in front of him, before taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out.

Finally turning the page once more, there they were, the stunning photos of you in that royal blue set scattered the pages in full colour. With your eyes locked on him, you felt your body exhale at the way his jaw dropped, and his eyes widened, “is this.. that’s the same..” He was having a hard time articulating the emotions running through his mind. It was the same set he’d been dreaming of for months, he knew it.

Lifting his head, he eagerly looked at you in search of reassurance of what he knew was true. You nodded enthusiastically, and before you could speak, his lips were crashing into yours again. Giggling through the kiss, you reluctantly pulled away and confessed, “I went back the next day.. I couldn’t resist.”

His eyes scanned your face longingly; he was in complete disbelief over the fact that the amount of love he felt for you was able fit inside his chest at once. He didn’t know what he’d done in his life to deserve to have you by his side, but here you were, and you were his entire world.

At a complete loss for words, he simply turned his focus back to the photos in his hands. It was the way your breasts fit perfectly inside the cups, and the way the cheeky cut of the underwear made your ass look divine. He couldn’t stop staring. He was slow to turn the page, as more photos filled his mind, doing nothing but making him fall even deeper in love with you.

You’d done all of this for him. He could hardly believe it. You two had been intimate together countless times before, so seeing you like this was nothing new. And yet somehow, this was completely different. This was more permanent, he’d have it forever. It was something he would be able to turn to when you weren’t there. It would be a reminder of the love you had for him. Not to mention the fact that you’d gone to the effort of putting yourself out there in a way you never thought you could before, just to prove to him that he was worthy of love. Maybe he was doing something right after all.

The last two pages had a single photo on each, both taking up the entire page. The first was one of you in the middle of the floor on that gorgeous rug, with your knees bent and toes pointed, your back arching off the floor, and your hair shining flawlessly in the light. The second was a shot of you in the centre of the bed, lying on your stomach, arms stretched above your head with your ass in the air slightly, your hair the perfect amount of tousled as it fell to the side.

With another deep breath out, he closed the back cover of the album and carefully set it on the coffee table in front of him. Looking over at you, he spoke breathlessly, “come here..” In no time at all, he was reaching out to you, hands finding their way to your hips as he pulled you into his lap, finally. Kissing you passionately, a soft giggle of yours made him smile against your lips, before you both wrapped your arms around each other and held on tight.

You whispered against his neck, “so.. do you like it?”

Pulling back from your embrace slightly, his arms still around your waist and your hands now on his shoulders, he confessed, “do I..” he trailed off, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, “sweetheart.. I love it. And I love you.” With one hand now resting on the side of your face, he ran his thumb across your cheek lovingly. “It’s an incredibly generous gift. You did all of that, for me?” he breathed out hot, “I just.. I have no words.. I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough.”

As you listened to his words, your heart swelled, and you couldn’t help the flustered smile that made its home on your face. Leaning forward, you kissed him once more before looking him in the eyes and admitting cheekily, “well.. I can think of a few things..”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, as he smiled wide at your implication, before connecting his lips to yours once more. With both of his hands back on your hips, he pulled you even father into his lap, as your lips parted to allow his eager tongue to slip past. He kissed you deep, and slow, with your fingers carding through his hair, you tugged ever so gently, causing him to moan against your lips.

He was still urgent in his movements, still desperate to have you, but things had taken an unexpected turn. Something about the vulnerability of you putting yourself out there like that, just for him, had turned the evening on it’s axis. What you both thought was going to be a night full of hungry, rough, and heated sex, had quickly turned into what you now both understood was going to be a night of making tender, deep, and passionate love with each other.

Regardless of how things progressed, one thing was always true, and that was the care he put into making sure you were more than satisfied by the end of the evening. And tonight would be no different.

You felt his hands slowly move from your hips to slide along your thighs. Once he reached the hem of your dress, he began pushing the material back, exposing you to him. As one hand slid even farther under your dress, he applied gentle pressure with his thumb, caressing your core through the thin fabric of your underwear. The second his thumb made contact with the material, he knew exactly what you were wearing.

Halting his movements, he pulled his lips away from yours to look you in the eyes, his pupils blown wide. “You’re wearing the blue one, aren’t you?” You nodded lightly, your breathing laboured. He swallowed deep, “you’ve been wearing it all night?”

You nodded again, “oops.. did I forget to tell you that part?” you teased.

The way his eyes darkened made heat pool between your legs, “fuck sweetheart.. show me..”

He helped you up, and once you were standing in front of him, you leaned forward and gently grabbed hold of his tie. “Okay.. but you first..”

He didn’t hesitate, tugging on the knot and pulling the fabric from around his neck before tossing it aside, making you both laugh. Kneeling in front of him, you started working on his belt while he pulled his suit jacket off and undid the buttons on his shirt. In no time at all, he was stripped down to nothing but his boxers, his already hard length making itself know.

Before standing again, you leaned forward and trailed kisses across his chest, and down his stomach, before placing one final kiss against him through the fabric of his boxers. You smiled at the moan that escaped his lips as you did, causing your walls to clench around nothing.

Knowing the new lingerie would mean he’d want you to undress for him, you’d planned for it. You wanted to make it easy for yourself by picking something that not only matched the lingerie set, but was stretchy enough that it would come off easily. Once you were standing, you carefully pulled the sleeves down one at a time, slipping your arms out the top.

You effortlessly hooked your thumbs in the now crumpled material, pulling it down past your breasts, and past your waist, before finally dropping it to the floor. With the lingerie set now on full display for him, accentuated beautifully by the dainty gold necklace still hanging around your neck, he was nearly speechless once again. “You.. sweetheart, you’re..” he mumbled, “fuck, you’re so gorgeous..”

Smiling at his flustered confession, you moved forward in an attempt to rest your weight in his lap once more. As you did, he spread his legs slightly, and guided one of his knees between yours. It didn’t take long for you to figure out why he’d done what he had, as your already soaking core made contact with his thigh.

With his hands immediately finding their way to your hips, he encouraged you to begin rocking back and forth, dragging your still clothed core along the muscles in his thigh. The feeling was already so good, as you tipped your head back, your hair falling behind your shoulders, giving him a direct view of the stunning colour that clothed your body.

He gently ran his palms up your sides, before bringing them to the front of your body, cupping your breasts in his large hands. As he ran his thumbs across the material, you both knew this was exactly what he’d imagined in the store that day. You on top of him, using him to make yourself feel good, as he trailed his palms along the material; the thought made heat rush through your veins.

With your hands planted firmly on his chest, keeping yourself steady, your body got used to the familiar contact in no time, and you desperately needed more. The moan that escaped your lips told him as much, so his hands were back on your hips in an instant, gripping your soft flesh with his fingertips, and helping you move faster.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart? he asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it anyway. When you simply nodded your head in response, he prompted you again, “Yeah?”

Your heart was racing, “yes..” you admitted between deep breaths, “Aaron, it feels so good.”

With your climax quickly approaching, he could feel the tension building with how uneven your movements had become, “are you going to cum for me?” Again, you could only nod in response, your breathing getting more and more ragged by the second; the feeling was almost too much. “Good, that’s my good girl. You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he encouraged, “fuck, you look so good like this.”

Bringing your hands up to the side of his face, you pulled his lips to yours and kissed him deeply. He was quick to respond, kissing you back with just as much passion, all while his hands still had a firm grasp on your hips. As you got closer and closer to the edge, you felt the muscles in his thigh tense, and you knew he was doing it on purpose.

Separating your lips from his, you rested your forehead against his. “Ohhh..” you moaned, “Aaron, I’m close.. I’m so close..”

With a huge grin on his face, he kept a firm grasp on your hips, “yeah, that’s it, cum for me sweet girl..”

The praise that fell of his lips was all you needed, as your body crested the wave. With your body shaking, and hips stuttering, you felt relief consume your mind as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. You gently wrapped your arms around his shoulders with what little energy you had left in you, and nuzzled your head into his neck.

Your heavy breathing began to slow as he gently ran his fingers through your hair and whispered in your ear, “shhh, shhh, there you go. I love you so much, sweetheart. Yeah, just breathe.”

Once you’d caught your breath again, you laughed softly against his neck, “shit.. that was so good.”

He laughed right along with you, “yeah? You liked that, huh?” You hummed in agreement, before nuzzling your body even closer to his.

With his arms still holding you close, his palms exploring your soft skin, he trailed his fingers along the back of your bra, revelling in the way the smooth material complimented your skin so flawlessly.

It wasn’t long before your hips started moving along his thigh once again, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, “does my girl want more already?”

Sighing heavily, your body still impossibly close to his, you admitted, “yes, more, please..”

With a huge smile on his face, he encouraged you to lift your weight off his lap so you could readjust, “lay back sweetheart, let me take care of you..”

Exhaling deep at his words, you didn’t hesitate, allowing him to help you lay back, your shoulders resting on the arm of the couch. It was a tight squeeze with both of you laying on the couch, but you’d made it work so many times before that it was like second nature for both of you. The way you spread your legs wide for him, and the way he nuzzled himself between your thighs, right where he always loved to be.

Gazing down at him, eyelids still heavy under the weight of your first release, you watched as he gently ran his fingers along the outside of the fabric covering your soft lips. “You’re so wet, sweetheart, we’ve ruined these already..” he spoke through a smirk, before he leaned forward and kissed you gently through the material.

He took his time, getting you riled you up ever so slowly with soft kisses against the outside of your panties, before finally pulling the now soaking fabric to the side and eagerly attaching his lips to your body. The moan that graced your lips was music to his ears, and in no time at all, he felt the familiar tugging of your hands in his hair. Allowing your head to drop back, you did your best to relax and enjoy the pleasure he was offering. With long, firm swipes of his tongue through your folds, he took his time devouring you.

With one arm wrapped around your hip, his hand lying flat against your stomach holding you in place, he continued with the calculated motions of his tongue against your body. But it wasn’t long until the familiar feeling of him lining his fingers up with your entrance consumed your mind. And before you knew it, he was slowly guiding two fingers between your tight walls, his name blissfully falling off your lips.

With a slight curling motion, he gently ran the pads of his fingers against that spongey spot inside you, over and over and over. All the while, his tongue was still dancing effortlessly against your swollen clit.

“Oh fuck.. yeah, right there..” you could feel the smile that spread across his face at your pleas, “Aaron.. don’t stop, oh please don’t stop.”

In a matter of seconds, he felt your walls clenching around his fingers, as your grasp on his hair tightened. Slowing his movements ever so slightly, he drew your pleasure out of you as long as you would allow, until he felt your slight nudge on his head telling him that was enough.

As you desperately tried to regain your composure, your chest heaving, he trailed soft kisses along the inside of your thighs in between words of praise. “That’s my girl..” a tender kiss on the inside of your knee, “so sexy when you’re cumming for me..” another gentle kiss farther up your thigh, “so beautiful, sweetheart.”

Resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh, he slowly brought his fingers back up and gently ran them through your folds, smiling wide at the way your body shuddered at the overstimulation. As a gentle laugh escaped your lips at the feeling, you finally lifted your head and looked down at him. As your eyes met, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as he placed another gentle kiss against the inside of your thigh.

Repeating his sentiment from earlier, you reach your arms out to him and whispered, “come here..”

Without hesitation, he carefully pulled your hips farther down the couch so you’re shoulders were flat against the cushions, causing you to giggle lightly. With his body now caging you in from above, you wasted no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, with your hands on either side of his face, pulling his lips to yours. You could taste your own release on his tongue, and it made heat rush through your veins, as you hummed against his lips.

“Aaron..” you mumbled, “I want to feel you..”

“Okay..” he mumbled just as you had, “here?” inquiring if you wanted to get more comfortable in the bedroom.

Nodding softly, you admitted, “right here. I just want you..”

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth, “okay.” Placing a gentle kiss to your forehead, he swiftly leaned back and removed his boxers, tossing them to the side.

Hovering over you again, he gently caressed the side of your face with one hand, while carefully lining himself up with the other. Gazing into your eyes, he asked softly, “you ready, sweetheart?” You nodded, your soft hum of agreement gripping his chest in the best way.

With that, he was gently pushing his hips closer to yours, his length stretching you inch by inch. As your lips parted, a soft sigh escaping, he dropped his head beside yours and you felt your body exhale at the way he groaned in your ear.

He started slow, pulling out of you gently before pushing back into you, and you could have sworn you’d never felt him this deep before. The way his hands instinctively found their way into your hair, the way his breath on your neck made you shiver, and the way his body rubbed blissfully against your clit, had your body tightening around him.

With your legs still around his waist, pulling him closer with every thrust, you held him tight with your arms around his shoulders, your nails trailing along his skin. “Oh Aaron, ohhhh fuck..” you were breathless again, “you’re so deep.. I love you so much..”

With another quiet moan in your ear, he trailed kisses along your neck, “I love you too, my girl..” His lips captured yours once more, and he swallowed the sounds you made as he began moving faster. With every drag of his length out of your walls, and every passionate thrust forward, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to another climax.

With one more gentle nudge of your body with his, you felt ecstasy wash over you. “Yeahhh, there you go..” he whispered against your neck, “that’s my good girl.. fuck you feel so good..” Your breathing was laboured, as your grasp on his body tightened, holding him impossibly close.

As you slowly began to catch your breath again, he trailed gentle kisses along your neck, and your jaw, before capturing your lips with his once more. And once you felt like you’d recovered enough, you spoke excitedly, “okay, now it’s my turn..” as you encouraged him to sit up.

Once he was sitting, his back against the couch, you straddled his lap, and immediately his hands were on your hips. With your panties still pulled to the side, you reached behind your back and undid the clasp on your bra. You took pleasure in watching the way his eyes were glued to your chest as you pulled the material off your body and tossed it aside.

With his hands reaching up to cup your breasts, he gently twirled your nipples between his fingers, causing your back to arch instinctually. Unable to resist any longer, you reached down between your bodies and lined him up with your core once again, before sinking down on his length.

Repeating your motions from earlier, his hands gravitated towards your hips yet again, as you began rocking back and forth. Desperately wanting to hold him close, you leaned your chest against his and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders.

The quicker you moved, the closer he got to the edge, and through gritted teeth he confessed, “I’m so close.. sweetheart I’m going to cum..”

With one final rock of your hips, you lifted your body off his and immediately reached down to grasp him in your hand. Resting your forehead against his, you spoke softly, “yeah? Go ahead.. cum for me my love..”

With your soft fingers wrapped around him, moving up and down sensually, it wasn’t long before his body was reaching its high. With a deep moan rumbling in his chest, his hips stuttered and you smiled at the soft grunts that escaped his lips. With his hands still grasping your hips, fingertips digging into your skin, his hips bucked instinctually a couple times as he spilled his release across his abdomen. You continued with your motions until you felt the tell-tale shiver of it being too much run through his body.

He dropped his head back against the couch, a deep sigh consuming his chest, as you leaned forward and placed tender kisses along his jaw. He took a moment to simply enjoy the bliss that clouded his mind, before kissing your lips tenderly.

Once his heart rate began to slow, and he could finally catch his breath again, he stated quietly, “you didn’t.. I’m, I’m sorry.. I couldn’t last long enough for you to have another..”

Shaking your head in response, you laughed gently, “oh, no Aaron, it’s okay..” it was your turn to place a loving kiss against his forehead, “you’ve already given me my fair share..”

He objected once again, “no, you can give me one more, I know you can..” He was quick to slide one of his hands over your thigh and between your legs. You felt heat rise in your cheeks at his persistence, so you didn’t try to stop him, as his fingers found their way along your folds yet again. The soft moan you let out at the contact only urged him on.

With your hands planted firmly on his chest again, and your eyes connected with his, you lifted your hips a little father, just as he slipped two fingers inside you. The sounds that left your lips drove him wild, as he began with those same curling motions deep within you, his thumb strategically placed on you clit.

It didn’t take much for him to get you going again, and the smile on his face made your heart flutter. “I can feel you, sweetheart.. you’re close again aren’t you?”

A soft, “mhm..” was all you could get out, as your eyelids slowly closed, giving into the pleasure.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his, as he kept up with those same glorious motions between your legs. Before you knew it, you felt that same euphoria reach its peak. As your fourth orgasm of the night ripped through your body, it took everything in you not to completely collapse on top of him. Your legs shook, and your breath caught in your throat, but he didn’t stop, wanting to draw it out as long as possible.

Sliding your hands up, you gripped his shoulders tight as pleasure consumed you. When it finally reached the point of too much, you breathed out his name, “Aaron..” and he swiftly pulled his fingers out.

Collapsing into his lap, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close, sighing heavily. He laughed breathlessly against your chest, his arms circling your waist and holding you close. You both sat there for what felt like an eternity, his palms running along your back comfortingly, as you placed lazy kisses against his neck.

Breaking the silence, he whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

Trailing your kisses along his jaw, you captured his lips with yours tenderly, “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

With another gentle kiss against your lips, he leaned back to look in your eyes, one hand coming up to rest on the side of your face, “let’s get cleaned up.”

You laughed softly, “okay.”

Standing from the couch, he made sure to hold your hands tight, knowing your legs would be a little unsteady in the aftermath of everything you’d just experienced. Once he was standing, he gently encouraged you to lead the way with a nod of his head. Still holding one hand in yours, he trailed close behind you as you made your way to your ensuite bathroom.

You quickly threw your hair into a messy bun, before starting the bath, checking to make sure the water was warm enough, and adding some of your favourite bubble bath. As you turned back to face him, he crouched down in front of you and slowly pulled the panties that you were still wearing down your legs, discarding them in the sink to be washed by hand later.

Grabbing a small wash cloth, he held it under the running water before kneeling in front of you once more. He gently grasped your ankles one at a time, and lifted them to rest your foot on his thigh. Each time, he guided the warm cloth up the inside of your leg, before focusing on your thigh. Finally, he very carefully ran the warmth along your folds, two, three, four times, just to make sure you were comfortable.

Placing a gentle kiss against your knee, he finally set your foot back down before standing. He used the wash cloth to clean his own thighs, before finally wiping his release off his stomach, and tossing the cloth in the sink as well.

Facing each other once again, you reached your arms out to him, and he smiled softly, pulling you into his embrace and holding you tight. He kissed the top of your head, and whispered against your hair, “thank you for the gift, sweetheart. Thank you for trusting me, and thank you for allowing me to love you.”

