#if i fucked up somewhere pls lmk

[mika-you-nerd]

Duality of man

Trust me I am super normal about this guy

[torubeth]

degradation taken too far (mature content 18+)

context/warnings : it’s smut, so kids shoo! hell of a lot of degradation. they’re so mean i hate them. (swearing, words used : slut and slutty) angst to i have no idea what. pls do lmk if i missed any tws. and as always, its not proofread :p gojo ver.

ryomen sukuna ‘is that all you can do? all your yapping earlier about ridin’ me was just talks? answer me’ his sudden shift in demeanour has you feeling really small. sure he is a rude ass prick but not to you. never to you.

‘no- i can take it. i really can ryo’ tears sting at your eyes as you struggle to take in his full length. his hands giving your waist a small squeeze.

‘yeah and that’s all you’ve been saying for the past goddamn fifteen minutes. either you take it like a good girl or i’ll just have to find someone who will. trust me, i can’ he eyes held no remorse of the words he just spewed and that’s when you break.

correction, you shatter.

somewhere in the back of your head you knew he’ll never leave you but him wording it out makes it seem like it’s bound to happen.

and so tears stroll down your cheeks, your hands and legs giving out on you, your body going limp against his and you whisper the same thing over and over again.

‘don’t leave me ryo. i’m sorry. didn’t mean to upset you. i’m so sorry. don’t leave’

quickly his arms wrap around your body protectively, your face between his shoulder blade and neck, wetting the area with fresh batch of tears.

‘i could never leave you. you’re-’ you’re it for me. ‘you’re always the one that keeps me sane. there’s no way i’ll ever leave you. i’m sorry baby, forgive me. i didn’t mean a word of what i said’ he says.

when he didn’t get a response from you ‘look at me’ he whispers. slowly you leave the comfort of his neck and meet his eyes.

‘i didn’t mean it. you could leave me on deathbed and i still wouldn’t mean it’

‘i can’t leave you ryo. i love you way too much’ you sniffle, new tears threatening to spill so you go back to huddle against his neck.

god. he knows you mean it. and that’s what makes him feel like a dickhead.

‘me too, i- i lo-’ he struggles, just as your palm reaches up to cover his mouth.

‘i know ryo, i know’ you whisper, placing your forehead against his, both of you basking in the quietness of the surrounding.

geto suguru ‘fuckin-! ah shit! some insane grip you have on me baby. can’t move if you clench and lock me up like that’ he smirks against your neck.

‘and a bit quiet today ain’t ya? you sure had a lot to say to satoru earlier heh’ he remarks.

‘we were just catching up suguru, nothing-! nothing more’ you whine.

‘catching up you say? does catching up require smiles and touches? do they angel baby?’ he raises his eyebrows.

‘no..’ you avert your eyes away from his.

‘that’s what i thought. so for that, now you pay’ he pulls out suddenly, and pushes all the way back in making you yelp out loud.

‘sugu! ah fuck, i don’t think i can go another round baby. s’too much!’ the pressure was starting to get to you and you were starting to lose stability.

‘hah, i know you can baby, this slutty pussy’s all you’re good for anyway. fuck, doesn’t matter whose it is, as long as you’re filled. am i right?’ his words pierced straight through your heart.

since when did he-?

out of reflex, your hands reach out to touch his face to make sure that this was a dream nightmare. otherwise there’s no way he-

‘don’t touch me with those filthy hands’ he spits but makes no effort to push your hand off.

‘do you really think that’s all i’m good for?’ your voice is soft, filled with pain, and suddenly it’s like he’s broken out of his trance.

what the fuck am i doing, he thought.

slowly he pulls out, all whilst holding your hand against his cheek.

‘absolutely not. no. fuck, did not mean it angel. i promise. i- i don’t know what came over me-! didn’t mean it. please i’m sorry. next time if i ever lose my shit with you, i want you to take the nearest sharp object and plunge it into my chest’ he heaves out a guttural sigh.

‘you were really mean you know..’ you wipe your eyes.

‘i know baby, fuck. i didn’t mean it. i did not mean it. i’ll never do it again princess, ever’ he repeats.

his face lands on your chest, thanking all the gods and the stars out there for giving him another chance.

he’ll never screw up again and that’s a promise.

nanami kento ‘you really couldn’t wait for a few hours? just had to go and think with your cunt, right? have you no- ugh! no shame?’ his thrusts were sloppy as his hands were placed around your hips.

‘kento- slow down baby, i- i don’t think i can last’ you whine, hands clutching at the sheets.

‘no. you asked for this you little slut. so shut. the. fuck. up. and take it!’ each syllable was accompanied by a harsh thrust.

the usually composed, sweet and calm nanami was nowhere to be found. he’s never once called you a ‘slut’ and what caused this? you rubbing him through his pants and riling him up at his office dinner earlier tonight.

he warned you off multiple times but did you listen? no.

‘why are you so quiet now? i thought this is what you wanted’ his voice comes out raspy and cold.

a quiet but audible whimper escaped your lips, making him halt his actions.

slowly he pulled out, gently laying you on your back as your body shook with each sob.

‘sweetheart…? why are you…’

you look up at him, eyes puffy and swolllen ‘i’m sorry kento, it’s just that, you’re never home these days and i missed you so much’ a cry that’s sure to crack his heart leaves your lips.

‘i just wanted you all to myself for tonight but i didn’t mean to be a bother-’

his warm body hovers over yours, ‘you’re never a bother baby. always know that. you will always be at the top of every and any list i make. there’s nothing more i want than coming home to you everyday after work. and i didn’t mean to lash out at you. you didn’t deserve that, i’m sorry’ he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

‘you will always have me sweetheart, never forget that. now let me make it up to you yeah?’

[sleepynoons]

alhaitham x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: omegaverse (alpha!alhaitham + omega!reader), heat, knotting, massive massive MASSIVE breeding kink, impregnation kink, size kink, slight sadism/masochism (more masochism if anything), mentions of pain + hurt, marking + biting, fingering, squirting, unintentional edging (receiving), allusions to dubcon + objectification (but none of it actually), slight nipple play, implied marathon sex

notes: sighs,,, idk how i ended up convincing myself to write omegaverse,,, but i really had a lot of fun with this,,, anyway, i love being an alhaitham fucker, and i love it even more when he loses it and can't be his usual put-together self. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

edit: 700+ notes?? y’all :((( i’m v touched and also cracking up lol omegaverse ig checks out - but tyssssm for all the love!! reminders that requests are still open (pls read my rules), and i’d love to have moots/anons!!!!

edit x2: 1,000+ notes... y'all... this is a massive milestone for me to hit - thank you so much for all the love on this lil drabble!! there's no amount of words that can describe how grateful i am, truly.

“ALHAITHAM, FASTER!”

you’re whining, sobbing, desperately begging your lover. anything will do – he can even just lie back and let you bounce up and down on his cock. but you’re only in such a frenzied, lucid state because of your heat. alhaitham, on the other hand, is a few weeks out from his next rut, which means he is able to think about what’s rationally best for you.

you’re infuriated. you need more. you need him to mount onto you, pounding and thrusting into you until you’re screaming for him to stop, and even then, he’ll continue to push you over the edge over and over again until you’re a sticky, fucked out doll. the fire in your belly is burning so passionately, and while you would say something snarky or sarcastic to rile alhaitham up, you can barely carry a thought and can only dig your fingernails into his biceps to convey your impatience.

your lover grunts at the piercing sensation and, through gritted teeth, says, “you just started your heat. rushing through it will only hurt you and lengthen your recovery process.”

you groan at his response, overtly dissatisfied and restless. alhaitham’s response is… it’s just so typical of him. he’s detail-oriented, almost scientific in the way he takes care of you. this isn’t your first heat with him, and he’s learned from prior experiences how to ensure your safety and comfort. in fact, the two of you now follow a procedure to prepare for your heat that consists of: gathering all of your favorite snacks and drinks; washing and prepping all of the pillows, clothes, and blankets you’ll need for your nest; and most importantly, figuring out a polite way of telling kaveh that he’s getting “sexiled.”

but this is overkill, you scream in your head. in missionary, alhaitham is going at a steady pace, but what he doesn’t know and can’t feel is that he’s edging you. he’s fanning the flames of your arousal yet never helping you reach the peak. he’s stimulating you at your most sensitive spots and parts, but it’s not enough for your release. he’s torturing you, and he can’t even tell.

“alhaitham,” you cry out for the nth time. “please, please, please! i can’t take it anymore! i just - i need your cock! i need to cum! please, please, i beg you, i promise you i’ll be fine! alhaitham!”

you’re breaking down into tears. by instinct, your body releases more of your scent, and somewhere beyond your crying, your lover takes a deep inhale.

while alhaitham isn’t in his rut, that doesn’t mean he can’t lose control. he hopes you know that he’s doing his best for you, that he’s holding onto the last shreds of his willpower because, if otherwise, he doesn’t know what will become of you. he’s so much bigger, stronger, sturdier than you are, towering over you in both size and strength. he can be painfully forceful, and inflicting pain upon you is the last thing he wants to do.

but you’re sobbing uncontrollably. you’re defenseless yet pleading him to take you roughly, to break in your pussy with his heavy, leaking cock. you want him to use his force to placate your insatiable heat. you need him to overpower you.

he releases a long, shuddering sigh. he attempts to rationalize, consider the potential repercussions of giving in. but he soon realizes he can’t think. your addicting, heady scent, combined with the beautiful sounds of your moans and whimpers, are rendering his mind empty.

it’s pointless. he growls, “you asked for this.”

one second you’re weeping, and the next all of the air inside you is knocked out by a sudden, harsh thrust from alhaitham. he’s going so fast and hard now, cock head brushing against your womb while his balls and knot slap against your asshole. you feel your toes curl at the feeling of being split apart, and your mouth parts to voice salacious moans.

this is what you wanted. you feel your body relax. you just have to take it, take his fat cock bullying your cunt open, take his harsh bites and teething at your nipples, take his seed until you’re filled to the brim. in your mind, all you can think is, you’re his, you’re alhaitham’s, he wants you. the omega in you croons happily, and you’re every bit as delighted as well.

alhaitham grips onto your wrists tightly as he shoves himself into your tight, sticky walls over and over again. at one point, he flips you over, commanding you to raise your ass up higher. as he holds onto your hips, he watches your ass bounce and jiggle as he pounds into you, and he wants to lick down the beautiful curve of your back. you’re doing your best to stifle your screams because somehow, your lover is reaching even deeper, and the scraping of your breasts against the bedsheets is driving you mad.

then, you feel one of alhaitham’s hands reach down, brushing against the fat of your thighs. it’s inching dangerously close to your throbbing clit, and heat rushes up to your face.

“wait, alhaitham, no –“ 

your lover pinches your yearning bud, and you scream. wetness gushing everywhere, you’re squirting and creaming, white cum staining your lover’s cock and leaking out of your pussy. your eyes roll back, and you’ve lost all ability to control your body, which is absolutely shaking as alhaitham continue to rub and flick at your clit as he tries to squeeze his knot into your fluttering hole.

“oh, archons! alhaitham! stop! no, no, it’s too much! it can’t fit!”

alhaitham, still teasing and toying with your pussy, leans over and snarls into your ear, “you were just saying you wanted more. now you can’t take it?”

you’re wailing. you feel as if you’re being ripped apart at the seams. but the thought of alhaitham’s knot is just too delicious to pass on, so you don’t complain anymore. you just accept the waves of pain and pleasure that crash over you as alhaitham finally locks his knot inside you and bites down on your neck.

your lover groans loudly, lost in his delirium as well. after a few more shallow grinds, he reaches his own high, and you feel rope after rope of his cum fill you up. alhaitham’s cum is so warm and gooey and thick that you’re drooling and slobbering over the pillows at being filled up so thoroughly – impregnated – with it.

even as he’s still cumming, alhaitham bites on the shell of your ear and commands, “keep up, because i’m not stopping anytime soon.”

you can only whimper and fist the blankets even tighter at his command, bracing yourself for the next round.

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : ISAGI YOICHI

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : isagi yoichi x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 543

⊹ warnings : reader is referred to as “girl” with she/her pronouns, suggestive, mentions of oral sex, if I’m missing something pls lmk!! MINORS DNI

⊹ A/N : this is a repost from my prev blog bc i wanna continue this series and i cant post the next part without the context from this one so if it looks familiar, thats why. ALSO if anyone has a reblog of bachira's part somewhere pls send me the link!!

⊹ bachira’s version | kunigami’s version

“Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s do this”

“@/isagisbbybgrl asks How big is your dick?”

Isagi had practically choked on his own spit at the question.   “Wha—why is this the first question?!”

“I’m just reading out what Twitter wants to know?”, the interviewer laughs at the shock in his face. “Now answer the question.”

Isagi, Kunigami and Bachira were currently sat side by side across from their interviewer. They had been invited to guest star on LockX , one of the most popular podcasts to date relating to everything and anything Blue Lock. And today they were asked to answer a few fan questions from Twitter all while hooked up to a lie detector. Up first was Isagi, who looked like he was already regretting coming today.

“Like 10 inches” he sighed out. All heads turned to the polygraph examiner— Milo was his name.

“There’s no way—“

“Truth”

Bachira laughs out at Kunigami’s disbelief while the latter mumbles to himself. Something about not believing it till he sees it himself.

“Wait, now I’m curious” Bachira scooted forward and turned to Isagi. “How much of it does your girl take in her mouth?

“What the fuck Megs? Nope. I’m not talking about Y/N here. Not like that.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but more than half these Twitter asks are about her,” the interviewer adds.

“Come onnnn Yoichi”

“Fine. All of it. Next question”

“Milo?”

“He’s telling the truth” Milo nods back, while the room fills with whistles and cheers to Isagi, who’s hidden his face behind a hand but can’t help the proud smirk that grows on his face at the thought of you taking all of him.

“Okay okay” the interviewer laughs before he directs his next question, “User @/mysagiballs asks where is your favorite place to kiss a partner?”

“Hey at least this one’s not about Y/N”

“Ehh it technically is,” Bachira counters.

“It basically is,” Isagi sighs once again, finally accepting that this is what the rest of the interview will be like. “Her lips, that’s my favorite place to kiss her”

“He’s lying.”

“Wha- No I’m not!”

“Another lie”

“I feel like of all the questions you’ve been asked, this is the most mild.” Kunigami speaks up.

“But you’re lying about it, which means there’s something juicy you’re hiding” Bachira teases.

“Fine, her cheek”

“Still lying”

“Seriously Milo!”

This continues on for a few minutes, Isagi calling out a bodypart and Milo calling out his bullshit.

Her neck. Lie. Her shoulders. Lie. Her hands. Lie.

Meanwhile Bachira and Kunigami have practically fallen off the sofa in tears, laughing at how frustrated Isagi grows with every call of his bluff.

“Between her legs, alright?! I’m not getting any more specific than that. You can figure the rest out yourselves I’m sure”, he glares at Milo as he grumbles out his final answer.

“That was the…truth”

It takes a few moments for Bachira to calm down from his hysterics but then he’s teasing Isagi for being so naughty, giggling at the sight of his friend aggressively ripping off the cuffs and sensors connecting him to the polygraph.

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want now but you’re going next.” Isagi grins at him, excited to see his friend suffer the same as he did.

[mrs-kmikaelson]

What's in a Name?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader Summary: 5 times you and Agent Hotchner questionably cross paths over the years, just for him to watch you walk away (+1 time you don't). Warnings: long asf, murder, violence, addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, corruption in government, allusions to abuse, one made-up case, hotch is a lil ooc (not rlly), and reader has grey morals (lmk if there's more) Eps incl: S1E21 (secrets and lies), S3E20 (lo-fi), S4E1 (mayhem) Words: 24.4K

Masterlist | Bonus (no.6)

a/n: this is the longest fic i have ever written. guys, one section is literally 10k words long— and i didn't notice!! it's too long for one part (there's a 1k block limit on tumblr) so the bonus is linked above and at the bottom. it took me... a while. so i hope u enjoy! might do a part 2. also i'm only on s4 of cm rn (even tho i know too much alr) so pls don't spoil. ly guys!!

1. The myth

Quantico, Virginia, 2004

The interrogation room was cold and your fingers felt frozen against the metal of the table, but you doubted it had anything to do with the fact that it was December. If anything, you'd bet good money that as soon as you stepped out of the room, the heat would return. You'd bet good money that a certain Agent Hotchner sitting across from you had fucked with the AC unit.

Nonetheless, you didn't show your discomfort, keeping a poker face.

Well, as much of a poker face that you could keep.

You had a smile on your face, a twinkle in your eye. While you preferred not to spend time in police stations, this really was turning out to be quite interesting.

Agent Hotchner didn't seem to hold the same opinion as you. The frown on his face was unmoving, his expression stone cold. High-strung, you thought, and then you wondered what crazy things he might've seen to make him that way.

You turn to the man sitting next to him (the boy really), and asked, "Does he ever smile?" You pointed to the man in question to emphasize your point, even though it was clear as day who you were referring to.

Spencer, as you'd learned his name was, looked somewhat flustered at your question, like he wasn't expecting you to speak to him, but he ignored you regardless. You took that as a no. "Ms. Y/L/N, you're known throughout the United States and many other European countries as 'The Angel of Death.'" Your smile widened at your nickname. "They say that, as soon as you contact someone, they're as good as dead."

"Oh? Is that what they say?" Your voice was sly and teasing.

Spencer ignored you yet again. Rude. "You send them a message through various online media, and then they mysteriously turn up deceased."

"Do they?" you drawled.

The stoic and silent Agent Hotchner took this as his cue to speak up. "As of late, your existence has been nothing more than a rumour, an urban legend amongst criminals and internet sleuths. A myth."

You hummed.

"But your recent attempt on Congressman Baylor has failed. You got sloppy," he deadpanned. "You went for a fish bigger than you could handle, and now the myth is likely headed for life without parole unless you tell me who you're working for."

You were silent for a moment as you held his stare, and he thought that finally, he was getting somewhere with you, but then you broke that silence with a giggle so bubbly it was almost hard to believe you were assassin.

"That's cute," you remarked.

He narrowed his eyes. "What's cute?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "The fact that you think you can convict me."

It was Spencer this time that spoke up, his voice soft in comparison to the jagged edges of his partner's. Perhaps this job hadn't broken him yet, you thought. "Y/N, arrogance isn't gonna get you out of this."

You snorted. "No, trust me, this isn't arrogant. It's self-assured." You didn't give them a chance to get another thing in. "Tell me, what exactly has your technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, been able to dig up on me?" You saw slight alarm flare up in Agent Hotchner's eyes, surprise in Spencer's. "She's FBI, yeah, and you guys sure do like to play by the rules, but she isn't an agent like you, Hotchner. She must get impatient, bend the rules, perform some illegal activity that you don't question because it helps you with your case. That's why I'm a bit surprised that, even though she likely did run an illegal background on me, she didn't find my records. I mean, they're not that sealed. I bet I could unseal those bad boys right now."

He's lucky you didn't put money on that bet, because you would've won.

Aside from his eyes, no emotion other than irritation showed on his face. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you poor sweet things." Another chuckle left you. "Have you ever heard of this little thing called immunity?"

Hotch was quick to dispute. "No. You do not have immunity."

You contested, "Oh, yes, sweetheart, I do. And if you had checked my pockets for anything other than a pistol, then perhaps you'd have noticed this." Since they hadn't cuffed you, you reached into your back pocket easily and pulled out your badge, the words Central Intelligence Agency catching their eyes immediately. 

Hotchner scoffed, the most emotion you'd seen from him since you met. "You're CIA?"

You cocked your head. "Y'know, for some of America's supposed best minds, I'm a little unimpressed."

Reid leaned forward in his seat. "You're—"

"Yes, I am. So your girl back at HQ seemed to miss a few details about me, and you have missed more than a few details about this case— if a case is even what you could call it." You stood up and rested your hands on the table, getting bored of this game already. "What you have, SSA Hotchner and Dr. Reid, is not a serial killer. I hope your victimology analysis picked this up already, but the quote-unquote victims you have are all bad people, people who have broken the law in irreparable ways. And when I say irreparable, I don't just mean Bill Clintoning it up with minors, despite many of them having done that. I mean selling government secrets, espionage, treason. Things that threaten national security, things that my bosses do not like. I'm sure you catch my drift, don't you?"

Before Agent Hotchner could respond, the door to the interrogation room was opening, and a smirk automatically arose on your face. About damn time. 

A man who you instantly recognized as Jason Gideon stood in the doorway. You briefly met once, but you doubt he remembered you. His face was stern, too, and reluctance shined through his voice. "Hotch, the Secretary of Defense is here, and the DOD is demanding she be released."

You maintained Hotch's stare all the while Gideon spoke. The clench in his jaw was small, but you caught it. Something told you this man didn't like to be challenged—you'd keep that in mind.

Eventually, he nodded.

You grabbed your coat from behind your chair, stowed your badge away and flashed them your million-dollar smile. "Well, it was nice meeting you, boys. Let's do this again sometime, yeah?"

Then you were out the door, and Hotch thought that if he went forever without seeing you, it'd still be too soon.

And when Congressman Baylor was found dead a few hours later, he wasn't surprised.

2. Smile

Langley, Virginia, 2006

"I've got the personnel files all set up for you guys. Video, whatnot—it's all there in the conference room. Now if you have any questions, feel free to talk to my senior officers. This is Gina Sanchez, she's the Associate Director of Field Operations. And that guy up there is Kruger Spence, the Assistant Director of Operations. The lady with him is his second-in-command, Olivia Hopkins. And then there's, of course, my boss."

Gideon's brows went up. "Your boss?" he echoed. The rest of the team's confusion was just as palpable. When he was brought in by Bruno Hawks to assist the CIA in finding their mole, he assumed he was the one running point. As far as he was concerned, Hawks didn't even have a boss that'd be there.

"Yes, she's flown in from an assignment to help with this case." Right on cue, you walked out of an office, heels clicking on the floor and the same smile on your face that Hotch could remember from two years ago. "Meet Director Y/N Y/L/N; she's head of a CIA black ops initiative and envoy from the NSA."

Your voice was smug. "Oh, trust me, Bruno, we've met before." This time, Hotch couldn't conceal his scoff. He felt Elle glance at him in confusion—she's the only one who didn't know who you were. "Agent Gideon, it's a pleasure to meet you formally." He shook your hand, albeit unenthusiastically. "Agent Hotchner, I knew I'd be seeing you again." He rolled his eyes, making your smile widen, but out of his strong urge to be polite above all other things, he shook your hand, too, pulling away as fast as he could. "Dr. Reid." He nodded back to you, almost hesitant. You nodded to the rest of them individually. "You two I haven't met, but you must be Derek Morgan and Elle Greenaway. I wish we had more time for pleasantries, but lives are on the line, so I'd like to get moving ASAP."

With that, you swiftly turned and walked back to the office you'd made your own. You didn't often spend time at headquarters, but a mole in the Agency was enough to pull you away from the case you'd been working previously.

As you left, you heard Reid explain to Elle in a hushed tone, "That was The Angel of Death."

You stifled a chuckle. Let's see if Agent Hotchner's team was as good as they claimed to be.

❧

You and Hotch stood on either side of Bruno on the platform as he spoke to the entire office, Gideon off standing alone, seemingly in thought. "Now, we all know why BAU and Ms. Y/L/N are here. They have their job and we have ours. And we're down to the wire on this. Aaliyah Nadir risked everything, and now she and her children deserve our fullest attention. Let's find her."

They all walked off after Bruno dismissed them, all but Gina Sanchez. You glanced at her from the corner of your eye as she went to talk to Agent Gideon. You didn't hear their conversation, but you saw the hostility painted all over her face. Interesting.

After she left, Gideon made his way over to where you were standing, speaking quietly. "We think the agent who's tipping off Hassan may have had some kind of extreme event in their life."

"Something that distorted or redefined their belief system," Hotch added.

Bruno was quick to get defensive. Why, you weren't sure. "No, every agent undergoes regular psych evals. You know that. They're trained to cope with extreme events"

"Well, whatever turned this agent must not've been something you can train for," you cut in. You didn't miss the way Hotch glanced at you.

Bruno gestured outward with his hands. "Well, you're welcome to everything I have. Every op undertaken by these guys is on file."

You snickered a bit under your breath. Your ops certainly weren't "on file."

"What about the ones that aren't on file, like the wiretaps of the Saudi Embassy?" Hotch questioned.

"Those don't even exist," Bruno said. You didn't confirm nor deny that statement.

"How long has your department been running operations in Riyadh?" Hotch turned to Bruno, back straight and eyes sharp.

"We have a declared presence in Riyadh, monitoring US interests there. You know that. Now if that's all, I have an informant to save." You hummed as Bruno walked off, finding his attitude quite intriguing.

"And you, Agent Y/L/N?" You turned to face Gideon. "What do you think?"

You tilted your head. "Aren't you and Bruno friends? Why not ask him?" Because he had the same feeling you have.

He responded without missing a beat. "You don't have a belief system—this job is all you believe in."

This caused you to chuckle. He wasn't wrong. "Good profiling, Agent Gideon. And yes, I have my suspicions, but until further information is gathered, I'm not at liberty to discuss them. For everyone's safety." You gave one last glance to Agent Hotchner. "I look forward to see what your team has brought together."

❧

Not long after your talk with Hotch and Gideon, you stood with the latter and Agent Greenaway in a supply office where the body of Olivia Hopkins was lying dead.

Gideon turned to you expectantly. "It's your job to clean house. You do this?"

You scoffed. "If I wanted to kill a CIA senior officer, believe me, you wouldn't have thought it was a murder at all." You glanced around the room you were in. "And I certainly wouldn't have done it in a federal building."

He must've believed you because he ended his line of questioning there, turning back to Elle. "Have any other agents seen the body?" When she shook her head, he replied, "Good. We can use this to our advantage. Get the others."

You met up with the rest of the BAU in their designated conference room as Gideon quickly explained the situation. Your suspects filed into the room shortly after, each confused and annoyed. You analyzed their body language closely, standing next to Agent Hotchner.

"You're pulling us away from our assignments?" questioned Kruger. "There's a woman out there whose life depends on us."

Defensive. Self-centred. Rude. But not your guy.

Gina was the first to ask where Olivia was, which was either genuine or she was covering her ass.

Hotch was the one to answer. "Olivia Hopkins was murdered 10 minutes ago. Her neck was snapped."

"Just like John Summers," you drawled.

Kruger let out a scoff, but you kept your eyes on the other two as he spoke. "What are you talking about?" Gina looked spooked, but Bruno's expression was cold, even as he tried to imitate warmth. "You're lying. Where is she?"

"Right now, she's dead," you emphasized, not really caring to be sensitive.

Kruger looked at you like you'd just killed his dog. "Look, people don't just... get murdered inside the CIA."

Gina looked at him with betrayal in her eyes as if he were a traitor. Shifting blame.

Hawks spoke up. "I realize the enormity of this, but Hassan Nadir is still out there looking to kill his wife, and I need every agent on this." You tilted your head. Deflecting. He didn't even acknowledge that his own colleague, his responsibility, was dead.

Gina was the first to leave the room, deeply frazzled. Gideon followed after Hawks, but you didn't go with him. You stayed in the room with Hotch while the rest of his team filed out.

You weren't expecting him to talk to you, let alone ask for your opinion, but he did. "What are you thinking, Y/L/N?"

You hid your surprise, nodding to the door Gina and Kruger walked out of. "My money's not on her; it's not on Kruger, either."

He furrowed his brows, lowering his voice. "You think Bruno Hawks is the mole?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "Bruno's been leading this unit for all of, what, ten years? And he hasn't advanced at all? Someone like him must have higher ambitions, like leading the Agency one day, but that's not in his cards. Gina Sanchez and Kruger Spence have bright futures here; Hawks is already at the end of the line. So what's the next best thing in this city besides power?"

Realization dawned upon him. "Money."

"And by the looks of the old car he drives, that's something he's lacking, but something that he wants," you deduced, pausing. "But I'll let you continue your investigation."

He caught your hand just as you turned away, and you ignored the small spark that was sent through your body. His eyes were earnest and curious, but most of all you realized that they were beautiful. "Y/N, what's going to happen to the mole when we find them?"

You ignore the unfamiliar flutter you felt after he said your name for the first time, and it's then that you remember Hotch was a prosecutor. Before he was unit chief Agent Hotchner, he was just Aaron Hotchner, a man who valued balance and believed in justice. Even now, after climbing the ladder, he still didn't seem to understand that his own government was different.

In matters like these, the United States government didn't value justice.

They valued revenge.

But still, if not just to help him retain his faith in his country, you shrugged and told him, "The scales will be evened, Hotchner." 

Then you pulled your wrist out of his light grip and walked away, and he couldn't tell if he wanted to know what you meant.

❧

Sanchez and Morgan were on their way to rescue Aaliyah and her children, and then you were made aware that Hassan was already there.

Bruno turned to Gideon. "Look, we can't arrest him. This is still a CIA matter. You do know that?" He then turned to you, like he was expecting to you to back him up.

You shook your head as Gideon said what you were thinking. "How are you going to explain this to the Saudi government?"

"Explain what?" he fired back. "This isn't happening."

You crossed your arms. "That's not how this works, Bruno. You don't just kill a Saudi diplomat and get away with it—that is how wars begin."

He scoffed at you. "Look who's talking. The Angel of Death, giving me a lecture on in-house cleaning."

You narrowed your eyes and stepped forward. "I don't know who the hell you think you're talking to right now, but you need to double back because, at the end of the day, what I. say. goes."

Bruno opened his mouth to argue, but Jason mediated, "Let's just get Aaliyah and her children back alive. We'll worry about Hassan's life after."

You gave Bruno one last hard stare before you turned back to the screen showing the Nadirs with Morgan and Gina outside. "Make the arrest, Morgan," Gideon called out. "It's FBI jurisdiction. You're in charge."

You listened to them over the comms. [FBI! Let the lady go and put the gun down. I said, put the gun down!]

The movement of heat on the screen told you that Hassan listened. [Diplomatic immunity, my friend], he said, and you chuckled.

[Uh-uh, you got it wrong, my friend. This container hasn't passed through customs. Officially, we're not on US soil. Summers was a smart man.]

Suddenly, you heard Gina's voice. [That he was.] Pause. [Drop the gun.]

The feed cut in and out as the figures moved out of the container. Confused, you called out, "Morgan, Sanchez, what's going on?"

Hawks turned to you and Gideon, and you wanted to wipe the smug look right off his face. "You two still certain that Gina isn't the mole?"

Gideon ignored him. "Morgan." No answer. "Morgan, what's going on?"

[Gideon, we got a situation here.]

You raised your voice. "Gina, don't do this. Do not do this."

"She doesn't take orders from you," Bruno snided. 

You took another step forward to him. "Listen here, asshole—"

Gina cut in, [Bruno, what do you want me to do?]

"Gina, you put down that gun. That is an order—"

[Bruno?]

This made you turn to Bruno, and if you were in an animation, smoke must've been coming out of your ears. "Hawks, I swear to god, if you don't stand down, you will be endangering the security of this country—"

Bruno only responded to Gina. "You know what to do."

[Say it!]

"This is not your call. It is not your fucking call, Bruno."

He finally turned to you. "This is strictly in-house and you know it."

"I don't give a damn. It is still not. your. call."

"Finish him."

"Gina, don't you dare do this."

[You're going to cut the visual feed, right, Bruno?]

"Of course. Cut it now. Cut it," he ordered, and the feed was off before you could even protest.

And then you heard four gunshots. 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. White hot anger rushed through your veins in contrast to your normal playful demeanour. Meanwhile, Bruno turned to Gideon, saying, "I want to thank you, Jason, for your help."

You stayed quiet as Gideon responded, too angry to speak. "Why?" He paused, genuine disbelief evident in his tone. "Why'd you turn against everything you believe in?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When someone asks you how you feel about... losing one of your colleagues, the only human answer is 'I feel guilty,' isn't it?"

Bruno nodded and mocked, "But as you so brilliantly deduced, Kruger Spence is the guilty one." Following that statement, you watched as Elle walked up to where you three stood, a tiny paper in hand that she gave to him. Based on the ignorant smile that graced his face upon reading it, you could guess what it said. "Ridiculous," he deflected, tucking the paper into his jacket pocket. "Absurd."

That's when you snapped out of your anger-induced stupor. "No, Bruno." You shook your head. "The only thing that's absurd is how arrogant you are to believe that you're getting away with this."

Bruno pursed his lips, flashing you a sarcastic smile. "Unfortunately, with Hassan now dead, you have no proof."

"Oh, you son of a—"

Dr. Reid cut you off, announcing to everyone, "Actually, Hassan is alive and well. He's en route—that's all the proof we'll need." At this, you let out a chuckle. You certainly didn't need that proof, but it was nice to prove Hawks wrong before he was sent to where he deserved to be.

He clenched his jaw, stepping closer to Gideon instead of you, likely because he knew he couldn't shake you. "You are a fool if you think they're going to put me in prison with all that I know." He glanced at you and your lips quirked upward, because this was true.

"Why'd you have to kill Olivia?" Elle interrogated. She was straight to the point; you liked her. 

"Economics," Gideon replied, staring straight at Bruno. "Olivia was looking into your financial records when you snapped her neck."

Elle scoffed under her breath. "So she knew your dirty little secret."

"Which one?" Bruno asked. "I have so many."

You stepped closer to the trio. "The one that involves you cashing out through Hassan, maybe buying a real Rolex instead of the fake you don so proudly."

You could see Bruno's façade cracking, his frustration leaking through. "Twenty-million from Hassan will go a very long way to help occupy my mind on a beach somewhere."

Gideon wasn't fazed. "The only beach you'll see is on a postcard I send you from my vacation. Let me have your gun."

Knowing there was no way out of this, Bruno did what he said willingly, but he still had to taunt. "You know, I think the consequences of what you're doing to me, my friend, are going to be a lot harder to live with than you think."

Jason stared at him without blinking, and he stared until Bruno walked out, escorted by agents left and right of him. You found it comical, that petty thieves were escorted to the back of police cars in chains, yet a man who nearly started a war could walk out freely.

Well, you supposed Bruno Hawks wouldn't be free for much longer.

And it was your job to see to that.

❧

You were packing up your things in your office when a knock sounded. You turned to see a raven-haired man in a suit standing there, a hand in his pocket. A grin came to your face. "Agent Hotchner," you greeted. "Congrats on solving the case."

He let out a chuckle that surprised you. Aaron Hotchner didn't look like a man who laughed often. "Yeah, well, thank you, but I have a feeling you knew from the beginning."

Your grin widened. "Ah, I just needed proof." You continued to pack your things. "And besides, I wanted to see what your team was capable of."

He hummed, and you thought he'd leave after that, but he stayed, looking around the room with a careful interest. "No pictures," he noted. "No personal artifacts. It's extremely clean in here—untouched, almost. How much time do you spend here?"

You fully turned to him after that, giving him your full attention. With comments like those, that must've been what he was after. You crossed your arms, but the smile never left your face. "Perceptive, Hotchner," you remarked. "Profiling me now?"

He shook his head. "Not profiling, just observing."

Now it was your turn to hum, looking him up and down. You found that you liked what you saw, visually, but the implications to what you saw weren't very fond. "Well, what I observe, is an accomplished man in a nice suit, but you don't wear that suit because you're unit chief, you wear it because you got used to it as a prosecutor and now it makes you feel on top of things... professional. You're stiff and stoic, but that's because you like to separate your work life from your home life. At home, with your wife and kid, you're lively and relaxed, but that's also to compensate for the fact that this job takes a lot out of you; you're not home often, and that puts a strain on your marriage, which is why you haven't called your wife once today." Your voice was soft as you delivered that final blow. Hotch looked both uncomfortable and, surprisingly, impressed. But thus far, nothing about Aaron Hotchner was what you were used to. "Tell me, Agent Hotchner, was I correct?"

Hotch lightly snorted, but he didn't answer. Instead, he took to staring right back at you. You'd been stared at by bad men, murderers, rapists, terrorists and the like, but for some reason, his stare bothered you. You turned back around and packed one last thing into your bag. Then you walked toward the door, stopping just before you made your exit like an invisible barrier was holding you back. 

You patted his shoulder, telling him, "You should smile more, Hotchner. It'd suit you."

And then Aaron watched you leave for the second time in his life, except this time—for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom—he hoped he'd see you again.

3. The games we play

Washington, D.C., 2007

The air in Washington was always crisp. There was something different about it—like you could smell the power in the air, like you feel it. When you were home, in your apartment, it was suffocating. There was enough politics in this city that you could drown in it, politics you didn't care for. You saw enough of it as is.

Nevertheless, you weren't home often, so it wasn't too troublesome. Today, however, you were home, except you weren't here to rest.

You stepped out of your Mercedes as soon as you parked, locking the car and walking straight into the alleyway. Men in blue stood in your path, hands out. "Ma'am, this is a crime scene—"

You wordlessly held up your badge, effectively shutting him up. With red climbing up his neck, he nodded and lifted up the yellow tape for you.

When you made it past them, there was a woman in a red dress there. She'd be beautiful, you thought, if she weren't sprawled out dead on the ground. Her dress was so dark you almost couldn't see the blood stain. 

But the blood pooled around her was a telltale.

Next to her body was a card with typed-out letters and numbers that appeared random. 

But you knew better than that.

There was a woman taking photographs of the scene and a detective analyzing it. He was just as confused as those officers when you showed up. "Excuse me, who are you?"

You gave him a short smile. "Detective Walker, I wish we could've met under better circumstances. I'm Y/N Y/L/N." You held one hand out and simultaneously held up the other with your badge. "I've been instructed to take over this case."

He furrowed his brows. "I'm sorry, Ms. Y/L/N, but I've already alerted—"

"Detective Walker."

At that, you screwed your eyes shut and cursed under your breath. You recognized that voice—hell, you recognized the sound of his footsteps. And he was exactly what you didn't need.

Composing yourself, you spun around with your signature smile. "SSA Hotchner."

Hotch looked momentarily stunned at your being there, but that was quickly wiped away. "Y/N. What are you doing here?"

"Well, if you mean in the city, I live here. And if you mean at this scene, then that's because it's mine." You paused, letting that soak in. "This is my case."

Confusion was visible on his face. For a second, you thought it was cute. "No, this is a BAU case. Series of murders, victimizing high-level escorts—forgive me, but I don't see why this would require a CIA presence."

Of course, you don't, you thought, but for once, you didn't say what you were thinking. Instead, you explained, "I understand that 4 women have died in the past week, but believe me, Agent Hotchner, that is not the case I'm here to solve." When his brows knitted together, you elaborated, "These women are not the targets of these attacks."

"What do you mean?" 

You sighed, pointing over to the woman's body. "See that card over there?"

"Yeah, it's the unsub's signature."

"No, it's more than that. It's not a way for him to get off; it's not something he does compulsively. It is a taunt," you stressed. "Those letters aren't random. They're part of a code."

"A code to what?"

"A code to an NSA file recording every single undercover operation the United States has in foreign countries." Like your words were a vacuum, they sucked anything lighthearted out of the atmosphere—if there was any to begin with—and left tension in their wake. "6 high-level analysts have parts of that code. I'm guessing that 4 of them are already dead." You glanced back at the dead body before looking back at Hotch. "The unsub isn't a serial killer, Agent Hotchner. He's a traitor with a mission to annihilate everything in his wake."

❧

After looking at the scene, you sent Detective Walker away, telling him it wasn't personal but this case was too sensitive to be worked by local police. They didn't have the clearance nor did they have the means to help. You asked him to send you all of his evidence, and he complied easily, but someone wasn't so easily persuaded.

"You're going to need help."

You snorted. "Thank you, but I think I'll do just fine without it." Just as you reached your car, Hotch grabbed your wrist. 

You turned around, but before you could say anything, he spoke. "You could use my team, and you know it."

Your eyes ever so slightly narrowed. "All due respect, Agent Hotchner, but this is above your pay grade."

He held your stare for a few seconds until you saw his jaw tense. He glanced to the side before he exasperatedly muttered, "Please, Y/N." He looked up at you. "I want to help with this case."

Unknowingly, you straightened your back. Aaron Hotchner surprised you more and more each time you saw him. The corners of your lips curved upward, but something about your smile was more sincere. "You're not a man who says please much, are you?"

He rolled his eyes and neglected to answer. "Does that mean you'll accept our help?"

You paused. Was that what you meant? Your mouth didn't correspond with your brain as you replied, "I'm running point on this." Hotch's shoulders imperceptibly relaxed and he nodded. "I'll tell Detective Walker to send his stuff over to the BAU. I'll meet you there to brief your team." You turned away before you could see him nod a second time.

You don't know why you said yes, but you did. On the drive over, you told yourself it was because he was right, you could use some extra hands, and it helped that the BAU were good at what they did.

Yes, that's why I didn't send him away. 

You didn't explore any other option.

❧

Hotch got to the BAU before you but waited for you to arrive before walking into the building. To make sure you got to the right place, you reasoned. 

You went through the typical security procedure: removed your guns, walked through the metal detector, and showed your ID. In the elevator, you cracked a couple jokes that he didn't laugh at, asshole, but you nearly caught him slipping at one.

"This city's so damn power-hungry that even the serial killers would prefer a fucking computer code over sex. What a nerd. Hey, how often does that happen in your line of work, Hotchner?" You turned your head for his response when you saw his lips twitching.

You let out a dramatic gasp. "Agent. Hotchner. Are you..." you lowered your voice, a devious smile crawling to your lips. "smiling?"

His efforts to suppress his little smile failed after that. "Let's focus on the case, Y/L/N."

"Sureeee," you drawled. The elevator dinged and opened. "Better be careful, Agent. I might just start thinking you have a soul."

He shook his head at you and walked out of the elevator ahead of you so that you couldn't see him as a full smile graced his face. However, once you got to the conference, Hotch erased any sign of that smile and walked in full-stride.

You gave the room a cursory glance, duly noting that they must've spent a lot of time in here. You noticed immediately afterward that some faces were missing, and on the other hand, some new ones had appeared.

You followed Hotch to the front of the room in front of their TV. 

"Everyone, this is Director Y/N Y/L/N from the CIA. She'll be leading this case—and as some of you may recall, she's already worked with us on an investigation about a year ago," he announced, subsequently gesturing around the table. "Y/N, this is SSA Emily Prentiss, SSA David Rossi, our communications liaison Jennifer Jareau, and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia."

You nodded, smiling at them. "It's nice to meet you all—"

"You're— you're her."

You turned to the blonde with pink highlights that'd cut you off, Penelope, and furrowed your brows. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh my god, you're her," she whispered, her eyes wide and her face awestruck. "You're The Angel of Death."

You held back a laugh. "That is what people to tend to call me, yes."

She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly before eventually blurting, "I— you're an icon. I've read some of your code before in snippets, and it's beautiful. And, I mean, when you can code like that and then do what you do, it's no wonder that the government would want you all to themselv—"

"Garcia." At Hotch's command, Penelope's mouth snapped shut and snickers were heard around the table. "We are here to work," he told her, trying to be serious, but you could hear the amusement hiding behind his tone.

"Yes— yes, Sir. Work. Working," she said, but her eyes remained trained on you even as she spoke.

Morgan laughed, swivelling his chair toward you. "Sorry, angel. She gets a little..." he twirled his finger next to his head, "Comicon-y whenever things involve computers."

This snapped her out of her trance and made her whip around to point her finger at him. "You better shut it, Morgan, before I show everyone those pictures of you at Comicon with me."

His smile dropped. "Babygirl, you wouldn't."

"Oh, yes, sugar, I would."

Hotch exasperatedly cut their very entertaining banter off. "Work."

"Morgan, you've been to Comicon?" Without even looking at him, you could hear the smirk in the man's words.

"Leave it, Rossi. You heard the bossman: we've got work," he changed the subject, but based on the fiery look being sent his way by Reid and the teasing one by Emily, you'd bet that this conversation wasn't over.

Hotch signalled for you to start, so you stepped forward, got a little more serious for his sake, and began, "The serial killer you've been phoned in on is not a serial killer. The women he's killed are unfortunately collateral damage to a much bigger problem." Behind you, pictures of the paper left next to the bodies appear on screen. "The unsub is going after high-level members of the NSA who have fragments of a specific code. He's been leaving those fragments at the crime scenes. So far, he has 4—there are only 2 more. Once he gets the last two, it'll only be a matter of time before he's able to unlock a classified file, detailing every undercover op we have or have had in other countries."

The room was quiet. Morgan was the first to question, "So, he's a whistleblower?"

"No, not necessarily. Given his M.O. and need to taunt us with these papers, his goal isn't to expose the government—it's only a stepping stone to what he truly wants, which is chaos."

Emily spoke up next. "Well, he's clearly a narcissist, and he's sadistic at that. Otherwise, he wouldn't have killed these women like this."

Dr. Reid nodded, keeping his eyes on the file in front of him. "Craves control, finds a way to manipulate the situation and mold it into what he wants it to be." He looked up, talking with his hands while explaining, "Narcissists are devoted to themselves and will further themselves in whatever way possible. They lack empathy and find enjoyment in causing others pain, stemming from their grandiose sense of self-importance. Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb were drawn in and obsessed with Nietzsche's idea of Übermenschen, supermen who possessed such high intelligence that it put them above the law. They later confessed to the police that they sought to commit 'perfect crime.' This unsub is likely suffering from the same sense of entitlement."

Rossi tipped his pen at him, agreeing, "Yeah, he's arrogant and he believes he can get away with this, hence the taunting. All he wants is to feed his ego, but he hides behind the whistleblower façade to absolve himself of blame."

"And he's impatient," Derek added. "4 bodies in one week. We don't have much time before he strikes again."

"No, we don't," you said. The screen changed to display the pictures of two men. "The last two people with the code are Malik Hussein and Ethan Torrie. I believe he'll go after Ethan first; he's in D.C. for this big gala tonight. That's where the unsub will make his move."

Emily looked between you and Hotch, almost as if she was unsure who she was addressing her question to. "So what's our plan?"

You, too, glanced at Hotch before looking back at her, splaying your hands out in front of yourself. "Well, we only have one course of action: wait for the unsub to approach Ethan."

Unexpectedly, Hotch interrupted you, saying, "Y/N and I will go in undercover." What? You held yourself back from widening your eyes and whipping your head around. "The rest of you will be waiting for our signal. Garcia, can you get us on the guest-list?"

"Already on it, Sir."

He nodded, firing orders away, "Alright, Morgan and Prentiss, I want you both to go back to the crime scenes. Talk to the owners of the establishments, bartenders, doormen—anybody who could've seen the unsub leave the building with the victims. Garcia, consult with CCTV footage. Rossi and Reid, I want you looking at his M.O. and why he didn't leave the men there with the women. JJ, contact The Post and tell them not to run the latest murder; it's imperative we keep this and the unsub's true motives out of the press. Y/N and I will go over tonight's plan."

They all voiced their confirmations and, like clockwork, filed out of the room until it was just you and Hotch left standing. The air suddenly got heavier—with what, you had no idea.

It felt different, old and new all at the same time, like everything and nothing you'd ever felt before. You couldn't pinpoint it, couldn't describe it.

Growing bored of the silence, you raised a brow, repeating, "'Y/N and I will go undercover?'"

Hotch, who was in the middle of collecting his things, paused and raised a brow of his own, turning to face you. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

You looked him up and down, taking your time and not bothering to be subtle about it. After a moment, you responded, "No." A smirk slowly came to your face. "Let's go over that plan."

He maintained his stare for a few seconds, reminding you of when you met. Eventually, he nodded and got to it. All the while, your mind ran rampant—but not with the case.

Agent Hotchner continued to surprise you.

And you'd be sure to return the favour.

❧

After planning for hours, you and Hotch came up with a decent story. He'd be going as himself. You'd pretend you were his girlfriend, his tag-along for the party, with a fake identity. His presence would make sense, but if people found out Y/N Y/L/N was there, they'd start to wonder things that this plan couldn't afford.

Your name wasn't widely known, nor was your face, but at a party like this, you had to be careful.

That's what you explained to Hotch.

"I don't understand. Nobody knows who you are. Not even Garcia could figure out who you really were when we met." He furrowed his brows in confusion.

You sighed, "There's going to be a lot of powerful people there, Hotchner. Everybody knows The Angel of Death, but there are some big fish in Washington that know she's Y/N."

This seemed to confuse him more. You surmised that he didn't like not knowing things. "Why do you say it like that—say your name as if it's not your name?" 

You gave him a look.

His eyes widened. And for the second time that day, you found yourself thinking that Aaron Hotchner was cute. "It's not your name?"

"Why do you think Penelope had such a hard time finding my credentials?" you inquired. You went on before he could answer. "I take it she didn't find my records at The Academy, either. She found that I went to Caltech, but she didn't find yearbook photos or my social media. She found that I grew up in Massachusetts, that my parents are dead, that I was born in '79. But otherwise, I'm a ghost, aren't I?" Your voice was somewhat playful.

Hotch didn't seem to find the humour in what you were saying.

"So everything about you is a lie." It wasn't a question.

Your eyes glinted with amusement. You leaned in to where he sat across from you on the other side of the table. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that Agent Hotchner stiffened. "'Nothing more than a rumour, an urban legend amongst criminals and internet sleuths. A myth,'" you whispered. "Does that sound familiar?"

He didn't respond.

"As you said, Agent Hotchner, I am a myth. I am not meant to exist. So find me another identity and show me that you're up for the task before this entire plan is derailed by a name."

Your memory was cut off by a knock at your door. You swiped your lipstick across your lips and they immediately quirked upward right after.

You took your time getting the door. Whether Agent Hotchner realized it or not—or rather, whether he was willing to admit it or not—this was a game. And you were nothing if not a damn good player.

Without knowing it, he started it when he picked you up off the street that day in '04. He moved another piece on the board when he walked into your office in '06. And then he asked to work on this case.

It didn't matter what he thought about you or what your name really was. All that mattered was the next move.

You opened the door and his eyes immediately widened on their own accord. They travelled down your body, tracing the outline of the red dress you'd picked out, finding the slit on the side. But this was all within a split-second.

In the blink of an eye, his eyes were back on yours. If you hadn't been paying attention, you would've missed it. He was hoping you did.

But you didn't.

You did, however, miss his ears going red when you turned around, leaving the door open as an invitation inside. 

"You're wearing a suit," you noted, smirking. "How out of character for you."

You heard the door shut, and then footsteps behind you. "Funny, Y/N."

You chuckled. "Please, I know you think I'm hilarious."

He lightly shook his head as you stood in front of your mirror, putting on your earrings. He took that moment to look around your apartment, eyes scanning over your living room. No pictures anywhere, no plants or art. You had a couch, but no television. He glanced to the adjoining kitchen. There was an espresso machine, but he was willing to bet that if he checked your fridge, it'd be empty. 

"You can stop trying to profile my apartment," you informed him, still adding the finishing touches to your outfit. "I don't stay here often."

"I can tell."

He watched as you picked up your heels then went to sit on the couch to put them on. He tried not to let his eyes wander, instead trying to look around the room some more, but even without having his eyes on you, he still couldn't get your picture out of his head.

Distractedly, he heard you absentmindedly ask, "Hey, whatever happened to Gideon and Greenaway?"

He looked at you to respond, seeing you get up. "Things with the job. Certain cases take more of a toll on others." He didn't explain that Elle spiralled or that Gideon lost everything he held dear. He preferred not to think about it.

You tilted your head. "Did things happen with you, too?"

He didn't answer, instead opting to suggest, "Let's go over the case one more time."

You nodded and let him get away with it.

Hotch schooled his expression. "You're Deirdre Carter. You're a CPA. We met years ago on a work conference but hit it off recently. We've been dating for five months."

"Dating," you repeat.

His brows furrowed. "Yes." He didn't understand why you were hung up on it until he saw you glance down at his hand. It's then that he realized he was still wearing his ring. "Oh."

Your voice got softer, and you didn't know if that was part of the game or not. "Look, Hotchner, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can do this solo."

"No—" he sighed, looking down at the ring he'd worn everyday for years on end. "I'm divorced. I guess I just wear it out of habit," he revealed.

"Oh."

He took it off and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. "Let's head out," he said. You nodded, leading him out.

And you didn't mention the ring again.

❧

Once you got to the building, you met Derek, who was in a secuirty uniform, at the front. He momentarily disabled the metal detector for you so that the guns on your thigh and in Hotch's boot weren't caught.

In the hall, the music played ceremoniously, an orchestra of jazz players working tirelessly to entertain D.C.'s wealthiest and most powerful. The President would be making an appearance later. You hoped to get this done and get out of here before that happened.

Your eyes found Torrie within a minute, subtly signalling his location to Hotch. He was by the bar, a redhead on his arm. The two of you went that way.

He ordered you drinks at the bar that he wouldn't drink, but as soon as your martini was in front of you, you were picking it up and taking a sip.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, talking through his teeth. "We don't drink on the job."

You smirked at him. "You don't drink on the job. I'm just keeping up appearances." You then took the olive and bit into it. For some reason, you enjoyed getting under Hotchner's skin.

He rolled his eyes at you, likely about to reprimand you again, but a voice in your ears stopped him. "Do the two of you have eyes on Torrie?"

Hotch turned to you and brought his hand to your face, cupping your cheek. To those surrounding you, he was just a man caressing his girlfriend—hell, the leap in your chest told you that you nearly bought it. But you knew he did this so that the mic hidden in his sleeve would be at your mouth. You held his stare, a sweet smile gracing your face as you replied to Rossi, "Yes. By the bar."

"Good. Prentiss is on the floor with the ambassador if you need her."

You leaned into Hotch, too, running your hands down his suit jacket while he glanced around for Emily. "Got it."

The next voice you heard was Garcia's. "Hello, my lovelies, I am watching you on camera. Hotch, to your left is the door through which you'll take our bad guy. It's being guarded by Reid and JJ as we speak."

You lowly thanked her, to which she stammered out a "you're welcome." Hotch took his hand away from your face and you removed yours from his chest, cursing the part of yourself that missed his touch.

If you weren't on a case, you'd have thought more about how pretty his eyes were.

The music suddenly changed, becoming a slow song. Your eyes darted behind Hotch to see Ethan and his date making their way to the dance floor. You downed the rest of your martini then grabbed onto his hand, wordlessly pulling him to the floor.

You felt him lightly tense when you put your hands around his neck. "Relax," you whispered. "Just go with it."

At that, he eased up, wrapping his hands around your waist. You moved to the beat of the song, taking control of your dance while he kept a close eye on Torrie. No one had approached them yet, you gathered.

The dance came easy to you, too easy, like it'd been rehearsed or like it was something you'd been doing all your life. Your feet moved synchronously like they had a mind of their own. You didn't have to think about it—it just happened.

It was funny, almost. The stiff and stoic Aaron Hotchner could dance. Your mind went back to when he smiled in the elevator earlier. It made you wonder what he was like before. Before he was a profiler or unit chief.

You know you were different before you were in this life, before you became Y/N.

You wondered what would've happened if you met back then, when you were just you and he was just him.

And just as soon as you started wondering, you no longer wanted to think about it. Instead, you asked him, "Did you ever think you and I would be dancing together like this when we met?"

He glanced down at you then looked away. "No." A ghost of a smirk came to his lips. "I thought I'd be putting you behind bars."

You chuckled. "I know. It was quite entertaining."

"To you, maybe." He glanced down at you again. "I don't like being blindsided."

"Oh, I know." When he glanced down at you this time, he saw your eyes twinkling. "That is precisely why it was so entertaining, Agent Hotchner."

He chuckled under his breath, and something in you fluttered. "You're something else, Y/L/N."

You hummed, murmuring, "And don't I know it?"

He was gonna say something else but then something in his expression changed. He was back to stoic, eyes hardening. You straightened your back and stopped dancing. "7 o'clock," he muttered.

You unwound your hands from his neck, turning around to see a man beelining at Torrie from across the room. But if you had your way, which you would, then he wouldn't make it to Ethan at all.

With Hotch hot on your heels, you headed his way, moving through the crowd effortlessly. Just before he was about to reach them, you inconspicuously unholstered your gun from your thigh and pressed it against his back, stopping him in his tracks.

Hotch caught up to you, standing to the side and obstructing the view. "Careful, friend. I wouldn't want to shoot you in front of all these people, but I will." As a warning, you clicked the safety off. 

The man tensed as Hotch grabbed his arm. Your voice was sweet in comparison to your sour words. "Now, you're gonna follow him or I'm gonna pump you full of lead. Capisce?" Neither you nor Hotch waited for a response, leading him towards the side doors that Garcia had notified you of.

Upon getting there, Reid and JJ opened the doors without a word and closed them immediately after you'd gone through them.

As soon as the doors closed, the unsub twisted Hotch's arm, prompting him to yelp. Simultaneously, he knocked the gun out of your hand, sending it thudding across the floor. 

He shoved you against the wall, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Meanwhile, Hotch threw a punch his way. A crack resounded through the hallway followed by the unsub growling. He threw a punch back that Hotch narrowly dodged, but in one quick motion, he pulled Hotch's tie, catching him off guard.

In a flash, he had Hotch in a chokehold, fighting for breath. You acted quickly, reaching for the knife sheathed on your thigh, running up behind the ubsub and holding it to his throat, causing him to go rigid.

"Let him go or I slit your fucking throat," you spat.

He didn't ease his hold, making you bring the knife closer, knicking him. "I said, let. him. go."

Begrudgingly, he let Hotch go, who was gasping for breath. You let him catch his bearings for a moment, but you had to alert him, "Hotchner, the cuffs."

He coughed but nodded, grabbing the cuffs from his pocket. You took them from him, shoving the unsub against the wall just as he did to you and pulling his arms behind him. You wrapped the cuffs around his wrists and tightened them until you heard him grunt.

"In case you didn't get the memo, you're under arrest, asshole."

Knowing this would never reach a courtroom, you didn't read him his rights or tell him what he was being arrested for. He knew.

Where he was going, he'd never forget it.

❧

You and Hotch stood to the side in an alley after you'd shoved the unsub into the back of a black sedan, watching the car drive off. 

"I know that you're just itching to interrogate him," you commented, your voice echoing in the night. "But trust me, that's somebody else's job now." You felt Hotch's eyes on you, but you didn't look at him.

His stare burned into the side of your head. "That wasn't a cop car," he said.

"No," you finally looked back at him. "it wasn't."

"Who was driving that car?"

"A CIA agent."

"And where is he going now?"

"To pay for his crimes," you slowly answered, narrowing your eyes. "Stop worrying about it."

He stepped closer to you. "He should be doing that in a federal prison, with a sentence decided by a judge and a jury. The families of those analysts, those women— they deserve closure."

You shook your head, an incredulous laugh leaving you. "You still don't get it, do you?" Your voice was teasing, but your undertone was hard and serious. "A trial means telling a bunch of people, including civilians, about ops that are not meant to exist. It's just not gonna happen."

Hotch kept staring at you for what felt like forever but was really only a few seconds, giving you the urge to squirm under his gaze. For some reason, you didn't like the way he was looking at you. Finally, he looked away, exhaling, "It's not right, Y/N."

Somewhere, deep inside, you felt a pang. You touched his shoulder, softly telling him, "You should know better than anyone that the law isn't about right and wrong." 

He still didn't look at you.

You sighed. "Thank you for your help, Agent Hotchner." You patted his shoulder one last time and then left the alley, walking through the door you came out of and, in doing so, you felt something change. 

The game was over.

You just couldn't tell who won.

By the time Aaron had noticed this change, he tried to follow you, but when he opened the door only to see an empty hallway, he realized it was too late.

You were gone.

And he didn't know why that disappointed him so much.

4. Unpredictable

New York, New York, 2008

Whenever Aaron was in New York, he liked to pick up good coffee and eat good food. But as he stood over a dead man's corpse, he felt his appetite vanish.

He and his team stood at the crime scene, analyzing it. It was different, but he couldn't shake the feeling that everything about these murders were different. There was something off about them, and he couldn't figure out exactly what it was.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black car pull up next to the yellow tape, the Mercedes logo glinting in the light. He furrowed his brows then shook his head, thinking better of it. Stop thinking about her.

"Uniforms are rounding up witnesses."

Detective Cooper and Brustin's arrival made him look away from the car and toward them instead. "Doesn't sound like anyone got a clean look," Cooper said.

Morgan looked up at the security camera that should've caught everything but in reality caught nothing useful. "It's over in a flash," he remarked. "He's probably gone before anyone even realizes what's happening."

Right beside him, Kate asked, "Is this what it felt during the Son of Sam?"

Just as Brustin was about to answer, a new voice sounded from behind them. "Son of Sam is the least of your worries." His breath hitched. They all turned around, and Hotch instantly realized that he was right: that car was yours—and now you stood right in front of him.