Looking up at him, you stood on your tiptoes and kissed his lips tenderly, wrapping your arms even tighter around him. “Anything for you, Aaron.”

With a gentle kiss to your forehead, he finally released you from his grasp, before leaning down to shut the water off. With one hand holding yours, he kept you steady while you stepped over the side of the bath and settled under the bubbles. Sliding back, you made room for him in front of you, and in no time he was lowering himself into the water facing you.

Another tight squeeze, but it was something else you’d done countless times before and was now second nature. Sliding your legs alongside each other, you both leaned back against opposite ends. With your elbow resting on the side of the bath, you leaned your head against your hand and stared at him lovingly.

The soft smile that graced your lips caused a flustered grin to spread across his face, “what are you thinking about?”

Your smile grew as you admitted, “how happy you make me.”

The love he felt for you in that moment completely took his breath away. With a sharp exhale, his eyes trailed from the messy bun top of your head, down to your lips, along your arm that was resting on the side of the bath, and finally to the gold necklace still hanging around your neck.

When he finally looked back up at you, you simply gazed into each other’s eyes as he attempted to gather his thoughts. He opened his mouth to speak, but was ultimately unable to; he found himself utterly speechless. All he wanted to do was hold you.

He carefully readjusted so his legs were on either side of your hips, and guided your feet over his thighs, pulling you close as you settled your legs around his waist. With your bodies tangled together once more, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, as one of his hands rested on your lower back, the other gently cupping the side of your face. His thumb ran back and forth across your cheek, as he placed a kiss to your forehead, then on the tip of your nose, before finally capturing your lips with his.

Pulling back slightly, he gazed into your eyes longingly and whispered, “I love you so much. I can’t imagine life without you by my side.”

Your eyes smiled back at him, and you kissed him gently before responding, “I guess that makes two of us.”

He laughed softly at your words, pulling you even closer and resting his forehead against yours.

It wasn’t long before you were both readjusting once more, so your back was leaning against his chest, his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders. As he nuzzled his head beside yours, you both stayed there for quite a while, on the verge of falling asleep, until he gently nudged you. The bubbles were long gone, and you had to admit the water was definitely starting to get cold.

Once you were both out of the bath and dried off, you followed him out to your bedroom where you slid on a pair of underwear and he pulled on some boxers and a t-shirt. In no time, he was grabbing one of those quarter zip sweaters he knew you loved so much and turning to you. “Here you go, sweetheart,” he spoke quietly as he helped you slide the soft material over your head.

In the warm glow of the bedside lamp, his heart swelled at how exquisite you looked; he couldn’t wait to curl up in bed and fall asleep with you in his arms.

The way he looked at you wasn’t lost on you, and you asked sheepishly, “what?”

He blinked slowly, nothing but love radiating from the warm smile on his face. Closing the gap between you, he gently lifted your chin so your attention was on him, as he gazed into your eyes longingly. “Oh it’s nothing really..” he teased softly, “it’s just, I love you is all..”

You felt your chest tighten, and you breathed deep as your body attempted to process the joy that consumed you. There was something about this moment, something about the love you’d just shared, and the vulnerability of the evening, that had you falling even deeper in love with him.

Standing on your tiptoes, you connected your lips with his tenderly, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close. When you finally pulled away, you lingered, brushing your nose against his playfully, “I love you, too..”

You could hear the smile that spread across his face, as he let out a soft laugh, cupping your face in his hands. Placing a gentle kiss against your forehead, he spoke once more, “come on, let’s get some sleep.”

With his hand on your lower back, he lead you over to the bed before pulling back the covers for you. In no time he was shutting the lamp off and climbing in beside you, rolling onto his side and reaching his hands out to you. You didn’t hesitate, tucking your arms into your chest like you always did, and allowed his strong arms to encompass your body. As he held you tight against his chest, you nuzzled your head under his chin and tangled your feet with his.

Your eyes slowly closed, and it wasn’t long before you were drifting off to sleep. The way your body relaxed in his grasp, and the way your chest rose and fell a bit heavier than it had minutes earlier, were telltale signs that you were fast asleep.

He placed a tender kiss on the top of your head, and although you couldn’t hear him, he whispered against your hair, “I’m going to marry you one day..” before closing his eyes and succumbing to his own weariness.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Tag List: @ssamorganhotchner ; @ccristata ; @anlin2058 ; @sannunah28 ; @hotchgirlsummer ; @mesnyder ; @red-red-rogue ; @chibsytelford

[pedroscurls]

Third Time’s A Charm (Part 1).

Character(s): Frankie “Catfish” Morales , Reader (female, second person POV) Summary: There is history between you and Frankie. In fact, you have both broken up twice and yet, you still seem to find your way back to each other. Could this third chance be the last and final one? Word Count: 2,339 Author's Note: And we’re here! Frankie Morales officially has my heart. I’m so excited for you all to read what I have in store for this story. We’re in for a ride. Please note that this story will have mentions of drug use / addiction and PTSD, but I will give a warning for each chapter. Happy reading!  Warning: None.

Right person, wrong time. You and Frankie knew that concept all too well. You both could never get the timing right, but the amount of love you two shared never faded. It always lingered, always gave you both a feeling that maybe one day, it would work out. You left it in the universe’s hands at that point, a firm believer that if it was meant to be, you will find your way back to each other. 

But after he got married, you started to keep your distance. It hurt too much to be around him. You shared so much history with Frankie and being around him, seeing him with another woman that wasn’t you, just didn’t feel right. 

Yes, you both still talked, still checked in with each other, but the conversations became less and less frequent. 

You never did get along with his wife, part of the reason being that she didn’t like that Frankie was still friends with a woman he had been in a relationship with… Twice. 

So, when Santiago showed up on your doorstep one afternoon, you were surprised to say the least. It had been a little over a year since you spoke to the other man, having heard from Will that he had been in Colombia. 

But here he was. A smile on his face paired with warm and kind eyes. Santiago was Frankie’s best friend. In fact, he was the reason why you and Frankie had been in a relationship to begin with. He had set you both up on a blind date after believing that you and Frankie would make a great pair, and Santiago wasn’t wrong. 

You and Frankie were both shy at the beginning of the date, teetering on being polite and also not knowing what to expect, but after a couple of drinks and a shared interest over planes, you both started to relax. 

It was truly one of the best dates you had ever been on and it only kickstarted the beautiful, yet painful relationship with Frankie. 

The first breakup was mutual, both too afraid to admit that this relationship could be something beautiful. The breakup only lasted four months before Frankie reached out to you, asking you out for a cup of coffee to see how you were doing. It didn’t take long before you both admitted that you still loved each other, that the feelings you shared hadn’t left. 

And so, you both tried to give it another shot. 

But the second breakup was painful. You and Frankie had been together for three years before the breakup. You had been accepted into a very competitive master’s program at a college in California, which was a dream you always had even before Frankie. The program would last for two years and you and Frankie had made the decision to end the relationship. 

You both agreed that you didn’t want to try a long distance relationship, afraid that it might just ruin the relationship you both built. 

“I love you,” he whispered. You both decided to end the relationship a month before you had to leave, not wanting to prolong the inevitable even further. 

“Will we ever get the timing right?” you asked.

Frankie didn’t know the answer to that. He hadn’t ever felt this way about someone and while this seemed so painful, to end a relationship without even trying to make it work, it made sense. He knew how important this program was to you, how passionate you were about teaching, about literature, that he couldn’t ask you to stay. It would be selfish of him to ask that of you. 

Frankie didn’t want to let you go, but he knew that he had to. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” he finally replied. 

“Two years…” you said quietly. “It’s only gonna be two years and I’ll visit for the holidays and–” 

Frankie shushed you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. He looked into your eyes for a brief moment before he scanned the rest of your features, memorizing every inch of your face, every freckle and mole… This seemed like goodbye. 

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “I mean, I want you to go to California without having to worry about me, about us.”

“I love you, Frankie…” 

“I love you too, baby.” Frankie was never someone who allowed himself to show emotions, to cry, but being with you had shown him that all he needed was a safe space, someone to show him that it was okay to feel things, to express how you were feeling. But right now, he didn’t want to show his pain, afraid that if you noticed it, you would put your dream on hold to stay here, in Florida, with him. “You’re going to be great.” 

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Frankie gently pecked your lips. “I’ll be right here when you get back, baby.”

But six months into your program, you had become so busy, so engrossed in your studies that Frankie had taken a backseat. You knew that he would be okay; he had Santiago, Will, Benny, and Tom. While he didn’t promise that he would wait for you, it still surprised you when you found out he was engaged and eventually married. 

Santiago and the rest of the guys always believed that you would come back from California and pick up right where you and Frankie left off. You had spent plenty of time with Frankie’s friends, hearing plenty of stories from their time in the military. You even felt like you were part of their group, teasing Santiago and Benny about the women they tried to pick up, confiding in Will when Frankie was in a slump, and even finding comfort in Tom’s presence. 

“Santi,” you finally said. “This is a surprise.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Had to come visit you,” Santiago smiled, pulling you into a hug. “How are you?” 

You took comfort in his embrace. It felt like forever since you felt this safe. Frankie and his group of friends always gave you that feeling, that sense of security. 

“I’m good,” you replied, pulling back and looking into his eyes. “I heard you’ve been in Colombia.”

“From Frankie?”

You shook your head. “From Will actually.”

Santiago nodded. You let him inside your apartment and shut the door behind you. You walked towards the kitchen, hearing his boots against your wooden floors as he followed you. 

“Have you talked to Frankie?”

You shook your head, grabbing two glasses to fill with water. “I haven’t talked to him in over a year. I talk to Will and Benny, though. I get my updates from them. Tom’s– He’s been dealing with the separation, so I haven’t spoken to him either.”

“You haven’t talked to Frankie in that long?” Santiago asked, surprised. 

“He’s married and his wife made it very clear that she isn’t comfortable with us talking, so out of respect, I decided that it would be best to keep my communication with Frankie limited.” You handed him the glass. “I hear he’s doing okay, though.”

“You know, us guys always thought it would be you two,” Santiago admitted, taking the glass of water from you and nodding his thanks. “You kept him grounded. Hell, you kept all of us grounded.” 

You smiled, shaking your head. “Yeah right. Keep you five men grounded? Sure, Santi.”

“I’m serious,” he smiled. “Having you around… It was nice. Frankie always told us–”

“Santiago,” you interrupted. “He has moved on. I still love him, still care about him, but he’s married.”

Santiago nodded. “Right, yeah. I’m sorry.” 

“So, what brings you by? Unannounced, by the way. You could have called.” 

He chuckled. “Beats the element of surprise.” 

You arched a brow, sitting across from him. “What’s going on?” 

And from there, Santiago told you about his plan about asking the guys to come back to Colombia with him. You had spent so much time with Frankie and the rest of the guys that their stories about their time in the military didn’t scare you. Instead, it made you sad, frustrated, angry for Frankie, Santiago, Will, Tom, and Benny that they had to endure what they went through only to be cast aside once they were retired veterans. 

Santiago’s plan sounded dangerous, but if they could pull it off, the reward would be worth it. But for the plan to work successfully, he needed Frankie, Tom, Benny, and Will to be on board. He needed all of them. 

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to react. You noticed that Santiago always had the ideas, never small, always big. He believed that he could get Lorea, while simultaneously seizing worth seventy-five million dollars. 

“What do you think? You think I can get all of them on board?” Santiago asked.

“I think that’s a big ask, Santi.” You sighed. You were sure that each man had something going on, but at the same time, you knew how tight knit this group was. You knew that if Santiago showed this much passion to the guys, then you knew that they would back him up. No matter what. “But you know them more than I do, so you tell me.”

Santiago nodded, looking around your apartment. “I bet with your help, I can convince them no problem.” 

“No,” you shook your head. “Santiago, I can’t.”

“Why not? You know all of us. We all love you, trust you, and–”

“Santiago,” you interrupted. “I believe in you… I believe in all of you, but–”

“This can be good for us,” he replied. “This money and getting Lorea? Not only will Colombia be safer, but the money can do a lot of good for us.”

“I don’t want the money. I’m not even going to Colombia, so I don’t think I should get any part of it.” You said quietly. “Besides, I can’t– I don’t want to be part of something this dangerous. You can all get hurt, or worse.”

“We won’t. We know what we’re doing. This will be easy compared to what we’ve done.” Santiago reached out for you, his eyes softening, pleading. “Listen, how about you just come by tonight? Benny’s fighting and I’m sure the guys will love to see you. It’ll be like old times.”

“Is Frankie going to be there?” 

“I don’t know,” Santiago lied. “Besides, if he is, I know he’d be happy to see you.” 

“Santi…”

“Please,” he said quietly. You could tell this meant a lot to him. This mission, giving back to the people of Colombia, to the guys who struggled after getting out of the military… You knew he needed this. 

“Fine,” you replied. “But only because I miss Benny’s fights.” 

He grinned in triumph, standing and pulling you into a hug. “I’ll pick you up tonight. We can go together.” 

“Okay, but the first round is on you.” 

—

You were sitting at the front, waiting for Santiago while he and Will went to the men’s locker room. You were drinking a beer, albeit very warm but alcohol nonetheless, as you watched the fights with little interest. The crowd was merely waiting for Benny, and so were you. In fact, you were waiting for Santiago and Will to come back out so that you wouldn’t have to be alone. 

There were a couple of men who had come up to you, trying to make small talk, but you had told them you weren’t interested. In fact, you haven't been in a serious relationship since Frankie. The man had set the bar so high that no other man could ever reach. Sure, there were a few that have tried, but you always ended it before it could get too serious. 

You were standing now, though, the crowd piquing your interest as you looked towards the cage to see two men, all bloodied and exchanging punches. While this would have deterred plenty of women, this was actually very exhilarating for you. You had always been a fan of mixed martial arts, so you had seen Benny’s fights whenever you got the chance. Luckily, every time you went, Frankie wasn’t there. 

The referee stepped in to stop the fight, the man on the ground visibly not defending himself. The crowd roared in excitement, chanting the name of the winner. A couple of minutes passed before the announcer began to announce the next fight. You heard Benny’s name and you cheered loudly, raising your arms in the air (with your beer in one hand). 

You glanced over at the end of the hall to see the door open. Benny walked out, wearing bright red trunks. His face was serious, focused, but you felt your heart skip a beat when you saw Frankie. He was walking alongside Santiago and Will, trailing behind Benny. 

Frankie was wearing a tan colored and brown collared jacket with a gray v-neck underneath. His jeans sat perfectly on his hips, paired with a brown belt, and boots. Your eyes skimmed him, finally noticing how his curls were tucked underneath his usual Standard Heating Oil hat. 

Benny looked over at you, chuckling to himself when he noticed who you were staring at. 

They stopped walking and you saw Tom join Santiago, Frankie, and Will, handing them each a cup of beer. Then, Santiago pointed in your direction. You made eye contact with him for a moment before watching Frankie turn around, his eyes finally meeting yours. 

His eyes instantly softened. 

Yours did too. 

And you both stood there, the crowd cheering Benny’s name beginning to fade out. 

You saw him and the rest of the guys walk over to you. When he was standing mere inches from you, he let out a small smile. You yearned to reach out for him, to hug him and have his arms wrap around you like before, but in the back of your mind, you remembered that the man standing before you was now married. 

He was off limits. 

“Hey,” Frankie said. “Long time no see, hermosa.”

--- 

Part 2.

[hungryforpowernotfood]

Making a Deal (Part 2)

Summary: Your date, gentlemen and distinguished folks

Warning(s): House being rude to waiting restaurant staff, being misgendered/mistaken as a woman (being called ma'am), self doubt, and anxiety

Pairing(s): Greg House x ftm reader

You stood on the sidewalk waiting for House to drive up. He had insisted on picking you up and treating it like an actual date. He was even on time when you recognized his car approaching you.

You gave him a small wave and watched as he pulled up along the sidewalk, and stopped the car a few feet ahead of where you were. 

You frowned as you started walking towards the car. He got out and started limping around to the other side.

“What’d you do that for?”

“Because if I pulled up beside you, you would get in the car myself. And if memory serves, that’s not exactly how dates go.” He responds, opening up the passenger door for you.

“Right, but isn’t that for women?”

“Ever heard of equality, l/n? Get in the car.”

You huffed, and got in—him practically slamming the door shut after you. He slammed his door shut as well after he got in, and you wondered if he knew he didn’t need to slam it for it to properly close, but decided against bringing it up.   

Aside from the radio playing, the majority of the car ride was silent between the two of you—House made a few comments about the restaurant he was taking you to, and made a joke about how he didn’t know what food you liked. He occasionally made comments about what was playing, but he never changed the station. 

“Don’t get out yet.” He ordered after he had parked the car. He got out himself, then limped to your side, and opened your door for you.

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” House made a point of saying the words, but he loosely linked his arm to yours as you made your way toward the restaurant. He gave the greeter his name for the reservation, and the two of you were led to your table.

The restaurant was admittedly nicer than you thought it would be, however, the conversation was as forced as you predicted it would be, despite the few compliments he made. 

It wasn’t very long before the waitress introduced herself, and offered to get your drinks. House ordered your drink for you—insisting you try something and trust him—and by the time the waitress got back with your drinks, she took your orders. 

House decided to go first, and you were about to make a biting comment about how he could’ve just picked something for you when you realized something: you had never presented as male before in public. Not like this, at least. You hadn’t been able to get any interviews yet, and when you went to the store, you were always able to go to the self-checkout. 

“And for you sir?” The waitress turned to you, and you barely registered that she was talking to you. 

You cleared your throat, attempting to deepen your voice.

“I’ll take the—” You cut yourself off by the waitress’s expression.

“I–I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—I meant ma’am.”

You tried not to flinch at the word. You glanced at House and saw he was glaring at the waitress.

“I know they don’t pay you much,” he growled, making her turn to face him, “and obviously you didn’t get much schooling, but you must be an idiot to refer to my boyfriend as ‘ma’am’.”

He made a point of mocking the word ‘ma’am’, like a child who just learned a new nonsense word, and thinks it’s the most ridiculous thing ever to roll off their tongue. 

“I—right, I’m sorry, it’s my mistake—” She said, turning to address you now. 