You gave him a glance but then your eyes were back on Kate. "What you should be focused on is another 9/11."

Kate lightly scoffed. "My apologies— who are you?" 

"Y/N Y/L/N, CIA," you introduced yourself, flashing your badge. Recognition briefly flickered through her eyes. "And you must Kate Joyner, head of New York's field office." To be polite, you held out your hand, and she reluctantly shook it. "I'm here as the Agency's delegate, and I'll also be representing Homeland Security for the time being."

"Homeland Security?" You looked to Morgan. "It's nice to see you again, angel, but what does Homeland Security have to do here?"

You went to answer, but Joyner cut you off, "I'll ask the questions, Agent Morgan, thank you." Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, and a quick look at Derek told you that his did, too, but then Kate was looking at you again, waiting for you to answer.

Your mind was brought back to the situation at hand. You glanced at Hotch once more to see he was already looking at you, but then you looked away. "I have reason to believe that this guy is more than a serial killer. In fact, I have reason to believe this is more than one guy."

Kate crossed her arms. "What are you suggesting?"

Every time Hotch had seen you, no matter how serious the situation was, you were lighthearted, amused, knowing you'd come out on top. But this time, your voice was devoid of its usual playfulness as you disclosed to them a fact that changed their entire investigation.

"If I'm right, Agent Joyner, then we're dealing with terrorists."

❧

Once the initial shock from your revelation died down, you told them that you'd explain everything back at the field office. Unexpectedly, Morgan asked to ride back with you and you obliged, figuring his company wasn't too bad.

Hotch stared at you the entire time as you got in the car, and he continued to stare at you until you sped out of sight.

You didn't look back once.

"So, terrorism, huh?"

You glanced at Derek and smirked, finding that playful nature again. "I told you, I'd explain at the Bureau."

He shook his head at you, a similar smirk on his face, then he quizzed, "Hey, did Hotch happen to tell you why Joyner's giving me attitude?"

You furrowed your brows as you came to a stop light, turning toward him. "What makes you think I've talked to him?"

Derek snorted. "Please, every time I've seen the two of you together, you're all flirty—even when he was still with Haley."

"So what? I've flirted with Spencer before—doesn't mean I wanted to get into his pants," you defended.

His smirk widened. "I never said you wanted to get into the boss' pants."

"You insinuated it."

"Why, angel? Do you want to get into his pants?"

You deadpanned, "No, I do not." Despite yourself, you couldn't stop red from crawling to your cheeks.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that." Right after, the light turned green, as if saving you from whatever this was. Then the teasing disappeared from Morgan's voice, replaced with curiosity. "Wait, so you're seriously telling me Hotch didn't call you?"

"Yes, Derek. That is exactly what I am telling you," you insisted, then you glanced back at him. "But to answer your question, Kate doesn't like you for the same reason she doesn't like me: power." He stared at you confusedly, so you elaborated, "Word on the steet is that the FBI wants to reassign her, and you're their star replacement."

"What?" Shock laced through his voice.

"What, are you telling me you actually didn't know?"

"No, I thought the Bureau was so proud of itself for stealing her away from Scotland Yard."

"Well, don't ask me to explain FBI politics to you. I'm in an entirely different organization, my guy."

Derek groaned in exasperation, making you laugh and forget about Hotch, even if it was only for a second.

❧

By the time you and Derek got to the field office, you were all business, unlike any time Hotch had ever seen you.

With the team gathered around you, you stood in front of the evidence board and started, "The unsubs' behaviour is questionable. They're disciplined, they're using countersurveillance. They take a quick shot then leave the scene immediately, not stopping to watch or enjoy the kill at all. There is nothing sexual about it, and that is because these killings are not the work of a serial killer. They're methodical. They look like mob hits at first glance, simulate gang initiations. They seem random, but they're not. The murders, just like the Death card you received, are a smoke screen."

Kate cut you off. "How can you be so sure?"

You suppressed your irritation at being interrupted and kept calm. Cooly, you explained, "Murders like these create panic— not just amongst the general population, but amongst law enforcement, as well; it is terror. It serves their greater goal." You gestured with your hands as you spoke. "The murders simulate a bombing. From there, they station someone to watch, gauge how long it takes police to respond."

Understanding flashed through Morgan's eyes. "At which point they bring in a second bomb."

"Exactly," you affirmed. "The goal is always to take out a first round of civilians, followed by a second wave of emergency responders. It's trial and error—it's how they practice. And if someone catches the shooter, that's fine because we just end up thinking we have a murderer; the cell is never compromised. And in creating such panic, they ensure the most urgent response time short of a bombing. It's by far the smartest way to plan for a terrorist attack."

You crossed your arms, giving them time to absorb your words. You didn't expect anyone to respond so soon, and you certainly didn't expect that person to be Hotch. "It's a theory, Y/N." His voice was soft, and that seemed to only add fuel to the fire.

You resisted the urge to scoff, sharply retorting, "Isn't any profile?"

He didn't answer. Perhaps that was the smartest choice; he didn't want to pick an argument with you, not now.

Hesistantly, Spencer spoke up, "I think— I think she's right." He walked behind you to the board, picking up a red marker and circling spots on the map before turning back around to face you. "I think they're targeting points of entry. All the murders have taken place near a bridge or tunnel."

"Holland Tunnel, Midtown Tunnel, Manhattan Bridge," Emily muttered.

"If bombs went off, emergency response would shut down any ability to get in or out of the city," JJ remarked. "It's— it's like people would be trapped on the island."

It looked like you had everyone convinced, even Hotch—despite his reluctance to believe you—but for some reason, Kate Joyner just couldn't let up. She crossed her arms. "I still fail to see how you came to the conclusion of multiple shooters."

Unbothered, you replied, "Having followers do the shootings would ensure they're willing to kill or be killed for their cause."

She countered, "But is there any evidence that that's the case?" 

You narrowed your eyes, going to respond when someone's ringtone sounded. Derek picked up his phone and put it on speaker. You could almost thank whoever it was for stopping you from saying something you would or wouldn't regret. 

"Talk to me, babygirl."

Penelope's voice came through the phone. "Okay, I have bad news then badder, connected news. What would you like me to start with?"

Derek glanced up at you, then at Hotch. "Gimme the bad news, Garcia."

"Alright, well, I was looking at the surveillance footage from the murders, specifically the most recent compared to the previous, and found something very, very off. I'll share my screen with you." Emily turned on the laptop on the table closest to all of you, and the footage immediately appeared. Silently, you watched the videos one after the other, and you had a feeling that Garcia was just about to vindicate you. "You guys see what I saw?"

"Well, he sprints off in one and walks calmly in the other. It's two entirely different demeanours," Morgan said.

"Exactly, my dove. So check it out, I did a digital perspective analysis rendering on all the shootings we have footage of. Now the first two were inconclusive, but again, in the last two, I found something très weird." Garcia did a freeze-frame, her analysis software appearing. "Your calm, walking type—he's about 6 foot 1." The screen changed to the other scene. "But your sprinter, he's like 5'9", 5'10" tops."

While the air in the office got colder, you stood there holding back the urge to smirk. You saw both Morgan and Hotch glance at you from the corner of your eye, but you only turned to Kate, seeing somewhat of a defeated expression on her face.

"Is this evidence enough for you, Agent Joyner?"

❧

That surveillance footage was enough confirmation for you, no matter what Joyner had to say about it. Following Garcia's revelation, you walked away from the team's makeshift conference room and walked into the bullpen, pulling out your phone and dialling Homeland Security.

You notified them of the situation at hand and that you were expecting something big soon, but not yet, telling them not to act without your say-so. It was of vital importance that you controlled the situation; you couldn't let the unsubs know you were onto them, so you couldn't make any moves just yet, either.

You hung up the phone, sighing. You hated cases like these. Being The Angel of Death was something you got used to; you could control that, but dealing with a cell like this wasn't just more challenging—it was unpredictable, and unpredictable was something you weren't quite fond of.

You turned around and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Hotch standing right behind you. Your hand slapped against your chest. "Holy shit, Hotchner, don't they teach you not to a sneak up on a girl in FBI school?"

Something almost like a smile came to his lips, the last thing you were expecting from him, especially at a time like this. "I'd hardly call that sneaking up on you. And according to you, you've been to 'FBI school,' so you should know."

You scoffed. "Regardless." Hotch's eyes remained on you, and the corners of his lips never went down. An uncomfortable silence then settled between you, despite the loud bustling in your surroundings.

You were hoping you could've gone this entire visit without speaking to him alone.

He must've noticed this, because his next words were, "You've been avoiding me."

You tensed ever so slightly. You'd been here all of five minutes, and he thought you were avoiding him. "I have not been avoiding you—"

"Yes, you have."

"We have bigger problems to deal with. Not everything is about you, Hotchner."

"Why are you avoiding me, Y/N?" You hated how his voice sounded, calm and soft. You hated the fact that he was even asking you this right now. You wanted him to be the stoic guy he always was. You didn't like this. And deep down, you knew that that was why you were avoiding him.

You didn't like the unpredictable.

And Aaron Hotchner was just that.

In lieu of responding, you dodged the question, biting back, "Why do you care?"

Hotch stilled as if you'd just hit him with the question of the century. It was then that he realized he didn't know. He couldn't answer you because he didn't have the answer himself.

He didn't know what he was going to say when he opened his mouth, and he supposed he never would, because a second later, a phone rang.

A sigh left his lips as he went to pick the phone up off some agent's desk, and you watched as the stoic man you knew returned. Yet, for some reason, you weren't as relieved as you thought you'd be.

"Hotchner." Kate chose that moment to walk out of her office while Morgan and Rossi came up from behind you. Hotch's voice became grave. "Does it look it could be one of our guys?"

Derek took the words right from your mouth. "What's going on?"

Hotch put down the phone. "We've got eyes on one of them," he answered. "He's on the subway platform at 59th and Lex."

"59th—? We could've been right there." He looked at Kate with an accusatory glare. The fury that lit up in his eyes and the way she refused to look back told you there was a conversation between them that you missed.

Over the phone, you heard Garcia let out a shaky breath, telling you all that the unsub shot the woman.

Kate paced. "Where the hell are the police?" 

Meanwhile, you picked up another telephone from the adjacent desk. "This is Y/N Y/L/N with the CIA. We have a murder suspect on 59th and Lex, subway platform. Hurry."

You slammed the phone down as you heard Penelope fret, "God, he's getting away."

"Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?"

A few clicks were audible as she responded, "He's heading west on 59th Street."

Kate spoke up, stating what you already knew. "If he makes it to the park, we've lost him."

"We lost the visual," another woman said.

Derek scoffed while Rossi questioned, "Are the police on the scene?"

"Negative."

And just like that, without another word, it was clear to everyone in the room that you just lost your only suspect. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, cursing under your breath. Next to you, Derek made his frustrations much more known. "We could've had that guy," he snapped.

Kate finally looked at him. "Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved onto someone isolated."

This didn't console him at all. "Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot—"

"I had every available man on the street."

Morgan stepped forward, seething. "And I suggested to you that you use this team." Realization came over you. Now you understood why he was so angry; Kate let her resentment of him get in the way of the case, and that decision may have just cost you a life.

Just as you thought Hotch couldn't get any more unpredictable, he scolded, "Morgan, second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now."

Your brows raised, but he didn't look at you, nor did he look at Derek. 

"Hotch, we have a possible terrorist attack coming. How am I supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them?"

Hotch's reply was sharp. "We're here to present a profile. That's what we need to do."

Derek ignored him, pressing, "I said to put as express stops. 14th, 42nd, 59th— and that's exactly where they hit—"

"It's not your place to have this discussion." This time, Hotch did look at him, and his eyes were hard.

Immediately, you cut in, spitting out his name. "Agent Hotchner." Hotch's eyes went right to you. You stepped forward, firing, "We have six bodies. And right now, I have to call Homeland Security and tell them that we not only have another one, but we also just lost a valuable chance to find one of the perpetrators."

"Which is exactly why we need to stay focused."

"Focused?" Derek echoed. Then he took a step closer, standing eye to eye with his boss. "From where I'm standing, all your focus is on her."

Kate's head ducked down, and from there, it didn't take much for you to connect the dots. All of a sudden, it made sense why Derek had asked you about Kate earlier instead of going straight to Hotch.

And to think that, just a few moments ago, he'd been going after you.

With a tick in his jaw, Hotch commanded, "Take a walk. Now."

Derek stared at him for a split-second before walking off without another word. 

"You know, I think I'm gonna take that walk with him," you muttered. And just like that, it was as if Hotch realized you were still there.

He went to say your name, but you were turning your back and walking away before he could even utter the first syllable.

Unpredictability. What a fickle thing.

You hated it.

❧

You found Derek at a nearby bar, the closest bar to the field office. Contrary to what you said to Hotch, you didn't come looking for him; he just so happened to find the same place you did.

Before you even pulled out the barstool, he was sighing. "I know. I was out of line."

You lightly snorted. "I'm not here to chastise you, Derek." He looked up at you, surprise flashing through his eyes. "I'm just here to drink." Right on cue, the bartender came up to you and asked you wanted to drink, to which you ordered brandy, neat.

When said drink arrived in front of you and you downed it in one go, it prompted him to ask, "Aren't you still on the job?"

A slight chuckle left you. "Morgan, I run an entire CIA ops division and then I also get asked to do things like this." You then deadpanned, "Trust me, I can hold my liquor."

He held his hands up in surrender, an amused expression on his face before something serious took it over, wiping the smile from his face. "I'm sorry about Joyner, by the way." When you look at him confused, he explained, "I didn't have to say that. Not in front of you."

You sighed. Not this again. "Derek, I have nothing going on with your boss. So whatever the deal is with him and Kate is absolutely none of my business." For some reason, the words stung coming out of your mouth, and you didn't like it one bit.

He left it alone and didn't press the issue further (thankfully). You glanced at the beer in front of him. You nodded toward it, stating, "You haven't touched that."

He glanced at it. "Guess I don't have the appetite for it right now."

You hummed. "Or you want to go back."

He let out a long, dramatic sigh, nearly making you laugh. "I have to apologize to her, don't I?" This time, when you nodded and he ran a hand over his bald head, you did laugh. "Fucking hell."

You sarcastically patted his shoulder. "Don't sweat it, sweetheart. I'll walk back with you."

"Sweetheart?" you heard him question as you stood up, putting enough money down for both of your drinks. "And now you're paying for me? You're threatening my manhood here, angel."

"Get over it, Morgan."

And as he let out a hearty laugh, you let yourself pretend that you didn't have a different agent on your mind entirely.

❧

Upon getting back to the office, you suddenly wished you'd had another drink as you were informed that there was not only another shooting, but Detective Cooper was shot after he and Prentiss chased after him.

Kate seemed to have taken Derek's suggestion and sent the team out on the streets in the hour and a half you were away. In that time, Prentiss and Cooper nearly got one of the shooters, but he was fast; he could've gotten away. Yet he stopped and shot Cooper, prompting Emily to fire a shot of her own.

Suicide by cop.

You hung up the phone, walking back into the room after telling Homeland that you'd be calling with another update soon. "Three shootings in one day," you said, catching everyone's attention. "They're ramping up to something."

Morgan held his phone up in the air and wiggled it. "Yeah, well, while you were on the phone, Garcia called. They hacked into at least one camera at every scene and have been watching from day one."

You cursed under your breath just as Kate called your name. "Y/N." You looked up at her in half-veiled surprise, seeing her standing with her arms crossed, a somewhat uncomfortable look on her face. "Aaron told me more about your position in the CIA, how you're more well-versed in situations such as these." It looked like she had a hard time getting the words out, despite the sincerity in her tone. "I'd like you to take the lead on this." 

You were sure that the surprise must've shown on your face, courtesy of fatigue, but you quickly masked it and nodded. You took one deep breath, and then you dived in. "We need to hit the ground running." You turned to everyone individually as you gave them instructions. "Rossi, I'd like you to talk to the Commissioner. He'll be familiar with you." He nodded and left the room. "Derek, you brief Homeland Security, tell them I sent you. I want them to know we're expecting them to strike any minute now."

"You got it, angel."

You turned to Emily, who was already ahead of you. "I'll head to the hospital, check on Cooper, and brief Detective Brustin."

"Good. And Spencer—"

He (with a creepy accuracy) anticipated what you were going to say before you even said it. "JJ and I will talk to the Port Authority Police."

You nodded then realized that left only two people, unwelcome dread filling you. Out of a stubborn attempt to prove his earlier claim about avoiding him wrong, you looked to Hotch but still didn't meet his eyes. "Agent Hotchner, you and Kate should speak to the mayor. I have to make some calls to the DOD. We'll all meet back here as soon as possible. We are crunched for time, but the one advantage that we have is that they don't know we know they're watching."

Everyone who hadn't already left nodded and got to their tasks. Hotch looked like he wanted to stick around and say something to you, but as you said, the clock was ticking. 

You called the DOD and briefly explained what Homeland Security had likely already spoken to them about, that you saw a terrorist event on the horizon. They told you that, luckily, the Deputy Secretary of Defense was in town, only ten, maybe twenty minutes away from where you were. 

Quickly, you gathered your things and made your way out of the building. At the exit, however, you found exactly who you didn't want to see.

Hotch and Kate.

They hadn't left yet.

They stood outside the door, facing each other. He had his hand on her elbow, and he was saying something you couldn't make out. Whatever it was, it made her lips upturn.

You couldn't recognize the feeling that crawled through your veins at that moment. The green monster and you hadn't been acquainted in a while, but for some reason, she was showing up, making your body her home, and you hated it.

Shaking off whatever it was you were feeling, you pushed the door open. Hotch noticed you first. "Y/N," he said. He took his hand off her arm. A weight was lifted off your chest.

"Agent Hotchner," you greeted, promptly turning to the blonde and doing the same. "Agent Joyner. I've gotten word that the Deputy Secretary of Defense is in New York; I'm heading to see her."

Kate nodded. "Good. Aaron and I are on our way to the mayor's office now." She turned, starting to walk away, and then you realized she was heading in the same direction as your car.

Fuck. They parked next to you.

You started walking, too, Hotch now at your side. Kate was ahead of you guys. You're sure that Hotch could naturally walk faster than you, but he remained at your side. This is deliberate, you thought.

Your conversation from earlier hung in the air. With Kate gone, the tension between you was now palpable. But he wouldn't say anything, you assured yourself, not with her in earshot.

But perhaps you underestimated him. With every meeting, Aaron Hotchner continued to surprise you. He had become unpredictable to you.

Yet, the two of you would soon bear witness to just how unpredictable life could truly be.

Just as you were nearing your vehicles, Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but a loud boom cut him off.

Before either of you could register it, you were sent flying backward, shockwaves rippling through your body.

And then everything went black.

❧

New York City has never been so quiet, you thought, blinking your eyes open. And you've never been able to see the stars in this city, either, but tonight, you saw them just fine. Part of you wondered if you were dreaming.

No, not a dream. A hallucination.

There's been an accident.

The thought hit you like a ton of bricks as pain erupted in your side. A groan left you unwarranted. You went to touch it then hissed at the throbbing. There was no blood there, though, no wound, so it must've been the bones.

Nowhere else hurt—not that bad, at least. You tested yourself, trying to sit up. It hurt to do so, but you did it. And when you did, you were met with the sight of an SUV, up in flames.

No, not an accident. This was planned.

But it wasn't your car. It would've made sense if it were your car, if you were the direct target, but you weren't. Your mind ran a mile a minute. Why would they blow up a random SUV?

It's then that you remember it wasn't a random SUV. It was Hotch's.

Hotch and Kate.

They were with you.

With that realization, any and all intellectual thought escape your grasp. You shot upward, the pain becoming nonexistent as a surge of adrenaline flowed through your body. "Hotch!" you screamed. No answer. "Hotch! Kate!" No one answered. "Aaron!" You continued to cry his name but no one answered.

Tears you welled up in your eyes. It was lost on you that you hadn't cried in years. It was equally lost on you that this was the first time you'd ever said his name.

You spun around, letting go of a breath you didn't know you were holding when you spotted a man in a suit, standing there, just staring at the fire. You jogged over to him and called out his name, but he didn't move his head. You tried again. "Aaron." No response. "Aaron!"

Finally, he looked at you. A plethora of emotions could be seen on his face. Confusion. Anger. Fear. Then worry. "Y/N," he breathed. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." That was a lie, but you could handle the pain well. You had good experience. "Are you?"

"Yes, I think so." 

You took a quick moment to examine him, the cut by his brow, the blood by his ear; you think back to how he didn't respond to your calls. Concussion, you thought, and a ruptured ear drum.

You take ahold of his arm, gently but firmly, and slowly asked him, "Aaron, where's Kate?" 

He blinked, glancing back at the wreck and then back at you. You watched him swallow. "I—"

"Hey! Are the two of you okay?"

Your eyes and his simultaneously snapped to the voice that'd just appeared, seeing a scrawny kid stand in front of you. Like a switch had been flipped, the abundance of emotions on his face dissipated into one.

Determination.

"What's your name?" he questioned.

The kid looked at him, confused. "What?"

Hotch repeated, "What's your name?"

As if he thought you two were crazy, he glanced between you warily. "Sam," he replied.

Hotch didn't look at him or acknowledge his name as he ordered, "Call 911." 

"Yeah— yeah, I did."

"Call 911— tell that there's been an explosion."

"Sir, are you okay?" His eyes darted to you. "Ma'am, are you hurt?" Momentarily, he glanced down, his eyes catching the gun on your belt. He looked to Hotch, finding the same thing. Stunned, he looked back up. "Are you guys cops?"

Hotch's eyes were still on the fire. "Call 911. Tell them... that a— that a federal agent—" Without warning, he took off running towards the car, yelling, "Kate!"

"Hotch!" You went to follow him but the kid stopped you.

"Okay so you want me to say you're a federal agent?"

You turned around, eyes blazing. "Call 911. Tell them that there's been a car explosion, involving two FBI agents and one CIA officer." You barely finished your sentence before you were running after Hotch.

By the time you got to him, he was taking off his jacket, about to shield himself and run right into the car but you stopped him. "Aaron!" 

His eyes darted to you then travelled behind you. The dread painted on his features mixed with relief, but you couldn't tell which emotion was stronger. You turned, following his line of sight, and saw Kate lying on the ground, a trail of blood leading to her body.

Without missing a beat, you both ran to her, her coughing becoming more audible as you got closer. Aaron got down immediately, and her first words were, "My purse. I can't find my purse."

He shushed her. "Don't move, don't move."

"Aaron, my purse."

Shock. She's in shock.

If only just to placate her, Hotch glanced around for it. "I don't think you had one," he said.

"I must've dropped it," she gasped, moving her head.

"Kate—" you cut in from above, "Kate, you need to stop trying to move."

She looked up at you, her eyes widening at whatever she saw. "Y/N. Y/N, what happened?"

You ran a hand through your hair. "I don't— I don't know. A bomb. An IED, I think." You glanced back at the car, your mind going back to the same race it was racing in before you found Aaron.

"An IED?" she echoed. "I have to get up."

"No. No, no, no. Lie down. Lie still. You need to lie still," he pleaded with her.

Suddenly, she caught your attention back. "Am I moving my legs?"

Hotch shushed her again at first, then he questioned, "What?"

Both of you glanced down at her legs at the same time. You resisted the urge to cup your mouth.

You were gonna be sick.

Weakly, she asked again, "Am I moving my legs?"

You didn't have the heart to answer her. From the looks of it, neither did Aaron, because he changed the subject. "I'm going to have to turn you and see where the blood is coming from," he said.

"Do it."

"Alright? Okay." He turned her while you focused on the sirens wailing in the distance, getting closer. The sound blended in with Kate's crying until it was all one and the same to you.

Police cars and ambulances soon pulled up just ahead of you, maybe a hundred yards away. You stood taller, yelling, "Officer down!" When they didn't come any closer, you flailed your arms. "Officer down! Here! There's an officer down!"

Kate's voice, ever so quiet, cut through the noise like a knife. "They're not coming." You turned to her, seeing her look at both of you defeatedly. "We told them not to. Remember?"

Your own words rang through your head. The goal is always to take out a first round of civilians, followed by a second wave of emergency responders.

The reality of the situation struck you. They weren't coming.

"The first wave of responders are the targets," she got out. "ESU orders are not— to let anyone in until the area is cleared."

"No." You shook your head. "I'm not taking that as an answer."

"Y/N—"

"We are getting you out of here, Kate, come hell or high water." Your previous aversion to her no longer mattered. She was lying on the ground covered in blood, unable to move her legs. All that mattered was getting her out.

Without wasting another second, you ran toward the barricade. ESU officer braced their rifles, but you had your badge ready as you stood a safe distance away from them. You were trying to think calmly, as calmly as you could. Your ribs stung as you held the badge up in the air.

The words were spoken in an erratic panic. "My name is Director Y/N Y/L/N, I'm a senior officer of the CIA. Behind me are SSAs Aaron Hotchner and Kate Joyner. She is injured— badly—"

A man stepped forward and cut you off cooly, "I understand that, ma'am, but I have orders not to let anyone in—"

You lost it. "Screw your orders! She can't fucking move!"

"Ma'am, my orders are what they are."

"Your orders are what they are," you repeated under your breath, a humourless chuckle escaping. "What's your name?"

He squared his shoulders. "It's Captain Warner, ma'am."

"Well, Captain Warner," you spat. "Allow me to re-introduce myself. My name is Director or Agent Y/L/N, not ma'am. Director. And I am quite familiar with your orders, Captain; I gave them. You are here because I made the call that put you here. And, so help me God, if you don't listen to this order, I will make the call that relieves you of your position."

Warner didn't appear to be shaken, but you could see the cloud of doubt floating in his eyes. You'd think that anyone would grapple for their job, but Warner was being difficult. "I apologize, Director, but I can't do that."

Your nostrils flared. You were just about to continue telling him off when an awfully familiar voice sounded, asking for someone in charge. Your eyes widened. "Derek!"

Derek's head snapped your way. "Holy shit. Y/N!" He came running towards you but was stopped by the same officers that kept you from crossing the barricade, holding up their guns.

"This area is restricted," he said.

He held up his badge. "I'm Agent Morgan, FBI. That's my friend—"

"This area is restricted," Warner repeated, barely looking at him. "I will take care of your friend. Now go back to the Federal Building. There are evac marshaling spots. Check in and make sure they know where you are."

Morgan held his ground, stepping in front of Warner and retaliating, "I am not about to do that."

"Get out of my face or I'll have you bodily removed, Agent."

"Derek." You caught his attention. "Hotch and Kate are down there."

He spun around. "That's my boss down there!"

"My orders are what they are." 

You scoffed at the recycled statement while Derek argued, "I don't give a damn what your orders are!"

"I get it, Agent, but we've been told by you" he gave you a glance "'Responders are the targets.' So, until the blast site is cleared, no one goes in."

Morgan looked back at you then back at the Captain with a renewed resolution, trying a different approach. "You're Marine Corps, right?" Warner didn't respond, looking down. "Right?"

"Please. Go back to the marshaling point."

"I'm not doing it." He pointed to the site. "I'm not just going to let my man lie down there like that."

As if on cue, Hotch screamed, "Someone! Damnit, we're here!" You nearly flinched at the sheer pain in his voice, and Derek certainly didn't look unaffected, either.

"'Never leave a man behind.' You do remember that, don't you?"

Hotch kept screaming as Morgan and Warner stared each other down. It seemed that he must've gotten to him, because within just a moment, he said, "Go."

Derek didn't waste another second, immediately running to you and grabbing onto your shoulders. "Y/N, are you alright?"

"I'm fine! I'm fine, it's Kate."

He nodded and then took off following with you trailing closely behind, but not before you gave Captain Warner a pointed glare.

When you got to Hotch, the kid was back, seemingly tending to Kate as Morgan explained, "They're not letting any ambulances down here until they clear the scene." He glanced at the kid like he just noticed he was there. "Kid, you've gotta get behind the barricades. Let's go." The kid didn't move. "Go!"

"Go, Sam." At Hotch's word, the kid got up and ran, but your attention was focused solely on Kate, checking her vitals.

"Talk to me. Can we carry her?" Morgan barely gave him time to respond. "Hotch, can we carry her?"

"No, I tried. Morgan—" he paused, intaking a shaky breath, "she's going to bleed to death if we don't get her out of here. We've got to do something."

Derek's phone ringing cut off whatever he was going to say. He picked it up immediately. "Garcia, I got Hotch and Y/N, but listen to me, you got to get somebody down here right away. You hear me? Right now." You didn't hear what Garcia said next, but it caused his head to snap up. "What? You're absolutely sure?" He glanced at you then to the kid who you realized never left.

The kid held his hands out like he was asking what you were waiting for, causing you to tilt your head, confused.

Morgan hung up the phone and then his next words shocked you. "Hotch. The kid. He's the bomber."

Your eyes went wide before instantly going to Hotch. "Are you okay to stay here?" you asked.

He didn't even think about it. "Go."

With that, you and Morgan took off running. The kid bolted, leaving you to chase after him.

Despite the heels on your feet (that luckily weren't stilettos) and obvious bruise to your side, you couldn't feel pain. All you feel was the pure adrenaline pumping through your veins. You hadn't been so ready to fight in ages. The anger coursing through your body was unparalleled.

This kid wasn't getting away with this, and you'd make sure of it.

You chased the kid down the street, Morgan ahead of you. An ambulance passed you while you ran, and you prayed it'd be heading Hotch's way.

You kept chasing after the kid, turning a corner and he was gone, but Morgan was already heading down the stairs for the subway, so you knew he was down there.

You ran down the stairs, skipping steps as you went, following Morgan's lead and pulling out your gun. Civilians filled the station, evacuating. "Out of the way!" you screamed, pushing past them.

"Move! Where'd he go? Where?" Some pointed straight ahead, so you kept running.

You got down to where the subway was, but by now, it was empty. You came to a stop next to Morgan, holding up your gun.

"Show your face, you son of a bitch!"

No one showed. You nodded to the train and panted, "Morgan, I'll take the back. You take the front."

Heaving, he nodded, going for the front. You entered the train with your gun held high, pointing it on either side of the door. You walked through the cart slowly, checking beheind yourself periodically to ensure the kid wouldn't sneak up on you.

You pushed open the door to the next cart warily. It was just as empty as the previous one. You went for the next cart. Nothing again. You met Morgan in the middle. "Nothing," you said.

"Me neither. But there's a door at the front. I'm thinking he could've hopped through there," he told you.

You nodded and followed him there, accepting his help and jumping down. Carefully, with your gun and flashlight in hand, you walked on the tracks, avoiding the power supply. You shouted, "We know you're in here, kid. Show your fucking face, you coward!"

A noise sounded, making you turn around to check it while Morgan continued forward. "You've got nowhere to run, man. You hear me? There's nothing down here for you."

"Is that all you see?" At the sound of the kid's voice, you spun around, moving your flashlight around. "Huh? Darkness?"

You caught up to Morgan, and then the kid showed himself. Your flashlight revealed his shoes lying on the ground while he slowly walked on the rail, balancing himself like this was a game. You cocked your gun. "You listen to me, you little shit. This is not a fucking game. Get your ass off the tracks and put your hands on top of your fucking head. Do it now."

When he failed to listen to you, Derek yelled, "Do it now!"

The kid did as you said, but not to listen to you. It was to mock you. "You will lose in the end," he said.

Derek moved forward. "Shut up. Shut your mouth."

"You wanna know why?" He continued on like he'd never said a word. "Because you fear what we embrace."

Before you could do anything, he took one foot off the track and put it on the third rail. "Get off the— no! No, no!" Derek and you were forced backward as the light blinded your eyes. Without even lifting your eyes up, you knew undoubtedly that the kid was dead.

He just killed himself right in front you.

"Damnit." You reached to run a hand through your hair but you were stopped by the stabbing pain in your ribs, suddenly reappearing. You hissed, "Ah, shit."

"Y/N?" Within a blink, Derek was in front of you. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm fi— fuck." Your knees buckled, but Morgan caught you, holding onto by your waist. When that caused another hiss, he switched his hold to your arms.

"I think you might've broken some ribs. How the hell didn't you notice this before?"

"I— it didn't feel this bad before."

Morgan cursed under his breath. "Your adrenaline is wearing off. We need to get you to a hospital."

"No, I'm o—" a sharp stab cut you off, making you grunt. "Fine. But what about Kate?" 

"We both saw that ambulance drive their way," he reasoned. "They're gonna be okay. Look, if we get back and they're still there, we can stay, alright?"

You thought over his proposal and eventually relented and let him lead you off the tracks, giving in to the pain. You just hoped that he was right, that they were okay.

Please let them be okay.

❧

You arrived at the hospital in record time, passing through the streets like light work. After receiving confirmation that Hotch and Kate were at Saint Barclays, he drove the two of you there, too, insisting that a doctor see you despite your equal insistence that you were fine.

Now, you sat on an ER bed. You had a few cuts here and there but nothing too deep; you were given sutures for one cut across your cheek. The doctor wasn't looking at you right now; she was looking at your chart, giving you time to glance around the triage room.

You weren't a big fan of hospitals, never were. They were never a source of good news, and every hospital you stepped into smelled the same, like bleach and chemicals. When you were younger, you were convinced that this was to cover up the smell of death.

That wasn't too far off.

The doctor pulled you out of your revierie, snapping the chart shut. "So, Ms. Y/L/N, I've ruled out the possibility of a collapsed lung, but you've broken 4 of your left true ribs," she informed you. "From what your partner has told me, you've over-exerted yourself, and thus exacerbated the issue."

"I'm a CIA officer and had to chase a suspect," was the only explanation you offered.

She deadpanned. "I understand that, Ms. Y/L/N, but you've just made your healing process ten time harder."

You gave her a short smile. "I've been through worse."

She looked at you for a few more seconds before she sighed, re-opening the chart book. "I can prescribe you some medication for the pain."

You declined perhaps a bit too quickly. "No, that's alright."

Slowly, she looked up at you, her eyes questioning. "No? Why not? I can imagine you're in a great deal of pain right now."

At her inquiry, you were reminded of someone else's interrogative questions. Hotch's voice filled your head, Why do you say it like that—say your name as if it's not your name?

Your mind travelled back to a time you weren't Y/N. There was a girl with a different name who wore your face, a girl you separated yourself from entirely. She didn't grow up thinking she'd have a future in law enforcement—she didn't even think she'd have a future at all.

She hung around the wrong crowd and picked up bad habits, habits like oxycodone and amphetamines. But you weren't her anymore.

You were 7 years sober.

You'd rather not explain all of this to the attending in front of you—you'd rather not explain it to anyone. Instead, you just said, "I have a high pain tolerance. I can handle it."

She stared at you warily, but otherwise, there wasn't much she could do but accept your decision. "I'd advise against that, but it is your choice."

You pursed your lips into what you hoped was a small smile. "It is."

She kept her persistent stare until she eventually gave up, leaving the makeshift room. You didn't wait long before you left, too, jumping off the table and pushing back the curtain. You walked through the halls in search of the tan-skinned man you came in with, avoiding looking anywhere but ahead of you.

Hospitals were unpredictacle.

You didn't like that.

You turned a corner, and as if you just had good luck, Derek was there, already walking your way. 

He raised a brow at you. "You all good, angel?" 

You fell into step beside him, letting him lead the way to wherever you were going and flashing him a flirtatious smile. "Never been better, muscles." It wasn't a total lie; the pain had mostly subsided, and you'd felt worse in your life.

Morgan didn't bat an eyelash. "Well, that's good because we need to get moving. The team's on the way."

At the mention of the BAU, your thoughts were re-directed. Without stopping, you glanced over at Derek and gave him a quick once-over. He seemed normal: he was flirting with you, no signs of dejection. So Hotch must've been alright. Still, though, you felt compelled to ask, "Hotchner and Joyner. Are they okay?"

If Derek noticed the small blip in your voice, he didn't say anything. You weren't sure if you even noticed it, either. "Hotch is fine, back to barking orders and being a drill sergeant. Kate's in surgery, though."

You couldn't explain the wave of calm that came over you at that moment. You couldn't explain why you even cared.

But you did.

You nodded in response and changed subjects. "Has anything happened since the first blast?"

"No. Nothing."

An exasperated sigh left you. "That doesn't make any sense. Something should've happened by now." You ran a hand through your hair, your gears turning. "I mean, why go through all this trouble just to hit a single SUV with a few agents? Why not wait until we were in our cars?"

"I don't know," he replied. "What I'm still stuck on is why the kid would stay knowing we'd figure him out."

"Yeah, why would he stay—" suddenly, you halted in your tracks, cutting yourself off as memories rushed to the forefront of your brain.

[Thank you for your input, Ms. Y/L/N. The Secretary of Defense is unavailable at the moment, so the Deputy Secretary will be fielding all defense matters for the moment. She happens to be in town, and she'd like to be briefed in person, if that's alright.]

Yes, I can do that. Just send me an address.

Then you heard the voices of Secret Service agents in your head: I'm sorry, but this hospital is on strict bypass.

"What? What is it?" Derek's voice shook you out of your reverie. You looked up to see him standing in front of you, a worried expression on his face. You would've laughed if it weren't so serious. He probably thought you had a concussion—and while you didn't, what you were going to say was worse than that.

"Derek," you started.

Your tone must've scared him because he stepped closer. "What?"

You paused, mulling over the details in your head. Secret Service was here. Someone important was in the building, someone like the Secretary of Defense. And that bomber just so happened to stick around until an ambulance showed up, taking Hotch and Kate straight here. 

Sam didn't wait until you were cars, and that wasn't a careless mistake. It wasn't because he was so excited that he couldn't wait. It was because that blast wasn't meant to kill you, not on impact.

It was meant to take you here.

When you made up your mind, you took a step closer to him and lowered your voice, not wanting to attract panic in spite of the fact that it'd happen, anyway. Your voice was rigid.

"I think there's a bomb in this hospital."

❧

After quickly explaining your theory to Derek, you parted ways; he went to go find the team while you took off to find the head of that Secret Service detail.

Any uneasiness you felt being in this hospital increased a tenfold, no longer because of the fact that it was a hospital but because it could blow any minute now. You knew you weren't scared, though—and maybe you should've been, but this was the job.

You found the SS soon enough, calling out to them, "Hey, men in black!"

Your volume turned heads, including theirs. The bald man stood up from where he was leaned over on a counter and greeted you first, leading you to believe he was in charge. "Ms. Y/L/N." So he knew who you were. That made this a lot easier.

You didn't waste any time. "The Secretary of Defense is in this hospital, isn't he?"

"Ma'am, I know you're high up on the ladder, but—"

You cut him off briskly, "There is a bomb in this building, and it's rigged to assassinate the Secretary." 

The agent whose name you didn't ask for stiffened but adapted quickly, ordering the agents behind him to hit the alarms all without looking away from you. "Where is it?" he then questioned.

"The ambulance my colleague drove in, I believe." The word colleague tasted wrong on your tongue, but you didn't have the time to dwell on it. "Is it already in the basement?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then you need to evac the building. You need to get the Secretary and everybody else out of here right now."

"We can't do that," he answered. "He's undergoing surgery as we speak."

You were sure that the next words to leave your mouth would be curses, but before you could even get them out, a band of rushed footsteps became audible from behind you. It didn't take you long to recognize who they belonged to.

The footsteps stopped where you were. You glanced to see the team surrounding you, Derek on your left and Hotch on your right. So he was alright. You held back a sigh of relief and kept your eyes off him, directing all your focus to the task at hand. 

Silently, Morgan handed you a Kevlar vest. You nodded to him in thanks and put it on while Hotch hurriedly interrogated, "The paramedic I came in with—do you have eyes on him?"

The Secret Service Agent briefly glanced at you, to which you nodded, prompting him to turn over a computer playing a live feed. 

"Is that a cell in his hands?"

Rossi pressed onto a mic on his chest. "Garcia, can you remote access the grid I'm in and jam all the frequencies?" She said something you couldn't hear and then he added, tone clipped, "There's a bomb in the basement of this building."

Garcia worked quickly, disrupting the satellite feeds in your location within seconds. You could tell she did this by paramedic's actions on the screen. "Look. He's coming back," Prentiss said. "He's going to detonate the bomb manually if he has to."

"Where did Morgan go?" At Hotch's abrupt words, you turned to your left but Derek was no longer there. He'd snuck off while you were paying attention to the feed, and you had no doubt as to where. 

His appearance on the computer screen confirmed your suspicions. You sighed, before tiredly voicing, "He went to find the ambulance."

Hotch's voice was incredulous. "Alone?"

Rossi didn't share Hotch's surprise. "Let's head down."

You were off before he even finished the sentence, trusting the Secret Service agents to do their jobs well enough while you all did yours. You removed your gun from your holster, holding it up and jogging through the now empty hallways with tunnel vision.

You barely noticed the others behind you until Hotch somehow got ahead of you. "He's going to the basement," he called out.

You think it was Emily that replied. "Stairs."

You pushed the door to the stairwell open and Hotch entered quickly, scanning the area with his gun as he moved. It was eerily silent, the only sound being the alarms in the distance and your footsteps rapidly hitting the stairs as you took them two at a time. 

None of you said a word.

By the time you reached the basement, the alarm was non-existent. Your loud footsteps became quieted, soundless with the precision only people like you could have. You could hear a pin drop. 

At the end of the hallway, you wordlessly split into two groups: you with Hotch and Rossi, and Prentiss with Reid.

Hotch led the way while you and Rossi covered him. Your bomber was sitting criss-crossed against the netted gate, gun tossed on the ground with a cellphone in one hand and a knife in the other. Fuck.

You could only pray that Morgan got out before that signal came back online.

You had your gun in the air, even though you knew what was gonna happen. You all did.

Rossi's voice cut through the air. "FBI."

The bomber didn't flinch, staring at the ground with a lifeless look in his eyes. He was a dead man. 

He raised the knife to his neck—and if you weren't with FBI agents right now, you would've shot his shaking hand and knocked that knife straight to the ground. You would've forced him to take accountability—perhaps not in a courtroom, but in a place that would still enforce a semblance of justice.

But you were with FBI agents. And Hotch reminded you of this as he spoke up, "Put it down. It's over."

Yes, it was. Because the coward slit his throat thereafter, and the knife clattered to the ground.

Slowly, you lowered your guns. You holstered yours, and then you were walking away. You didn't spare the body another glance. It wasn't a life lost.

Either way, he would've died. It just shouldn't have been on his terms.

Emily was behind you. She flipped her phone open and then you heard a sigh of relief. "Garcia just messaged me," she told you. "Morgan's okay."

Spencer and Rossi let out their own sighs while you muttered a small "Thank God" under your breath. You hadn't known Derek Morgan for long, but he was good, and he felt like a friend.

You didn't have many of those.

You got back to the floor you were on in little time, and everyone parted ways, likely going to rest. The night was over—this was over. You, on the other hand, still had some administrative work to do, starting with checking on the Secretary of Defense.

But before you did anything, you stood there. You stood there and watched the team trickle out of the area, everyone but Hotch. He was still down there.

You went to glance back to see if he was coming up but then thought better of it, choosing to walk away instead.

He's fine, you thought. He was fine.

And so were you.

❧

You got off the phone with the DOD, your last in a long line of phone calls, telling them that the threat had been eliminated as far as you were concerned. You would've been out of that hospital ASAP, but they asked you to stay there until the new Secret Service detail arrived, and you couldn't really say no.

The lack of action suddenly made you more aware of your surroundings. Your senses returned to you; the smell of bleach became more pungent, and the fluorescent lights seemed to just bounce off the white tile.

With nothing else to focus on, the pain in your side returned, too, but you were good at handling pain. It hurt to breathe, but the alternative was relapsing, and you'd come too far for that.

Normally, when you were craving drugs or just stressed, you'd find a drink. It wasn't the best coping mechanism, but it worked. Alcohol wasn't strong enough to hook you; it was just enough to sate you, to take your mind off the pills.

However, you were in a hospital, and none of that was around. So you went looking for the next best thing: coffee.

You found a mini coffee bar in a nearby waiting room, right next to a vending machine. It was one of the automatic ones that took capsules. The selection was pretty shitty, but you weren't exactly expecting premium Italian coffee, so you plopped a pod into the machine, anyway.

You waited for your coffee to brew in silence, listening to the sound of the machine whirring. The PA dinged in the background and footsteps were muffled. You had a habit of listening for those, for footsteps. Most times, like now, if you weren't preoccupied, you could detect them right away.

You sensed Hotch when he was 5 feet away. You could recognize his footsteps so easily, but that was the habit.

You told yourself it was the job.

Without turning around, you quietly greeted, "Agent Hotchner."

He returned your greeting, grabbing a styrofoam cup and going to stand next to you. "Y/N." His voice was as saccharine as the sugar you poured into your coffee.

 You hated that, and you hated what it implied.

The case was over. The threat was defeated. And now you were alone together with a conversation unfinished, a conversation you'd much rather not have.

To think that, when you last saw Hotch in Virginia, you were all for the game, the chase. But now it felt like the roles were reversed. This was different. He shouldn't be talking to me.

But he was.

"Yo—"

You cut him off, "How's Kate?" Low blow, Y/N. The breath of air he sucked in made you look up from the creamer to his face. His eyes were no longer on you; they were on the machine as it poured his coffee, but you understood. You could taste apology on your lips before you even said the words. "I'm sorry."

Hotch nodded, grabbing his coffee from the tray when it was finished brewing. "She wasn't in pain," he said. That's all there was to say, really. She wasn't in pain when she died, nor was she in pain when you found her.

Kate Joyner was dead the second that blast hit.

But you spoke none of this. You went to grab your cup, intending to walk away, but Hotch stopped you, placing his hand on your arm before you could fully turn away. You stopped yourself from intaking a sharp breath.

"You're avoiding me."

He said it so plainly, like you were talking about a case or the weather, like this was normal, like the two of you didn't see each other every other year at most, like you weren't you and he wasn't him. It made you want to screw your eyes shut, but you didn't. As if to prove a point, you turned yourself toward him fully, facing him head on.

"I'm not."

"You are."

Your eyes narrowed. "I'm not an unsub, Hotchner. I'm not gonna fold to this interrogation tactic."

"I met you as an unsub," he retorted.

"But I wasn't." You let out a little scoff, half amused, half annoyed. "How would you know if I was avoiding you? You didn't know me then, and you don't know me now."

"But I want to."

Whatever reply you were expecting, it wasn't that. Your breath got caught in your throat. His voice was still so soft, a harsh contrast to the cuts littered across his face. He took a step closer to you. "I want to know you."

You blinked once in shock, almost like you were checking if you were hallucinating, but when your eyes opened, he was still there. When you blinked a second time, it was in realization.

He's just been told Kate's dead, and now whatever pain meds they gave him are kicking in.

Reality slapped you across the face. You took a step back, slowly shaking your head. "You don't want to know me, Hotchner."

He took another step forward. "I do."

Another step back. "You don't." You shook your head again, emphasizing your point. "You really don't."

"Y/N—"

The shrill sound of your ringtone cut him off, and you'd never been so grateful. You picked it up immediately. "Y/L/N." The lady on the other end got to it quick; all you had to do was agree. "Okay, I'll be there momentarily. Thanks."

You hung up your cell, snapping it shut. You gave Hotch a glance before you were looking away, letting your eyes wander everywhere else. "That was the DOD. Secret Service is here. I have to go check out with them." You didn't let him get a word in. "I'll see you around, Agent Hotchner."

And then, just like every other time Aaron Hotchner had ever been in your proximity, you were leaving. In his grasp one second, in the mist in the next.

He watched you walk away wordlessly, not knowing when he'd see you again, words he was going to say dying on his lips.

And then you were gone.

He let out a long sigh, and then looked to his coffee on the mini table, spotting a similar one right next to it. 

You left your coffee there, he realized.

With all the other things you left, too.

5. The gavel and the gun

Southbridge, Virginia, 2008

You didn't find yourself down in Virginia too often, not unless you were on business, but Derek assured you that tonight was about everything but that.

"I'm breaking you out of your shell, angel," he said, making a turn on Curtis Drive. "You need to get out more."

You snorted. "One, I don't have a shell. Two, I am literally out so much that my apartment collects dust, and three," you held up a third finger, despite his close attention to the road, "that's bullshit. You just want me to score you some hot chicks."

He let out a burly laugh, something you'd gotten used to after hanging out with him. "Baby, I don't need you to pick anyone up for me. I can do that all on my own."

"What, are you afraid that I'll steal all your girls, Morgan?"

His reply was swift. "Couldn't do that if you tried, Y/N/N. You're still hung up on Hotch."

Your jaw nearly fell, but you were used to this banter you had. You quipped back, "Please, the only one hung up on anyone here is you. You want Garcia."

He choked on his own spit, making you throw your head back and laugh. He didn't see that one coming.

You caught onto Derek's feelings for Garcia early on, but they became especially prominent when he was buzzed one night and told you she was the one on call with him when he drove that ambulance into the field.

That was six months ago. And now, you were in Derek Morgan's car, trying to coax him into asking out a woman with whom he violated many HR regulations.

Derek clearly didn't have a response which only made you laugh harder. You patted his back while he recovered. "Caaaaareful, muscles. I don't want to die on my way to a bar. I'm literally in the CIA—that would be so heavily anti-climactic."

The only thing he heard in that sentence was his nickname, snapping out of his stupor. "Okay, this 'muscles' thing is starting to feel less like a compliment and more condescending." 

You huffed out a little chuckle as he put the car in park. "And 'angel' isn't?"

He furrowed his brows, opening his door. "You love that name."

You copied his movements, getting out of the car before pointedly looking at him. "Yeah, when the words 'of death' follow it."

He snorted. "Cryptic." He held his arm out for you, to which you obliged, wrapping yours in his before walking into the estabishment with him.

You would've responded and teased him further had you not been cut off by an oddly familiar voice. "Morgan!" Your head snapped to a table where not only the object of your teasing stood, but all of their crime-fighting friends. From afar, you watched Penelope's eyes widen behind her glasses. Then she squealed, "And Y/N!" 

To her credit, she did look just the slightest bit embarrassed when people turned to stare at her.

She still wasn't used to you. And God, was that comical.

A smirk crawled onto your face as you walked to their table, glancing at Derek and recalling your earlier quip. "Ooh, careful, Morgan. Your girl's a fan. I might just take her."

For a guy that nearly died in the car at the mention of her, he didn't seem all that startled. In fact, a smirk of his own graced his face. "I doubt you'll be focused on Penelope tonight, angel."

Your brows pinched together, but before you could question what he meant, you reached the table. JJ and Emily greeted you with wide smiles, the latter pulling you in for a hug that was surprising but not unwelcome. Garcia followed right behind her, hesitantly wrapping her arms around you. You cleared this hesitancy by embracing her tightly. Goodness, she's precious.

Over her shoulder, you mouthed to Morgan, Don't fuck it up.

When you let her go, Rossi tipped his glass at you while Reid just gave you an awkward wave. For his benefit, you resisted the urge to laugh.

You spun back around to flash a smug smile at Morgan, eager for him to see that you weren't fazed by this little surprise he so clearly wanted to jar you with, but then your eyes locked with a darker pair and you realized, oh. They weren't the surprise.

He was.

"Y/N."

What was this feeling? Winded? Was it— breathless? You couldn't describe it; you'd only felt it a few times in life, and you didn't know why you felt it right now. Eventually, you realized you had to answer. 

"Hotchner."

You were going to fucking strangle Derek Morgan.

❧

If it wasn't considered rude and you weren't surrounded by a horde of profilers, you would've been texting Derek furiously. It didn't help that the only spot left at the table was next to the man you'd be texting about.

Derek was fun to party with—you went out with him all the time—but whenever he invited you out with the rest of the BAU, you politely declined and came up with whatever excuse was available. Clearly, he caught on to the reason.

You've been avoiding me.

And maybe that was true.

A gasp broke you out of your thoughts. You looked over to see Penelope jumping out of her seat. "Oh, my god, I love this song. Derek, get up right now, we're going to dance," she all but demanded.

It's then that you noticed that JJ and Emily had already beat them to the dance floor, and Spencer was being talked up by some girl at the bar. 

No— "Alright, alright, calm down, mama, I'm coming." You glared daggers at him as he flashed you a sly grin, then he wrapped an arm around Penelope and left. He left you alone with Hotch and Rossi.

At least Rossi's still here— "You know, I think I'm going to get another drink." You're kidding.

Apparently, he was not kidding. Rossi got up, and you could've sworn you saw him wink at Hotch before he left for the bar.

And then there were two.

Fuck.

Now that the others were all gone, you felt his proximity much more prominently. If you moved just the slightest bit, your knees would touch. You hated that the thought even crossed your mind.

But you couldn't leave. If you left, then it'd be obvious that you were, in fact, avoiding him, and you didn't want it to be obvious. It shouldn't have been obvious because there was nothing there to avoid; the two of you were nothing, so you had no reason to avoid him.

You were nothing.

Even if, for a second, you might've felt something.

"What's wrong?" His voice cut into the tension like it was butter. But the question didn't sound like concern; if you didn't know any better, you'd say it was almost teasing. 

You finally looked at him, turning your head and realizing he was closer than you thought. Close enough to see the specks of green in his eyes and the locks of hair falling over his face. Close enough that you could push those locks back if you wanted to. And you wanted to. 

But you didn't.

You schooled your expression and raised a brow, causing him to elaborate, "You were much more flirtatious when we didn't know each other."

Of course, I was, is what you wanted to say. Of course, you were; that was before whatever happened in D.C., before you danced with him and before you let him down. Before reality came knocking and showed him that you were polar opposites, that he was a man of the gavel and you were a woman of the gun. Before he confronted you. Before he told you that he wanted to know you.

So, of course. Of course, I was. Because what the hell was I supposed to do with that?

That's what you wanted to say, but you didn't. Instead, you countered, "Why do you assume something's wrong? Maybe I've just lost interest in our game."

Hotch looked at you like he knew that was a load of bull. He looked you up and down like he could see right through you, and you hated that, because if he looked hard enough, he just might. You thought, for a second, he'd drop it, but then he came back harder. "Is that because you're not winning?"

Taken aback, you laughed to hide how astounded you were, looking away as you deflected, "You must've been one hell of a lawyer, Agent Hotchner." 

He let you re-route the conversation, humming. "I was good at my field," he admitted, pausing briefly. "I actually got my nickname while I was working at the DA's office, Hotch."

"Oh?" you uttered, disinterest shining through your voice that you hoped he'd pick up on.

"Yeah. And now it's what everybody calls me." Another pause. "Everybody but you."

You turned back to him. Clearly, that's what he wanted from you with that statement. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting on you for something—you just didn't know what. "You dwell on what I call you?"

He shrugged like he was unbothered. "It's just an observation. You refer to everyone using their first name, even Kate. At one point, I think you even said our names consecutively. Agent Hotchner and then Kate."

Shit, you didn't remember that, but he was probably right. It must've been a blip, you must not have been paying attention. Still, you shrugged right back at him. "I don't put that much thought into it."

He continued like you'd never said anything. "You said my name after the blast." You stiffened. "Repeatedly. And then, once we were in the hospital, you were back to formality."

You forced a smile onto your face in attempts to mask the discomfort. "So?" you said. Like you weren't affected. Like you weren't surprised that he noticed or equally surprised that he was calling you out on it.

"So," he repeated. "What's holding you back from saying my name?"

Damnit, he had you. He had you, and he knew it. You knew he knew it based on the fire in his eyes, fire with intent to burn.

But you had more. 

You had walked through fire; you were forged in fire, so this was a challenge you'd accept.

You leaned in closer, just until your mouth was next to his ear. He inhaled sharply. Good. Slowly, you breathed, "What's in a name... Hotchner?"

When you leaned back, you were met with a thrown-off-Hotch, but you didn't stick around to savour the image. You hopped off your barstool and left the table, opting to go dance with Emily and JJ as opposed to let him have the last word.

If you had it your way, he wouldn't get another word in for the rest of the night.

If only you could always have it your way.

❧

You danced with the girls the rest of the night, Hotch forgotten. The others were elsewhere, off on their own. They were good company, and it was nice to hang out with other women. Eventually, the dancing wore them out and they decided it was time to head out, making sure to exchange numbers with you and add you to their group chat before they bid you farewell.

Something told you they were a little more than friends, but you weren't sure if they even knew that.

Alone, you decided to get off the dance floor, making your way over to the bar to text Derek. It was getting late; the bar would close soon, and you wanted to head home. But when you opened your phone, you already had a message from him—timestamped an hour ago. Furrowing your brows, you clicked on it.

Sorry, angel, but Pen opened a window for me and I had to take it.

If you know what I mean ;)

Please don't kill me. I'll send a car for you when you're ready.

Audibly, you groaned, closing your eyes in exhaustion. Of course, he shot his shot with Garcia on the night he's meant to drive you home. And you couldn't even be that mad about it. 

You sighed, accepting it and going to open your Uber app when a voice queried from behind you, "Are you alright?"

Fuckkkkkk, you were really hoping he left by now. Reluctantly, you turned around, facing Hotch. "Yeah, Derek was my ride home, but he um," you paused, wiping a hand across your face, "he got lucky."

"With Garcia?"

You laughed at how transparent it was and how quick he, their boss, was to get it. "Yeah, so I'm just gonna catch an Uber home."

"Don't be ridiculous; I'll drive you home." You were shocked at how quickly he shot you down, looking up at him to see he was being totally serious.

"No, you are being ridiculous. I live all the way in Washington."

He shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing, like you were friends and his offer was normal. "I live in Arlington—it's not out of the way. Besides, would you rather pay for an hour-long car ride or have me drive you for free?" 

Honestly, you'd rather do many things besides let Hotch drive you home for an hour, so you excused, "I'm good for the money."

He rolled his eyes. "It's 1AM, Y/N; I'm not gonna let you take an Uber home." He nodded to the exit. "Come on, let's go."

Now you rolled your eyes. He'd made up his mind, despite your disapproval. Yet you still glanced down at your phone, debating it. You supposed that he was better than a total stranger, and it was only an hour.

Maybe you were tired and your judgement was impaired, but for some reason, you obliged. "Fine."

You didn't know if it was a trick of light, but for a second there, it looked like Hotch's lips quirked upward.

For a second.

❧

The car ride was silent if not for the music drumming lowly in the background. You didn't crack any jokes or say anything playful or innapropriate; you were a silence filler, you hated silence, but you'd rather sit in silence than talk to Aaron Hotchner any longer than you had to.

His presence was already pushing it.

If Hotch noticed how quiet you were, which he likely did, then he didn't comment on it. You were sure that he was profiling you silently, though, the same way you were silently profiling him.

He wasn't driving his official government vehicle, but it was still a black SUV. Not a Tahoe, though; it was an Escalade. It wasn't too proud or boastful but it wasn't too unassuming, either. Expensive but not too much of a head-turner.

A glance to the back displayed a car seat. You suspected that his son was with his ex-wife, since he was here at one in the morning and not at home. He was a stable father, and you could tell.

You knew what instability looked like.

The CD he had in when you got into the car was the White Album, Beatles. That, you could've guessed easily. It fit.

The car was clean. It smelled like peppermint and his cologne. If you opened the glove box, you'd probably find a gun. He carried two on his person while working, so he probably had one in here and then another at his place.

Prepared.

But what neither of you were prepared for was the sudden downpour of rain.

Hotch turned on his windshield wipers, then you saw a flash of white followed by a loud clap of thunder. He cursed under his breath, and you then cursed yourself for finding it attractive. "It's a storm."

"I can see that."

He ignored your quip. "Well, we're already in Arlington. My apartment is two minutes away—we could stop there until it's clear."

You held back a sigh. Regardless of your feelings, it was unsafe to drive in this weather. That's why you agreed. "Okay."

He wasn't lying about being two minutes away. With in no time, you were in front of his complex. Running inside barely did anything; you were drenched after being outside for maybe ten seconds.

The thunder was loud and continuous; the only place you didn't hear it was in the elevator. Then it returned once you were out, walking through the halls to his apartment.

You were on your phone while he unlocked the door, checking the weather app. This time you couldn't repress the sigh that left you. "Forecast says this storm's going all night."

"Oh." He opened the door, holding it open for you. "Well, you can stay the night." What? "I'll drive you home first thing in the morning."

"Um—"

He gestured to his living room, suggesting, "I'll take the couch. You can have the bed." Well, it wasn't really a suggestion, and you didn't have much of a choice, either.

So you nodded. He said something about going to change and fetch you clothes, and then you were alone in Aaron Hotchner's foyer.

You. In his apartment.

You thought back to when you met him, in an interrogation room as he accused you of being a serial killer. And you were a killer, just not that kind. Yet, now, he willingly had you, a gun for the government, in his apartment. This was the same Aaron Hotchner who prosecuted criminals, who hunted down evil, and believed in justice and court of law. The same Aaron Hotchner who frowned upon your unseriousness and grey morals. And he was also the same Aaron Hotchner that stood next to you in a hospital waiting room and told you he wanted to know you.