“That was established.” House scoffed. 

“What can I get for you, sir?” The waitress asked a little quieter now, though you were sure it was only to avoid any more ridicule from House. 

You gave her your order—her quickly jotting it down as you said it, repeating it to the both of you to make sure she got both orders right, and quickly walking back to the kitchen.

House rolled his eyes. “Honestly, if I can’t escape idiots at work, you’d think I’d at least be able to avoid them here.”

“It’s okay.”

“Not really.”

“No, I mean…I understand why she thought…I don’t look very masculine.”

House cocked his head to the side. “Sure, maybe you don’t have a beard to make it obvious you have a mix of testosterone and the proper hormones to give some people the hint that maybe you possibly are male, but that doesn’t mean she should be rude about it.”

“She wasn’t being rude.”

“Yes, she was. You’re clearly presenting as male, she had no issue in assuming that we were two men having dinner, and did not hesitate to call you ‘sir’. She only changed when she heard her voice. Which is rude. Especially considering there could’ve been a genetic reason or medical reason for you not having a lower voice.”

“I know that, but—”

“No buts. Let her learn her lesson.”

You gave him a look. “When did you teach her a lesson?” You teased slightly.

“That she shouldn’t have just assumed what you preferred to be called. If you didn’t want to be called ‘sir’, you would’ve corrected her the first time. Or I would have.” House paused, before slightly furrowing his brow. “Besides, no one wants to be called ‘ma’am.”

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Remember That Night?: Part 4/4

Summary: The group decides to take you on a surprise vacation but little do you know what they have in store for you.

Warnings: mention of anxiety attack.

taglist: @ivebeenthearchersstuff @himboelover @zaddyhotch @rousethemouse @pambeasleylover @budugu

Bright lights were above you as you walked down a long hallway with people rushing past you. It felt like you should be running. Why were you here? You absolutely hated flying it took a xanax to keep you from having a panic attack whenever you had to fly for work on the jet, especially if Aaron wasn’t there. Glancing around the room all your friends from the bureau were surrounding you, smiling faces, eyes filled with excitement. Turning your head slowly forward a figure was starting to form it almost looked like- 

“Y/N!” Emily’s shouting had awoken you from the odd dream you were having. “What the hell Em?” You rubbed your face, eyes nudging open unwillingly. Glancing at your phone you saw how late in the evening it was. “It’s 3 am. Why would you wake me up, you know I haven’t been-“

 “C’mon we’re taking a trip it’s a surprise.” 

 “To where and please tell me it doesn’t involve flying. I’ve had enough of that the past few weeks.” Emily turned slightly, with her face being one you were far too familiar with. “Em, no I-“

 “C’mon it will be fun the rest of the team are already there waiting for us!” Rolling your tired eyes, you shifted to check your phone for any messages from Aaron, nothing. His decision was made. 

Your bags were packed within twenty minutes. Emily had assisted you and told you what kind of clothes to pack and how long you’d be gone. You were dreading this trip and the fact that Aaron hadn’t reached out, even though it had only been a few hours and everything could be okay, you were not looking forward to the trip at all. “Where’s my-“ She tossed you Aaron’s shirt, the one that held such special value to you, especially when traveling. “Did you really think I’d let you leave without it? I’m only your best friend.” You hit her with a pillow in a playful manner, and groaned when she pulled you up out of your bed. The rest of the team were waiting downstairs in the car. “Damn girl, we’re on a time limit here.” Derek smiled, taking in your appearance. “Good lord you must really not have wanted to get out of bed. You look like-“

 “Andddd, we’re going.” You shoved Derek in the car while he laughed. Emily sat on the other side of you and you took note of Dave in the driver’s seat and Spencer and Penelope accompanying him in the front seats. It was an understatement to say there was no room in the car. “Spencer, if you don’t scoot over-“ 

“Hey, hey! We haven’t even moved yet, I will not start this car and have to hear you bickering for the next forty five minutes.” You rolled your eyes and sulked in your seat, you just wanted to get this road trip or whatever it was over with. Spencer turned to face you, mentioning how he wasn’t going to leave your side in the airport since he knew how antsy you got. The car ride was long to say the least, Spencer made his normal knowledge remarks about traffic lights and what not, while Penelope and Emily chatted about the city with Dave. Derek was already passed out next to you, his drool leaving a mark on Aaron’s shirt, which in a way irritated you but you couldn’t be mad at him.

 Finally arriving, Spencer had insisted that once you got inside he needed to cover your eyes. This whole situation was odd to you, it was the middle of the night and they just decided to take a trip and not even tell you where. They all tried to boost your excitement but deep down you just wanted to go home and sob in your bed. 

 After passing security check, that’s when Spencer covered your eyes. He had something along the lines of how it was somewhere you always wanted to go and he wanted it to be a surprise for you. No matter where it was nothing could fill the void in your heart at the moment. As the team walked with the two of you, they finally saw who was meeting them there. You didn’t see it but Emily motioned for him to be quiet. 

Aaron thought he was seeing a ghost, someone he thought he was never going to see again. The woman he loved just as much as Jack. His missing puzzle piece. Water began to fill his vision as he took in the sight of you in his shirt that always was too baggy on you, but it was your favorite. He recalled the day he had given it to you on the jet when you were having a panic attack.

 “I need off I need- I can’t-“ Aaron snuggled in next to you pulling you in his arms. When his hand connected with your skin you felt frigid, like you had been out in the snow without a coat. He reached for his bag next to him and pulled out one of his night shirts. “Shh…Shh. Y/N I need you to try and calm down, focus on my voice alright?” You nodded trying to do exactly what he said. Your ears clung to his every word, and the low, soft, gentle tone he spoke in. He glanced at everyone to make sure no one was watching this happen since that usually made your panic attacks worse. Your chest was heavy, and you tried to steady your breathing. When Aaron shifted slightly it made your heart rate go up, and panic to set in once more. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere. Here-“ He placed his shirt over your head and helped you put it on you while you were moving frantically to get all the warmth that you could. 

Once it was on, fitting you snuggly and bringing you a feeling of content, he pulled you closer into him once more and settled his head atop of yours, his lips by your ear. “You’re okay. You’re with me try to breathe, it’s just you and I. No one else in the room. We’re going to land safely, and I’m not going to leave your side until we do. Okay?” You nodded into him, thankful that he was on this jet ride. 

He began to hum your favorite song that only he knew quietly by your ear. “Just close your eyes, try to relax, and steady your breathing. I’m right here nothing is going to hurt you while I’m here with you.” Your breathing began to steady. Your head leaned closer into him, breathing in his scent that you were all too familiar with, it brought you solace, and reminded you that Aaron really was there. Your hands loosened their grip on his shirt while his arms were wrapped around you, reminding you, you were in a safe place. The humming of his voice was the last thing you heard when your breathing went back to normal, and your heart rate lowered before your eyes drifted shut slowly and you fell asleep in his arms.

Aaron couldn’t help but smile softly at the memory. His hand tightened on your shirt in his hands. It hadn’t fit in his suit case and he sure as hell wasn’t leaving it behind. Not the one thing he clung to every morning and night. He watched closely as Spencer walked you just a tad bit closer to him to make the two of you about six feet apart. Your friends wanted to make sure you had a full view of the man you were in love with. “Spence, where are we going.” His movement stopped when you ended your sentence. All that you could hear was part of passerbys conversations. Completely unaware of all your friends and the man of your dreams surrounding you. “Okay, now I’m going to take my hands off alright?”

 “It’s about time. I don’t know what could be so great at an airport.” Aaron laughed quietly to himself at your comment. Spencer’s hands finally lifted off of your eyes. 

Aaron was standing there in his quarter zip hoodie and blue jeans while his suitcase was settled next to him. This couldn’t be real. Taking in not just him but your surroundings, you realized this was the dream you were in the middle of before Emily awoke you. His pure eyes glistened with an unexplainable amount of love and admiration. The small, soft wrinkles were accompanied by the side of his eyes while his pale pink lips, were closed in a gentle, heart warming smile. A tear drop ran down his cheek as one did yours as well. “Is it really-“ He nodded slowly before speaking.

“Y/N I’m-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence when your bags were falling from your arms, and your legs were running to him faster than the speed of lightning. Penelope and Derek watched from the side when you jumped into Aaron’s arms, that had caught you in a swift move. Your lips smashed into his. The feeling of them against yours was like no other. Sparks flew inside the two of you as your arms wrapped behind his neck, deepening the kiss as much as you could. Spencer made a small comment saying, “You know according to statistics, they say your one true love, is always the one you least expect and-“ JJ cut him off by saying, “Spence, just let them have this moment.” He stopped talking, smiling, and itching the back of his head while he tried to hold in what he was going to say. 

“What took you so long?” The tears began to fall but for once in what felt like a lifetime they were because of joy and love. Aaron’s arm curled tighter around you as he pressed a delicate kiss to your temple. His scent filling your nose, and it smelt like the usual cologne he wore, and deodorant, it was a memory you had thought you’d never be able to relive again. “I took the long way home. I waited longer than I should have and I’m so sorry.” Your fists clutched in the fabric of his shirt, you never ever wanted to let go of him again. Penelope was beginning to cry in Derek’s arms while Emily, Spencer, and Dave watched in pure adoration. All of your weaknesses all your strengths, Aaron knew them, all of them. Whether it was your uncontrollable anxiety or your immaculate skill at reading through every case file in under twenty minutes and being able to recall every small detail no matter how much time had passed. He loved you for you and every part of him was so sure of that now. Every memory from the past came rushing through your brain. Holding hands secretly under the table, the winks he’d send your way when no one else was looking, the constant reassurance that he would do out of the blue when you were worried about something. “Y/N!”

 The sound of Jack yelling as he exited the bathroom made Aaron drop you gently down. Jack crashed into you and you met him at eye level and pulled him into a hug so tight and warm. “Jack! I missed you so much buddy!” He pulled back slightly taking note of the tears on yours and Aaron’s face. “Why are you crying? Are you going away?” His eyes changed immediately from happy to sad. Aaron picked the child up in his arms and kissed him on his little forehead. “No buddy, no she’s not going anywhere, never again.” You stared up at Aaron with glistening eyes, as your tears continued to pour out from happiness. When he locked his teary eyes with yours once more, you were completely consumed in this man. Watching him with Jack made your heart melt completely. Inside of you, you wanted a family with Aaron but there was no reason to rush things, that was a topic for another time. “Does that mean-“

 “Jack? How would you feel if Y/N was around more often, a lot more often?” Jack perked his eyebrows up and his hand clutched his father’s shirt with as much force a little boy could give. “Is Y/N going to live with us?” They both turned to you expectedly awaiting an answer. Aaron wanted you to move in, after every thing that has happened you thought it was a little fast but the two of you always worked through everything and you were ready for the little fights that meant nothing, and cooking dinner for them, and getting to wake up next to Aaron every morning, and most of all waking Jack up together and putting him to bed together, like a family. “Well I can’t say no to you, now can I Jack?” He shook his head vigorously no with a wide smile on his face.

 Dave and Emily moved forward to the two of you. “Hey Jack why don’t we go get you a milkshake? How does that sound?” He wriggled to get out of Aaron’s arms and took Emily’s hand. “We’ll give you two a moment alone.” Emily smiled at the two of you softly. “Congratulations, it’s about time.” You moved back into Aaron’s grip, wrapping your arms around him as much as you could, holding him and placing one more kiss to his lips. “So living together huh?” He smiled down at you with his pearly white teeth showing. “It’s been a long journey for us to get here and I just don’t want to imagine my life without you in it ever again.” Your sniffling caused Aaron to reach down with one hand and brush your tears away with his thumb. “No time for tears, we should be celebrating. So why don’t we go see what they have up their sleeves?” You nodded up at him, eyes soft and a bit wide. “I’d love that.” He took your hands in his and walked toward the rest of the group off in the distance. “So you still have my shirt huh? Looks good on you?” You shoved him slightly. “I could say the same about you. Unless that’s a different woman’s shirt in your hand that looks just like mine and-“ He stopped you mid sentence. “Never. It got me through so many days and nights.” 

“Aww, you really did miss me.” He leaned down and placed one more kiss to your lips. “I did very much.” It was quiet as you walked toward the group, Penelope still in tears when she’d look back at the two of you every now and then. “Baby girl, it’s alright. No need to cry anymore.” Derek’s hand rubbed down her upper arm in comfort. “I know, I’m just so happy for them.” Penelope blew her nose while Emily was walking toward you with Jack. Everyone was ready to go to the actual surprise they’d made unbeknownst to you. Of course you hadn’t packed your bags for nothing. Emily was waiting until after to give you your first class tickets to New Orleans where the team had pitched in and booked a secluded room for the two of you. When you reached for Jack Aaron touched your wrist, causing you to stop your movement. “Y/N.” You looked up at him, tears no longer on your face. “Yes?”

 “I love you and I’m so sorry for-“ You placed your finger on his lips, quieting him. “I love you too, but the rest we can discuss later, I’m not going anywhere Aaron.” He pursed his lips, blushing slightly before you picked up Jack, and headed to your flight with the team. “So where are we going?” Emily pulled the tickets out of her purse. “Well you three are going to New Orleans for a week.” You were in complete astonishment, that was the one place you had never been to that you always wanted to go. “Em you didn’t-“

 “It was all Aaron’s idea. We just took care of the budget for it.”

 “You planned this?” Aaron shrugged, pulling you and Jack into a hug. “I’ve gotta make up for the time that has passed don’t I? And what better way to spend it than with you and Jack?” If you had any tears left to cry you would. He remembered. “We booked you guys your own secluded suite, and you’ll be gone for a week. We’ll be able to manage. The rest of us are actually going to Vegas, because let me tell you I could use some-“ Aaron quickly covered Jack’s ears, before you commented. “Em- there is a child present!”

 “Right.” Derek then came up to the four of you. “When are we getting out of here I need some good-“

 “Derek!” The four of you laughed together. It was a much needed laugh everyone needed. The plane ride was probably the most calm, pleasant one you had. Aaron’s hand was connected with yours while Jack was soundly asleep on your arm. The days, weeks, and months ahead of you were definitely going to be the highlight of your life. Every thing in you felt nothing but peace. For once in your life it felt as if everything was coming together and there was a light at the end of the tunnel shining bright.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Do-Over-December 1st. "Pretty Little Present." Freddy Kruger X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

So back in 2020, I did this lovely little event called Kinky December, basically I wrote over 40k of fics for the month of December following along with a writing event another user in the slasher fandom posted. It was a super fun thing honestly and I was thinking, it's been three fucking years since that event. Why not, revist these fics I wrote and revamp and beef em up?! I know I've been very absent and thought this would be a fantastic way to try and get back into the groove. My intention is to update and improve upon these fics, length, more detail, change shit up a bit and have fun. My gift to you this holiday season is this, the constant commitment to better my craft and show how far I've come. Now let's get into it!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.4K. (Old Length 1.7K) Warnings: Lingerie. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Knifeplay. Bloodplay. Glove Porn. Manhandling. Choking. Thigh Riding. Pet Names. Implied Established Hookups. Possessiveness. Domineering Attitude. Light Degradation. Freddy Just Being A Bastard As Always.

---

You hadn’t discussed it previously, but to be perfectly fair, you never discussed much of anything while you were together. Freddy always had other plans in mind for your pretty little mouth other than talking, many a night he preferred to treat his ears to the sound of your muffled and wet gagging with his hand on the back of your head as opposed to petty conversation. 

When the idea first hit you initially brushed it off, no way, too ridiculous and yet the thought refused to leave, the musing wore you down until you find yourself in the mall full of shoppers eager to get their holiday splurging over with. You were in the mall picking up gifts for other people and when you walked by that particular store the idea hit once more, and you considered it. The idea didn’t leave you all afternoon and midway through you decided that yes, you would. You left it for last because you still felt almost silly for really choosing to commit to this. 

You’d shopped in here before but never for something like this, your previous purchases were for more every day use, out of necessity and this was much more frivolous. Fingers linger as you search through racks and open drawers, trying to find just the right combination to, no pun intended, set him on fire. When you did find it, you were fucking giddy about it. 

Dear God, it was positively perfect. He would love it, Hell, you loved it too, you knew down to your bones that you would feel confident and sexy in it and as you were checking out you wondered why you never thought of doing this sooner.

You knew he was going to see you tonight. He never talked to you directly and told you when, but he had a little pattern, you had figured out with decent accuracy the nights he would pay you a visit. It had been a few days, there was no doubt in your mind that he would be anything but hungry and would seek you out.

It did look good. You looked good. You were looking at yourself in the mirror, and you wanted to laugh at the effect he’d had on you, turning and admiring your own ass with a thought of, “Like a dream come true.” His cheesy puns and terrible jokes have rubbed off on you more than you liked to admit out loud.

Silky and sheer stockings creeping up your legs, thigh high of course, the tops of them lacy, intricate patterns you traced absentmindedly with your fingertips as your eyes continued to rove over yourself. The garter belt holding said stockings up was cinched at your waist, the panties were so barely there you seriously wondered if they even qualified as such. The bustier corset style top was to die for, what it did to your tits alone made the price seem worth it. And of course it all matched perfectly, red and lacy fit the season and his tastes perfectly, I mean you’d be a fool not to get the whole set, really. It left very little to the imagination, and you were certain he’d enjoy it.

Was the robe entirely unnecessary? Yes. Did it hang off of your frame beautifully and elevate the whole look? Naturally. Besides, it was a gift, and you normally never brought yourself this kinda thing, it was the holidays, and you’d been very fucking generous to all the people you care about, why not be a bit generous to yourself too? You deserved to feel this good about yourself. 

You climbed into bed that night wrapped in soft and smooth clingy fabrics that accentuated your assets, a pretty little present, all for him. 

Falling asleep was a challenge, simply due to the excitement you felt to see his reaction to your present for him. When you did fall asleep it took awhile for you to notice, which wasn’t unusual, becoming aware of the shift was hard, it was almost always muddy, until you heard him, that made you come to your senses real quick.

“There you are, kitten, took you a minute to get here, tonig-oh.”

You couldn’t hide your smile, you wanted to turn to face him, but there was no need, he was already on you.