God, it was ironic. Him wanting to know you. You didn't know if he understood what that meant, what that entailed. 

He was the gavel, and you were the gun.

And that was that.

He walked back into the room after a good three minutes, changed into attire more informal than you'd ever seen him. He wore a button-down and jeans to the bar, but you didn't imagine you'd ever see him in sweats.

"Bathroom's on the left," he told you, pointing to it. "Feel free to use the shower. I left some clothes on the bed for you, and if you need anything, I'll be out here."

You nodded, saying a quiet "thanks" before you walked past him to his room. You'd skip the shower; you didn't have any underwear for that.

Closing the door, you took a moment to scan his room. Bed in the middle, navy blue sheets. Window facing the door, dark red curtains covering them. There was a closet to the side, likely filled with suits, then a dresser across from the bed for ties and everything else.

There were two nightstands on either side of the bed, a frame on one. When you got closer, you saw it was a picture of a little boy with a grin so wide that it brought a smile to your face. 

On the bed, Hotch left you a pair of grey jogging pants and a worn blue hoodie with George Washington University painted on in chipped white in the middle. You changed out of your wet dress, and all hesitation for wearing Hotch's clothes went out the door the second you put on his hoodie.

The sweatpants were just as comfortable, despite having to pull the drawstrings immensely far. You could fall asleep like this no problem, but then just as you went for the bed, the light cut out, drowning you in darkness.

You're kidding me.

There was a knock on the bedroom door soon after. You weren't sure if you could find it without stumbling or knocking something over, so you just shouted, "Come in."

Hotch's head poked in, illuminating the room with the flashlight on his phone. "It's the whole neighbourhood. Do you want a candle?"

Yes, I do. You had a thing about sleeping in the dark, but like hell if you were gonna tell him that. A CIA agent, afraid of the dark—you weren't telling anybody that. "No, I'm good, but um," why am I stammering? "Could I get some water, please?"

"Yes, of course." Hotch was quick to leave the room for what you requested, and you were quick to follow him. He was the one with the flashlight.

His kitchen was barely visible, but you caught a glimpse of a few drawings on the fridge. When he lit a candle and placed it on the counter, you saw the the drawings were finger paintings, one of a whole child's hand. Again, you couldn't stop the corners of your lips from curving upwards.

Aaron Hotchner. You'd seen the prosecutor, the profiler, the unit chief, and now the father.

"Here." Hotch's voice cut through your thoughts as he handed you a glass of water. You didn't even hear when he turned the tap on.

You wordlessly took the water, thanking him with a nod. He stood there as you took a sip, watching you with a gaze that felt scrutinizing but probably wasn't. He was good at hiding what he was thinking, but you could still tell that he was thinking, nonetheless.

In a split-second decision, you lost the battle with yourself not to engage in conversation. "What? Did you poison this?"

He ignored you, like always, and questioned, "Are you afraid of the dark?"

You just barely stopped yourself from choking, masking your cough with a chuckle. "What?" How the fuck did he guess that?

Vaguely, he added, "You seem like the type."

"Oh, 'I seem like the type?'" you echoed. "Is that your normal-person way of saying 'it fits with my profile?'"

He shrugged. "More or less."

Another chuckle left you, this time unforced. You were wondering if he was drinking before you and Derek showed up. This confidence and nonchalance was new, but amusing. Maybe you had one too many drinks, too, or maybe something about this version of Aaron was drawing you in, but you indulged him. "Okay, Hotchner. Give me my profile."

He paused, looking at you like he was debating if you really meant it but you saw the moment he made up his mind, decision flashing through his eyes. He gave you a once-over, but not because he needed to; you had a feeling this profile had been brewing for a while now.

"You're a control freak," he started. "This doesn't just shine through in your work—it also appears in your day-to-day life, like your overwhelming need to fill silence or dislike for the dark. This comes from a period of your life when you weren't in control, and now you have to control every situation you encounter. You come off as easygoing, but in reality, you're closed off. You hide behind jokes and arrogance because you don't want people to know the real you, but every once in a while, she reveals herself. She cares, but you can't have that be used against you, so you pretend you don't. You don't have many friends because that opens doors, and you are afraid of what is behind them. That is why, even as you stand in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, you still refuse to say my name. It's a defense mechanism, a way for you to create distance because, as much as you deny it, you feel something."

Somewhere in his explanation, he got closer to you. He never broke eye contact, not once. He stared at you like you were a puzzle he was waiting to solve, and he had too many pieces. You suddenly wished you'd never asked.

You intook a deep breath. "Ho—"

He cut you off, voice now just above a whisper. "What are you hiding from, Y/N?"

What am I hiding from?

Your eyes involuntarily darted down to his lips, and he caught it. He took another step closer, and you let him. What am I hiding from?

Your breath was shaky as Hotch leaned down, resting his forehead against yours. One movement and your lips would touch. You wondered what it'd feel like. To kiss him. To stop hiding. 

What are you hiding from, Y/N?

You leaned in, and then just before your lips met his, the lights turned back on.

Just like that, you pulled away, the sound of your racing heart concealed by the sound of the heater kicking back on. "I should— I should get back to bed now." You kept your eyes on the tile.

"Y/N—"

"Um, thank you for the water—"

"Y/N."

Finally, you looked up at him, concern and confusion swimming in his eyes, and you understood it. One second, you were on the verge of kissing, and now you were on the verge of tears. You didn't understand it, either.

But this, whatever it was, it couldn't happen. This was a lapse of your judgement. He was Aaron Hotchner, the prosecutor, the profiler, the unit chief, and the father: the gavel. You were Y/N Y/L/N, the hacker, the director, the addict, and the killer: the gun. 

This wasn't gonna happen.

So you loaded a round into the chamber, put your finger on the trigger, and took the safety off. Then you aimed it at yourself and fired, "You're a good man, Aaron." Too good for me.

You think he was too shocked by his own name, and that's why he let you walk away.

And as you closed his bedroom door, you had a feeling that it wasn't the only door you just closed.

6. A lie is the truth (link)

taglist: @flow33didontsmoke

extra a/n: guys i'm so mad ab this block limit and how this can't be one part but wtv!!

[spookykoolkat]

summer breeze | eddie munson 18+

wrote a drabble cus im just thinking about drugdealer!eddie at a party (ones that hes tired of going to) to sell and make money, but you take him completely off of his game once he notices you.

drugdealer!eddie x plus sized!fem!reader

warnings: 18+ only! minors do not interact or get BLOCKED. pwp (sorta), eddie and reader are both in their early twenties (eddie is a year or two older than reader), flirting, p in v (protected pls wrap it up!), fingering, mentions of oral (fem receiving), descriptions of feminine fat bodies, itsyyy bit of body issues (reader isn't insecure just aware of her body), very light choking if you squint, dirty talk (i think hes filthy here), body worship, use of pretty girl, daddy, baby, sweetheart, etc lmk if i missed something.

please do not forget to read and educate yourself on the genocide in gaza! please do your daily clicks and donate to families in need for sudan, congo and palestine + more. https://arab.org/ scroll down on my page for resources and posts about palestine! it will always be free palestine and boycotting the show stranger things as there are three raging zionists on set! no longer taking requests for stranger things or tlou!

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i definitely see eddie munson being the one that's invited to the party to make money, find customers, manage to provide the entire party with weed and other drugs people wanted. maybe he's not the most fun, given he was burnt out after his teen years from doing crazy shit like trying pills and psychedelics to skipping class to drive two towns over, drinking and partying to make up for a life time.

he's not there to necessarily party. he's there to make money, drink, and observe. he doesn't even really miss the partying, or the people. since he was the plug, it was only ever about business. how much can someone get, what can they get, for what price, thanks, have a good night. he didn't get much socialization done in his life right now, so his best bet was to just watch.

he took his place on the couch, somewhere in the clouded area of the living room of whoever's house he's in right now. it was almost deja vu for him.

eddie would be SUCH an observer. quiet, listening and watching to everyone and everything since he was always in the corner unless he was needed. so when his eyes scanned the room after taking a puff of his blunt, it wasn't odd that his eyes latched onto you first.

you were wearing your usual, tube top, fishnet and jean shorts that rode up your ass and hugged the dips of your hips and waist. i think eddie tried to stop looking at you, especially when you saw him staring from your spot where you poured yourself another drink. but even you catching him didn't make him have any shame.

he was checking you out unabashedly. he was staring at the way your tits squeezed against the fabric of the tube top, how your tummy poked out of your shorts because they squeezed into your curves, how the fishnets had holes in some spots on your legs probably from stretching over the width of your thighs.

i think eddie would definitely try to make a move on you, his confidence wasn't lost on him, but he would wait. and while he would wait, he would think about touching you, talking to you, maybe even talking you through it.

he was a freak.

he waited until you finally decided to dance with a few of your friends, getting up from his spot and mixing in between the bodies to get next to you. eddie wasn't a dancer. not in these settings, even he surprised himself.

the obsession was mutual. your hands couldn't stop touching him as you two danced, whispering little things in each other's ears.

"you're really fucking pretty, you know that? like, insanely pretty. i couldn't stop looking at you from across the room." his voice was all you heard even when the music tried to drown it out, he was the only one you could listen to.

"eddie right?" you asked in his ear and your voice was even sweeter than he thought. he just nodded and let his hands fall onto your hips.

"you think i'm pretty?" you asked, your eyes fluttering up at him and biting your lip.

eddie only put his hands on your waist and squeezed, pulling you into him and smiling as you both danced together. putting your hands on his chest as he moved his hands to the lower part of your back and dipping his finger tips into your shorts, he leaned down and whispered in your ear,

"more than pretty. can't even focus on my job when you're right there in front of me just begging for me to come and take you away."

your eyes flutters again, this time with your lips parted and small hitch in your throat.

it was the same expression you had that night, upstairs in the guest room as everyone partied below you when he pushed his fingers inside of your heat.

"oh, ooh baby," he would say as he watched your cunt suck his fingers in, coating him in your juices and making a mess over his hand.

"i-i'm, eddie, oh my god eddie," you groaned, jean shorts discarded and panties moved to the side as he played with your cunt.

his hands ripped the fishnets between your thighs, letting his fingers spread the thick of your cunt and press his finger pads onto the glistening pearl that made you flutter your eyes shut.

it was the same expression you gave when he pushed his length into your sopping heat, and grabbed onto every inch of skin he could. once he entered you after making you cum on his fingers, he got eager.

eddie pulled your top down and let your tits free, becoming even more obsessed you might end up having to put a restraining order on him. it turned out, eddie was a tit man. he played with your tits as he slid in and out of you, squeezing your pebbled nipples and teasing them. sucking on his fingers just to play with your nipples, grabbing your tits and pushing them together to watch them bounce as he fucked you.

he was in love.

you didn't know eddie much, but he took his time with you. even when the party seemed to get even more rowdy, he only fucked into you harder. his hips snapping against your thighs, now calves on his shoulders as he quickly grabbed a pillow and slid it under the small of your back.

"my fucking god, sweetheart, look at you," he said, slipping back into you and adding a stretch that added to your pleasure, "even fuckin' prettier like this, you know that? goddamn, i'm gonna fucking get addicted to this pussy,"

the wind had been knocked out of you, breathless and scrambling for something to say but without missing a beat eddie ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed your ankles, spreading your legs wide beside him to see you open for him.

"i, i, daddy please, i can't, too much, can't breathe," you could feel his cock in your throat, punching into you and making your legs twitch at his lace.

"just like that, pretty girl, hold yourself open like that, be good for daddy." he groaned, sitting on his knees to slide back into your gaping hole as you placed your hands on the back of your thighs.

"there we go, so fuckin' good, so pretty," he whispered to himself, watching as tears ruined your perfect makeup and sweat collected on your forehead and chest. you were ruined, aching and throbbing, still begging for him even when he was giving you what you wanted.

"please, please, so fucking good s' so fucking big," you said, out of breath as he moved to your liking.

he couldn't fuck you like that for long, not when he was watching the weight of your tits bounce and move to the rhythm of his thrusts, not when you begged for him, not when he looked at the way your legs pressed against your stomach that was so soft and round for him—now becoming his favorite part to touch as he lifts himself from his knees and putting his weight into your waist.

he got a good grip like this, you thought, feeling how his hands molded into the skin you bashed for so long just to fuck you deeper and more relentlessly.

it was when someone knocked on the door, asking for eddie, (after your second orgasm) when he decided to flip the two of you over so that his back was now against the random headboard of the bed and your thighs sat on top of his.

you were positioned at his tip, most of him sliding out after your orgasm pushed him out. you couldn't help but feel yourself drip onto his length as you looked at the state of him, hearing the man call for his friend outside of the door, and watching as eddie got lost in your curves and softness.

"fucking hell. goddamnit, look at you," he breathed, hands moving all over you, "this will never leave my mind. i'm telling you right now. gonna be thinking about this for fucking ever, thinking about this pretty fucking body on me,"

he was touching everything, all over you, squeezing parts of you you'd never though you'd let anyone see. kissing the stretch marks and moles and the extra flab of your arms and leaning you back to kiss the width of your tummy.

"sit down on me, baby, please, let me have it, let daddy have it, i've been real good for you, baby," he begged, whined, pressing the side of his face into your tits and gently suckling on the skin.

he was growing tiresome, feeling your hole clench around his weeping, red tip that ached for you. eddie didn't even realize he could throb this hard for anyone, or that he even wanted anyone as bad as he wanted you when he saw you. he didn't even know he could last as long as he did, not with you being right in front of him begging for him to fuck you.

you were beautiful, you had something about you that he couldn't take his eyes off of, something he knew he wasn't going to stop thinking about even if he tried.

"but, they're asking for you," you whimpered, fingers dragging through eddie's hair and fingernails scraping his scalp as he groped your tits and sucked on them. "the party, you have customers,"

he leaves kisses when he speaks again.

"the fuck does that matter, hm? as far as i'm concerned," he said and leaned back, watching the way your cunt looked so he could remember every detail. how juicy your cunt was, how he could palm it and rub your clit at the same time, how well your cunt wrapped around his cock when he gave everything for you to take,

"i got the prettiest, juiciest fucking pussy i've ever had in my fuckin' life right here about to sit on my cock, you think i'm gonna stop trying to make you cum so i can get a 20 dollar bill?" he scoffed, "absolutely fuckin' not. fuck that party. now let me fuck that pretty cunt baby, please, let me feel it again,"

he whimpered when he met your eyes, desperation for a nut especially like this, and you melted. you clenched around his tip and he winced as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. you were gasping at this point, trying to fight for air while you let your cunt take all of him until your clit was pressed against his thatch of hair.

"oh fuck, FUCK, fuck baby," he practically yelled, throwing his head back against the headboard and you couldn't help yourself. his hands were gripping your asscheeks so hard they left hand prints, pulling and spreading them apart just to leave slaps to imagine how your ass would jiggle with it.

it left him moaning even more.

your lips attached to his neck and kissed everywhere you could, licking his pale skin and sucking on his neck and chest. you left hickies where you could. the soberness in you wanted him to remember this, to be looked at so people can know someone fucked him this good and it was you.

the drunk in you just wanted to claim him as yours. let everyone know he was fucking you. and only you. or so you convinced yourself to think.

as you buried your face into his neck and suckled and licked, your cunt clenched around him and slowly you lifted your hips up, just to slam them back down and make lewd noises fill the room. his moaning was turning you on even more, knowing his was sounding fucked out like this because of you.

"eddie, yo what the fuck? i'm tryin' to get some weed man! come on!" the obnoxious voice was drowned out by eddie's moans and whimpers as you decided to speed your bouncing up.

you did it for a hot minute, rolling your hips and bouncing your ass on your knees as you took him in with every lift of your hips. he was so much more filling this way, so much more bigger and reaching places it felt like was your stomach.

"eddie, e-eddie, p-p-please, eddie," you were crying into his neck when you whined and it only made him release a guttural groan as he quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your body down to his.

"eddie, what, wh-" you tried as he fixed positions, planting his feet and raising his hips before continuously slamming up into your cunt.

"oh, oh, oh my, f-fucking, mmphf, my," you really tried, to make sense of what he was doing until your mind went blank, until you felt the head of his pink cock hitting your cervix over and over again until it began to mix pleasure with pain.

it was delicious, it was everything, and yet the man was still at the door. "eddie, eddie," you moaned, sort of forgetting about everything else but the man ramming into your sore hole, you corrected yourself quickly as he fucked you harder, "daddy!"

"woah, hey, are you, are you fucking in there?? eddie!!! my man!!" the man cheered through the door but to you it was muffled.

you couldn't hear anything but the messiness of your cunt, the squelching, the groaning and crying, the moaning and whimpering, his words making you tighten around him.

"take that fucking dick, baby, take what daddy's giving you, yeah?" he growled in your ear as he kept his pace up, your tears hitting his shoulders and your whines being muffled by his chest.

"i know baby, you're taking me so well, being so good, feel so fucking good,"

"cmon baby, let me have another one, cum again for daddy,"

"next time i'm gonna bury my fucking face between those thighs and let your ride my tongue, just wanna taste my pretty girl the right way," he was breathless, and listening to you cry from his words and beg after every sweet nothing he couldn't hold it anymore.

"get it man!" again. eddie was almost getting pissed off. actually. he was pissed off.

this random man was able to hear the way you sounded just for eddie, the way you called for him and said his name, the way you cried when his cock hit your spot over and over again in this angle.

"get the fuck out of here, fuckface!" eddie screamed angrily away from your ear, only making you clench harder as he then flipped you to lay on your side.

his cock was still inside of you, only now he laid behind you in the same position and lifted your leg by the thickness of your thigh and held it there as he lifted his thigh and slipped further inside of you.

"m' the only one that should hear you like this, not him, nobody else. look at that," he says in your ear as he uses his other hand to point your head downwards to see the way his cock slammed into your cunt over and over again, barely being able to see it over your tummy, "see how she's crying for me? god i wish you could fuckin' see yourself, how fuckin' pretty you are,"

"daddy, daddy, fuck, fuck me, fuck my pussy please, make me feel good," you managed to get out as he moved his hand from your hair to your throat, forcing you to throw your head back against his.

eddie puts his chin right at the top of your head, somehow seemingly bigger than you and crowding you as he kept his pace.

"touch yourself, princess, touch that pretty little clit for daddy, daddy's gonna make you cum all over his big fucking cock, how's that sound, pretty girl? you like that?" he asks, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

it only grows deeper when he sees your weak hand move to your messy cunt, finding your clit and rubbing firm circles into her. eddie can feel you clench and drip onto him, covering his cock in your cum and juices as you reach your climax for the third time.

you didn't know eddie. he didn't really know you. but in this moment, holding you to his chest as you leaves kisses in your hair and on your cheek sweetly, fucking you roughly and messily, palm still at your throat.

you were crying by now, tears slipping down just for eddie to dry them back up.

"i know, i can feel you baby, can feel you gettin' close for me," he boasts, his own thrusts getting sloppy and missing the rhythm as he struggles to hold his own release back.

"so good, feels so good daddy," you gasped, voice dry and strained, "gonna make, fuck fuck, baby i can't, too much,"

"uh-uh baby, what were you gonna say? gonna make you what? cum? gonna make this pretty little cunt cum all over my cock again?" eddie's balls pulled taut, fighting back his orgasm until you clenched hard one last time and yelled out.

"yes! yes! yes! make me cum, you're making me cum, i'm cumming, daddy please," you shouted, body shaking in his hold as you move your hands to grab at his wrist and try to wriggle out of his grasp, his thrusts becoming too much too fast.

"oh fuck, oh fuck, baby, fuck," he whimpered, wincing and releasing a string of moans and groans as he cums in the condom; desperately wishing he could've painted your walls. you were still shaking in his grasp, whimpering when eddie pulls out of you and moves his hands to fix your hair.

eddie moves you to lay on your back as he sits up on one arm and admires you, the lipstick smeared and eyeshadow messy, eyeliner running and your face makeup staining whatever pillows were there.

eddie wasn't the type to think he was going to call back. thats for sure. he wasn't a dating man, a 'see you more than once in a year' man. eddie was confused for the most part, not knowing where this was gonna go next depending how he went about this last part of the interaction. he especially wasn't a girl. not that girl who asked what we are on the first hook up. not the girl who day dreamed about someone when they weren't near.

he wasn't a girl. he especially wasn't that girl.

you opened your eyes to him staring with a lopsided smile, scanning over your face and chest.

"what?" you smiled, breathlessly and sleep pulling at your eyes.

he shakes his head with a small smile and drowns out the music playing from downstairs, watching you scan his face.

"so, are you gonna call me after this? when can i see you again?"

[elix8r]

PRADA SHOES + I LOVE YOUS TEASER

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader 

GENRE: smut, angst, crack, (some?) fluff, college!au, exes to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au, socialite/richkid!au

SUMMARY: Life as a socialite wasn’t all champagnes and designer labels, especially not with the turn your reputation took due to a simple misunderstanding. Now, you were being painted by everyone as a big fat cheater who shattered her sweet boyfriend’s heart—a narrative that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, it was him who had betrayed your trust. Frustrated and feeling deeply wronged, you returned to society and the new school year after a summer of cutting off contact with everyone and the drama. But just when you thought you were ready to face the world again, you were blindsided by something unexpected: the lingering effect Heeseung had on you. And who could blame you? Heeseung was way too hot for you to get over in just three short months and now, seeing him with the girl he once told you not to worry about all over him? Oh, it was on. 

You refused to be replaced, labeled as a crazy ex, or forgotten. No, you were going to make Lee Heeseung realize that you were the best motherfucking thing to had ever happened to him. 

WC: 1.3K for teaser (i'm thinking 20k+ for the actual fic)

WARNINGS (FOR THE TEASER): profanity + mentions of infidelity

RELEASE DATE: Unknown but I am aiming for before summer ends

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey everyone!! lt's been so long since I've posted one of these so I decided to give you a really long teaser and also cause this is going to be a long one to write so you'll have to be a little more patient! But I hope you guys enjoy this and is excited for this fic cause I love writing it! Everyone is so messy (and lowkey kinda terrible) but it'll be a fun one so pls look forward to it!! Lmk if you wanna be on the taglist ☺️

Heeseung was going to fucking kill Jake Sim. 

When he woke up this morning, you were the last thing on his mind, something he seemed to have finally freed himself from. However, all the hard work he put into casting you away from his mind seemed to have been in vain, as now all he could think about was you and how you had returned after three months of radio silence with the guy you cheated on him with.

Livid didn’t even cover what he was feeling, and it was evident in the way he swung his club. Each hit seemed to be driven by a surge of pent-up frustration.

“What the hell, man? That’s the third time today you’ve been way off course. What’s going on?” Jay shot him an incredulous look as he tried to locate where the golf ball had landed.

Heeseung let out a frustrated groan as he ripped off his glove and shoved his driver back into his bag. “Y/N’s fucking back.”

That was all Jay needed to hear to understand what was going on with his friend. "Shit, I saw. I’m sorry dude, it’s fucked up."

Heeseung was in no mindset to be playing golf right now. All he wanted was to go back home and wallow miserably in his bed. Unfortunately, they were only on hole ten of eighteen, and judging by his performance today, Heeseung knew it was going to take awhile.

"Did you know?" Heeseung couldn't help but blurt out, his frustration evident in his voice as he watched Jay effortlessly swing a shot miles better than his own.

Confusion flickered across Jay's face as he turned to face his friend. "What do you mean?"

“Did you know that she was coming back with Jake?” Heeseung felt his jaw tense as he mentioned his ex-friend.

“I didn’t even know he was with her until today. Honestly, I thought he’d just fucked off somewhere and didn’t bother telling any of us, considering how things went down. You know me, I would’ve told you straight up if I had found out earlier.” Heeseung trusted Jay implicitly. He was as loyal as they came, but unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for everyone in their friend group.

"Do you think Sunghoon knew?" Heeseung's question elicited an audible groan from Jay.

If anyone in their friend group knew how Jake spent his summer, it would undoubtedly be Sunghoon. However, Sunghoon was notoriously tight-lipped, especially when it came to sensitive matters. Since the breakup, the entire friend group had undergone an incredibly awkward shift. It seemed that everyone had more or less chosen a side, and allegiances were clear.

"You know he wouldn't tell us anything if he did. It's getting ridiculous. The other day, I saw Gaeul and him having brunch or something at the clubhouse, and the moment she spotted me, she practically sprinted over to explain herself. She claimed she's still 'Switzerland' in the whole situation and hasn't chosen a side," Jay recounted, frustration evident in his voice. 

Heeseung almost snorted at the absurdity of it all. Their friend group had never been one to keep secrets or tiptoe around each other, but the last few months had been nothing but that. The betrayal by you and Jake had not only affected Heeseung's relationship with you but had also tainted the dynamic of their entire friend group.

“Literally, what is there to be ‘Switzerland’ about? I mean, this whole thing isn’t even complicated. Everyone saw them go into the bathroom together and come out literally holding hands. Trust me, I know what she looks like after giving head, and that's literally what she looked like in that video Beomgyu sent. Plus, Karina literally heard them.” Heeseung angrily got into the golf cart as Jay fished the keys out to start driving.

“Okay, well, no offense, but in all honesty, Karina’s probably not the most reliable source, cause she’s in an extremely biased position, but I guess that’s beside the point.” Jay’s words seemed to instantly bring a frown upon Heeseung’s face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Heeseung’s tone sharply switched up in an almost defensive manner.

Jay, feeling this shift, nervously cleared his throat as he stammered, trying his best not to offend his already sensitive friend regarding an even more fragile situation. “I mean, uh, well. You know…”

“What?” The grip he had on the seat of the golf cart seemed to get tighter as he waited for his friend to elaborate.

“Dude, you can't be serious? You know Karina’s been trying to ride your dick for the past, what, give or take ten years? I mean, we all know that she’s never had a good relationship with Y/N, and I’m pretty sure most of that resentment stemmed from the fact that you’ve always been head over heels for Y/N.” Jay slowly parked the cart and turned off the engine as he explained.

Still not understanding Jay’s point, Heeseung furrowed his brows, shooting his friend another annoyed look before getting out of the golf cart. “What are you trying to get at?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re dense. I mean, the last couple of months before Y/N cheated on you was the closest you seemed to have gotten with Karina because of that final project that you guys had or whatever. I mean, you were with her more times than you were with your own girlfriend, and knowing Karina, she seems like she could be delusional enough to have maybe taken that as a sign that you were interested in her? I mean, this is all speculation, but I’m just letting you know what we all saw.”

Jay cautiously treaded this topic. Heeseung was his best friend since they were babies, and he would always be on his side, but Karina was never anyone’s favorite with her extremely polarizing personality. He had no allegiance towards her, not to mention that she wasn’t actually even in their friend group and always only ever found lingering around wherever Heeseung was, so it was much easier for Jay to actually see through her. In fact, it seemed that all of their friends could pretty much catch on to Karina’s end goal except Heeseung.

“So you think it’s my fault that Y/N cheated on me?” The air got tense as Heeseung snapped at Jay while snatching his 7-iron out of the bag. “Just because I spent some time doing a stupid fucking school project with Karina doesn’t mean it gives her reason to go and suck off one of my best friends.”

Jay shook his head even before Heeseung was done with his sentence. Heeseung seemed to not be getting the point. “Fuck no, dude, that’s not what I’m saying. Karina has an incentive: you. If she gets rid of Y/N, then it means you’re up for grabs. Of course, Karina didn’t force Y/N to get on her knees for Sim, but she was the first one to come running, telling us what happened even before Beomgyu sent that video.” Heeseung was trying hard to focus on trying to get his ball on the green as he geared up to swing while listening to Jay.

“So you don’t think she should’ve warned me of what she heard?” He swung precisely, but it seemed that this whole course, to be precise, wasn’t going easy on him. He’d be lucky to get even a double bogey on the par-4.

Jay slightly grimaced at Heeseung’s shot. “No, it’s not that,” he let out a sigh as he walked over to Heeseung. “Look, you’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and I know the past few months have been fucking hard because of what Y/N put you through, and I just want you to be careful. Karina’s always been kind of a conniving, spoiled bitch who finds a way to get what she wants. Just because she’s been warming your bed every night since Y/N fell off the fucking Earth doesn’t mean she should be someone you start trusting.”

There was nothing he could say back to his friend’s words and it seemed that what Jay had said clung on deep to Heeseung's thoughts throughout the day, casting a lingering shadow and leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mind.

[grapejollyrancher]

Noise Complaints (Pt. 1 (?))

Logan Howlett x Reader

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem! AFAB! Reader

Warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, dry humping, slight dacryphilia (only if you squint), desperate!logan, pet names, no use of y/n, knife use (not sexual, not knifeplay)

a/n: yall pls go easy on me this is my first time ever publishing a fanfic :O. if there are any errors or if i forgot to mention any warnings or triggers please LMK! constructive criticism is heavily encouraged as i mentioned this is my first fic. ALSO so sorry i am legit incapable of writing sexual tension/ buildup forgive me! Hope you guys enjoy! let me know what you think :) (p.s. i have a part two drafted if anyone is interested i can edit it and post soon!)

It was a boring day at the X-Mansion…

You pass through the living room on the way to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Your eyes glance around the room and see Logan sitting on one of the armchairs with a cigar in his hand. Some random show is playing on the TV but you can tell he isn’t paying attention; his mind is somewhere else.

“Hey lo! Whatcha up to?”

He’s lost in thought, but his head snaps up when hears you. He looks up at you and gives you small smile, taking a drag from his cigar before responding.

“Just thinkin'. Nothin' important, Darlin'. What're you up to?”

You move across the room towards the entrance of the kitchen and point, your cheeks turning pink at his petname for you.

“Gonna make something to eat. You hungry?” You ask.

He stays silent for a moment, thinking about it, before nodding.

“Yeah, I could eat. What're you making?”

“Probably just a sandwich,” You shrug, “Nothin’ crazy”

He chuckles as he stands up and stretches a little, his shirt riding up slightly to show a sliver of his tanned stomach. He stubs out his cigar before nodding. Your eyes are glued to the small piece of tanned skin showing before his words snap your attention back to your task.

“Sure thing, Darlin'. Lead the way.”

You walk into the kitchen, Logan trailing behind you. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of you. You turn to him,

“Okay ill grab the stuff from the pantry if you wanna grab the stuff from the fridge?” He nods.

“Yeah, sure thing, Darlin’.”

He turns to the fridge and you turn towards the cabinets, searching for what you need when you notice the bread is on a high shelf out of reach

“Who the fuck put the bread up there?” You mutter under your breath and turn to ask Logan for help, leaning your back against the counter

.

“Hey Lo? Help a girl out, would you?” You ask with a fake pout making grabby hands at the bread that’s out of reach. He chuckles as you made grabby hands at it and strain to try to reach the shelf. He closes the fridge and walks over to you.

“Sure thing, Darlin'.”

Your breath hitches as you feel him pressed against you, caging you in against the counter with one of his hands resting on the counter near your hip. Looking up at him as he hands you the bread, you realize just how much taller he is than you, how much bigger.

“T-thanks, Lo,” you stutter. He smirks as he watches you flush, his eyes tracing every part of you.

“No problem, Darlin'.” He leans down so he was right next to your ear, his voice lowering as he spoke.

“You’re just a little too small, huh?” He teases. You playfully smack his arm and roll your eyes at his teasing words, blushing slightly.

“It’s not my fault I’m not freakishly tall like you,” you tease back.

“I think it’s cute,” he smirks as he leans even closer, his body pressed right against yours, your faces only inches apart. “Perfect jus’ the way ya are, Princess'.”

You feel your face getting even redder at his compliments. Your breath gets caught in your chest as he leans impossibly closer, embarrassed knowing he can probably hear your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“Thanks, Logan.” You say averting your eyes and turning your back to him, trying to focus on what you were doing before.

You hear him chuckle softly behind you at your embarrassment. He pushes off the counter to lean back against the island a few steps away from you. You take in a shuddering breath now that he was no longer pressed up against you, trying to focus on the sandwich-in-progress on the counter in front of you. You glance back to where he’s leaning against the counter. He watches you carefully as you make your sandwich, his eyes never leaving you. He shifts his weight against the counter with his arms crossed, his muscles flexing slightly as he moves. Your eyes involuntarily widen at the sight of his arms bulging. You quickly turn back around, trying to force down the thoughts running through your mind at the sight.

Your hands shake a bit with nervousness as you try to steady your thoughts. The idea of him pressed up against you again flashes through your head and you gasp lightly. The knife in your hand clatters to the floor.

“Shit!” You yelp. You bend down to pick up the knife, still trying to steady your breathing. He immediately looks down as the knife drops to the floor, his gaze trained on you as you bent over to pick it up. He instantly tenses, his face becoming flushed almost instantly at the sight in front of him. He steps up closer behind you, his body almost completely pressed up against yours again. His voice is low as he speaks.

“Careful, hon. Don’t wanna hurt yourself.” You jump slightly at the sound of his deep voice, realizing just how close to you he was again. You straighten back up and toss the knife into the sink, giving up on making your sandwich.

“Im okay!”

He was still standing right behind you, his body pressed right up against yours. he leans down towards your ear and speaks in a low, gruff voice,

“Yer makin' me think naughty thoughts with you bendin’ over like that, Darlin’.” You suck in a breath at his words. His intoxicating scent surrounds you and you feel the stubble on his chin run against the sensitive skin of your neck

“O-oh.” You stutter, “what kind of naughty thoughts?” He smirks as you stutter at his words, his hand slowly running up the side of your hip. His hot breath ghosts across the skin of your neck and shoulder, giving you chills.

“Oh, just the things I want to do to you, Darlin'...” You whimper at his grip on your hips and his breath against your neck, leaving you breathless and wanting him. You feel his hard bulge press against your ass and moan softly at the contact

“Logan, I--“ you pant, “didn’t think you liked me like that.” He chuckles at your reaction and places a gentle kiss on the underside of your jaw, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he presses his body even tighter against yours. He hums softly,

“I've been wantin' ya for a while now, Darlin'. You’ve been drivin' me crazy since I first met ya,”

You sigh as he kisses your jaw and neck, moaning as you feel his sculpted chest and abs against your back and his bulge pressing into your ass.

“Fuck Logan- I want you,” You say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

Hearing you moan like that sends a shiver down his spine. He growls softly and pushes his hips against you a bit, his body yearning for you.

“Mm, is that so, princess? Sounds like someone's getting excited...” He trails off as he continues his kisses down your jawline and your neck, the stubble of his chin scratching deliciously across your sensitive skin.

You turn around in his grasp and wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You came onto me Lo… don’t blame me for getting all hot and bothered at you pressing up against me like that” He chuckles at your comment, his own arms wrapping around your waist and holding you tightly against him. He hums at the feel of your fingers in his hair and tilts his head back slightly.

“Can ya blame me for wanting you? You're so damn sexy like this...” His mouth goes back to your neck, slowly leaving a trail of kisses and occasionally a few hickies down your throat. You throw your head back and tug at the locks of his hair between your fingers. You groan as you feel his hands slip up under your shirt and squeeze your hips.

“F-fuck-“ you sigh. Hearing you moan and sigh at his touch sends waves of heat through him and he groans slightly. He continues to kiss and bite your neck, his hands moving up and downyour sides under your shirt, the calloused skin of his hands rough against your softer skin.

“Such a sweet little thing... I wonder how long you'll last...”

You whimper from his words and buck your hips to meet his. You place a hand under his chin to tilt him back towards your face, leaning in and slotting your lips against his. You gasp as you feel him slide his hands down your back to your ass and feel him squeeze. He slides them down further and grasps the back of your thighs firmly, lifting you up with ease so he can set you on the counter.

He groans against your lips as he feels you grind your hips against his. He eagerly returns the kiss, his lips moving in perfect sync with yours. Once he lifts you up onto the counter he immediately steps between your legs, parting them. His hands once again on your hips, holding you.

“Mmm,” he moans, “Darlin' you're gettin' me all worked up here...”

“Logan,” you whimper, head tilting back, hands still gripping his hair. You feel his bulge press against your clothed core. “Oh, there—"

His voice deep and gravelly in your ear, “Yeah, baby? Like this?”

He rolls his hips against you gently, his breath getting heavier in your ear. Your eyes roll back into your head in pleasure at the feeling of him rutting against you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer.

“Holy shit—”

His breath hitches slightly at the sound of your soft moans. He grunts as he’s pulled closer, his face burying in the crook of your neck.

“S-so damn needy... Sound so pretty for me, doll.”

You’re a moaning, whimpering mess as he thrusts against you, the feeling of his body engulfing you, driving you close to the edge. He continues to grind against you, nearly losing his mind with you being so needy against him. The thin material of your shorts leaves nothing to the imagination as the friction from the rough denim against your clit sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“Logan,” you gasp. “So good—"

“Don't worry, Darlin'... “ He breathes back, “I've got you”

His hands start to slide up under your shirt, tracing his hands over your stomach and up towards your chest, kneading the soft skin with his large palms. You moan loudly against his shoulder, biting down to try to muffle the noises escaping you. You grip his shoulders with all your strength as your legs start to shake against him. His hands pinch and pull at your nipples and you throw your head back and a throaty groan escapes your lips at the euphoric sensation

“Logan—shit!” you whimper, “Don’t stop—” You say as he starts to slow his movements, like he was going to pull away. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he comes to a realization.

“Is this gonna get you baby? You’re a mess already and I’ve barely touched you.”

You blush at his words, his thrusts picking up speed again. The feeling of his clothed tip nudging your clit brings you closer and closer to your release. You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your climax approaching. Tears well in the waterline of your eyes from the overwhelming feeling of him pleasuring you.

“Look at me doll,” he demands. You snap your head up to look at him, surely with a fucked-out expression on your face. “Look so pretty f’me darlin’. Look at you crying from my cock, feels too good, huh?”

Your eyes roll back and you whimper at his words, “God—Yes, Lo. Getting s-so close—"

He returns his lips to your neck to press wet, hot kisses over the skin again, trailing up your jawline to nip at your earlobe.

“That’s it, baby. C’mon” he encourages you as you buck your hips to meet his thrusts, chasing your rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Lo—” You whine, “Gonna come-! Don’t stop d-don’t stop, please” you whine tearfully, gripping his shoulders and digging your nails in to ground yourself.

He groans into the crook of your neck, loving the painful pleasure of your nails biting into his skin. He starts to come undone from your begging, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as he could, guiding your hips to meet his quick thrusts.

“Yeah, Darlin'... Need you to come for me. Be a good girl and let go”

He continues marking up your neck for the world to see, inhaling your sweet scent that he can’t seem to get enough of. His breathing becoming heavier and more uneven as his need for you increases.

“Logan! Feels so fucking good- oh god I’m so close—"

Hearing the sounds of you falling apart in his arms pushes him over the edge, his heaving breaths uneven and his muscles tensing from the feeling of you coming undone against him.

“Mmm, yes, Darlin'... Let go baby... Come for me, princess” he moans and licks a stripe up the shell of your ear. His deliciously large hands groping your chest and pinching your stiff peaks.

The feeling of his hands on you, all over you, send you over the edge. Your orgasm lighting you up and splitting you open from top to bottom. Your eyesight goes slightly blurry from the intensity of your release. You grip his hair and pull hard to ground yourself. You pull him towards you and crash your lips to his in a heated kiss. You could feel his thrusts become faster and shorter, knowing he was close

“Fuck princess... you're drivin' me crazy... gonna make me come—" His body trembles and his hips start to lose rhythm.

“Logan—” you pant against his ear, “Want you to come for me- please baby- need to feel you.” You press your lips to his jaw and kiss down the column of his throat, winding one of your hands in his hair to tug at it. You pull away for a second to whisper against him again

“I know you’re close Lo,” you nip at his lower lip and he whines into your mouth. “Wanna feel you. C’mon baby… let go for me Logan.”

He nearly loses it when he hears your throaty voice in his ear again, his name sounding like a prayer from your lips. He could only focus on your voice and your breath against his skin as you spoke, his control slipping more with every word. He could feel the pressure building and building almost to the breaking point, his body quivering with need and his hands gripping your hips with a bruising force.

“F-fuck Logan… so fucking good baby. Need you to come. Get it lo, come for me”

He groans loudly against your skin, barely able to think or speak as his climax rapidly approaches, all he could say was your name.

“Fuck—oh, fuck—I’m coming doll—shit!”

With one more desperate moan against your skin and a final roll of his hips against you, he completely unravels, his mind lost in a haze of lust from you. He groans your name in a low, gruff voice as he rides out his orgasm.

“So good baby… so fucking good for me Lo,” You scratch your nails against his scalp lightly to ground him, his clothed cock still throbbing against your core

Your words and the feel of your nails against his skin was the only thing he could focus on as he tried to regain his breathing and composure.

“Ah... mmm... Darlin'... You'll be the death of me...” He pants against your neck, pressing light kisses on your shoulder.

“Big words comin’ from a man who can’t die” You smirk at him teasingly. He chuckles softly at your words, taking a few more deep breaths to try to calm himself down

“Heh, Darlin', you know what I mean... You drive me crazy, gonna kill me one of these days...” he breathes.You lean into the weight of his against your neck, turning your head to place a gentle kiss against his, sliding your hands up and down his shoulders soothingly.

“I sure hope not,” You tease, “I’m gonna need you to stick around for a while now that I know what you’re capable of.” He hums softly as your hands slide across his shoulders gently gripping your hips with his hands, fingers tracing small patterns on your skin.

”Mmm, don’t you worry, Darlin'. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good.” You sigh against his hair, “Let’s go get cleaned up honey.” You hop down from the counter as he releases your hips. You stumble slightly, legs shaky from the aftermath of your intense orgasm, and you wrap a hand around his bicep for stability.

He chuckles at your lack of balance and shaky legs, a sense of pride and satisfaction surging through his chest. He wraps his arms around you and steadies you against him.

“Easy there, princess. Looks like I did a number on ya, huh?” He gives you a cocky smirk as he holds you close against his chest. You look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Is that all you got, Howlett?” Before he can react, you sprint out of the kitchen towards the stairs. He was caught off guard at first, his eyes widening in surprise as he watches you flee from him. He takes a moment to react, then smiles and lets out a huff in response. He could hear you laughing and the grin on his face only grew.

“Darlin'... you're playin’ a dangerous game with me right now,” He calls after you. You started giggling madly as you hear his heavy footsteps start behind you. He lets out a low chuckle as he chases after you up the stairs, slowly gaining on you as his legs were much longer than yours. You giggle and squeal as you feel his strong, muscular arms wrap around you, lifting you from the ground.

“Logan!” You shriek, as he lifts you higher to put one arm around your back and the other behind your legs, carrying you bridal style, holding you close against his solid chest.

“Heh, I gotcha now darlin’.” He ducks down to whisper huskily in your ear.

And have you he did.

[hannieehaee]

them accidentally ditching you on your bday pt. 2 - vu

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, etc.

part 1

wc: 4512

a/n: lmk if u want a pu ver pls <3 if there's part i forgot to make gender neutral pls lmk!!

masterlist

jeonghan -

jeonghan had no idea what to do. he'd never been in this position before. he prided himself in being a good friend and specially boyfriend. nothing in this world mattered to him more than his loved ones, which was why he was extremely disappointed in himself at having disregarded you and hurt your feelings in such a careless way. he knew it was your birthday, and he had wanted so badly to be with you, but he had been an idiot and let it slip his mind. there was no other way to put it. it made him sad more than anything, to know that you had spent the night worried over him only to wake up to zero communication from him, having spent a good 14 hours into your birthday without any word from him. he needed to fix this, he just didnt know how.

this was so unlike him. jeonghan had always known himself to be an attentive person. he noticed any time you changed your hair almost immediately, he'd notice new additions to your recipes, he'd take note of any time you switched things up in your apartment, he'd remember any and every important date. even now. he had remembered it, except he had skipped over it due to his idiocy, which really only made it worse.

after getting mocked by joshua for ten minutes as he racked his brain to find a solution, he decided to just improvise. he'd go to your apartment and see if you'd at least let him in to try and explain his way through an apology. he would pull all the dramatics if he had to. there was not a single care for his dignity in his mind right now. nothing would prevent him from showing you his utmost remorse.

only thirty minutes later and he was now outside your apartment window, looking up from his secluded spot inside the complex's garden. he pondered about calling you, but decided that going for a more unconventional route might do the trick a bit better. spotting some pebbles nearby, he grabbed a few, beginning to chuck them at your window. okay, kind of corny, but knowing you, he knew you'd appreciate the thought. he spent an unfortunate ten minutes throwing pebble after pebble until you finally opened your window, sticking your head out as soon as you spotted him down below.

"jeonghan. what the hell are you doing?", you seemed and sounded pissed. but, hey! that was a good sign. at least you were acknowledging his presence.

"my love!', he clutched at his heart, 'let me come see you. please. i want to apologize."

"fuck you, yoon jeonghan. why dont you go treat your hangover somewhere else?", you went to close your window, only to stop in your tracks as he yelled out again.

"wait! do you want me to beg? i will. i love you. i dont care what i have to do. i'll climb to the roof and profess my love for you for all of seoul to hear," yes, he was being overly dramatic, but he was also being genuine. if you actually wanted him to scream out to the world how much he regretted his stupidity, he would. you didnt even have to ask.

but he also knew public displays were a huge no for you, dating an idol and knowing the controversies being known as the significant other of the yoon jeonghan would bring. he was putting you in a bit of a spot. you could either let him up to apologize, or wake up to some ominous article stating yoon jeonghan of seventeen might be taken.

fortunately for him, you chose the former, which now placed him in your living room as you crossed your arms and huffed at him. okay, one step at a time. it was time to put jokes aside and get serious.

"angel ... i'm so sorry," he cooed at you, stepping forward a bit.

"jeonghan, dont talk to me like im a baby. im not in the mood."

"but you are my baby," he pouted at you, "you're my angel, my everything. i'm sorry. i didnt show you how much you mean to me last night. all i want to do is love you and take care of you. you can punish me all you want. i deserve it. but please let me sleep in your arms. im already away from you most of the time. dont deprive me one more day," and he meant all he said. you were his favorite form of comfort, and the thought of you being angry or hurt by him made him scared. he never wanted to risk you being ripped away from his arms, specially not due to his own doing.

"jeonghan ..."

"no, wait. i'm sorry. i shouldve never forgotten. i dont know how it happened. all i ever want to do every day is come back home to you, but i did the opposite on the worst day possible. i'll apologize over and over until you forgive me if that's what it takes. please just let me be with you on your birthday. i dont want you alone. i dont want you sad. i want you happy and content in my arms. please? i love you."

he mustve broken you down, as you landed in his arms immediately after he finished his speech. he couldve sworn he saw you eyes puffy and swollen before he wrapped his arms around you. his suspicion was confirmed just seconds later when he heard you sniffle against him.

"aigooo, no angel. dont cry. didnt wanna make you cry. you're making me look like such a bad guy, baby, making you cry on your birthday," he cooed at you as he held you as tight as possible.

you separated yourself from him, finally looking into his eyes while he caressed your cheeks, wiping any lone tears in them, "im so sorry, angel. forgive me? let me stay, please."

"yes, hannie. i love you."

"i love you so much more," and he'd spend the rest of his life the day showing that to you.

joshua -

joshua had not been this hungover in a while. he wasnt sure how this happened. last thing he remembered was his manager rushing him into a car right after the award show, letting the group know they'd been invited to an after party, and the company had deemed it smart to be in attendance for public image purposes. all members agreed enthusiastically, excited to mingle among their peers and maybe make some new connections in the process. joshua had been the lone member to be skeptical, knowing he had promised he'd be back to the hotel at an appropriate time in order to get on the phone with you and celebrate what was remaining of your birthday with you despite the current distance between you. however, he did not want to get in the way of his members' fun, so he kept any objections to himself and joined them with matching enthusiasm.

his original plan was to roam the party for an hour or so, which wouldve allowed him to get back to call you on time, but ironically, time got away from him. the next thing he knew, he was waking up at 11am in the morning in mingyu's hotel room, head pounding and phone full of unread notifications. he wasnt sure how this happened. the last thing he remembered was being at the party, margarita in hand as he and his members drank their souls away in celebration of yet another successful award show season. it was around three margaritas in that joshua had begun to disregard his phone, and with that you as well. as soon as he saw the dejection in your messages upon waking up, he spammed you with texts and voice memos expressing his regret, but received no response from you. he had hurt you and now you were ignoring him. and with good reason.

joshua knew that there wasnt much he could do from his current location, specially while you were (justifiably) icing him out. so he committed to his next best option. he immediately booked a ticket back to korea, letting his manager know that he'd just be returning home two days in advance to the rest of the members. all they had scheduled left was an interview tomorrow, so his absence would probably not have that big of an effect. five grueling hours later and he arrived to korea, exhausted and still slightly hung over, but with a whole speech planned to beg for your forgiveness.

in the process, he had tried calling you again and again, still earning no response. this disheartened him, making him think that maybe his grand gesture would only be taken negatively. he picked up some flowers on the way, gift he had bought in japan a few days ago in hand, ready to knock on your apartment door. despite the exhaustion, he was here. a day late to celebrate your birthday, but still here nonetheless.

your face upon answering the door had been of surprise, not anger like he feared, but that only lasted for a few seconds until you started to berate him.

"joshua? what are you doing here?"

"baby, i'm so so sorry. can i come in? please?"

you moved aside without further words, gesturing for him to continue talking.

he suddenly remembered the flowers and boxed gift in hand, signaling to them before handing them to you, "oh, these are for you," he felt extremely inadequate, something that was very rare for him. he had practiced a whole speech, a whole profession of love and regret, but now his mind was blank. you just looked so. disappointed. he couldn't stand it.

'i'm sorry. i- i have no good excuse. the party got the best of me and i completely spaced out on our plans. i never meant to forget about you. please believe me.'

"joshua ... this was your idea. you had me waiting all night just to ghost me. you spent my birthday partying without even thinking of me."

he grabbed onto your hands, placing the flowers and gift on the table before doing so. he held onto you as he began to get exasperated in his speech, "there's no world in which i wasn't thinking of you. you're all thats ever on my mind. i didnt even wanna go to that stupid party, but i didnt want to inconvenience anyone. please, i- i wanted to call you. i ... yeah, i got drunk and distracted. and thats my fault. im sorry. i came back early to be with you. to make up for being a dumbass. please let me make it up to you. please? i'll serenade you like i promised. i'll get on my knees. do you want me to get on my-"

you interrupted him as he began to kneel halfway through his speech, slapping at him lightheartedly as he began to get more dramatic by the second. he knew it was hard for you to get angry at him when he started pulling all stops like he did. he came back and begged on his knees, even offered to express his love to you through song. he was making you hold in your laugh. these were all good signs, right?

"you .. you're such an idiot, hong jisoo. i hate you," but he knew you didnt mean it. he could hear and see the smile on your face, knowing he had been successful at wearing you down.

"if you ever do this again, ill date jeonghan instead."

"ouch!", he dramatically grabbed onto his chest, as if you'd just wounded his heart, causing you to laugh, "hannie? okay, can't blame you. he's pretty cute," he chuckled, "but for now ... let me spend the day with my love? hmm?", he pulled you closer, nuzzling his nose against yours as you feigned annoyance at him.

"fine," you rolled your eyes, "i'm still mad at you, though."

yeah, he had a lot of making up to do, but this was a start.

jihoon -

jihoon had not stopped beating himself up over his actions ever since you hung up the phone. he had spent the entirety of the day rethinking all his choices leading up to this. he had wanted to go running to you and apologize, but you had specifically asked him to stay away, so he wanted to respect your wishes. still, he felt like complete and utter shit at the way he disregarded you so easily. he wished he could go back in time and slap some sense into himself.

he had always been scared. scared that his job would someday get in the way of your relationship. it had been so hard for him to find someone to love; someone who loved him just as much. and the moment he found you he treasured you more than anything, but now his stupid workaholic tendencies had gotten in the way. he was terrified right now that you'd start to see the error in your choice to be with him. that you'd want to find someone who wouldnt so easily put his job over everything else.

it was now 11am of the following day, and you had not called him yet. he was beginning to get worried. were you icing him out? had he hurt you that badly? he could never blame you for feeling hurt at his neglect, but he could also not help his own feelings of dejection at you ignoring him due to your anger. alas, he still gave you all reason; this had been his own doing.

he waited a couple hours before giving up on waiting, instead choosing to confide in a few of his members to inquire as to what they'd do if they ever pulled something like this with their own significant others. after being scolded for a good few minutes due to his carelessness towards you, they told him that maybe showing up to your apartment as a demonstration of his affection to you (joined by a sincere apology, of course) would make you look his way again.

so now he was here, about to knock on your door with your favorite flowers in hand. he was terrified. the two of you had never fought. there had never been a single time in which you'd hurt each other's feelings. it had all been nothing but love and tenderness in your relationship thus far. he was your best friend, and you were his. yet he had no idea how to communicate to you how much you meant to him, and how much of a stupid mistake his slip up had been.

before he could think further, he forced himself to knock on your door, hoping you wouldnt immediately throw him out. to his surprise, you opened the door and even wordlessly gestured for him to enter. you looked ... sad. you looked the way he'd feel had you ghosted him on his own birthday. yeah, he didnt care much for his birthday, but your absence would wound him nonetheless. he imagined it felt the same for you.

"i ... i'm so sorry. i dont know what to say .. i- i fucked up. so badly. i have no idea how or why i forgot. there's nothing i can do to make up for it, but please know im so fucking sorry."

"jihoon ... how? you picked my birthday of all days to lock yourself in your studio? i've never judged your busy schedule. i understand your career. i respect it. i get that you cant help being busy. your job is too demanding of your time, but for you to ignore me when you had full control of your free time? why?", he could see how disappointed you felt at his neglect; how hurt you felt at him, not only through your words, but through your closed off body language. you were hugging yourself with your arms, not holding eye contact as you stared anywhere but into his eyes. despite your confident words, your demeanor was deflated. and it was his fault.

"it was- it was a mistake. it was all my fault. i cant argue my way around it. but i love you. i didnt .. i didnt mean to neglect you. you're all i think about. every song ive ever written, even before meeting you, was about you. you're everything. i'm just an idiot. i dont know how to do this ... ive never loved like this. i have no idea what to do when i fuck up. all i can do is promise you to be better. please give me a chance to be better. i'll be more attentive. i know i'm cold, and im not too affectionate, but i love you. i'll make it up to you. please, just dont let this be the end. i'll keep you in my studio with me whenever i lock myself away. won't ever go a day without letting you know what im doing, how im doing. please. i'll do anything to show you."

he worried his ramble mightve been too much, feeling to scared to even hold eye contact with you as he went on and on about how much he loved you. unexpectedly, upon looking up, he found your reddened eyes, with a stuffy nose to match. fuck. had he hurt your feelings again?

"jihoon ... i- i love you. i'm sorry. i cant believe you could ever think i wanted this to be the end. i was hurt and mad- i am hurt, but i love you," you sniffled your way through your short speech, but jihoon heard it perfectly fine. these were the words he prayed to hear from you all of last night as he stayed up thinking about you.

"fuck. thank god," he couldnt help himself in hugging you, holding you tightly against his arms, and sighing in relief at your reciprocation, "i love you. i'll take the week off. let me take you away and show you how much you mean to me. please? will you come with me?"

"yes, jihoon. i love you."

"i love you. you have no idea."

seokmin -

seokmin felt extremely scared. you weren't answering any of his calls. he knew you were physically okay, but he also knew your feelings were hurt, and you were probably extremely angry at him. you had all reason to be angry at him. he ditched you and kept you in the dark all day. on your birthday! seokmin had never been in a situation like this before. he had always prided himself in being the best boyfriend that one could ever be, even sometimes introducing himself as your boyfriend instead of with his own name. except today he had disappointed both you and himself beyond belief.

he knew you'd asked him to stay away for the night, and he'd usually respect your one and every wish, but today he needed to go against the current and go and beg for your forgiveness.

in very non-seokmin fashion, he exited the event just as quickly as he'd arrived, not even caring to say goodbye to his friends. you were his number one priority, after all. specially today of all days. he had his driver stop by a flower shop on the way, hoping the innocent gesture would maybe have you show some mercy on his stupidity.

he showed up to your apartment immediately after, having mentally prepared a whole speech for you on the way there. he was going to tell you how much he loved you, and how this was just a completely stupid slip of his mind, that this would never happen again, but all these thoughts left his mind as soon as you opened the door, eyes swollen and glossy. every rational thought went out the window upon spotting your saddened state causing seokmin's eyes to match your own as he felt himself begin to tear up. he couldnt help himself in immediately embracing you in a tight hug, thanking god when he felt you hold him back.

you two sniffled against each other for a bit, neither of you full on crying, but still being overly emotional at the situation. seokmin mumbled endless apologies against your hair, running his hands up and down your back as if to soothe you. he was over the moon to hear an 'i love you' from you in the middle of your sorrowful mumbles against his chest, doubling the sentiment as he cried to you how much he loved you and how badly he regretted letting you slip his mind for even a second. when he pulled back, he expressed the same sentiment all over again.

"my baby ... i love you so much. please let me make it up to you. i- i brought you flowers!", he finally recalled the flowers he had dropped as soon as you closed the door behind him ten minutes ago, "i know it doesnt make up for anything, but please let it be a start. i'll do anything you want. just want you to never cry over me like this again, baby. i love you too much to make you cry," he wiped at your tears as he said this, caressing your cheeks while he looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

"minnie," you pouted at him, "stay the night? please? want you at least for the bit that's left of today."

"today? oh, baby. i'm giving you my whole week. told you i was gonna make it up to you. i'll do everything you want, my love. now let me take you to bed, yeah? wanna hold my beautiful angel to sleep."

he slept soundly that night, knowing you had somehow forgiven him and even given him the privilege to hold you in his sleep, also knowing he'd do anything and everything necessary to make up for his stupid mistake.

seungkwan -

he had put literally everyone else above you. on your birthday. there was truly no other way to spin it. he had never felt more guilt in his life, and it was all completely on him. having even thought of going out with his friends on your birthday shouldve given him the first red flag in his stupid plan. why didnt he just bring you along? god, he was such an idiot. and then allowing mingyu and dongmin to entice him into a two hour long live broadcast just to secure some fanservice was just the nail in the coffin.

he knew he hurt you badly. he had promised you he'd be there, but had just left you in the dark all day. he couldnt blame you for not wanting to see him today, but now he was stuck tossing and turning in his bed as he itched to hold you in his arms. he had called the company immediately after your call, letting them know he'd be skipping the usual dance practice and recordings in favor of being with you, which is what he should've done all day today.

it wasnt long until he grew too restless to simply stay in bed while he knew you were probably in a similar position, except most likely sad and angry. he couldnt help himself when he decided to head to you, feeling bad at calling up his driver at such late hours of the night. the journey to your apartment was a short one, which left him with little time to think over what he'd say to you in order to convey his regret. he didnt care much for what he said, he just wanted to alleviate your hurt somehow.

just as he expected, you were awake, now standing in front of him as you opened the door to your apartment. your eyes were puffy, a huge indicator that you'd been crying. your eyes also wouldnt meet his, with your eyebrows lowered in clear sadness. seeing you and knowing your current state was his fault felt like a kick in the gut. he had never made you cry before, so he was extremely disappointed in himself. worst of all, seeing you cry made him start to tear up a bit himself.

"baby ..."

"what do you want, kwan? i thought you were busy all day," your words carried venom behind them, but your delivery was still of someone who had been hurt.

"no, baby. you know that's not true. i'm never too busy for you. i'm so sorry. i was such an idiot. there arent enough apologies i could give you. i- i never meant to hurt your feelings."

"you still did."

"i ... i know. i'm sorry. i love you. the last thing i ever want is for you to be hurt by me. i never shouldve gone out with my friends to begin with. you're too understanding of my busy schedule, and i dont deserve it. i shouldve made time all day for you today."

"was ... was it that important? being gone today specifically?", you seemed insecure in your question, which only made seungkwan's heart soar at making you feel insecure around him in any way.

"no! no, of course not. i wasnt thinking. i shouldve told them id go with them next time, or taken you with me! i was so stupid, i'm sorry. you're my priority. i need you to know that."

"it's- it's fine, kwannie. i understand. you dont see your friends that often, you-"

"no! stop. dont try to rationalize it. i made a mistake. you dont have to cover for me. i hurt you and i made you feel unimportant when you're the most important person to me. im so sorry. please never doubt that. i get you all to myself so little, and staying away from you was such a stupid mistake."

more tears had started flowing down your cheeks the further the conversation went on. he wasnt sure if it was because you were touched by his words, or because he was failing at making you feel better. as he neared you enough to wipe your tears with his thumbs, he hoped it was the former.