His presence could be felt over your shoulder, your back nearly on his chest, you could feel the heat that radiated off of him. You felt his non-gloved hand on your shoulder, it started there and dragged up slowly, the back of his knuckles coming over the side of your throat and up over your cheek. His fingers hook, and he pulls some of your hair aside, exposing more of your throat to him, he leaned in closer and whispered in your ear, “What’s all this, hmm?”

What happened to all of that confidence of yours? It always seemed to dry up relatively quickly around him. Suppressing a shiver, you instead ground yourself but lacing your fingers together in front of yourself, responding simply with, “A gift.” 

You felt his lips brush the shell of your ear as his head pitched forward slightly, he let out this terrible low laugh that made your skin prickle in a way that made you want to squirm. Next you felt the tips of the blades on his glove brush your hip, even through the sheer material of your robe the steel felt terribly cold, then again the robe was there for how it looked, not for any warmth it could provide.

“For me?” 

His question was met with a simple nod in response from you. 

That glove of his moved higher, the clink of metal on metal had started to condition you, hearing it would make you want to press your thighs together and would begin the slow drip of arousal. He pulled some of the material as he went, the soft fabric felt so good sliding against your skin, that small twinge of fear when his glove was on you was present was also welcome, it isn’t a hindrance, instead it adds to the feeling and experience. 

“You shouldn’t have.” He hums.

Fucking Christ, that voice of his affected you on the best of days, but when it was right in your ear? It made the current problem of your ever increasingly wet underwear infinitely worse for you. It was far too early for you to be having this much trouble, but he was just on you aggressively, you had no time to adjust like you usually did, he left you no personal space. The second he saw you tonight, his hands were on you. Yet you made yourself press onward, made yourself speak, and tried to hide how turned on you were already becoming.

“I wanted to.”

That pulled another laugh from him, and to be fair it was funny. The very idea of you spending hard-earned money on a gift for him, money that you could have spent on friends or family, or on yourself in a better way, you spent instead on fancy lingerie to wear for your murderous dream demon fuck buddy. 

The fact that you meant it? That you had wanted to get him something? Hilarious.

The fact that you were actually hoping to impress him, please him? That was downright hysterical.

He sounded pleased as punch as he responded, thoroughly amused and still groping at your body. “My, my what a remarkable little slut you are. And here I didn’t get you anything.”

Him speaking pulled you from your thoughts, non-gloved hand on your throat from behind, glove on your waist, and he manhandled you, turning you around, looking you up and down. It was far too quiet right now, you wanted to squirm from how intensely he was looking at you, wanting to shift your weight from one foot to the other. 

You broke the silence first, desperate to fill the space, to distract yourself from how he looked at you, “I didn’t tell you I was doing this, it’s fine, you didn’t get me something.”

Eyes flicked up, and his gaze met yours, a lecherous grin breaking out on his face, leaning closer as he teases, “All the more reason. I didn’t have to ask, and you did all this.”

He clearly appreciated your effort, that was made all the more obvious as his hands pushed open your robe. More exposed flesh on display he took the opportunity and one of the blades of his glove dragged over that strip of exposed skin between the lace edge of the bottom of your bustier and the top of your garter belt. You weren’t sure whether to lean in or pull away, the touch was featherlight, and it didn’t break the skin, but fuck, you wanted him to.

You wanted him to do what he did best, overwhelm you in every single way possible, pleasure and pain, doesn’t matter, you wanted it all. 

You let him touch you. In whatever way he wished to, and you enjoyed it as always. Fingertips dragging over any exposed skin, pulling on straps and feeling the lace roughly, dipping in occasionally, teasing you with the threat of more. 

What was his goal, agony or ecstasy? Always hard to tell with him, it could be either, or more usually, both, and you wouldn’t have minded whatever he provided. Your eyes had fallen closed, and you were simply enjoying feeling, and then you felt the drag of that blade over your thigh, and it drew a shuddering breath from you, the first cut of the night always was special, this one hurt, burned in a particularly delicious way.

It took a moment for you to realize, you felt the warmth and wetness soaking into your stocking, your eyes flying back open, gaze falling down and there it was. A hole in the red sheer material, matching the one in your skin. He cut you again as you watched, harsh inhale through your teeth, blood blooming, darker red staining the more candy apple colour of your lingerie and fuck you loved that sight almost as much as he did, something that changed in you definitely because of him.

He didn’t stop there. “You look like you want to say something.”

A singular blade dragged up and hooked into one of the straps of your garter belt, a pause, he looked up into your eyes, and you looked back. He moved again without breaking eye contact, he cut and severed the thin red strap that helped hold your stocking up in two. From that small motion you let out a quiet sound of protest and looked down, hand finding the split strap and feeling it, examining it with a small frown, he didn’t stop. Dragging the blades back up, thin lines cut again, splitting apart the delicate sheer material and lace as he went.

You did want to say something. You spent good money on this, and he was ruining it, you hadn’t even had it for a full day, and it was decently expensive, yet here was he was shredding it without a single fucking care, but you knew better than to talk back to him most nights.

The next motion was quick, a sharp upward jerk of his hand and he made another cut, bigger, much bigger, nearly splitting the top in two, nicking you in the process. When one of those blades hooked into one of the straps on your shoulder you finally spoke up, unable to be silent any longer, what you said next might have been meaner than necessary. “What the fuck do you think you are doing, Freddy!?”

And then you were pushed into the nearby wall, back hitting the concrete so hard the wind is knocked out of you, his non-gloved hand on your throat, holding you in place firmly. His leg slots in between yours, and he leans in, closer than he has been all night. 

"This is my present, isn't it?"

You struggled and when you did it put more pressure on your still clothed pussy, you were so wet you were sure you’d leave a stain on his pants, yet he pressed harder. He always made it so hard to think, and you choked out pathetically, "Ah, wha-what?"

He made you grind on him, his hand tightened on your throat, and he made sure you repeated the motion, dragging your almost exposed slit over him once more, and it made you moan. Fuck, you hadn't realized how excited you had gotten, just being around him had gotten to you terribly, you should have known better to be honest. Those blades had an awful habit of making you drip as soon as they touched you. He spoke again, so harshly as if you were an idiot, "You…”

The look he gave you was pointed, your brows furrow, your clit throbs and your hole leaks. He repeats himself before continuing his thought, slowly, “You are MY gift, aren't you?”

Fuck, that got to you too, the extra hard grind he forced you to do on the last word made it worse still. When he talked about owning you, flexing that more possessive side of himself, it made you weak. You nodded once, swallowing, he was holding you so tightly, breathing was a challenge, and you grit out the only reasonable, logical and true answer, "Ye-yes I am."

That damn smirk, he loosened his grip slightly, his thumb stroked over your skin, and he said oh so mockingly, "Then why are you-” He points to you with his sharp gloved pointer finger, close enough you are almost worried he’d run you through between your ribs,“-giving me-” he pointed back to himself before saying, “-shit about how I'm choosing to unwrap MY present?”

And he sliced through that strap on your shoulder, nicking you in the process again, deeper than before, you groaned. 

His glove came up, and he licked the spilled blood from the blade, staring you down. You knew you couldn't fight him. This was his gift and he could do with it as he pleased, do with you as he pleased.

You conceded.

"I'm sorry. You're right Freddy." That got a laugh out of him as he hooked another blade in the remaining strap on your other shoulder and made you grind on his thigh once more, drawing another broken moan from you.

"Naturally." He was always right, wasn't he?

[lifeontoast]

Fairytale of Seattle

Platonic!Alice and Rosalie x reader

SUMMARY: Day 2! A girly shopping trip with Alice and Rosalie - what could go wrong?

Trigger warnings: none, I don’t think.

…

Today was the day. Alice had somehow convinced you and Rosalie to come shopping with her. After much begging and pleading, you had no choice but to give in. Much as you had complained about it, a tiny part of you had been looking forward to it.

Setting off early in the morning, the three of you made your way to Seattle, as Alice said it had ‘the BEST shops!’. You had to take her word for it on that one. You knew next to nothing about all that sort of thing, and Rosalie had to agree. Shopping was very much Alice’s forte, not that she hadn’t tried to change that with you two. The car ride had been very uneventful, but you had requested Christmas songs on the way, and before you knew where you were, you were all yelling the words at the tops of your voices. Even Rosalie had been persuaded to join in.

Several rounds of Step into Christmas and one particularly heartfelt rendition of ABBA’s Happy New Year later, you reached the city, before finally swinging into a parking spot just as you were belting out the final chorus of Christmas Lights. The festivities didn’t stop there; you all but danced down the street, arm in joyful arm. Every shop was totally decked out with every kind of decoration you could possibly imagine. Bells jingling, fake candles flickering, fake snow glittering; it was a magical sight to see. There was real snow on the pavement and on the roads, turning to slush as you walked through it. Thank goodness today wasn’t a sunny day, or else you’d all be sparkling like the snow.

The first shop you wandered into was, of course, a clothes shop. You knew that there’d be no escaping it, with Alice in charge of the trip. You dutifully tried on all the clothes she practically threw at you, and even found a few pieces that you actually liked. Say what you like about Alice, but she has damn good taste. She said that you’d need outfits for several occasions, including Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve. and that was just for starters. The pair of you decided to humour her and just go along with what she was telling you. Rosalie looked absolutely stunning in a short, sparkly red dress that made her legs look ten miles long and set off her pearly skin perfectly. Alice herself was happily parading around in a white number, that she said was ‘perfect for New Year’s Eve!’

Next, you found yourself in a bookstore, trying to find presents for the rest of the Cullens. Shopping with Alice was like walking in a tornado; you never knew where you’d end up next. You decided on a book on the history of Chicago for Edward, and some medical tome for Carlisle, not that there wasn’t anything about medicine that he didn’t already know. Esme liked her hobbies, so you chose a book on flower-pressing for her. Smiling, you pretended not to look as Alice picked up the book you’d wanted for ages. You paid for all your books, and you all but staggered out of the shop carrying them all in tote bags full to bursting, making you really wish you’d got them last.

By this time, it was around noon. The next shop you hit was a homeware store, to pick up some new decorations for the Christmas tree and a gingerbread house kit. Even though you couldn’t actually eat it, they were so fun to make. Carlisle could always bring it as a treat for the other workers at the hospital. Sighing, you thought about the long-ago times when you could’ve eaten it. But now was not the time for reflection. You finished quickly there, sporting tinsel feather boas for some extra festive pizzazz. Stopping at LUSH, you bought yourself a bath bomb, along with some other goodies for the girls. More shops, more gifts. It was never-ending in the best way possible.

By 6 o’clock, you had well and truly shopped until you dropped. The car ride back was another karaoke bonanza, featuring Rosalie’s incredible version of All I Want for Christmas is You. You had found that Rosalie had taken a lot of thawing, but once you knew her, she really was a lovely person to be around. Same with Alice, but she was as bubbly as a bath. She had already declared you firm friends on the first day you met. It was times like Christmas when you were really grateful for the Cullens and the warm welcome they had extended to you; having nobody to spend Christmas with was miserable.

Back at the house, the fun continued with a screening of Elf, everyone in the matching pyjamas Alice had somehow managed to sneak into the shopping basket at one point, totally unbeknownst to you. The faces Edward made when he was presented with them were absolutely priceless. It had been a fun day. Maybe you’d let Alice take you shopping again soon. Not too soon, though!

…

Hope you enjoyed :)

[munsonsmixtapes]

I never got to go to prom, i repeated years and missed it multiple times so i was wondering if i could request eddie x reader where eddie never went and reader is on her 2nd senior year and she asks eddie if he will go to prom with her and they make it a special magical night, and they leave because they wanted to go on their own adventure and they and all their friends are having fun running around in shopping carts in a parking lot, eating junk and hanging out and its just the best night ever

Aww, this is just a cute request! I’m so sorry that you never got to go to prom, but I hope this makes you feel better!

Eddie would have been the first to admit that he always thought the idea of prom was lame. Partially because he didn’t like social gatherings like that and partially because he was bitter because no one had ever asked him. Because who would have wanted to do with the freak? Absolutely no one, apparently.

No one until you came along. Eddie had seen you around school and knew that you hadn’t had the grades to graduate just like him so he related to you in that way. Over time, the two of you had gotten closer and realized just how much you had in common.

You both liked the same music, and tv shows, and movies and it was almost as if you were made for each other. Eventually, he let you join Hellfire and everyone could see just how much he liked you even though he always denied it.

The school year flew by and eventually, it was time for prom. You hadn’t intended on going, but seeing everyone around you get asked made you feel like you were missing out. So, you asked the only person you felt comfortable enough to go with.

To your surprise, Eddie had said yes and enthusiastically that you would have ever thought. So, with that, he borrowed a tux from Wayne that was a bit too long and you bought a dress that complimented your skin tone perfectly. Eddie insisted on buying the tickets being the gentleman that he was and even got your corsage that matched your dress.

The night of the event, Eddie showed up at your house and gasped once he caught sight of you, looking more beautiful than ever. You pulled him inside for the obligatory photos and then the two of you were off to the school in Eddie’s van.

The entire ride was spent gabbing about how the two of you would stick together the entire night, knowing that if you did, you’d only talk to each other and not have to converse with anyone else.

Eddie’s van eventually pulled up to the school and you entered hand in hand, met by gasps as everyone caught sight of you two together. It was obvious that you weren’t welcome, but that didn’t stop you from taking seats at one of the tables.

You laughed and ate with your other friends from Hellfire while everyone gave you glares at how loud you were. But you hardly minded. You were having such a great time that you didn’t care what people thought for once.

After only a couple of hours, all of you fled the dance, deciding that it hadn’t been as fun as you had thought and headed to the abandoned grocery store in town which had been the only place you all had been allowed to hang out.

You raced shopping carts and ate snacks Eddie had brought. It was the most fun you had ever had and you owed it all to him, for without him, you would have been at home that night, watching TV all alone and eventually going to bed early.

After the night came to an end, Eddie drove you home, the romantic tension between you growing much more throughout the night. It was then that you realized that you liked him. Much more than you ever liked any of your friends. You were falling for him and fast.

Eddie walked you to your door and stopped you from going inside. He took your hands in his and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away. With that, he wished you goodnight and both of you went to bad that night thinking about your future together, wondering what was to come of it.

[film-bro-hotch]

I'll Cowboy the Best - Hotch x Fem!Reader - one shot

I have been working on this one for a little bit, but it has been so fun. This is 100% self-indulgent (like most of my stuff), but I really hope you all like it. I have to give credit where credit is due, though, because I used to despise the holidays. It wasn't until living with @honeypiehotchner that I have maybe started to like them a little. What was supposed to be a funny cowboy!Hotch fic has now turned into a Holiday Season cowboy!Hotch fic. Thanks, K. The month of December is a bit more tolerable because of you ;)

Synopsis: You are visiting family on their Texas farm for the holidays and decide it's time your boyfriend meet your parents. One of your problems, though, is that your family isn't too fond of him. There is nearly a 10 year age gap between the two of you, and worst of all, he is your boss. Hotch is determined to make them like him, even if that means saddling up and playing the part of a cowboy.

Warnings: This is an age-gap relationship, but these two are both consenting adults. Reader is near 30 - we don't do that huge age gap stuff. Also there are discussions about the inherent power dynamics between you and Hotch with him as your boss. But mostly this is fluff! This is a happy story!

WC: 8.2k

Find me a horse that I can cover Find me some stars to sleep under Find me a train, I’ll hop out west If she wants a cowboy, I’ll cowboy the best

You watched his hand flex as he gripped the wheel a little bit tighter. Usually this kind of behavior was reserved for when you were in a high-speed chase trying to catch an unsub and Hotch was about to pull some stupid move and drift an SUV in a way that it certainly wasn’t made to do. 

But that wasn’t the case. You were on day two of your trip down to visit family, and you had switched off drivers a few hours ago. You had offered to drive the rest of the way since you knew the town, but Hotch insisted for some reason you couldn’t quite figure out yet. Driving instead of flying was your idea in the first place anyway. 

He looked less than enthused, but you somehow managed to talk him into it. You only had about 30 minutes before you were supposed to make it to your family’s Texas ranch, and he seemed to be getting more stressed by the minute. 

“Aaron, are you good? You’ve been tense for the past hour, and we aren’t on a crowded interstate.” Truth be told, you had only passed maybe 5 other cars in that time.

“I’m okay, really. I’m just…a little nervous.”

It was something that you hadn’t really thought of. It would make sense, though. Meeting the parents was something nerve-wracking anyway, but Hotch probably hadn’t had to do it since high school. And your parents were already…not exactly thrilled with him. He was almost ten years older than you, and he was your boss. Both your mom and your dad were quick to point out the implications, and the trouble both of you could get into for dating. You had mostly brushed it off, changed the subject or made an excuse to hang up the phone, but being there for the holidays made it much more difficult to ignore. 

You were gentle as you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb along his muscle. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Once they get to know you, they are going to love you just as much as I do.”

He played off a laugh and muttered, “Well I hope not that much,” to which you promptly slapped the arm you had just been caressing. 

“You know what I meant,” you said with a pointed gaze, but that smirk on your face let him know you weren’t actually mad. 

The rest of the ride was uneventful, the majority of your scenery being flat, snow-covered farmland and the occasional herd of cows. Your family’s ranch was one of the closer ones to town, meaning that it was still a good 20 minutes to any store. You could tell that Hotch was analyzing everything as they entered the driveway, committing all of it to memory. The driveway was still gravel, the familiar sound of tires crushing and compacting the rocks and snow beneath settled your nerves a little. The house you grew up in was the exact same as the day you left to move to Virginia. A one story brick home, classic white shutters and a porch that looked like it needed to be restained. Your mother had her Christmas lights on the porch, though it was more because she never took them down than her getting into the holiday spirit. 

The farm was mostly corn, some pole beans and cucumbers planted throughout to help with the soil, though none of that was planted now with the cold. The other half of the land was grazing for the cows, goats, and chickens, and a small barn kept the few horses your parents still had around. 

“You didn’t tell me it was a farm,” he said with a cocked eyebrow. You might have fibbed a little and just said you lived on a lot of land growing up, which wasn’t untrue. 

“You never asked,” you said simply. You were already out of the car before he could say anything more. It was the perfect kind of cold outside. Just a little nippy to wake you up, but no harsh wind feeling like it was cutting your cheeks open. You had only grabbed one bag of your luggage when you heard the screen door open, followed by quick steps on the gravel as your mother called your name. She pulled you into a hug, kissing the side of your head and then your cheek. 

“It is so good to see you! I was just telling your daddy, I can’t believe the two of you drove all the way here!” she said. You looked over at Aaron, offering him an encouraging smile.

It didn’t last too long, though. You hadn’t even heard the screen door open, but your dad had found his way outside at some point and was leaning against the porch railing. “He could have easily bought y'all tickets.” So this was how the trip was starting. 

Aaron may have had so much experience with confrontation, but you could still see his tells, his little ticks that gave away his nerves. Usually his shoulders were relaxed and he stood at his full height. You could see the tension even through his winter coat. He was slouching a little, perhaps bringing himself a bit lower. Even with that, he towered over your dad. You were about to defend him, tell your dad it was your idea, but Aaron spoke first, talking as he walked over to your dad.

“Good thing we didn’t fly. That front coming in has delayed or canceled almost every flight out of D.C. Besides, I wouldn’t want to hassle you with having to pick us up at the airport,” he started, offering his hand to shake. “Aaron Hotchner.”

Your dad wasn’t the most cheery person anyway, but you could tell he wasn’t exactly thrilled at having Aaron here. He did, however, pride himself on being a gentleman, so he shook his hand. “Curtis L/N. Good to finally meet you in person.”

“You too. Y/N has told me so much about you and your wife. I’m curious to see how much of what she told me is true.” He was taking a risky move joking like that, but at the very least it got a huff out of your dad, which was better than the blank stare you would get sometimes when you made a joke. 

“Come on, let’s get inside! I don’t want to freeze my ass off,” you said, earning a look of disapproval from your mother for the curse, but the two of you grabbed the bags from the car and followed the men inside. 

Your mother, being the gracious host she always had to be, left the bags by the door and pointed down the hall. “Now at the very end is the spare bedroom that you can sleep in, Aaron. It’s got a little bathroom attached to it,” she then turned to look at you, “you can just use our bathroom, sweetie.” Oh, you should have expected this. You knew your parents were traditional, so of course there was no way they were going to let you share a room with him unless you had his last name. 

While you loved your parents and were happy to see them after living in D.C. for so long, you were quite tired, and there was only so much of them you could take. “Thanks, mom, but I think Aaron and I are pretty tired. We’ve been driving all day, so we might turn in a little early.” You look at Hotch, expecting him to agree, but he seemed quite determined to get your parents to like him. 

“I can stay up and talk a little longer,” he started, but your dad was already waving his hand dismissively.

“I’m usually out like a light before 8:00. I ain’t got much socializing left in me today,” he said, to which Aaron gave a quick nod, wished your parents good night, and went to the guest bedroom. If you were able to follow him, you would joke that your dad sounded a little like him. He may pull late nights at the BAU, but if he could keep from socializing, he would.

You may have been in your childhood bedroom, but you found it incredibly hard to sleep that night. Perhaps it was because you had been away so long that the place felt foreign to you now. Maybe it was the anxiety of your parent’s approval, or maybe it was the fear that after meeting your family, Hotch wouldn’t want to stay in the relationship. You chastised yourself for that one. You knew it was a stupid thought. You grabbed the phone on your nightstand, deciding to text him.

Maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t get to share a room. We wouldn’t have been able to get away with anything with that squeaky mattress. I can hear you every time you turn

His reply was quick, almost like he had been debating texting you as well. I feel like I’m sixteen again.

I told you I would make you feel younger

Not exactly the way I thought you would do it.

You stared at the message for a moment, knowing he probably felt some of the same anxieties, which was saying something considering Aaron Hotchner was not an anxious person. You should go ahead and get some sleep. They will probably be up early working

I love you.

I love you too

—

You woke up the next morning a little earlier than you usually would have, though you attributed it to the fact that you went to bed pretty early, and you were dealing with a time change, so it was really closer to 9:00 back home. You could smell breakfast in the kitchen, likely cooked a while ago and your mother left it out for you to reheat whenever you got up. When you walked out, you could see the door to the guest room open, but when you peeked inside, Hotch wasn’t there.

Going down the hall to the kitchen, he wasn’t in there either. You went about your business, fixing a plate of eggs, bacon, biscuits with gravy, and a little bit of grits. Coffee had been brewed probably an hour ago, but you fixed yourself a cup, stirring in sugar and cream before heading outside to the porch where you knew your parents were probably sitting and drinking their coffee. They had probably already worked this morning, feeding the cows and chickens and horses.

It was still cold, but most of the snow had melted, and your dad had put heaters by the porch for this very reason. Your mom does this every morning and still complains that it’s cold, so I had to fix something, he had said to you on the phone one night. A heater didn’t sound too bad right then.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” you heard the moment the screen door creaked open.

“Morning,” you replied, taking the rocking chair on the other side of your mother, “Have you seen Aaron this morning?”

“He went out into town a little bit ago. Said he forgot a couple things and needed to run to the store. I’m having him pick up some more Folgers while he’s out,” she said, cradling her vintage coffee mug in her hand with a smug smile. You know that partly why she missed you was because she missed sending someone else into town. But what could Aaron have possibly missed? He was so particular when it came to packing. He had lists for his lists, and he went over everything with a fine-toothed comb. 

You were about halfway through your breakfast and cup of coffee when you heard the sound of tires against the gravel. You cradled your cup, watching as Aaron stepped out of the car, going to the back and picking up a few grocery bags, a hand behind his back. He swiftly moved up the steps to the porch, kissing your cheek and whispering, “Morning.” He revealed his arm and handed a bouquet of flowers, blue hydrangeas mixed with baby’s breath. The second bouquet he handed to your mother along with a comically large red tin. “I didn’t forget about you. Sunflowers and a value-sized Folgers classic roast for you.” You knew what he was doing, and it was totally working on your mom.

“Aaron, you shouldn’t have,” she said as she took the flowers, inspecting each petal carefully.

“In the Christmas spirit already, St. Nick?” you teased, looking up at him from behind your mug. He had a half grin on his face, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Maybe for some people,” he joked dryly.

He made his way inside, presumably to go about putting the groceries away.

Your mother started a little conversation, asking you a few things about your job, D.C., and about Aaron. It wasn’t long before that conversation turned into your mother going on about the town gossip. How Claire that you went to high school with was married and had two kids with her highschool sweetheart, how they still lived down the road from their parents. You loved yours, but you could not fathom staying in the same zip code as them as an adult. She told you about her hairdresser and how “Bless her heart, she’s new, so she doesn’t quite know what I like yet.”

At some point during the conversation, your dad had made his way inside, his cup of coffee gone as well. It was when you made the realization that your boyfriend was now left alone with your dad that the door opened, both men walking out and heading down the porch steps. 

“Where are you guys going?” you asked, trying to hide the concern in your voice.

“I’m just going to show him around the farm,” your dad said, but there was a glint in his eye that told you he was going to do much more. Aaron looked back at you with a look that screamed help me and was perhaps the most boyish you had seen him in your relationship. As much as you wanted, you couldn’t really do anything, so you watched them walk down the gravel drive toward the barn and said a silent prayer that your father wasn’t planning on killing a federal agent. 

--

“And this right here is my 57’ Thunderbird. I don’t take her out much, only on special occasions.” Curtis had been showing Hotch around the barn for about thirty minutes, telling him all about how it worked, how the hay was kept in the loft which had holes to the feeding troughs in each stall. He seemed the picture of calm, but Hotch could tell he was just waiting for the right moment to talk about the elephant in the room. The older man turned to Hotch, and he expected it to be then that he asked him why the hell he was messing with his daughter.

“You ever rode a horse, Aaron?”

He was taken aback by the question. He had been prepared for anything - for accusations, for an interrogation, for some kind of psychoanalysis, but this…

“No, I haven’t,” he replied hesitantly. “Why are you asking me this.”

“Because you are going to ride a horse today, boy.” 

Hotch had decided that this was worse than any kind of interrogation he was expecting from your father. No, this had to be some kind of divine punishment for a wrongdoing he couldn’t fathom. He should have been offended that your dad called him “boy.” He hadn’t been called that in decades. 

Curtis had already left him by the vintage car and was walking toward a section of the barn to the side with concrete floors. One half looked to be open stalls for grooming, and the other side was filled with saddles, blankets, different ropes and metal chains. He had no idea what was used for what, and part of him was terrified your dad had a murder weapon hidden amongst everything. What should have been the trim by the ceiling was covered with award ribbons of various colors, but an overwhelming amount seemed to be blue. Upon further inspection, it looked as though they were organized by year. The wall closest to the stables held a corkboard with no more room for pictures or trinkets. Tickets and newspaper clippings covered each other, a cluster of memories dating back to around the same time as the ribbons on the wall.

“How much did she tell you? About all this?” Curtis asked, motioning to the board and ribbons.

“She would bring it up sometimes. Always fondly. She told me the family showed livestock and raced horses.”

Curtis crossed his arms, an almost sad sense of nostalgia filling his tone. “Not so much anymore. It’s not as big as it used to be, and I’m getting a little old for hog-tying a calf.”

Hotch found himself laughing, a little surprised he actually cracked a joke.

“There was one time we were in Montana for a case. We were in the middle of nowhere in the mountains, and the local police helping us were all on horses for our search. She joined them like it was nothing. One of our coworkers asked why she never told us she could ride, and she just smiled and said we never asked.” The more Aaron thought about it, the more he realized in that instance you sounded a bit like your dad. He could see now why you put up with his dry sense of humor, and why you had a bit of it too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you today,” Curtis started, grabbing a saddle. It was an older one compared to the shiny, brighter ones displayed on the wall. This one was still a deep reddish brown but had discoloration in the most well-loved spots. Decorative etchings lined the leather, and silver pieces whose design was near flat adorned places where leathers met. Curtis handed him the saddle, picking up a blanket and a few other roped materials for the horse.

The two walked back into the stabled area, and Curtis stopped at one of the few stalls that actually had a horse inside. “Now most of them go out in the pasture, but Ole Handsome here likes his solitude.” The horse was like salt and pepper, a white sprinkled throughout with gray and black. It was hard to tell exactly what was his color and what was dirt.

“Ole Handsome?” Hotch asked, raising a brow. 

“We got him when Y/N was about 15 I think. Even for a colt he was a scrawny little thing. Looked just pitiful, but she loved him. I started callin him Ole Handsome as a joke, and it just stuck. Now he fits the name.” 

It was an odd moment for Aaron, looking at this animal, a tangible piece of your past that you rarely shared. It made him smile just a bit.

Hotch stood back and watched as your father led the horse out of the stable, slipping the bridle onto the horse with an ease that showed that had both done it a million times before. He went along with the blanket, adding the saddle on top and tightening it with expert hands. Your dad looked back at Hotch, motioning him forward. He wasn’t going to admit it, but the fact that this creature was nearly as tall as him and could easily crush him scared the shit out of him. 

“Now what you’ll do is put your left foot in the stirrup, yup, that thing right there,” he pointed as Hotch followed his words. “Now grab a little bit of his mane.”

“His hair?” Aaron asked, unable to hide his shock. Was he trying to trick him? Would this horse not just bolt the moment he tugged on its hair?

“Well you don’t put all your damn weight on it,” Curtis said, motioning to the other side of the saddle. “You’re gonna hold on to that with your other hand and push yourself up with the stirrup. Holding the mane is just so you are holding on to something else. It ain’t gonna bother him if you pull just a little. It’s like brushing hair with a knot.”

Aaron was hesitant, but he gently placed his left hand on the horse’s mane, taking a fistful while trying to be gentle. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised by the texture. It was much more coarse and wiry than he had been expecting. “Don’t kill me,” he breathed to the horse before placing his other hand on the other side of the saddle and pushing himself up, swinging his leg over and finding the other stirrup.

Curtis looked half surprised, half impressed. “Wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he asked, taking the reins and pulling them in the front so he could lead the horse. “Now you’ll want to sit up straight when you’re riding. Put your hands on the pommel of the saddle. I’ll just walk him around a few circles so you’ll know how it feels.” He made a soft clicking sound with his mouth and gave a gentle tug on the reins, and Ole Handsome gave a snort before moving forward. The motion at first was a little jarring. Hotch felt like he had to fight to keep balance, though he attributed that more to his nerves than anything else. 

The motion of the saddle almost reminded him of ocean waves, a rocking that sent him forward and back. It was a rhythm that was jarring at first, but after a few circles became welcomed. 

“See, not so bad,” Curtis said. “Want to take it up to a trot?”

To be honest, Hotch didn’t know exactly what that entailed, but he was willing to try just about anything to win your dad’s favor. “Sure,” he said, finding himself holding on to the saddle a little bit tighter.

—

You and your mother had been watching the boys from inside the house as the two of you cleaned up breakfast. It started as fearful glances to the barn, making sure you still saw his figure standing by your father in the hopes that your dad hadn’t killed him and hid his body. You could see the two of them talking by your dad’s vintage car, but between drying a few dishes, they had left and weren’t in your eyesight. You were watching out of your own fear and anxiety, your mother was watching because she found it incredibly entertaining. 

You tried to tell yourself to calm down, that you were overthinking and working yourself up, and you did manage to calm down a little bit. You had fixed yourself a hot cup of tea and had joined your mother by the heater on the porch. It was upon sitting down in the rocking chair and looking into the barn that you saw your boyfriend riding your horse.

“Holy shit,” you said, not even bothering to censor yourself for your mother’s sake. “What the hell is dad doing?”

“Language,” your mother said with a pointed gaze, sipping on her second cup of coffee. “Evidently your father conned your poor boyfriend into getting on Ole Handsome. I’m just keeping an eye on the two of them.”

So much of you was terrified for Hotch, but part of you was shocked your father even managed to get him on, and another part was impressed because Aaron was actually doing well.

“Don’t look so scared. Your daddy won’t kill him, at least I don’t think,” your mother had said, moving back and forth in her rocking chair, a fuzzy blanket in her lap, covering her lower half. 

Later your father would swear that it was a barn mouse that scurried in front of your horse. You thought it was a little more intentional, but either way, something scared Ole Handsome, enough for your father to lose grip on the lead as he sprinted off towards the pasture, Aaron holding on surprisingly well. You practically skipped the steps of the porch in your haste, running through the barn to chase after the two. When you caught sight of Aaron, he was off the horse, pulling himself up from the ground, dusting off an arm of his jacket. 

“Are you okay? I just saw Handsome bolt,” you said, taking him by the shoulder and looking him over.

He brushed your hand off, somehow having good spirits about the whole thing. Did he get a concussion? What seemed to shock you the most was that he actually started laughing.

It took him a moment to actually stop laughing, and you could have sworn you saw a tear in the corner of his eye. “In all my career, I’ve been shot at, I’ve gotten my ass kicked, I have been in multiple car chases and accidents, but nothing has scared me as much as when that thing started to run.”

You heard your dad’s jogging footsteps behind you, calling out, “You okay, Aaron?”

Hotch gave him a breathless thumbs up. “Never been better, Mr. L/N.”

And you had never heard a more obvious lie. Yesterday’s snow had mostly melted away by then, but you knew it was still cold. The ground was still frozen and hard, and Hotch was sure to have a mark wherever he landed. 

“Y’all go on inside. I’ll go fetch Handsome before he tears down one of my damn fences again,” your father said, giving Hotch a quick pat on his arm, the one you hoped he didn’t fall on. “I gotta admit, you did a hell of a lot better than I thought you would.”

Aaron gave a little half laugh, something between finding a genuine humor in the situation and not knowing what else to do. “Thanks,” he said. You could hear the edge of a question in his voice, something that told you he wasn’t quite sure if he meant it or not. As the two of you walked back, your arm locked with his, you reassured him that your dad wasn’t one to give out compliments. Hotch joked and asked if that was considered a compliment, and you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face.

“In his own little way, yeah. And right now we are going to take what we can get.”

--

You took care of Hotch for the rest of the day, coddled him really. He tried to tell you that he was fine, that it didn’t hurt more than anything he had gotten on the job.  You pointedly told him that was a terrible scale considering most of the BAU had been shot at some point in their career. He only agreed a little, but you think he enjoyed the peace the day brought after his hectic morning.

The two of you sat on the couch most of the day, curled up against each other with a blanket as you kept the Hallmark channel on. Your mom joined for one of the movies considering these were her favorite things to watch during the holiday season. You may have inherited a love for their cheesy, cliche nature from her. Meanwhile, Aaron would point out plot inconsistencies or try to psychoanalyze the characters. You would throw a piece of popcorn at his face when he would, rolling your eyes and saying, “Aaron, babe, these movies aren’t supposed to be that serious. Now shut up and watch the successful journalist find her true love from high school in her hometown coffee shop.” 

You weren’t sure what movie you were on when you dozed off, your head on Aaron’s shoulder and his arm around you as he suffered through the cheesy movie you weren’t awake to watch. Your mother had gone to bed not too long ago. You were beginning to nod back into reality, and you noticed your side was colder than before, whatever body heat Aaron had given you was gone with him. You were starting to tune into a conversation in the kitchen.

“You really want to help out? 5:00a.m. I want you up and ready by then. I’ve got to feed the animals, and one of the fences needs repair.”

Was your dad really trying to get Aaron to help around the farm? You started to stir on the couch which quickly hushed both voices. When you looked up, Aaron was taking steps toward you. 

“Sorry if I woke you. The couch was starting to kill my back a little. Maybe an actual bed would be better to rest on after getting thrown off a horse.”

You gave a soft nod, still half asleep. “Yeah. Are you going to bed?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding towards your dad in the kitchen, “early morning tomorrow.”

--

Aaron was no stranger to waking up early, though he hadn’t exactly planned on getting up that early during his time off. It’s okay, this is all for her. Just get him to tolerate you, he told himself. Your dad didn’t need to become his biggest fan. He just needed to see that he cared for you. And if that meant getting up before the sun and shoveling frozen shit in the snow, he would do it.

--

Five in the morning came much sooner than Aaron wanted it to. The sun wasn’t even up, so he found himself yawning much more than he would have cared for. At the very least, his new purchases would come into use. When he went out into town the day before, he did stop by the grocery store for flowers and coffee, but he also stopped by one of the stores that were tailored for western and work wear. The amount he spent buying work boots, cowboy boots, even a high-quality hat…Rossi would have laughed in his face if he ever found out. 