"baby .. don't cry over me. please. i'm just an idiot. you should never cry over me. i only ever want you to feel good things when thinking of me. i- im so sorry."

"kwannie ... i love you. i understand. i know you dont want me to understand, but i do. you have to make your choices when you're as busy as you are, and .. even though it did make me feel unimportant, i get it."

"it'll never happen again. i'll- i'll keep you by my side day and night. let me- please let me keep you to myself tomorrow. just wanna be with you. please?"

for the first time in the night, he saw you shoot him a small smile, uttering the words he wanted to hear most, "yes, kwannie. will you .. will you stay? please"

"you don't even have to ask."

a/n: thank u to everyone who enjoyed this lil series aaaa i hope it was realistic enough T-T sorry if the reconciliation seemed rushed, i just didnt want any of them to end up with an angsty ending hehe also sorry for seokmin's being shorter than anyone's i just cannot imagine that man ever hurting anyone's feelings.

[gothgoblinbabe]

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts (pt.2)

Logan Howlett x fem reader

divider credit

Warnings: MDNI/18+, mostly porn w little plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), fem!reader, being referred to as a girl, use of pet names, very light choking, filming sex/making a sex tape, swearing, I believe that is it but if i missed any pls lmk <3 I also didn’t proofread this one as much as I usually do so forgive me for any mistakes or inconsistencies!

Summary: [based on this ask] I don’t know what to really say for this one cause I feel like the ask explains it perfectly lol, but part 1 is here if you want to read it but this also works as a stand alone thing. I did tweak a couple of things from the ask but nothing major!

Word count: 5.5K

Since you and Logan had gotten to know each other a little better, you were over his and Wade’s apartment sometimes more than your own. He’d begun to make himself comfortable in yours too, finding himself waking up in your decorative sheets with the morning sun shining onto the pictures taped to your wall. It was a comfortable routine you’d started; waking up in each other's beds, going out to eat at some 24 hour diner when neither of you could sleep, talking with each other till the sun came up. Weekends with Wade even turned to weekends with Wade and Logan, your legs slung over your boyfriend's lap with his arm around your shoulder.

Unfortunately for him, though, you and Wade would not budge on Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

“I still don’t get it,” he grumbled next to you on the couch, quirking an eyebrow at you and his roommate, “what the hell are they famous for, anyway?”

“Well,” you began to explain, raising the remote to mute the TV, “their dad was a really famous lawyer, he defended O-”

“Nope,” Wade piped up from beside you through a mouthful of chips, “you know that’s not the real reason they’re famous, cupcake.”

You turned to narrow your eyes at him, “C’mon, you don’t mean -”

“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes flickering from you to the muted TV so he could read the subtitles without missing a beat.

“What?” Logan finally asked, clearly frustrated that neither of you would clue him in.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and laughing a bit to yourself, “Okay, so, Kim? The main sister?”

He nodded, “the one with the huge -”

“Yes, her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, she used to date this singer Ray J and in the early two thousands, they made a sex tape. It got leaked somehow and she kinda shot into fame and I guess her family followed,” you explained simply.

“You should show him the tape,” Wade chimed in again, taking the remote from your lap and unmuting the TV.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna do that,” you shook your head, “I don’t think he’d wanna see it.”

“You’d be right,” Logan agreed, cringing a little.

“You two should make your own, then. You can finally be famous for somethin’ else, peanut!” Wade suggested, poking at his roommate's shoulder, “plus, with a pretty girl? Man, that would blow up.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. That was seemingly the end of the discussion, except Logan couldn’t get Wade’s words to leave his brain.

You two should make your own, then.

It stuck with him to the point that he was staring at his ceiling that night, listening to your steady breathing as you slept beside him, still unable to think of anything else. It was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ask you to do that with him. Could he?

He couldn’t shake the image of you on the screen of some camera, your back to his chest as he fucked you from behind and you batted your pretty eyes at the lens. He’d never let another soul see it, it would be something just between the two of you - something he’d definitely keep to watch a million times over. He looked around his apartment the next day after you'd gone to work to see if maybe Wade had an old camera somewhere - one he wouldn’t miss if he never saw it again. He dug out a silver camcorder from the junk drawer in the kitchen, turning it over in his hands. It looked like one you’d find on a shelf in a radioshack - when they were still around - something you’d use to film a kid’s high school graduation in the mid two thousands. As long as it worked, it would do. He fumbled the thing open, pressing a couple buttons before the screen finally lit up and gave him the option to look through the album. There were only three things on there - a blurry picture of Wade’s shoes, an even blurrier picture of half of his face and a twelve second video of him trying to film Logan while he swatted the camera out of his hands and onto the floor.

He found a charger and hooked it up to the wall, already thinking over how exactly he was going to approach the subject with you. If he was going to be able to do what he’d been thinking about, that camera had to be charged to last for at least a couple of hours. He’d planned to stay the night at your place and figured he’d try to work up the nerve to ask then.

He found himself on your couch later that night, his thighs spread while you sat in his lap and played with his hair. He was leaving kisses down your throat, his hands on the sides of your thighs.

“Can I ask you somethin’, sweetheart?” he mumbled into your skin. He pulled his face away to look into your eyes.

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

He almost felt dirty for what he was about to ask of you - like he was perverted for even considering it when you looked at him so sweetly.

His eyes moved from your face to his jacket laying beside him and he reached into the pocket, pulling out the small camera.

“I kinda wanted to try somethin’ a little different.”

Your lips parted when you realized what he was holding, eyes flickering from the device to his face. He watched your lips curl up into a smile. You knew instantly what he was about to ask when you remembered your conversation from the night before.

“You wanna film a sex tape?”

He swallowed hard, fearful that you were about to scoff and lift yourself off him. Instead, you rested your hand over his that held the camera, “I wonder where you got that idea.”

You took it from his hand, flipping it open and turning it on. You held it up and hit record, smirking when he rolled his eyes at you.

“I didn’t say I wanted my face all in it,” he scoffed, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you only film me?” you pulled the camera from your face, quirking an eyebrow at him, “uh-uh, babe. If this is gonna be our sex tape, I want you in it.”

He huffed, glaring at you through the lens.

“Besides,” you continued, “you’re acting like you're the only one who's gonna like it.”

“So, you’re not upset that I asked?”

You shook your head, “Upset that a hot guy asked to film himself screwing my brains out? Hell no.”

He gnawed at his bottom lip and watched you fiddle with the camera, clicking through settings and trying out filters. Screw your brains out, huh? He could do that. He wouldn't admit it even if you asked, but he was turned on beyond belief from the idea that you’d watch it when he wasn’t with you - he liked the idea of putting on a performance for you, giving you what you want so you’d stuff the little vibrator you kept in the drawer of your nightstand inside your aching pussy when you watched it back, your eyes trained on his face and remembering how good he’d made you feel.

“It’s kind of an older camera,” Logan began, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, “maybe we should test it out, see if it works?”

“Oh, should we?”

He stood up in seconds, his strong arms holding you up by your thighs as he carried you to your room. You giggled, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. You held the camera up to film yourself. Your face was in frame, Logan only visible by the back of his head as you stretched your arm out.

“This is my very sexy boyfriend, taking me to bed,” you narrated, kissing the side of his face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, burying his face in your neck as he nudged your door open with his foot. He dropped you onto the bed and you kept the camera trained on him as he crawled over you.

“You’re gonna keep that damn thing on my face the whole time?” 

He leaned over you with his hands on either side of your head, his bulging muscles even more prominent from your angle underneath him. His tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, licking over his lips. You wouldn’t mind if the whole video was just from this angle.

“You look fucking hot.”

He was a little taken back by your compliment. Even after months of sleeping together, he still wasn’t used to the praise, dismissing you with a scoff or simply hiding his red face.

“Look who’s talkin’.”

Logan snatched the camera from your hands in one quick swipe, sitting back on his heels so he could get all of you in frame. You sat up, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere off the bed, leaving you in your bra and jeans. You looked angelic underneath him with your hair spread around your head like a halo, your chest heaving in excitement. You bit your lip and grabbed the end of his shirt to pull him closer to you, lidded eyes staring up at him.

“Fuck.”

He groaned, letting you pull him down and slip your tongue into his mouth. He haphazardly placed the camera on your bedside table, glancing at it momentarily to make sure it was on before diving back onto you.

His hands slid up your back and under the band of your bra. He unhooked the clasp and pushed the straps down your shoulders, pulling the garment from your chest and licking his lips in awe. It didn’t matter how often he saw you naked; each time was like the first.

His mouth latched onto your chest almost immediately, swirling his tongue and sucking in a way that elicited a moan from your lips. Your back arched and he hooked his arm around your waist to pull you as close as possible. He was sucking dark marks into your soft skin, leaving each one shiny with his saliva. If there was one thing you were sure of with Logan, it was that he really loved being messy when he toyed with you.

He dragged his lips from your chest down your waistband, leaving tender kisses on your stomach and sides. Over time, he’d slowly gotten more affectionate - more loving and emotional - during sex. He always showed it the best he could, but he was clearly becoming more comfortable being vulnerable with you. He still had his animalistic and rough ways about him, but now it was combined with soft kisses to your nose and forehead, mumbled praises into your mouth and declarations of love while you panted from the pace of his thrusts. 

Logan stopped at the waistband of your jeans, his fingers popping the metal button with little hesitation. You wordlessly lifted your hips for him to drag them down your thighs, leaving you only in your panties. He leaned over to grab the camera from the table, leaning back a bit to get you in frame.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he huffed, his free hand immediately sliding between your thighs to graze his fingers against the damp fabric, “all for me?”

You nodded, hooded eyes and parted lips posing for the camera, “yours, all yours.”

Logan was chewing on his bottom lip while he admired you from behind the camera. He knew without a doubt that you were the prettiest girl he’d ever been with; none of those dirty magazines or tapes he’d seen over the years could even compare to what was in front of him now. You were positively heavenly, a type of beauty so alluring that it bordered being otherworldly. 

He finally used his free hand to remove your panties when you lifted your hips, set on recording as much as he could from the perspective he had because fuck, it was a good one.

Laying in front of him - completely bare - with the camera focused on you made you feel vulnerable and a little shy and Logan was always able to read you.

He wanted to focus on you even more, but he instead handed the device over to you when he sensed your mild discomfort, the lens facing him.

“Here,” was all he said, letting you bring the camera up to your eye before he tugged his t-shirt over his head. He knew you clearly enjoyed filming him and even if he didn’t love the idea of being the object of attention, he wanted you to be comfortable and he’d sacrifice his own comfort for you any day. So, once he was shirtless, he stood off the bed in front of you to strip himself of his jeans and boxers, letting his hard cock spring up to hit his stomach when he took off the latter.

You had - fortunately for you - figured out the zoom option on the camera and used it to perfectly frame his leaking cock as the only thing in the shot, bobbing when he moved towards you to take the device back. When he did, he set it on the table next to the bed, messing with the same zoom option so that the shot was of you sitting up with your legs spread and your cunt aching to be touched.

Settling himself on his stomach between your legs, he hiked your thighs onto his shoulder, his mouth inches from your heat.

“Do me a favor, sweetheart,” he began and you nodded, ready to agree to anything he asked of you, “be as loud as you can, yeah? Wanna be able to hear ya’ on tape.”

He instantly delved his tongue into you, making you gasp. You tenderly rested your hands on his arms that were hooked around your thighs as if you were encouraging him to stay there.

He ate you every time like he was starving, his cheeks and chin always slick with saliva and sap from between your legs when he finally pulled himself off you.

You did as he instructed - though, you were probably going to do it anyway - moaning openly as he licked stripes up your dripping cunt so he could circle his tongue around your clit. 

“Oh my god,” you whined, your thighs clamping around his head out of instinct. He let you thread your fingers through his hair, tugging at the dark strands to help angle his head and making him growl with his mouth still suctioned to you.

You felt around beside you for the camera, fumbling with it till you had the lens angled at him in between your legs.

“Fuck, L-Logan,” you panted, lovingly caressing his temple with your free hand.

“Mhm,” he hummed into you, the vibration pulling a whimper from your throat, “you like holding that thing, huh?”

Your eyes were glued to his through the small screen.

“You’re so fucking hot, of course I do,” you sighed, your lips parted and chest heaving.

He scoffed in amusement, continuing to slip his tongue between your folds and prod at your entrance. With his face still buried in you and his eyes closed in concentration, he took the camera from you and set it back on the table. He used his arms around your thighs to yank you further down the bed so you were flat on your back. You watched in awe as he spat a mouthful of saliva right onto your already soaked pussy, using his fingers to swipe his spit all over you. Latching his lips back onto your clit, he easily slipped two of his digits into you, feverishly pumping in and out. Your moans grew louder with each thrust of his fingers, echoing off your walls along with the wet noises that came from your soaked cunt. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, lettin’ me eat your pretty pussy,” he rambled, voice muffled by your thighs, “always so fuckin’ good.”

You inhaled sharply when he gently rolled your clit between his teeth, licking after like a balm to soothe the searing sensation. You thought you couldn’t moan any louder until he replaced his fingers inside you with his tongue, angling his mouth in a way that made his nose nudge your bundle of nerves.

“Only good for you,” you managed to choke out, turning your head to the side to bury it in your pillow, “only for you.”

His hand slid up to grope your chest, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He slid it up even further to grab your chin and turn your head so you were forced to look at him. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he grumbled.

“Ah - uh-huh,” you tried to make some noise of agreement but were overwhelmed with how he was expertly tracing your cunt with his tongue.

Until he detached his mouth from you completely.

You groaned in frustration and knitted your eyebrows, silently asking why he stopped.

“Use your words or I’ll stop. Ya’ got it?”

His stern voice sent shivers down your spine. 

“Yes, baby, please -“

His tongue was already back in between your folds by the time you said yes. He kept his vice like grip around your thighs, deciding he’d be content if he died right there with his head between your legs.

“Love when you - when you - fuck - eat me out,” you panted, “you make me feel so good.”

You knew how much he secretly loved the praise, catching the way he ground his hips into the mattress to find some sort of relief whenever you told him he was doing a good job, that he was so handsome, that you loved what he was doing to you. He was usually the dominant one in the relationship, whispering praises in your ear while you were underneath him, but you knew him well enough by now to have figured out that he loved when you did it back.

“You’re perfect, Logan, I - ah - I love you,” you gasped when his fingers pumped back into you.

It wasn’t all about sex with you two - though it was a wonderful part of your relationship - and yet he’d discovered that he’d never felt more loved than he had when he was with you, declaring your love for him while he completely devoted himself to you with his face in your pussy. 

“I love you, too, pretty girl,” he grunted, “love fuckin’ you with my mouth.”

His filthy words fueled the fire building in your lower stomach and you tugged at his hair in an attempt to warn him.

“ ‘m gonna come,” you slurred, ankles locked on Logan’s back to keep him in place.

“Come for me, beautiful, c’mon,” he coaxed while his fingers abused the spot inside of you that made you whimper to encourage him to keep going, “want it all, want you to come on my face.”

That was definitely what sent you over the edge, mumbling unintelligible praises as he lapped up anything that had spilled out of you and onto his tongue. 

“Tastes so damn good,” he heaved, his fingers still working at a consistent pace, “I think I can pull another one outta you.”

You felt tears beginning to form in your eyes from the overstimulation, crying out when he grazed your swollen clit with his teeth.

“ ‘s too - too much,” you tried to pull his head away by tugging his hair, to no avail. 

He’d let you go, but not without one more taste of you.

It only took a couple more flicks of his tongue to have you arching your back, tears rolling down the sides of your face as you gushed around his fingers for a second time.

When he finally slipped his fingers out of you and he’d left the comfortable spot between your warm thighs, you could see that his entire lower face was almost completely slick with a mix of his spit and your cum. He was licking his lips, trying to savor the taste of you but making no attempt to wipe anything off his chin or cheeks. He was in love with you but he was also in love with the reality that he got to do this to you, that he got to taste every bit, that you wanted him to. You sat up to give him a desperate kiss - a clash of tongues and teeth that tasted entirely of you. You finally pulled away to admire his face.

Seeing him with his hair disheveled from your repeated tugging, his lips near swollen and raw and his cheeks still shining made you crave the idea of returning the favor. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed, baby.”

Though he was usually the one giving orders instead of following them, he obliged anyway. His cock was still leaking in anticipation, hard against his stomach. When you got down on your knees in front of him, he couldn’t hide the excited smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never expected you to return the favor when he used his mouth on you - content with that being a reward itself - but when you did? You usually left him shaking.

You took the camera from the table and handed it up to Logan, eager eyes following the lens.

“Can I suck your cock? Please?”

You knew he loved it when you begged and you always used it to get him exactly where you wanted him, especially when you looked up at him with those pleading eyes.

“Go ahead, baby,” he used his free hand to loosely hold your hair back in his fist, “I know you like havin’ it in your mouth, huh?”

You nodded eagerly, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft. You hovered your mouth over his tip, letting a glob of spit drip from your lips so you could coat his cock in it before you tried to take him in your throat. You’d done it before, but he was huge and every time you tried to prep to make it easier. Your jaw even became sore sometimes from how wide you’d have to keep your mouth open. You never complained, though, because the mere idea of having the weight of Logan’s heavy cock in your mouth was enough to make you drool.

You spread your saliva up and down, leaning forward and dragging his tip across your parted lips while staring up at the lens of the camera.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, focused on you through the small screen, “such a fucking tease.”

You grinned, placing a light kiss on his tip before engulfing him into your mouth, tongue sliding along his slit to taste the small amount of precum that’d dripped from him when he first sat up. You suctioned and began to work up a pace, taking him as far as you could into your mouth while your hand stroked the rest of him.

“I love giving you head,” you admitted in the most sultry way possible when you popped your lips off his tip, long lashes batting up at him. It wasn’t a lie, either, and that was clear by how sloppy you loved to be whenever it was your turn to be on your knees. If you had at least one thing in common, it was that you wanted to worship each other as much as possible. You wanted to leave him in a state of euphoria the same way he did you, just as messily dedicated to making sure he came.

“Yeah? I can tell, sweetheart,” he still held the camera but his eyes were trained on your face, “such a good girl, sucking my cock like you were made for it.”

You tried to push him further into your throat, eager to see his thighs shake and hear him groan your name. You gagged on his tip and he inadvertently rolled his hips. You hummed, eyes starting to water every time you choked on his dick. You used your free hand to cup his balls and smeared your saliva down from the base of his cock to coat them. You pulled yourself off his mouth momentarily to spit on him again, licking your lips in excitement.

“Fuck’s sake,” he grunted, camera abandoned on the side of the bed so he could place both his hands on the back of your head, “doin’ so fucking good, princess.”

You continued to stroke him with one hand and massage his balls in the other, your tongue still swirling and sucking around him. You popped off him with a smile, spit covering your lips and chin while your hands continued their motion.

Logan leaned back on his elbows and held the camera up again with one hand. When you wrapped your lips around his cock again, he started to roll his hips at a steady pace so he could fuck your throat, grunting every time you gagged around him. 

You picked up your pace, stroking his base while your head bobbed up and down in synch with your hand.

“Atta girl,” he panted, “jus’ like that.”

You could tell he was already close because he was sloppily rocking his hips up into your mouth, his thighs beginning to shake every time he hit the back of your throat. He sat up suddenly, grabbing your hair again to slowly pull you off his cock.

“On the bed, hands and knees,” he instructed simply, letting you scramble onto the mattress as he set up the camera on the end of your bed. You understood almost instantly what he wanted, biting back a smile as you laid your chest flat on the mattress, back arched with your ass in the air. 

He climbed behind you and placed his knees on the inside of yours to push your legs apart even further. His large hands gripped your hips and he pulled you against him, his hard cock prodding your entrance. He leaned his body over yours so that your back was flush with his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty pussy like you deserve,” he muttered into your ear, intoxicating you with the feeling of his hot breath fanning the side of your face, “think you can take it, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly and gasped when he dragged the tip of his cock along the folds of your dripping cunt.

“Can take it - I want it so bad, Logan,” you pleaded, pushing back into him. Your eyes bore into the camera, lips parted. It was his idea for a sex tape after all, you might as well be sure to give him a show.

He sheathed himself into you completely in one thrust with an iron grip on your hips, the weight of him pushing into you almost knocking the wind out of your lungs. He began to slowly inch himself out and slam back in again, pulling out a little further each time. He was grunting into the back of your neck while he rocked his hips. 

“Takin’ it so good, baby,” he panted, one of his hands moving to your neck and barely applying pressure while the other held his upper body above yours. His lips came to the side of your face and left a kiss so sweet that it could’ve rotted your teeth.

You whimpered when he worked up to a steady pace and reveled in the sensation of him filling you completely. Your fingers gripped the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto so you could stable yourself when his hard thrusts nearly knocked you over completely.

“S-so fucking - ah - so good,” you slurred your words with your eyes squeezed shut. You were slack jawed, nearly drooling.

“Yeah? Can tell you like it,” he huffed, “you’re so pretty, takin’ all of me like a good girl.”

You nodded frantically, whimpering every time he slammed into you.

“You like bein’ on camera, don’t you?” he continued, “you’re really fucking wet.”

You could only moan in response. You were soaking around him, drenching the base of his cock and the happy trail that went up to his stomach. He leaned back on his knees and his pace never faltered. 

Your hands outstretched in front of you and you grabbed the camera. You angled it over your shoulder and focused the lens on his face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

He scoffed when he noticed the camera over your shoulder, keeping his rhythm while his eyes were glued to the lens. If he thought too hard about what you might do with the video later, he wasn’t going to last much longer. 

“Feels good, baby?” you panted, an amused smile creeping onto your face.

He was always the one to talk to you like that - pet names and filthy encouragement - but you wanted to get his face on film when you teased him back - or, at least tried to. 

His expression mirrored yours and he grabbed the camera while his other hand kept an iron grip on your hip.

“I think you like holdin’ that thing a little too much,” he brought it up to his face and squinted at you through the screen.

“Mm,” you hummed, your face flushed and body sticky with sweat, “can’t help it.”

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous like this, you know that? God,” he sighed, “can’t get enough of you.”

You would’ve found his words endearing if you could even process them. The intoxicating feeling every time he pushed back into you was enough to render you speechless.

Logan angled the camera down to film the repeated motion, gaping at the mess you left around the base of him every time he pulled back.

“My dirty girl,” he cooed, “you like makin’ a mess on my cock?”

“F-Fuck - yes, yes,” you sobbed before he even finished his sentence. You could feel the pressure building in your stomach, bringing you closer to finishing.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I can feel you gettin’ tighter. Come for me, baby,” he grunted, his hand sliding from your hip to grip your ass.

It only took a few more strokes for you to do exactly that with your legs shaking underneath you. 

“ ‘Atta girl,” he growled. He watched you gush around him, zooming in on your dripping pussy as he stretched you out over and over again. You were chanting his name, muttering unintelligible praises against your sheets.

It wasn’t long before he followed suit, his pace becoming sloppy as he spilled into you and let it drip down your thighs. He clicked off the camera and tossed it somewhere else onto the bed. 

“C’mere,” he huffed, pulling you up to lean back against him, “love you so much.” He was leaving saccharine kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, still panting.

“I love you, too,” you managed to say with your eyes already half closed. He pulled out and laid you on your side, grabbing some t-shirt that had been next to the bed to clean you up. He wrapped you in his arms from behind and pulled up the comforter to cover you both.

“Can’t wait to watch that back,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Mhm,” you were already drifting off to sleep while he stroked your hair, “me neither.”

Logan fell asleep right after you with his arms still around you and his legs tangled in yours.

—-----------------------------------

Later that same week, you sat on the couch beside Logan in his apartment, flipping through TV channels on a lazy day off. Wade emerged from his bedroom and began frantically tearing apart the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?” you called, turning in your seat.

“My old camera. Have you seen it?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

You thought you hadn’t, at least. You had know idea the camera Logan brought over was Wade’s.

He was pretending to be uninterested in the conversation, hoping his apathy towards the question would absolve him of any suspicion.

You shrugged and returned your attention to the TV. You heard a couple doors open and close before Wade’s voice echoed through the apartment.

“Found it!”

Logan went wide eyed and immediately stood up from the couch. 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and looked between him and Wade when he came back into the living room.

And then you recognized the camera in his hands.

“Don’t open it, I’ll buy you a new one,” Logan insisted simply, holding out his hand.

“Oh, my god,” you muttered.

Wade's eyes flickered between you both.

“There’s something on here I’m not supposed to see, isn’t there?”

Logan immediately lunged for the camera and Wade sprinted into his bedroom, slamming his door shut and locking it. Logan pounded his fist on the door and tugged the doorknob.

“Open the door, you son of a bitch!”

You buried your face into the fabric of the couch cushion, anticipating the embarrassment of Wade seeing what was still on that camera.

He opened the door after a minute, giant smile plastered on his face.

“Here you go,” he said in a sing song voice as he handed it over.

You sighed in relief, assuming he’d decided to actually abide by your requests. He closed his bedroom door, only speaking again after you heard the lock click.

“Hey, by the way - can i get a copy?”

A/N: I struggled a lil bit w this one just bc of writers block but I hope it lived up to expectations <3 pls interact if you enjoyed!

[suengmi]

- the ways stray kids show their love and affection

genre: fluff/romance, nonidol!au, gn!reader warnings: mentions of making out, nakedness? idk lol

anyways this is just major soft hours, one of my moots said i should do this i can't remember who it was pls lmk if it was you asljdls also unedited

♡ masterlist / pls reblog if you liked! it helps a lot ♡

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ bang chan

sweet kisses all over your face to wake you up, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck and gently nibbling you. “i’m bored wake up babe.” grunts when you ignore him. ends up pulling the sheets back so your naked body is exposed to the cold. “that’s what you get.” gets salty but then feels bad, covering you up again, then he really wakes you up. back hugs when you’re cooking for him. whining whenever you don’t pay attention to him, tugging at the edge of your shirt. sulks when you say you’re busy. doesn’t give a fuck about how clingy he is, but he knows you love it. holds your hand a little too hard when you’re walking together. kiss attacks always!!

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ lee know

stops you from crossing the street until he’s checked it. “stupid, look next time.” beats you twice in a board game but sees that you're sad that you’re not that good at it, but fails the third time just to see you smile and gloat about beating him. he loves seeing you happy, even if he has to purposely fail. leaves you notes everywhere, maybe just ‘i love yous’ mixed in with ‘i know you’ll forget this so don’t.’ text messages asking if you’ve eaten, and then getting mad and sending food to your door if you haven’t. swiftly kisses to the forehead aggressively saying you ‘deserve it’ but sounds like a threat. ‘you know i love you yeah?’ more aggressive kisses. ‘i won’t stop until you say you love me!!’

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ changbin

little wrestling matches on the couch, telling you that you’re silly for even trying. pulls you by the back of your hair if you’re not paying attention to him. “i left you the last piece of food.” always, always saves you the last piece no matter what it is. picks you up and throws you around, pretending he’s going to eat you bc apparently he’s a monster. but says you taste good so he doesn’t mind eating you. more wrestles. whenever you’re sad, he always cheers you up and never fails to make you laugh. does his trot impression of some old korean songs, full performance with your glitter jacket on that doesn’t fit him. ‘you still love me now? you better.’ knows you love being engulfed by him, so 90% of the time he is the big spoon. when he's feeling really romantic, he'll do a little picnic at the beach. always making sure it was at sunset because he knew it was your favourite time of the day.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ jisung

midnight trips to get take out, sitting in the car until 2am with both of your feet on the dashboard. ‘remember that time!’ always reminiscing about how you first met, nearly choking on your fries when you recall. kisses in the car, kisses in the house, kisses in the shower, kisses in the dark. ‘babe but i want it.’ chucks a tanty when you don’t buy him things. pouts and folds his arms. ‘if you loved me you would!’ holds the cuff of your jumper, mostly walking behind you whenever you go somewhere because he feels safe. morning calls, but especially night calls. he doesn’t care how you look at the end of the day, he just wants to see you and tell you he loves you. hiding himself in your jumper and saying there is enough room for two (when there isn't.)

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ hyunjin

taking you to art galleries, standing behind you with his head resting on yours. ends up putting his hands into your pockets from behind, cutely leading you around from the back. with hyunjin it’s not always words, sometimes it’s just his actions. he pushes your hair out of your face or tucks it behind your hair. mostly, he does your hair for you. always making sure your hair was out of your face because it annoyed you. brings you tea and sits with you if you’re studying or drawing or even watching tv, rubs your thigh gently to let you know that he doesn’t want to distract you, just shows you he wants to be with you. rubs your belly if you feel bloated and talks to it. 'you better stop being bloated or... i'll do something. idk what.' art dates!! always drawing together, even if you're shit he encourages you to keep going

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ seungmin

gently slips his fingers into yours without saying anything but smiling to himself when he sees you blush, he kind of loves that he makes you nervous. always taking the chance to make your cheeks tint pink. showers with seungmin, always washing your body and shampooing your hair for you, wet kisses in between. sometimes he’d gently press his nose on your naked skin, enjoying your scent but never admitting it. ‘it’s comforting’ he’d say in defence, ignoring you for the rest of the night. guiding you with his hand on your lower back, making sure you were safe no matter where you were. kisses to the forehead, the back of the hand, the back of your knees. seungmin doesn’t say it much, but he does love you. he shows it through everything else, knowing those words have such a weight to them.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ felix

‘are you gonna cook!?’ jumping up and down when you say yes, annoying you the whole time you’re cooking or baking. ‘is it done? i can’t wait to eat it!!’ eats half of the food before it’s even cooked because he says it’s ‘too good.’ little play fights that would begin from felix nibbling at your fingers and then at your thighs. ‘little gremlin’ you’d end up joking, rolling around on the floor, bodies all over each other, which would end in a heated make out session and clothes far gone. he’d send you random texts, of random things. ‘hey i saw this flower, it's cute, yeah?’ ‘this potato looks like you. it’s too cute to eat T-T’ ‘you think i could eat 11 hot dogs in two minutes? hmm maybe.’ 

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ jeongin

blowing raspberries on your tummy and holding you down. sometimes uses your foot as a telephone. ‘yes hello stinky foot line how can i stink you today?’ proceeds to try and hold your foot with his. 'shut up i can do it!!' probably be super sarcastic, mocking you when you tried to be cute with whatever you were saying. karaoke together, always singing out of pitch but though he’s laughing, encourages you to be more confident because he loves seeing you enjoy yourself. watches you sometimes, just admiring you but instantly whips his head around to pretend he wasn’t, head banging into something hanging from the wall. ‘mind your business’ he’d joke, walking away suspiciously.