He pulled on the steel-toed boots, a slick design that he at least could find a way to style later. He didn’t want to drop nearly $200 on shoes he was just buying to appeal to your parents - he already did that with more traditional boots. Hotch pulled his puffer jacket a little closer and made his way to the porch where Curtis was already sitting with a cup of coffee. Of course.

As he opened the screen door, Curtis looked down at his watch, raising a brow. “Couple minutes late, but to be honest I thought you would have slept through morning chores,” he said, his eyes finally meeting Hotch and looking him up and down.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Curtis asked, his eyes specifically pointed down at his shoes. Well shit, Hotch thought, these clearly weren’t the right boots.

“They are work boots…with the steel toe,” he said, tapping the porch with the end of his boot.

“They are Blundstones,” Curtis said bluntly.

What did that even mean? “Is that not good?”

“Well for one, that’s the cleanest work boot I’ve ever seen. Second, Blundstones are what the frilly boys down in Houston wear when they want to look the part. Any real worker is wearing Ariat or Carhartt. Simple as that.”

Yes, the hierarchy of work boots. Simple as that.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Let’s get to work.”

It had snowed when they arrived, and though most of it had left yesterday, sometime during the night it started again. There wasn’t much on the ground, but it was still falling. He figured they would have a decent bit by the time you and your mother were up. While it was still relatively dark outside, the whiteness of the snow seemed to give just a little more light.

“First order of business, it’s cold enough that the top of the water in the horse’s trough might be frozen,” he continued on as he handed Aaron some kind of metal rod and gloves, “Just break it and get the chunks of ice out for them. Once that is done, you can get the feed out of this bucket here. Two scoops should do the trick, and if the goat that hangs out with the horses cries for more, don’t listen.”

Aaron followed the orders dutifully, feeling like he was back in training when he first joined the FBI. Sure enough, like Curtis said, the water at the top was frozen, but it didn’t take much to break it apart, tossing the glass-looking shards of ice to the side. He turned the buckets over, ridding them of the snow that had accumulated during the night and started to fill them with food. He had only put one scoop in when he heard a sound like thunder, a group of horses making their way to the edge of the fence, crunching snow beneath them. A little goat, white as the snow and with stumps on his head where it looked like horns should have been, followed right behind them.

Hotch continued to fill the buckets, putting two scoops in like Curtis had said. The horses had started to eat, and when he approached the last one, the goat seemed to be waiting patiently like some well-trained golden retriever. He placed the two scoops in and turned to leave, stopping only when he heard a loud bleating sound from the goat. 

“I’m not giving you anymore,” he said dryly.

The goat bleated again. 

“No.”

It cried again, an awful wavering sound with a touch of an attitude behind it.

“For God’s-”

“Hotchner, are you yelling at the damn goat?” Curtis called from the barn.

“No, sir,” he called back, his jaw setting as he looked back at the animal. “No more food,” he whispered, walking back towards the barn.

Curtis was already putting gloves on, a roll of barbed wire by his side. He handed Hotch a shovel and what looked to be a metal fence post. “Handsome wasn’t very kind to my fence after he threw you off yesterday,” he muttered, though he seemed rather unphased by it all. The more he spent time on the farm, the more he wondered how anyone could see these animals normally. Yeah, the five-foot-tall, nine-hundred-pound thing running and ripping your fence out of the ground is pretty normal.

The two men walked along the fencing and frozen ground, soon enough coming up to the post and wire that needed replacing. Even with the gloves, Hotch’s hands were freezing. The kind of cold where it almost feels like they are burning. “Let’s get this over with so we can go inside and get some coffee,” Aaron said, earning a raised brow from your father.

“Chickening out already?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well then get to diggin’.”

The ground was much harder to break than he thought it would be, but the physical work at least warmed him up a little. After a few hard strikes with the shovel, he finally had enough depth to where he could push the post in securely. Once the post was in, repairing the fence didn’t take long. Curtis connected it to the rest of the fencing and checked the stability before he called it a day and said the two of them should head inside. 

Hotch was happy to take off his coat and start brewing the coffee. The sun was just starting to appear, though it seemed that neither you or your mother were up yet. Curtis walked into the kitchen, grabbing a cup for himself. “You know, Aaron, I’ve got a confession to make.”

Whatever followed those words was never good. “Okay.”

“Usually I don’t make guests do farm work like that, you know. But after seeing you get on that horse yesterday…I kinda just wanted to see how far you would go. You seemed committed to trying to impress me, so I thought it would be fun to test it, and I believe I was right.”

Hotch leaned against the counter for a moment, listening to the coffee maker groan as the pot filled with the steaming liquid he hoped would get him through the conversation to come. “And? Are you impressed?”

“I suppose for a fed I shouldn’t be surprised by your dedication. I guess what I am still trying to figure out is why an older man like yourself, with a son, would want someone like my daughter. The answers to those questions are never something a dad wants to hear, but you can figure why I wanna know. Not to mention that you are her boss, and I won’t have you screwing up her career. I hate not to have her home, but that job makes her proud, and I won’t have you fuckin’ it up for her.”

Aaron didn’t want to admit it, but all of those were valid points. The optics of your relationship were…questionable at best. He knew that the moment you started your relationship. It was still something kept on the down low, even though you were practically living together. No one else in the BAU knew…except Rossi. He knew Hotch a little too well and connected the dots. And he caught the two of you having dinner out one night. Being aware of the faults didn’t get rid of the inherent power dynamics, though. Aaron was in a position of power over you, and the thought that you could have felt pressured at all made him sick.

“I know there is not much I can do about our age differences or the fact that she works under me, but I want you to know that there is nothing I wouldn’t do for your daughter, Mr. L/N. If need be, I have paperwork ready for a transfer. I would rather lose my job than lose her.”

It was the first time Hotch saw genuine shock cross Curtis’s face. “So you have actually thought about this?”

“I have…a lot. And I know that your daughter makes me the happiest I have ever been, and I hope I do the same for her. It’s why I got up this early on my time off to help, it’s why I agreed to ride that stupid horse and not complain when he threw me off. It’s why I dropped nearly $700 dollars on boots and a hat.” That last part kept the shock on Curtis’s face. “I did it because you are important to her, so I wanted you to like me.”

Curtis seemed to process all that he said, crossing his arms and starting to quietly fix his cup of coffee. Was he just going to leave the conversation there? He could see a slight rise and drop in his shoulders as he fixed the drink, and it took Hotch a little too long to realize he was laughing at him. 

“You’ve gotta be some special kind of stupid if you thought spending that much money on boots and a hat was gonna make me like you more. You really are a fed…but you’re alright, I reckon.”

He was alright. It was much better than any other outcome that has run through his head. “Thank you, sir.”

“Ah, now don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still not exactly fond of your relationship…but you make her happy, and it’s pretty clear she’s doing the same for you.”

In the end, that was all that mattered to Hotch. That you were happy, and that he was the reason.

—

Like the morning before. You woke up more from the sun being in your eyes than your body telling you to wake up. The snow made the reflection of the sun much brighter. You groaned as you made your way out of bed, throwing on sweatpants and walking into the kitchen to find a sight you never thought possible.

Aaron and your dad were in the kitchen. They had both borrowed your mother’s aprons and were in the process of finishing up making breakfast. 

“Did Hell freeze over while I was asleep?” you asked, unable to hide just how baffled you were at the sight. You were sure your dad hated him.

“Sweetie, sometimes Christmas miracles do happen. Best not balk at them,” your dad joked. Aaron just gave a shrug that said something along the lines of “take what you can get.” Most of the food was already on the table and ready, the sunflowers Aaron had given your mother yesterday were in a vase at the center.

The spread on the table was a lot like the day before. Eggs, bacon, grits, and all the fixings. What was new, though, was the addition of pancakes that seemed to have something in them. “Are those pancakes with pecans?” you asked, a little more excited than you meant to sound.

“Just for you,” Aaron added, placing the bottle of maple syrup by them. The two of you would often make these at either of your apartments, usually listening to The Beatles’ white album from front to back. Sometimes you would even catch Aaron using the whisk as a microphone when he thought you weren’t looking.

You couldn’t help the feeling of peace that a breakfast like this gave you. Having your parents there reminded you of when you were a kid, but the kind of domesticity that was Aaron Hotchner making pancakes with a stupid apron was something that just couldn’t be replicated. It was simple, but it was perhaps what made you happiest.

After breakfast, you decided to take Aaron out for a walk, wanting to see how he was holding up with the pressure of your father. Selfishly, you also wanted to see if maybe he was thinking the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

The snow under your feet was near perfect. Fluffy, not too frozen or mixed too much with water that hadn’t turned to snow. Each step it crunched under your boot with a satisfying sound. You forgot how beautiful the farm looked in winter. Icicles dangled from the gutter of the barn and little beads of melting ice clung to the trees like they were ornaments. The sun was out and heating up the land just a little to start to melt the snowy landscape, but for this moment it gave a bright sheen to everything.

Somehow in this snowy place, Aaron looked even better. The sun gave his black hair the lightest hints of a ruddy brown. The cool, nippy air gave his cheeks and the tip of his nose a dusted red hue. You were sure the tips of his ears looked that way too, though you couldn’t see for his beanie. He looked softer, more at peace than the supervisory special agent you knew at the BAU. This wasn’t Hotch. This was Aaron. This was the man you had fallen in love with. Even in the cold, bundled up like this with him felt like home.

“You know, this is the perfect snow for building stuff,” you said casually, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Hm?” he raised a brow, seeming to wonder where you were going with this. You pulled away from his arm, leaning down and grabbing a handful of snow.

“You know, it’s perfect for snowmen and forts. When I was a kid I would make a snowman and then try and make snow farm animals,” you said, continuing to pack snow into a tight little unit. “Hey, Aaron?” you mused, waiting for him to look over before taking the compressed ball of snow and chucking it right at his face. It exploded right at his forehead, taking his beanie off. Flakes of snow clung to his hair, his eyebrows, his lashes. You could see a scowl starting to form on his face, and you were worried if you actually had hurt him or annoyed him. 

“You know, that was really immature of you,” he started, leaning down to pick up his beanie. You took a step forward, opening your mouth to apologize and instead having it filled with snow as Aaron launched some at your face. You took a step back, nearly losing your balance as you tried to spit out the cold. When you looked up, Aaron was doubled over, laughing and wiping the snow off his brow.

“Oh, that was a dirty move,” you said.

“I didn’t realize we were playing fair,” he said, breathless from his laughter, the clouds of his breath visible.

“We certainly aren’t now.” At the same time you both went for the ground, trying to craft an arsenal of snowballs as fast as you could. You were the first to throw, but he was quick on his feet and dodged, throwing one toward you and pelting you in the shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long this went on for, the two of you running around in the snow like little kids again. The way when you finally made it to his side, you tackled him to the ground. He rolled over, tossing snow in the air, in your face, in both your jackets. It was impractical, and childish, and stupid, and you hadn’t seen a smile this wide on his face in a long time.

--

The rest of the day was spent much like the day before, sitting at the television with the Hallmark channel going. It was sometime around 4:00 that Aaron spoke up and asked, “How long would it take you to get ready?”

You had an odd look on your face, your brows scrunched as you tried to understand what he could possibly have planned. “An hour, give or take a few minutes. Why?” 

He smiled a little, a curl of his lip that didn’t yet show his teeth. “Just get ready. Don’t be too fancy. Pants might be preferable,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before leaving the couch. “I’ve got to get a shower before we go.”

You wanted to call after him ‘go where?” but he was already down the hall. He had that look in his eye, the one that showed up when he had a plan for a date night but didn’t want to tell you. Usually he was pretty bad at keeping secrets like that from you, but this time…you really had no clue what he had planned.

It wasn’t until a little over an hour later you sat in the kitchen, flipping through one of your mother’s worn cookbooks that you started to put the pieces together. You had dressed somewhat casually. Jeans, boots, and a nicer top, a jacket hanging on the chair beside you. When Hotch came out from the always, though, you weren’t sure whether you should laugh or find it a little hot.

At his feet were boots. Real boots with the pointed toe, though most of the design was hidden by his jeans. They were…different from the jeans he normally wore. A little tighter and actually showed off his ass a bit. You tried not to stare as he did a little spin, hands on his hip asking if you liked it. The belt buckle was huge, one you couldn’t tell the engraving of from this far away. His shirt was tucked into his jeans, a of type western-styled button-up, each button even up to the very top, done. And the cherry on top of it all was the cowboy hat. His fucking cowboy hat. White, clearly of well quality, and fitting him just right. You didn’t think cowboys were your type, but Hotch as one…you could get behind this.

Your silence seemed to worry him, though, as his face fell a little. “You don’t like it, do you?”

You shook your head, taking a few steps his way. “No, I like it,” you said and unbuttoned the top two buttons. “But now I love it.” You smiled against his lips as yours met his, lingering with your hands on his chest for a moment longer. “Should I even ask how much you spent on all of this?”

“When I let it slip to you dad, he compared me to a frilly Houston boy.”

“Oh, so what I’m hearing is I’ll be paying for food tonight?”

“Now, I never said that. Besides, if I have learned anything about your father, it’s that he liked tradition. So I will be paying, and driving, and dropping you off at a reasonable hour.”

You rolled your eyes a little, but you still had a smile on your face. Your dad and Hotch…you never actually thought the two of them would get along, but somehow he actually managed to win your dad over. Aaron wrapped your coat over your shoulders, your arm holding his as the two of you walked to the car. “Hey Aaron?” you mused, “Could you wear this a little more often?”

“Only for you - and only when we are far away from Virginia.” You gave your cowboy one more longing kiss before the two of you rode off into the night.

[geminiwritten]

untouched ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: billy hasn’t touched you for months, and you’re frustrated, so you decide to invest in some skimpy lingerie in the hopes that he won’t be able to resist

notes: YES, this is (very loosely) based on the song ‘untouched’ by the veronicas and if you haven’t heard it, it’s a bop. also, i’m so sorry for the terrible british accent writing, and i’m sorry for the fade-to-black but i was too chicken to actually write all the smut. please let me know what you think!

side note: i would die for this man (billy butcher and karl urban)

warnings: a lot of swearing, beer, very light smut, and some google translated french

word count: 5848

You hadn’t originally planned for Frenchie to come along on your little shopping trip, it was supposed to be MM, but when he got a call from Janine, you couldn’t possibly have asked him to prioritise you over his own daughter. Hughie had offered to drive you, of course, but you decided that Frenchie was the lesser of two evils in this situation, and you refused to go alone. Lately, you weren’t the biggest fan of going anywhere alone.

“Ooh,” Frenchie coos, pulling a lacy baby doll from one of the racks and holding it up to his own body. “I think this would suit me, no?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I think it would, why don’t you try it on?”

He giggles and throws the garment over his arm. “I think you, mon amour, would look ravishing in it.”

So here you were, in the middle of the lingerie section in one of New York City’s largest department stores, shopping for scandalous undergarments with Frenchie. You have to admit, he is a huge boost for your self-esteem, but you trusted him much less than MM to keep this little shopping trip a secret.

“What about this one?” he asks, holding up a bodysuit styled after Starlight’s costume that left even less to the imagination than her suit already did.

You scoff, “Absolutely not.”

He giggles again as he returns the bodysuit to its rack. You were doing your best to avoid anything that resembled the costume of a Supe, even if some of Queen Maeve’s designs did catch your eye. The purpose for which you were buying would definitely be negated by anything that looked like it had been produced by Vought.

“May I ask,” Frenchie says as he catches up to you at the next rack, “what exactly are you looking for, and why?”

“I just need some new underwear,” you lie. “The washing machine at that dingy apartment only works half of the time and I figured that buying more underwear was a more economical option than buying a whole new machine.”

The second part wasn’t a lie, but you still had to turn away to hide your pink cheeks.

“Ah,” he sighs, moving around the rack to follow you. “So silly of me to assume that this had something to do with Monsieur Charcutier, but I suppose you would not lie to me, hm?”

Your pulses races, pumping even more blood into your cheeks and making the huge store feel suddenly stifling. You ignore his inference and turn toward a shelf full of wrapped latex garments, ranging from underwear to bras, to suspenders and gloves. The items draped over your arm are mostly lace and straps, so you choose a pair of latex hot pants and hand them to Frenchie.

“Like this,” you say, “practical underwear, perfect for fighting. I won’t have to worry about them falling down.”

He smirks. “Of course, and perhaps you will need this to?”

He takes a riding crop off one of the hooks beside the latex display and offers it to you.

“Better than a gun, in my opinion,” you state, taking the crop and holding it under your arm that is already full of lingerie.

“What is it for if not to spank a naughty, naughty Supe,” he chuckles.

After an hour of browsing and dodging Frenchie’s attempts to get you to reveal your true agenda, you approach the check-out counter. A surly old woman serves you, grumbling between disapproving glares as she scans each item that is more scandalous than the last. You’re so busy trying not to burst out laughing that you don’t even notice the inclusion of the riding crop until she hands you the bag.

“Have a great day,” she mumbles insincerely.

“And you too, mon chéri,” Frenchie says with a wink.

You grab his wrist and drag him behind you as you b-line for the store’s main doors. By the time you reach the curb, you’re both giggling like idiots and wiping tears from the corners of your eyes while strangers watch you with wary expressions. It’s only a short walk to the car, but you manage to compose yourself by the time you’re both climbing into your respective seats. The engine sputters to life, and Frenchie swerves into the busy traffic in the direction of your current residence.

“Be honest with me, mon amour,” he says, and you look up from your phone, “what is all this about?”

The paper bag is nestled between your feet, and you can see a buckled strap peeking out of it. None of your purchases were at all for practical use.

You sigh, “I honestly don’t know, Frenchie.”

“Butcher has been distant lately, no?”

You nod, and he glances at you from the corner of his.

“It has been rough,” he says, “and I know he is not good with his emotions, even in the best of times, but I know he does care about you.”

“I know.”

He moves a hand from the wheel to hold one of yours. “You do not need all of this to make him lo-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt him, your pulse spiking with panic, “please, don’t say that word.”

“Mon amour,” he sighs, and somehow in French the word sounds a lot less intimidating. “You are beautiful, do not ever forget it.”

You smile at him and raise his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles. “You’re beautiful too, Frenchie.”

He chuckles, “I know.”

It isn’t just that you’re afraid of that word when it came to Butcher, because there were so many more things to fear in this world, it was more to do with the fact that he hasn’t touched you in months. You knew, when it all started, that this situation wasn’t going to be easy and it definitely wasn’t going to be something that meant a whole lot to Butcher, but you went ahead and fell anyway. With the chaos of the cause you were all fighting for, and the uncertainty of whether or not any of you would live, you thought you’d be able to put your own desires on the back burner. You couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was good for a while, but then things got bad again and more skeletons crept out of the closet, and Butcher has all but forgotten about you. It isn’t that he no longer cares about you, because you know he does, but he’s been all work and no play for months now, and your heart is beginning to ache. And so is the place between your thighs that he is exceptionally good at satiating.

You might be stupid enough to fall for the man but you’re not stupid enough to assume that he might ever return those feelings, so you’ve decided to focus on the one element of intimacy you know he craves too.

“Looks like le Charcutier himself has returned,” Frenchie says, and only then do you realise the car has stopped.

Butcher’s car is parked at the curb in front of the decrepit apartment building that you currently call home, and you can swear there are new scrapes scratched along the passenger’s side doors. You tuck your purchases as deep into the paper bag as they’ll go before getting out of the car and following Frenchie into the building. You climb two sets of stairs and stop at the third door on the left, nervously chewing the inside of your lip while Frenchie fumbles with his keys.

“You know,” he whispers, pausing as he turns to you, “he might not-”

“Frenchie,” you hiss, “I don’t want to talk about the consequences, okay?”

He sighs, “I just don’t want you to be upset if he does not appreciate this the way you want him to.”

“I don’t give a damn.”

You snatch his keys and jam the big rusted one into the doorknob, twisting it angrily and pushing the door open before he can say another word. You knew your plan had holes, but you didn’t have the patience to try and talk any sense into yourself because Butcher was the only thing on your mind. He has been from the moment you met him.

The first person you see is MM, sitting on the couch watching old cartoon reruns with a content smile on his lips. Hughie is in the kitchen, on the phone to his dad and by the sound of it, attempting to talk him through the process of rebooting his Wi-Fi router. Your frustration dissipates at the sight of normalcy, or as normal as it got for people who live the way that you all do. It’s been quiet lately, more reconnaissance than murder, and more time to plan and recover for when things inevitably go wrong.

“Hey,” MM calls, “how did you go?”

He immediately glances at the bag and grin splits across his face.

Hughie bids his father goodbye before tucking his phone in his pocket and looking to you, his frown turning quizzical. “What is that?”

“It is a- uh,” Frenchie puts a finger to his lips, “how do you say flagellateur?”

“You bought a cane?” Hugh gasps, “What the hell for?”

MM chuckles, “I believe Frenchie called it a flogger.”

“For the naughty Supes,” Frenchie says, pulling it out of the bag before you can react.

Hughie bursts out laughing as Frenchie moves like lightning and smacks MM across the bottom with the crop, a sharp cracking sound echoing through the room. MM yelps, turning to Frenchie with a murderous glare.

“Touch me with that again and I’ll shove it so far up your ass, you’ll feel it in your throat,” he threatens.

Frenchie smirks, “Do not make promises you cannot keep, vilain garçon.”

MM moves to grab the crop, but Frenchie is faster. He steps back and holds it behind his back, giving himself a light tap on the thigh and moaning wickedly. Hughie’s laughter bubbles up again, and even MM can’t help from chuckling.

You roll your eyes despite your amusement, “Come on, Frenchie, that’s enough.”

“Au contraire, mon petit chat,” he coos, “we are just getting started.”

“Who’s gettin’ what started?”

All four of you turn toward the familiar voice – gruff and always a little sarcastic – to find Butcher standing in the door to the main bedroom. His hair is damp and tousled, and his signature trench coat absent.

“Nothing, Monsieur Charcutier,” Frenchie says, still holding the crop behind his back.

“What the bloody hell are you hidin’?”

Hughie is struggling to hold back his laughter, his eyes watering with the effort. The boy is definitely sleep deprived, though this time you blame Annie more than the vigilante lifestyle.

Butcher takes two heavy steps forward and his brows furrow. “Is that a fuckin’ riding crop?”

“Oh, this?” Frenchie shows him the flogger. “This is Mademoiselle Y/N’s.”

He steps toward you and slides the crop back into your bag.

“We went shopping,” you say, forcing yourself to meet Butcher’s eyes despite the overwhelming urge to run back out the door.

He cocks his head, “You went shoppin’ with Frenchie, ‘n’ bought a fuckin’ sex toy?”

You nod slowly, feeling the blood burn in your cheeks. The air is suddenly thick, and you struggle to draw anything more than a shallow breath as you wait in silence for someone to say something. You know it’s bad when even Frenchie shuts up.

“Right,” Butcher glances at the bag in your hand before turning to MM. “Well, since everyone’s ‘ere, we might as well go over what we know ‘bout the rally this weekend.”

Hughie rushes over to the small dining room table to retrieve his laptop, and MM turns the television’s volume down to zero. Butcher looks back at you, and then to Frenchie.

“Unless,” he says, “you two had somethin’ better to do?”

Frustration bubbles up in your chest, and your embarrassment turns into irritation.

“Just let me get changed.”

You don’t wait for a response before turning on your heel and marching into your room, slamming the door for effect. You tip the contents of your shopping bag on the bed and begin stripping out of your jeans. It is hot in this dingy little apartment, since no one had yet been successful in getting the thermostat to work, so your decision to change into shorts and a loose button-up wasn’t totally uncalled for. It just so happens that you decided to swap your bra and panties for a sheer black bodysuit with a built-in harness that wrapped around your chest and waist, and down around your bum into thigh garters. You button your shirt enough to only just show the straps over the curve of your breasts, and make sure the garters are tucked under your shorts before remerging into the living room.

The boys are gathered around the kitchen bench, Frenchie and Hughie looking at the laptop while Butcher and MM point at what you can guess is a map on the countertop. You assume Kimiko is still sleeping, and no one was game enough to try and wake her.

“We’re not sure if anyone from corporate is scheduled to attend,” Hughie says, “but it looks like every member of the seven have been ordered to appear.”

You step between Frenchie and MM, right across from Butcher. Frenchie glances at you, his eyes dropping for less than a second to your cleavage before he gives you a cheeky smirk. You press your lips together to keep from laughing, and when you look toward Butcher you find his eyes already on you, or rather, on Frenchie. If looks could kill, the poor French man would be a pile of dust on the floor.

“It would be suicide to try anything at this thing,” MM states, “with all of them there, the security is going to be tight.”

“I agree,” Hughie says, “so if we go, it has to be lowkey, and we can’t be recognised.”

“So that rules out you and Butcher,” you point out, leaning past Frenchie to see the laptop screen.

“You and I can go, then,” MM points at a spot on the map, “we recon from the outskirts, and Frenchie waits off side in case we need an emergency extraction.”

“No,” Butcher says, his eyes trained on you with an intensity that made your spine feel like a gummy worm, “she’s not goin’ anywhere near this shit show. Her and Hughie watch from this buildin’,” he points at a building two blocks from the main event, “me ‘n’ you go in for recon, ‘n’ Frenchie ‘n’ Kimiko will be waitin’ nearby.”

You frown, “Hughie can do the surveillance on his own, and you can’t go anywhere near Homelander. I’ll go in with MM.”

“No,” he says again, ���you’re not gettin’ that close.”

“This isn’t close,” you point at the map where MM had, “and if you’re worried then you can wait with Frenchie but Butcher, you can’t be seen. It’s too risky.”

“You wan’a know what’s risky?” he snaps, his gaze dropping to your chest.

You cross your arms, fully aware that it accentuates your breasts.

“Fuckin’ arguin’ with me.”

You roll your eyes and take a step back. “Fine, get yourself killed for no fucking reason Butcher, see what I care.”

Tension rolls through the room like a dark storm cloud, rumbling with impending thunder as it settles right between you and the man you’re glaring at.

“No one is going to die,” Hughie speaks cautiously, “we’re not going there for a fight.”

“I know that.” you snap, though your eyes don’t dare leave Butcher’s. “Tell him that.”

“Butcher,” MM says, “I know you want to lead, but she has a point.”

Butcher scoffs, “I don’t give a damn about whether I’m on the front line or not, but she’s not goin’ anywhere near those fuckers. ‘Specially if I’m not at her fuckin’ side.”

Your heart stutters and your resolve cracks. Your shoulders slacken as every measure of intimidation you had built up dissolves and the stupid but familiar feeling of warmth and longing spreads through your body.

“We’re not getting close, Butcher,” Hughie says, “all we need is-”

“That,” Butcher spits, pointing at the same spot on the map, “is too fuckin’ close.”

MM looks at you, waiting for you to argue some more. Butcher rarely listens to anyone, but on the occasion that he does, it’s often you. But right now, you’re tired and you’re sick of arguing with this man when all you really want is for him to throw you up against a wall and tear your clothes off.

“Whatever,” you sigh, “you’ve got to live your life the way you want, right, Butcher?”

You circle around Hughie, around the kitchen bench, and behind Butcher where the barely functional fridge is. Silence hangs heavy in the air as you open it, bottles rattling in the door. You take a bottle of beer from the shelf and shut it again, turning to the drawer where you last saw the bottle opener, but it isn’t there. Sighing, you turn on your heel to stand beside Butcher and lift the hem of your shirt to wrap it around the bottle top, using it to buffer your hand as you struggle to get the cap off. With a soft pop, the cap comes free and so does another button on your shirt, revealing the little gold buckle connecting the straps between your boobs.

A small, triumphant smile quirks your lips as you look up, meeting Butcher’s gaze much closer than before. His eyes are dark, his pupils devouring almost all of his hazel irises.

Frenchie clears his throat, keeping his own gaze locked on the map. “Hughie says that most of the roads will be closed, but if we park the van here,” he points to a side alley, “we should be able to leave quickly, if we need.”

“What about the perimeter guard?” MM asks, “They’ll have more than usual, and I don’t doubt half of them will be Vought’s B-listers.”

Hughie nods, “Annie said they’ve been flying in all week, from almost every state.”

You can’t focus standing this close to Butcher, feeling the warmth rolling off his body and from the corner of your eye, seeing him turn to you every couple of seconds. He isn’t subtle about it at all, and with his height advantage, you know he can see right down your loose shirt. When you try to focus on the map, you can see his hands in fists at his side, knuckles white with strain.

“What do you think?” Hughie asks, at which you only respond with a slow blink. He frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just tired.”

You raise a hand to your neck and tilt your head to the side, rubbing at your hot skin and subtly letting the collar of your shirt slip off your shoulder. When you glance at Butcher, you know you’ve almost got him. His neck is red and jaw set as he watches you like you’re prey.

You bite your lip to hide your smile, surveying the map with a wicked idea when Frenchie, bless him, asks the perfect question. “Do we know where Homelander will be arriving?”

“There,” you reply, stretching onto your toes and reaching across the bench. “From there, he will walk through this audience before flying to the stage.” You arch your back as you trace your finger along with the directions, feeling your shorts ride up and the garters on your thighs dig into your flesh.

Another beat of silence pulses through the room before Butcher clears his throat. You look to him quickly, only to find him glaring at Hughie, and when you turn to the boy in question you realise that he too had noticed the black straps on the backs of your thighs.

“Sorry, uh, yeah,” he mutters, cheeks pink, “Homelander is the only one who won’t be escorted directly to the stage. They want to create hype, so he’ll be moving around to greet fans.”

“Well, we better make sure we’re not anywhere near wherever he’ll be,” MM says.

Hughie nods, “If he follows orders, he’ll stay within the barriers. Vought is wary and with all their assets in one place, they’ll be making sure even Homelander is on his best behaviour.”

Frenchie chuckles, “They do not want golden boy starting a civil war in the middle of the city, eh?”

“They know that there’s a huge chance of anti-Supe protest,” you say, “which raises another issue, access. No one in a two-mile radius will be allowed in without verification.”

Hughie turns his laptop to face the group, “I’ve been working on that, but I need to know who is going in so I can print ID badges.”

The four of you look at Butcher.

“It’s your call,” MM says.

He blinks as if suddenly returning to reality, and shifts awkwardly on his feet so his hips are pressed against the kitchen bench. “I don’t know,” he says, his voice thick, “I don’t wan’a think abou’ it right now, alrigh’?”

Hughie nods and closes his laptop, and MM sighs though his small smirk is betraying as his eyes meet yours.

“Well,” Frenchie says, “if we are done here, I am going to go get us something for dinner.”

MM tucks his phone into his pocket, “I’ll come with you.”

“Really?” Frenchie frowns.

MM glances at Butcher before turning back to Frenchie. “Really.”

“I’ll come too,” Hughie says quickly, “I-I mean, I was going to see Annie, anyway.”

Frenchie’s smirk is so wide you’re worried his cheeks are going to split. The three of them hurry out the door, muttering goodbyes and arguing over who is going to drive before leaving you and Butcher alone with the storm cloud of tension still rumbling in the air.

You down half your bottle of beer in one swig before sighing, “Well, as much as I would love to keep arguing, I’m going to-”

“Oh, you’re not goin’ anywhere, sweethear’.”

You only just have enough time to turn around before Butcher traps you with a hand on either side, gripping the bench with white knuckles.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?”

You feign an innocent frown, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

His breath comes and goes with a shudder, and you can feel it fan across your bare neck.

“I’m talkin’ ‘bout this,” he hooks a finger under the garter around your thigh and lets it go with a snap. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout you goin’ shoppin’ with Frenchie for fuckin’ sex toys.”

“Okay,” you smirk, “and what exactly is there to talk about?”

His head cocks, and you feel like prey staring down a predator.

“What is there-” his eyes narrow. “What is there to fuckin’ talk about? I don’t know, maybe when the fuck you started fuckin’ around!”

His rage, though intimidating, only turns you on. It shouldn’t, but it does.

“Am I not allowed to fuck around, Butcher?” you ask, watching the pulse in his neck race.

An emotion flickers behind his eyes, too fast for you to discern, but it’s strong enough to relieve his frown and he almost looks hurt.

“Do you want to fuck around?” he asks, his voice low.

You can’t figure out if he’s baiting you or not, or if it’s just the aching in your chest that’s trying to convince you that he might actually be feeling something.

You decide to guard yourself, keeping a smirk on your lips. “Are you offering?”

He releases his grip on the bench and rubs both hands through his hair, making it stand in jagged spikes.

“Look,” he sighs, “I know it ain’t any of my business, but if you and Frenchie are-”

“I’m not fucking Frenchie!” you exclaim, the past few months of frustration finally breaking out of the bottle.

“Oh,” he straightens, “good.”

“Good?” you echo, “For fuck’s sake Butcher, you are thick.”

His frown returns and before you can move, he traps you again. “What was that?”

“I said, you are thick,” you press your bum into the bench in a lame attempt to create distance. “If you think I’m sleeping with Frenchie- with anyone, you’re an idiot, but you know what? I already fucking knew that.”

“Yeah? And when did you figure that one out?” he asks, once again a predator who has cornered his prey.

“About three months ago, when I woke up and you weren’t there,” you say, fighting the lump in your throat. “You fucked off for three days, Butcher. No one knew where you were, you didn’t answer your fucking phone, and when you got back, you acted like nothing had fucking happened.”

You can hear your heart thumping in your ears as you wait for him to bite back, but he doesn’t.

You squeeze your eyes shut and sigh, “And now you won’t even fucking touch me.”

“Is that what you want?” he whispers.

You can only nod, too afraid that another word from your lips will turn into a cry. He breaks your stare and lets his eyes fall to your chest, slowly moving his body closer until it’s completely pressed against yours. You can feel him against your lower belly, not fully hard but definitely there and probably the reason he was hiding himself against the bench before.

Unlike the last time he touched you, this one is gentle. His fingers start at your jaw, just below your ear, tracing the sensitive skin right down to your collarbone and stopping at the swell of your breast. He groans, the deep sound rumbling from his chest and reverberating through your body. Your breath is shallow as you wait impatiently for him to kiss you, watching his lips like an addict yearning for a taste of the drug that only he can provide.

He denies you, though, instead dipping down to press his mouth against your bare shoulder and sending waves of electricity dancing across your skin. It isn’t exactly what you wanted, but its enough to make you sigh, and you roll your head back to allow him better access. His lips leave gentle kisses along your collarbone, the scratch of his beard raising goosebumps in its wake.

You feel like you can breathe for the first time in months, and your heart is beating so violently within your chest that you know he can feel it on his lips. A small voice at the back of your head is screaming, telling you to stop and push him away, because the further this went, the less control your head would have over your heart. Your heart that is threatening to crack a rib as it tries to surrender itself to the man in front of you.

When his lips leave your skin, you whine, but he doesn’t smirk like he usually does. He doesn’t make a sarcastic comment about how needy you are, or even look up to meet your eyes. His gaze is on your chest as his hands come up to the collar of your shirt, fingers curling into the soft material before yanking it apart. The buttons break, popping off the shirt entirely and scattering across the kitchen floor. He gasps, almost inaudibly, but you know you heard it.

This isn’t like before, he’s too quiet and too gentle, aside from the whole ruining your shirt thing. You feel exposed and vulnerable under his gaze, longing for approval as his dark eyes devour your scantily clad torso. His hands follow the curve of your body down to the waistband of your shorts, finding the button and popping it with much less force than they did the shirt. His fingers hook inside the denim and guide them down over your hips and past your thighs before letting them drop to the floor. Then he steps back.

You feel empty without his warmth, and you aren’t quite sure what to do with your arms while he observes you from the other side of the kitchen. Given, it is a small kitchen and he’s barely two steps away, but you suddenly feel like an exhibit on display.

You swallow thickly, “If it’s- uh, if you don’t like it I can-”

“I fuckin’ love it,” he says, his voice low and raspy as he closes the distance again.

Pressed against you, you can feel him hard behind his jeans, and you can’t help feeling a little proud.

He cups your jaw with both hands, his face only inches from yours. “I fuckin’ love you,” he mutters, before crushing his lips to yours.

The taste of his mouth sets your tongue ablaze, but instead of melting into a puddle like you know you should have, your spine goes rigid. The voice in the back of your head grows louder, clearer, as it rushes to the front and crashes against your skull, screaming.

He notices you tense up, and pulls back immediately, not offended but afraid. His frown is deep and his mouth slightly agape, realising what he’d said and knowing that it’s the reason for your reaction.

You stare at him, “What did you say?”

He takes a generous step back and runs a hand over his face, “Fuck.”

“Butcher,” you press, wrapping your arms around yourself to try and compensate for the loss of warmth.

“I’m sorry, love,” he sighs, “I didn’t-”

The lump in your throat rises, “You didn’t mean it?”

“No, no,” he says quickly, “I meant it, jus’ didn’t mean to say it.”

“You meant it?”

He nods slowly.

You blink quickly to try and repress the moisture filling your eyes. “You meant it as in… you love me?”

He nods again and you can feel your whole body beginning to shake.

“D-Do you love me like-like a vice?” you ask, your voice unsteady. “Like you love drinking and smoking or-”

“I love you like I fuckin’ love you, okay?” he snaps.

The irritation in his voice makes you flinch, and he regrets it immediately but refuses to move toward you again.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N,” he sighs, “isn’t it fuckin’ obvious? I haven’t fucked you in months.”

You frown, “Yeah, and why would that make me think you love me?”

“‘Cause I’m a fuckin’ twat who doesn’t know what’s good for him,” he says, “and sweethear’, you are too fuckin’ good for me.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You!” he exclaims, “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous and young, and you shouldn’t be in any of this shit, let alone in it with someone like me.”

It feels like your heart is swollen, pressing against your ribcage and squeezing all the air from your lungs. Your pulse races, blood rushing to your head and making you dizzy as you try to make sense of his words.

“Butcher,” you close the distance between your bodies, pressing him against the opposite bench, “I want you, and everything that you want.”

He keeps his arms rigid by his sides as he stares down at you, his pupils still blown with lust.

“If you want me to leave you alone, then I’ll stop,” you say. “If you want me to fuck off, then I’ll go, but no matter fucking what, I’m yours because I love you. I don’t have a choice about that, because I fucking need you."

He breaks your stare to look up at the ceiling, letting go of a long sigh before looking back down with the smallest quirk in his lips. “You’re gon’a fuckin’ kill me, aren’t you?”

You smirk, “I’ll certainly try.”

His hands find your bum, pressing you impossibly close as his lips crash into yours and it feels like your heart bursts, sending shockwaves through your body and turning your limbs into jelly. With a soft grunt, he lifts you up and pushes away from the bench, allowing you to wrap your legs around his hips. You can feel him completely now, rock hard and rubbing against you in the most delicious way as he carries you across the room toward your bedroom.

Your hands are tangled in his hair as you kiss him sloppily, pouring every bit of frustration and longing into his mouth until he pulls away and drops you onto the bed. He begins unbuttoning his shirt and your fingers find his belt, eye level with you as you clumsily unravel it.

“An’ what’s all this?” he asks, calling your attention to the pile of lingerie dumped on the bed.

You would have blushed if your face wasn’t already burning red. “Just some things I bought.”

“Jus’ some things, huh?”

He picks up one of the lacy red garments and holds it up, a devilish smirk stretched across his lips. “Who’re plannin’ on wearin’ all this for, love?”

“Well,” you giggle, “Frenchie was very approving of it all when I was trying them on, so…”

He throws the lacy thing aside and pushes you back on the bed with a hand around your throat. His legs straddle your hips, pressing against your throbbing core and sending jolts of excitement up your spine.

“If any other fucker ever sees you in this, I’ll cut his fuckin’ throat,” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear as his beard tickles your cheek. “You’re gon’a wear all of this for me, and I’m gon’a ruin all of it.”

You move your hips for some sort of friction as a soft whine escapes your lips, but his other hand grabs your side with bruising strength and holds you still.

“Do you understand me, sweethear’?”

“Yes,” you sigh, “yes, I understand, Butcher. Just fuck me already.”

His hand tightens around your throat and another wave of heat washes over you.

He tuts, “What have I said ‘bout manners?”

“Butcher,” you groan, clawing at the fastening of his jeans.

His hands leave their places on your body to grab your wrists, easily transferring both of them into one hand, restraining you as he sits up. He reaches behind himself on the bed, and you wriggle impatiently beneath his weight.

“Think I need to teach you a lesson,” he says with a grin, holding the riding crop in his other hand.

Thrill bursts in your stomach and you feel yourself clench, wetness pooling in the crotch of your bodysuit.

“You ready for me to show you how to use this thing, doll?” he asks, touching it to the valley between your breasts.

The leather loop is cool against your hot skin, even through the sheer material as he traces it down your sternum and all the way to your belly button. All you can do is nod, holding your bottom lip between your teeth to suppress the whimpers wanting to escape.

He pulls the crop back before softly smacking it against your right breast. The gossamer fabric leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and his eyes light up at the sight of your taut nipple.

“You, my love,” he murmurs, caressing your left breast with the crop, “are fuckin’ diabolical.”

END.

[our-death-means-flag]

Iz Hands x a reader with sensory issues. Mostly with voice though, not much with texture and other things. Reader is a good fighter and shit, much like Blackbeard, but just can't stand the constant yelling and noise. I just feel like it'd be interesting to explore that. Izzy noticing reader flinching or covering their ears when he yells and feeling bad. He wants to help but doesn't know how. Maybe they talk and Izzy realizes how much the noise effects them and is sort of like "How the fuck did you captain a ship before then" but later tries to make them or get the crew to make them something to block out noise. Sort of the 1700s equivalent to noise cancelling headphones.

Quiet

Ship: Izzy Hands x Reader (implied romantic but vague enough to be platonic) Notes: You’re a well known pirate and friend of Ed’s, eager to be along for the ride with this strange new world of his. You're skilled enough that when you suddenly react strangely to Izzy yelling at you. He decides to investigate and then help. Warnings: some descriptions of sensory overload, Izzy being bad at comfort (he’s trying)

Honesty, you’d been doomed to this fate the moment you were on a ship with Izzy yells-as-a-hobby Hands.  The only reason it hadn’t happened already was purely luck. But your luck could only last so long.  

You’d had sensitive hearing your whole life. In all honesty, it was an asset as much as it was a hindrance. After all, no one had  been able to sneak up on you. But most times it was a problem. You never knew why but occasionally sound just became unbearable.  Voices in particular. Sometimes hearing someone yell felt like taking a point blank cannon blast to the head.  Usually you could pretend that none of it bothered you. You had developed an art to hiding your flinches and holding back your reactions during your long and successful pirating career. 

But you couldn’t always manage that.  And currently, you were having an incredibly hard time.

It probably wasn’t actually Izzy that pushed you over the edge. Well, at least not only Izzy. The crew’d had a party the night before to celebrate a really good raid. That alone was a lot. 

And now Izzy was yelling as usual. Your brain was so busy screaming about how loud it was you actually had no idea what he was actually complaining about. Each syllable grated on your mind. You were as tense as a bowstring trying incredibly hard to focus on anything but the sound to no avail. Your hands almost trembled so you let go of the rigging you were trying to redo to try and calm the shaking. 

Everything was so damn loud.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus. No dice. You had to get out of here. 

Loud…

Maybe you could make up a reason? Maybe you could say you were hungover from last night's party? Or maybe you just weren’t feeling well? Though, both of those excuses were liable to get you yelled at by Izzy Hands for slacking off… Shit.

Loud.

Maybe you could escape to the stores? When had anyone done inventory last? Or you could climb up to the crows nest? That might be quieter? Maybe-

If you were not as overwhelmed as you were, you would have definitely heard someone getting closer but now, you only realized when a hand grabbed your arm and spun you around. The suddenness of the action did not help your racing mind. Neither did the fact that Izzy Fucking Hands was currently yelling in your face. Your long suffering composure finally broke and you flinched back, clasping your hands over your ears and pulling away. You felt your back hit the railing and your shoulders shaking from gasping. 

Quiet.

Everything was suddenly quiet.

More so than it would be if you had properly covered your ears. Something was up. You peeked your eyes open and saw the whole crew staring at you, dead quiet. Even Izzy, shockingly, had backed up, looking confused at you.

Shit.

“I-” You managed. “Uh.” You fumbled for words, hands still clasped over your ears. “I’m gonna just go… Yeah.” While everyone was still stunned you booked it, pulling one hand off one of your ears just long enough to open a door and disappear below decks, found a quiet corner and curled up in it. You tried to steady your breathing, hands still covering your ears.

Slowly but surely your mind calmed down. You kept your hands where they were but you were feeling a little less like your head was being ripped in half and your brain finally managed to reboot. You groaned. It had been ages since the last time you slipped up this badly in front of people. At least that time you'd been able to write it off as a symptom of blood loss on account of the hole in your side.  This time? This time, you had no excuse. (Maybe you could go with the ‘pretend to be hungover’ plan and just deal with Izzy’s lecture later…)

Izzy wasn’t able to sneak up on you this time since you weren’t completely out of it. The moment the storeroom door opened you looked over. The moment you noticed him you dropped one of your hands into your lap, trying to play it off like you were leaning your head on the other one. “What do you want?” You tried to imbue your voice with some ‘I’m the captain and you have to listen to me’ energy you usually managed to have but not this time. Your voice came as an exhausted whisper.

Izzy looked very odd, lingering at the door like a nervous shadow. “I-” He started at a slightly louder than speaking noise and you jumped ( your body having apparently completely given up on the fight to stay unnoticed). “I’m sorry… I think.” He finished in a stage whisper.

You raised a brow, both from the strangeness of Izzy being so considerate and the strange phrasing. “You think you’re sorry?” You echoed.

“The boy, Spriggs, said I should apologize.” Izzy elaborated. “Though I’m not sure what for.” A pause. Izzy glanced around and gently closed the door behind him. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Your confusion only intensified. This was very odd for him. Sure the apology was stilted and awkward but it seemed genuine. Izzy Hands genuinely apologizing to you… You never thought you’d see the day… He visibly fumbled for more words so you decided to put him out of his misery. “You don’t need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Look, I’ll tell everyone that you apologized and everything’s all fine. You don't have to do this. I officially accept your not-really-apology for whatever you said.” You commented, chuckling weakly. “You’re free to ditch me.”

“You don’t know what I said?” Izzy looked genuinely baffled.

You shook your head, pulling both hands away from your ears and letting them fall into your lap. “Not a clue. I couldn’t hear you.”

Izzy tilted his head. The gesture looked so odd on him. “Is there something wrong with your ears? Should I get the doctor?”

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong… Well, if there is something wrong it’s been like that my whole life…” Izzy only looked more confused. You considered for a moment. Eh, fuck it. Might as well… “It’s just a thing that happens with me. Sometimes sounds are just…” You motioned vaguely with your hands. “Too loud. Just the yelling and all the noise makes it hard to think.”

“You can’t handle noise?” Izzy asked, still looking disbelieving. You nodded. “Then how the fuck did you captain a ship?” He was clearly still making an attempt to be quiet so his words came out as more of a hiss than a yell.

You shrugged. “I got good at pretending it didn’t bother me. When I was a captain, I could stay in my cabin and avoid most of the noise. Can’t exactly do that anymore, can I?”

“Pretending? So it always bothers you?” 

You nodded. “Yup. Sometimes it’s just too much. With yesterday’s raid and the party… I guess it was a bit much for me. Everything was just too loud. Pretty pathetic huh?” You laughed lightly at yourself. Of course Izzy was going to have a fit over you ditching work for something so stupid.

“Impressive actually.” Izzy stated bluntly 

You did a double take. “What?” If it was supposed to be sarcastic then it was delivered wrong. 

Izzy seemed surprised at your surprise. “What? You work through all that.” You weren’t convinced. Izzy sighed. “You work on a ship full of idiots who won’t do their damn jobs even if you served it to them on one of Bonnet’s stupid fancy plates, and you work through all that shit?”

You couldn’t help the smile. “Was that a compliment you just gave me?” You chuckled. “Who are you and what have you done with Izzy?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck off.” His voice was still soft. “Does anyone know?”

You shook your head. “Nope. It’s too easy to exploit in a fight. Don't want to risk it.”

“Not even Ed?”

“No, I think he knows there’s something with me and sound. He’s observant enough but I never told him.” Sure you and Ed had been kind of friends before, for a long time too but before the Revenge, the idea of being allowed to be that vulnerable (even around someone you trusted with your life) felt wrong.  Izzy seemed weirdly stoic for a moment. You wondered how he felt, knowing a secret his captain didn’t. “You can tell him if you’d like. I’m not going to ask you to keep a secret from your captain.” You knew how Izzy’s loyalties lied between you and Ed, but you still didn’t want to put Izzy in an uncomfortable situation because of your screw up.

A moment passed in comfortable silence and you stretched and stood. “Well, back to it…” Izzy held up a hand to stop you from leaving. “What?”

“You’re taking the rest of the day off.” You could tell he meant it as an order even though his voice was still soft. 

“No, no. I can get back to work.” He stared. “Seriously I’m fine. I’ve worked through this sort of thing before.”

Izzy huffed and for a moment you thought he was going to back down but instead. “Take the day off. That’s an order from your first mate.”

You sighed. You weren’t winning this. “You got it, first mate Hands. Don’t hesitate to get me if anything comes up.” He nodded curtly but you doubted he’d get you for anything short of an emergency.  You walked out into the hall towards your cabin. “Also, thank you.” You called over your shoulder. “It was nice of you to come by to check on me, even if it was under duress.” 

“I will take your break back.” Izzy grumbled but you knew it was an empty threat. He’d had to convince you to take the break after all. 

You chuckled. “See you around!”

The day after what you were mentally calling ‘the incident ‘ you came on deck to find nothing unusual. It was quiet, as it usually was. Even back when you were a captain, you always came up on deck early. It was calm and you could get a lot of work done. You waved at Izzy when you came on deck. He returned the wave (after looking behind himself as if he assumed you were waving to someone else).

As the day continued the crew slowly trickled awake. Quite a few people asked if you were “feeling better”. Apparently, Izzy had told everyone you’d had a headache (Sans Ed of course, you caught the slightly concerned looks he gave so, you gave him a thumbs up in return). As soon as the crew was on deck you were already bracing yourself for more yelling. It didn’t take long for someone to piss Izzy off enough. You could see Izzy gearing up for a yelling match while Wee John and Frenchie seemed unimpressed and you were already mentally preparing for the sound. 

It didn’t come.

You heard Izzy instead hiss out a cold “Wait.” at barely above a whisper. Whether it was the unusualness of it all or the serious tone of his voice, they listened. Izzy quickly made his way across the deck to stand at your side. You raised a brow in silent confusion. “Cover your ears.” He mumbled, clearly making an attempt to be quiet. It was strange but you humored him, curious as to what was going on.

As soon as your hands were covering your ears Izzy went back to where he was standing and (after confirming one last time that you had your ears covered) went straight into yelling. 

Huh.

You assumed he'd drop it after a bit. He was just giving you time to recover. That didn’t happen. Instead it became a part of Izzy’s usual routine. When he was going to start yelling, he'd always let you know, at first he had to run up to you, then later all it took was a glance. The heads up did help quite a bit. 

Of course you couldn’t always cover your ears. Whenever you had your hands full and couldn’t do what the two of you usually did, Izzy would instead switch to whispering his threats, grabbing whoever he was talking to and pulling them close.

“They respond better to it as well.” Izzy confided to you one morning, both of you leaning against the railing, drinking coffee and relaxing after a successful raid.. 

You grinned. “I’ve used that strategy for ages. You’d be surprised how intimidating whispering can be.”

Izzy chuckled lightly. After that he stayed quiet for a long moment. You raised a brow. You could tell he was trying to figure out how to bring something up. You decided to stay quiet and let him organize his thoughts.

You were rewarded for your patience by a jumpscare as Izzy just awkwardly shoved something into your arms. You looked down to see you were holding a box? You looked back at him and raised a brow. “It’s a very nice box…” You commented somewhat cheekily.

Izzy was doing a really good job at not looking at you. His face even looked a little flushed. “Piss off. Just open the damn box before I toss it into the damn ocean.” He mumbled. His tone was nowhere near as harsh as usual. 

You smiled, gently opening the box. Inside were a bunch of small pieces of… You picked one up. It was malleable in your hand. Wax. It was some kind of wax. 

“They're earplugs. Apparently they’re for your ears.” Izzy stated bluntly, answering your unasked question.

“In what way?”

Izzy sighed, seemingly unsure of himself. “You put them in your ears. Got them on the raid. Had a very well stocked clinic.” You nodded, you remembered Roach being excited about it all. “Willing to bet half of that shit was some kind of experimental treatment. Not even Bonnet knew all of them so it’s not just fancy. Saw the surgeon’s log. Apparently they’re designed to protect a soldier's ears when they’re fighting.”

“And you grabbed these for me?” You asked, already smiling, you pulled two pieces out and pocketed the box.

Izzy flushed more. “I- Well…I  thought they’d be most useful to you. So…”

“Thank you.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, you felt the flinch even as he tried to play it off. You immediately moved to pull away but Izzy moved his arm slightly as if to follow so you left your hand there. You’d been working the wax in your hand so it was already soft enough to try. You gently placed one into your ear, switching the hand on Izzy’s shoulder to put in the other. 

It actually… Kind of worked.

“I think they work… Izzy, could you yell for a bit.” Izzy chuckled at the request but he did step back a bit and shout. You could hear him well enough that you knew he was calling your name but the sound wasn’t overpowering like it normally was.

“Holy shit.” You whispered. 

Izzy was quick to rush to your side. “Are you alright? Did it work? I-”

You cut him off by placing a hand on both his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. He fumbled for a moment then shivered but clung to you almost desperately.

“Thank you Izzy. Seriously. It means a lot to me.” You whispered.

As close as you were, you could hear Izzy’s soft, “Of course. I’m glad they help you.” 

You had a few minutes before the crew would come on deck. So you closed your eyes, enjoyed the quiet and stayed where you were until then.