♡ taglist: @blankdyean @l3visbby @daddyjoonchua @ipegchangbin @abcdefgiwsmcty ♡

[astayinwonderland]

Do you think we are about to make a terrible mistake? | Zhong Chenle

pairing: chenle x f.reader

genre: besties to lovers | smut +18 MDNI

summary: chenle has been away for a while and you miss your best friend-- however, everything changes when you realise you might actually love him more than a friend

wc: 2.2k

warnings: mentions and use of alcohol, anxiety, consensual sex, unprotected sex (pls no), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms-- lmk if I forgot anything

It’s 15 minutes past 11, where the fuck is he? 

You already texted him twice. You called. The party had already started and your friends wondered if you would make it. Hell, you were wondering if you should just go on your own. But no– you promised you would get there together for old-time’s sake. It’s been a little over a year since Chenle moved out of the country, your days of embracing nothingness together are gone, movie nights are just nostalgic memories, and maybe some words left unspoken. You missed your best friend dearly and even though you often called each other, it was not the same. Not at all. You missed more than his company. You missed his essence, aura, sparkly eyes, smile, and touch… 

Your heart suddenly ached. Were you truly in love or is it just the fact that this is the first time you will see him since he left? The thoughts that rudely invade your brain get interrupted by three loud knocks. Running to the door, you can feel the thundering beating of your heart ringing in your ears. 

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry…. Please don’t be upset–” 

You open the door abruptly and there he is. 

Zhong Chenle. 

Blue 3-piece suit. His hair graciously falls over his forehead, framing his beautiful face. He gives you the brightest of smiles, your heart skips a bit. 

“Don’t hate me. Come here!” he opens his arms to embrace you. 

“Shut up,” you throw your arms around him, and suddenly everything is fine. Time has not passed. 

His nose lowers to your head and he inhales your scent. This is home to him, he can’t believe he’s been away from you for so long. All he yearns is to keep you close, but doing so means having to accept the fact that he is irremediably in love with you. 

Smoke and bright lights danced around the place and the crowd made way for you and the man of the hour apparently. Everyone reaches out to Chenle. Hugs, high fives, praises, and kisses shower him. You can’t help but feel a tad bit jealous. This was supposed to be a fun night for you and your best friend… and your other friends as well. But Chenle is loved, popular, and missed, of course, people would be all over him. You feel silly for suggesting going to the party in the first place. 

You’re snapped back to reality when your body crashes into Chenle’s. His hand is possessively placed around your waist. Your audible gasp makes him laugh. 

“Where did your mind go, silly?” 

“Nowhere, I just wish we were somewhere else. This is not how I envisioned tonight, you know… after spending so much time apart,” you force a smile and feel his thumb caressing you softly. There was something up with him, but to your surprise, you couldn’t read him. 

Chenle closes the distance between you too. He's a little too close, his breath fanning on your face. Is he going to–

“Chenle!” 

Shiny hair, plump lips, white smile. Her manicured hand was already snaking its way to Chenle’s arm. She looks at you, scanning up and down as if she were trying to figure out who you are. 

“Oh, hey! Wh- what are you doing here?” Chenle replies. A kiss on her cheek makes your heart sink. 

Chenle’s eyes go from you to the girl and again to you. He is about to introduce you but you suddenly feel like your heart is going to burst out your chest, your palms are sweaty, your eyes getting watery and your ability to breathe fades as you try to fight the feeling. 

“I really need to go. Sorry– Nice to meet you,” you say politely. You try not to cry as you make your way out. Chenle watches as you leave, but he feels how his chest tightens more and more with each step you take away from him. 

After his third call, you get into the shower hoping that the pain would fade away with the hot water hitting your vulnerable skin. With tears streaming down your face and sobs that echo around your bathroom you finish your shower. You are too exhausted to do anything else but sleep, and your phone has long been forgotten in your purse. 

You think you just blinked but in reality, it is a little past 3 a.m. and the faintest sound coming from your door seems to wake you up. In a panic, you rush and open the door to find a sobering Chenle by your door. 

“...it was about fucking time you opened that door, silly, I’ve been knocking for hours I thought–” 

You cut him off, pulling him in. 

“Chenle what the fuck?” 

He smiles at your puzzled expression. His hair is a bit messy now, blue suit is wrinkled. You can’t help but wonder if anything happened with the girl in the club. 

“I’ve been waiting for hours… I followed you back here but you locked the door. I called you so many times… ” he frowns. 

You go to the kitchen and fetch him a water bottle. As he starts drinking it, you find his eyes searching yours…  Sparks. No. No. This is your best friend Chenle. Nothing can ever happen between you and your best friend. The one who taught you how to ride a bike, tie your shoelaces, and give the best hugs ever. 

“You look so pretty,” he finally says. 

“Drink your water, Chenle,” you sigh. 

“You do!” he insists. 

“Who has she?” and you can’t believe the words that leave your mouth. You weren’t supposed to ask. 

“We did a semester together abroad. She is a good classmate that’s all. I never meant to upset you– you are too important…” 

You weren’t sure where the conversation was going, but Chenle assumed he talked too much. He puts the water bottle down and makes his way to you. Now you find yourself between your best friend and your bedroom door. The hard wooden surface against your back reminds you that once you cross that threshold with him, your relationship will change forever. 

His hands touch your waist, not sure if he has permission to do so, but you welcome him as the drug you need. His lips inches from yours and you pray he will kiss you, but time stops. It’s really only you and him at last like you dreamt of so many restless nights. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something since the moment I came back…” 

“Yes?” your voice comes out as a breathless whisper. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You can’t even wait to answer him when your lips are already on his. His tongue teases yours and your lips part. He tastes of expensive wine, lust, and love. Chenle moans into your mouth and that is it for you. You want every single inch of you to be consumed by him. You reach out to open the door to your room. 

“Please,” you ask. 

“How can I say no to you?” he smiles and kisses you once again. 

Each second you spend kissing him you feel your skin getting hotter, desire coursing through your veins making you dizzy, and then you feel him carry you. Bride style, his lips never leaving yours. He carefully lowers you onto the bed, his hands now exploring your clothed body, the feeling of sparks under his fingertips making the moment intense, and urgent. Little moans and cries escape you both as Chenle helps you to straddle him. Your delicate fingers move his hair away from his face. The most beautiful man is underneath you, eyes on yours, lips parted. His chest rises and falls, you contemplate him for a moment. He takes your hands into his, everything seems surreal, you have spent countless times in this bedroom but not like this—a new territory. 

“Do you think we are about to make a terrible mistake?” your voice is small, you may not want to know what he has to say. 

He shakes his head. His hand reaches your cheek. 

“Do you?” 

Now you shake your head. 

“Good. Then kiss me, silly, and don’t stop unless you don’t want to do this–” but you don’t let him finish his thought and your lips already found his. 

It is then that you finally understand that he needs you as much as you need him. The pieces of clothing now are forgotten somewhere on your bedroom floor. Every part of you reacting to Chenle’s heavenly but sinful touch. His fingers finally take the only item of clothing left, your panties. He lowers himself, eye level with your wet cunt. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs. 

His tongue licks your entrance, ending in your clit which he sucks and your soul seems to leave your body as your back arches for him. Your hands immediately reach your breasts increasing the sinful pleasure coursing through you. You feel one of his fingers slide in you with almost no resistance. That’s how aroused you are for him. You gasp and your hips move, making the feeling of his hot mouth on your cunt even better. With his tongue flat on your slit, Chenle’s hands squeeze your thighs, encouraging you to use his face as you please. Only stopping to spit on your throbbing core, he eats you out so deliciously your soft moans turning louder. Legs over his shoulders now, he adds two curling fingers in you. 

Again and again, he kicks your clit, his fingers working magic inside you, fogging your brain and heightening the urge to cum for him. 

“Fuck! I– I’m–” you can’t think, you can’t speak… and so your orgasm hits you with such intensity you are shaking under him. Your legs turn to jelly. The heavy breathing that follows your cries echo in your ears. Chenle plants one last kiss on your clit and your legs close from the overstimulation. 

He lets out a low-pitched chuckle and the vibration travels straight to your clit again. 

“You okay?” 

You look at him in between your legs. Did this just happen? Your head falls back once more to the pillow. An involuntary laugh escapes your lips. But Chenle knows you, sometimes better than he knows himself he thinks and to him, this moment is making his heart go a million miles an hour. What an honour to have you like this, all fucked out, and all for him. 

Little kisses are planted on your thighs, on your lower stomach, your hands, your breasts, until he reaches your face. You giggle in response. His eyes meet yours, and different from what you thought, you are not embarrassed. You want him more than ever, so you kiss him. 

“More than okay,” you finally replied. 

Reaching south of his body you find his erection already leaking for you. You stroke it slowly, the faintest of moans leaving Chenle’s lips. This is the greatest reward you can get. His breath hitches as your pace gets faster. 

“Aaahhh…” a long, whiny moan. 

“You like that?” 

He nods reassuring you. 

You bring his hips lower, aligning his tip with your entrance. In anticipation, your eyes shut but immediately your jaw falls open when Chenle’s cock begins to stretch your needy cunt. Inch after inch, pleasure builds on pleasure and you silently pray the moment never ends when he starts moving in but not completely out of you. Your nails digging into his biceps, loving the way he stretches you out. 

“Ch-chenle,” 

“I know, I got you,” and he wraps one of your legs around his waist, making his thrusts deeper, his cock dragging against your walls that clench tightly around him. 

“Feels so so good,” your hand goes to his head, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling slightly. 

“Say. That. Again,” he moans. 

“It feels so good”. 

Chenle buries his face in the crook of your neck. Mild sharp pain fades into pleasure when he bites your skin, licking the now sensitive spot to ease the harsh sensation. You pull his hair once more, this time to make him kiss you. And he does, so lost in passion, so lost in you. The kiss is sloppy, messy, perfect. His thumb presses circles on your clit acting as the perfect trigger for your orgasm. You feel climbing higher and higher, his cock twitching inside you, his hot breath fanning on your face, his lips curving into a smile. Fuck, he is everything. 

“Chenle! Fuck… ah!” you cum for him. 

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” he repeats as a broken record as he pulls out and cums letting out a high-pitched moan that you will remember for the rest of your life. 

Chenle kisses your face, your hands, and helps you clean up. However, you didn’t exchange a word then. Now, you find yourselves back in bed, still naked. His arm around your waist, your head on his chest. His heartbeat is a love poem itself. 

“You know,” he breaks the silence. “I don’t ever want to say hello or leave without kissing you… I guess what I’m trying to say is–” 

You kiss him. It’s a long kiss, your lips pressed against his. Everything feels just right like it’s meant to be. 

“I really like you, Chenle,” you whisper, somewhat scared of what he will say back. 

“I really really like you too, silly,” he smiles. 

————————————————————-

a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨

I hope enjoyed this :3 ~ masterlist

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕎𝕖𝕣𝕖 "ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤" ♡

♡ Mature Content! Minors DNI! Warnings below the break ♡

♡ Pairing: ot8!boyfriend!ateez x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: A nice, calm, wholesome movie night with your boyfriends except I lied and nothing but absolute filth happens.

♡ Genre: smut with a sprinkle, a smidge, a barely visible flake of plot

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: (issa lot happening so pls lmk if I miss anything) masturbation (f), use of toys (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), anal penetration & eating (f receiving), unprotected sex (ya'll know not to do that irl!), creampies, edging, double vaginal penetration, things get rough, scratching, gagging, pet names (good girl, bad girl, slut, le usual)

♡ A/N: I wrote this with the intention of writing this soft, romantic piece but my mind got lost in the gutter and built a home there so here we are. Thanks to @anyamaris for supporting me in my nonsense as she always does.

Even with the air conditioner on, a wave of heat washes over you. Two fingers---your fingers---press firmly against your clit. You know your body better than anyone in this room. Every flick of your wrist makes your walls clench around the vibrator Hongjoong’s fucking you with. The ultra-soft silicone curves to rest its flat tip directly on your g spot. He keeps it at medium speed, the low hum of the toy a hypnotizing instrumental to the weakened moans leaving your lips. “You’re so beautiful” he whispers, delicately kissing your thigh. And you are.

Lying in the middle of your living room floor on a pile of the fluffiest pillows, you’re the prettiest thing any of them have ever seen. The plan had been to watch a movie. Horror---comedy---who cares? How could they watch anything but you? Legs spread wide. Pussy weeping, begging you to keep going just like that. Your panties, moist beyond measure, are looped around your ankle. The tight plaid mini skirt you wear is pushed up, not denying them a bit of your plush belly. Your nipples are two, tightly beaded indentations in your black crop top. They brush against the cotton each time your chest rises, turning you on even more.

It’s getting harder to play with your clit. Your muscles are tensing like a rubber band stretched near its breaking point. Your wrists are going limp. Your legs are shaking, causing your thighs to jiggle so deliciously that Hongjoong can’t resist nibbling at them. What he loves, what gets him off the most, is simply to watch you make a mess of yourself. “Mmm, Joongie. I’m gonna cum---” you gasp, arching against the pillows. Hongjoong’s laugh is nearly undetectable but you hear it, oozing lust. He’s happy with himself and with you. Pulling the soaked vibrator from your core, he pushes three fingers into you.

“Cum for me, princess. Cum around my fingers.” Hongjoong moves your hand away from your clit, wrapping his lips around it in a small O shape. Your arms fall above your head, your head turning to catch Yunho staring at you from the couch. Yunho looks spaced out. It’s as if his mind is off somewhere far away but that couldn’t be further from the truth. His mind is on you and no one else. It's fixated on the way your eyelids flutter when Hongjoong suckles at your clit. It’s committing to memory that sweet little smile you shoot him right before you lose control of your body. 

Hongjoong’s been edging you for an hour all for this moment when he can finger you hard and fast, tonguing your clit as pleasure rips through your body. You’re grabbing at nothing---at anything---to ground yourself but it’s no use. “Hongjoong. Fuck” you whine, struggling to find your breath, “I can’t. Too much. Too---fuck.” Wooyoung rises from his spot on the recliner to kneel above your head. “Let me help” he coos, kissing you on the forehead. His fragrant sable locks dance around your cheeks like curtains, shutting out the rest of the world.

Smooth hands massage their way up your arms, loosening your muscles as they tighten. Fingers press into your shoulders---tickle your collarbone---traverse the arches of your breasts to circle your nipples. Woo slips your shirt up, laying his hands flat on your breasts. He kneads them, pinching your nipples in his palms. “Woo---” you moan, “Joongie---ah.” You mindlessly writhe beneath them. Hongjoong’s knuckles are grinding against your slit. His fingers---they’re so deep---spreading you open even wider. 

Woo smiles down at you and there’s something so genuine about it because it is. “He’s right---” he says, “You’re so beautiful.” Woo drags his tongue across your lips just as Hongjoong’s tongue swirls between your pussy lips. There’s an audible squelching sound when his fingers pop out of you, the suction of your walls holding onto him for dear life too relentless to let him go quietly. Hongjoong gets up on his knees, sucking at his fingers, and admires the way you’re still clenching for him. He’d edge you more---keep you like this all night---but he knows he has to share.

With one last kiss which he plants on your lower belly, he leaves you in Woo’s capable hands. Woo reaches over you to run a finger across your slit and you giggle at how much it tickles. When he leans forward you get a clear view of how hard he is and catch yourself salivating. You bring a hand up to rub against his bulge. A groan emerges from somewhere deep within him, “Bad girl.” Still a tad loopy from your orgasm, you fumble your way up onto your knees. “But you love it, don’t you?” you tease, your hand reaching down to rub against him again.

Woo nibbles at his bottom lip, pulling you closer to him. You run your fingers through his hair, tucking a rogue strand behind his ear, “Up.” One word spoken in the singsong voice of an angel such as yourself has him up on his feet without question. Just as you reach for Woo’s zipper, strong arms grab you from behind, locking you in their embrace. “Choi San!” you gasp, admiring that dimpled grin of his, “I’m kinda trying to focus here---” San kisses down your neck, dipping one hand between your thighs.

His other hand cradles your chin, fingers pinching into your cheeks, and turns your head back towards Woo where a throbbing cock, arousal moistening the tip, waits for you. “Then focus---” San says, lightly squeezing your cheeks. You let your tongue fall free, resting it on the underside of Woo’s cock. Rolling it around his sensitive tip, you collect the warm salty liquid on your tongue. San lets go of your cheeks, giving you the room to bring your hand up and grip Woo’s base. You glance up at him and he’s already fixed on you. They stay that way as your fingertips trace the veins traveling up his shaft, stroking back to his base and starting all over again.

San raises your ass enough to slip his cock between your thighs. Somehow he’s even harder than Woo and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You wanna fuck me, Sannie?” “Hmm, is that how we ask?” he growls into your neck, grinding against you. Poking your ass out, you lay your head back onto his shoulder, “I want you to fuck my tight little cunt, Sannie. Please.” San grips you by the hips, sinking into you with zero patience. A vibrator has nothing on San’s cock. Woo tangles his fingers in your hair, sliding his thickness between your lips.

Bobbing your head back and forth, you suck your cheeks in---fan them out---mimicking the exact thing your pussy’s doing to San’s cock. It’s a flawlessly choreographed dance between the three of you. San bucking his hips, feeding you every inch. You rolling back against him, taking him like a--- “Pretty little slut---” San’s panting, the slobber dripping down your chin from sucking Woo off making you look like exactly that. Woo holding your head steady while you pump his glistening length, your hand and mouth working together to put his stomach in knots.

With Woo stuffing your cheeks, your screams are muffled when San picks up his pace. “Is this what you wanted, baby?” he says, slapping you on the ass. “Mmpphh” is all you can manage, Woo’s cock hitting the back of your throat. Woo and San bounce you back and forth, whispering praises that have you back on the edge in no time. Your hips stutter, cluing San in that you’re close, and his pace becomes unforgiving. Woo scoops up one of your breasts, pinching your nipples, feeling their weight in his hand. “Don’t stop---shit---y/n. So good. Don’t---” Woo twitches between your lips, pumping his seed directly down your throat.

Never one to be wasteful you drink him down, massaging his balls with your free hand. “Fuck---pussy’s so good y/n---gonna cum” San hisses and you’re cumming again. He cums with you, ropes of white painting your insides from the other end. Woo leans forward, kissing your puffy lips, “I’ll get you some water.” “And a popsicle please.” Woo and San look at each other---back at you---at each other---back at you. San straightens out your skirt, “What for?” Your gaze dances over to Seonghwa and the two of you immediately begin to blush. “We---uh---” Seonghwa stutters, “Don’t worry about it.”

Yeosang politely moves Woo and San away from you. “Excuse me. Sorry” he apologizes, moving between them to sweep you up into his arms, “We’ll get the water.” It’s not that you don’t know Yeosang can pick you up but every time he does you melt. Yeosang carries you toward the kitchen and Seonghwa’s right behind him. “And the uh---yeah.” Jongho hops up to follow them, pushing through San and Woo with zero of the politeness Yeosang offered. “Thanks though” he grins, patting Woo on the shoulder, “But not really.” 

“Oh my---that’s---that” you gasp, pleasantly surprised at how much you enjoy the sensation. Seonghwa bending you over your dresser and swirling a popsicle in your asshole wasn’t on your 2023 bingo board but he has you wondering why it never was. The chill of the popsicle is calming in a way. You were overheating for a bit there but now? You feel tingly all over. With the popsicle melted and your thighs coated in drips of sticky, strawberry syrup, Seonghwa goes to work licking it off of you. His long tongue trails up your left thigh---down your right thigh. It comes back up to your ass, nibbling at the plush cheeks and making you squeal. He stays there for a second kissing them, massaging them, tickling them with the tip of his tongue.

“Hwa---mmph” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he tongues your candy-coated asshole. Imagine having an itch. Not just any itch. One of those itches that makes it difficult to focus on anything else. One of those itches that refuse to be ignored. But you can’t reach it. No matter how hard you try, your arms just aren’t reaching until---oh god---you finally do. You scratch it and it’s so good that your legs could give out. Nothing, not a single thing, compares to how uniquely amazing that feels. That’s what it feels like to have Seonghwa making figure eights in your ass like his tongue's a professional figure skater.

While you’re bent over seeing stars, he maintains a shaky hold on his cock. Each stroke is slow and deliberate, in sync with yours. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbles, fully prepared to smother himself if it means tasting as much of you as possible. You hear a moan you’ve heard a dozen times before. Seonghwa tries to suppress them when he cums even though you wish he wouldn’t. Usually, he hates being messy but his cum has already glazed over his hand and the afterglow is heaven. “Fuck it,” he says to himself, falling across the bed. Spinning around you come face to face with Jongho. “Hey ya cutie” you beam, poking his cheeks.

Sometimes people say that he’s scary, mean even, but when you look at him all you see is your cuddly bear. You drape your arms over his shoulders for support, “Your turn?” Jongho effortlessly lifts you onto the dresser, kissing you like he’s been waiting forever to do it. And he has. “My turn.” He presses the head of his cock against your clit and there they are again. The hot flashes. That thin layer of perspiration on your skin. Jongho grabs your arms, pinning them behind you, and drives into you. “You’re still so wet.” “Not still” you whisper, “This is just for you.” Jongho thrusts into you and you’re full again, his cock much thicker than you remember.

Your exhausted muscles can hardly hold up to being fucked this hard but you don’t have to worry about that. In his arms, you don’t have to worry about anything besides feeling good. He could keep you steady all night if Yeosang weren’t snatching you away, tossing you on the bed. “Yeosang!” you shout, sliding back on the bed, “You can’t just throw people around like that!” Yeosang climbs on top of you, pushing your shirt up, “I can’t?” He brushes a thumb across one of your nipples, lapping at the other as his fingers massage your breast. “You can---shit---do it again” you surrender between shallow breaths.

Yeosang slips into you, his cock pulsing in time with each rise of his hips. His defined arms slip beneath your body, hands locking just behind your back. When he flips you over on top of him, it’s like your whole world’s been turned on its side. He bounces you up and down in his lap, the tremors traveling far behind your core. Just as he picks up a rhythm Jongho tears you away from him, propping you up against the wall. You’d make some smartass comment about Jongho not being good at sharing. If only there were time enough for that.

His arms are already tucked behind your knees, supporting your weight as he fucks you against the wall. “You’re such an addictive little slut, you know that?” he says, and your heart flutters. You just love when he sweet-talks you. The angle he has you at is perfect for stimulating your g spot. He’s bumping right up against it and you’re clamped down around him, as addicted to him as he is to you. “Can I borrow this?” Yeosang asks, peeling you away from Jongho and tossing you back onto the bed. 

This time you’re on your knees. All fours is simply out of the question with how completely destroyed you are. “Are you just gonna toss me around all night?” you whine, burying your face in the blankets. Seonghwa lays his head beside yours, nuzzling up to you. “Of course not” he assures you, his voice warm and comforting, “I won’t throw you around when I have you. A light roll maybe---” 

“Pirates! Cowboys! Biker gangs!” you mumble incoherently, jolting awake. Shaking off those incredibly strange dreams, you realize that you’re still in bed. Judging from how dark it is in your room, it’s well past midnight. You must’ve fallen asleep after what your aching muscles are telling you was a wrestling match with a bear. A barely awake Yunho tightens his arm around you from behind, “Cowboys? I’ll do anything for you but I am not putting on a cowboy costume.” “I will,” Mingi yawns, cuddling up closer to you from the other side, “I get nice boots. Probably a cool jacket. Ooh, some guns---”

“There are no guns!” you interrupt, “When did you two even get in here?” Yunho shrugs, “A few hours ago. You never came downstairs and we missed you.” The “we” he’s referring to is obvious when you notice how hard he is against your back. “You fell asleep on us” Mingi pouts, a hand running up your thigh to squeeze your ass. You drape a leg around his waist, smooching him on the nose, “Don’t do that.” “Don’t do what?” Mingi pouts even more, knowing how soft you go for him when he does this. “That! You guys are both being so---” “So?” Yunho asks, his long fingers reaching between your legs to stroke your pussy. 

You shiver at the contact. Having Yunho behind you, his cock pressing into the small of your back, his fingers teasing you, makes your heart race. Mingi spreads your thighs, giving Yunho more than enough room to curl his fingers into you. “Finish what you were saying.” “I---uh---” “Uh---uh” Mingi mocks, petting your cheek. You move to playfully slap him but he grabs you by the wrist, kissing you before you can even consider trying anything else. Yunho eases a third finger into your core, “You like it when I play with your little cunt, don’t you?” “Mm-hmm” you hum, lidded eyes glossing over.

Yunho stays focused on tapping your sweet spot while Mingi hypnotizes you with his lips. Mingi has you so drugged, so completely entranced, that you don’t even notice when one of Yunho’s fingers is replaced with his. It’s not until there are four of them inside of you, two of Mingi’s and two of Yunho’s that you feel the difference. Feel the intensity of the stretch. “I think she likes it” Mingi grins, rubbing his thumb against your clit. Yunho follows suit, slipping a thumb into your ass. “Fuck---yes---Yunie---Mingi---mmm!” you cry out, so overstimulated that your eyes begin to water. 

They grind into you harder, forcing out screams louder than any you’ve made tonight. “Please---inside of me---wanna feel you. Both of you” you whine, so lost in how badly you want them that you don’t realize what you’re asking. Mingi slides his hand out, smearing your juices between your folds, “Aah, she’s adventurous tonight. You sure you can handle that?” “I-I can. Ah, shit. I need it.” Yunho spreads his fingers in a V, rolling them around inside of you, stretching you from every angle. Mingi brings the head of his cock to splash in the juices leaking from your needy core and Yunho pulls out of you, focusing instead on freeing himself from his pants.

For a fleeting moment, it occurs to you how fucking insane you are. Mingi and Yunho at the same time? It’s not only the thickness, it’s the length. You wonder if you have a death wish. Mingi guides himself into you, only the first inch, sending shockwaves through your system. If this is how you die, you figure, at least you’ll die happy. Yunho spits into his palm, moistening his length before he brings it to meet your already occupied slit. Mingi slides in another inch or two, keeping his cock flush against the roof of your walls. Yunho raises himself into you, taking his time to watch for any signs that you’re uncomfortable, “Let us know if it’s too much, okay?” You make a little squeak to acknowledge how nice it feels to be protected, even when he’s in the process of tearing you in half.

He begins to slide up into you, pausing to let Mingi push in a little more, then taking his turn again. It’s a toe-curling, lip-biting back and forth to get them both inside of you. Once they are, you're falling apart, screaming, digging your nails into Mingi’s arm. Pulling his shirt up over his head, he gathers the material and shoves it in your mouth. “We don’t want them to think we’re killing you.” You’re so full, stretched beyond your limit, that only one of them can fuck into you at once. There’s no room for anything---or anyone---else. You belong to them. “You’re always worth waiting for but shit” Mingi grunts, his length throbbing, as much as it can given the space.

There’s moisture on your cheeks. You’re crying. Not from pain. No. That initial sting gave way to pleasure once they were both finally inside of you. You’re crying, drenched in your own tears, because parts of you are shifting that you didn’t even know could. Every stroke has your ears ringing, your heart in your stomach. You feel heavy and weightless all at once. The darkness of the room swallows you while somehow managing to be blindingly bright. There’s an explosion somewhere inside, releasing the building pressure. You’re at your peak again, legs kicking like you’re dangling high up. It hits you hard. So hard that you’re not breathing. Breathe, girl, breathe!

Just as you catch your breath and think that you’re maybe---maybe---coming down, Yunho's filling you up like a donut. Mingi pulls out, tapping his head against your clit as warm cum sprays against you. Correction: Filling you up like a glazed donut. The three of you collapse, unable to do much else besides make a series of broken noises. “Hmph mmm mm hmph,” you say? Scream? Mumble? Mingi throws his arm across his chest, understanding your incoherent huffs, and takes the shirt out of your mouth. You pat him lovingly on the head, “Thanks.” 

Readjusting yourself on the toilet, you rub the partially melted popsicle between your legs. This is nowhere near sexual in nature. You’re just in desperate need of relief from how sore you are after the day’s events. “Aah, yup, that’s the spot” you sigh, “Seonghwa really was onto something.” “Was I?” Seonghwa asks, rubbing his eyes. You jump a bit, startled by his sudden appearance in the doorway. Seonghwa stretches, dragging his feet into the bathroom.

As adorable as he is in his pajamas, his hair a complete mess, seeing him right now isn’t ideal. He shakes off the sleep, taking his time to process what’s going on. “Is that a---” “Ssh, if you tell anyone---” Seonghwa’s cheeks turn rosy, a smile spreading across his face. He takes you by the hand, bringing you to your feet, “Come on.” “Hwa, hold on, do you think? I wasn’t--no. No!” You reach back to drop the popsicle in the sink but Hwa pulls you along. “Hold onto that.”

[binsito]

Kitty, what're your thots on pervy stepbro!skz? Cause just thinking about it has me going woozi (hehe)

AHHHHHHHHH (those are my thots)

cw: stepcest!!!!!!! dni if uncomfortable, i warned you. proceed with caution,

slight voyeurism/exhibitionism (or mentions of it), mentions of drinking, masturbation, dirty fantasies involving the reader, sex and oral sex (or suggestive scenarios involving it), slightttt noncon situations due to pervertedness, mentions of assplay, cum, all characters are adults who's parents got married later on in their lives (thought i'd clarify just in case). i think i hit the major ones, pls lmk if i missed anything super important

okay bye

bangchan: he is soo sweet. he's incredibly helpful around the house, always offering to clean the dishes after dinner. your mom absolutely loves him. he's perfect, minus his one dirty little habit of asking you to help with the chores. it's not like he needs the help, he just gets a little excited when he sees you bend down to pick something up or go through the laundry because he gets a peek of your pretty thong.

'two of us get things done quicker' he usually says, and of course you don't mind helping him, he's fun to talk to and you also have to carry some of your own weight if you're going to keep living with your mom while attending college.

'i'll treat you for helpin' out' but what he really wants to say is he'll fuck you up against the laundry room's door. couldn't you get the hint? his cock was always rock hard around you, it was painfully obvious. couldn't you hear him through the walls fisting himself while you were both home alone? he didn't care to be quiet at all and he knew you were just choosing to be oblivious.

he was so good! why couldn't you just reward him? he mows the lawn, cooks if he has to, throws out the trash. the least you could do was give your sweet stepbrother your mouth to use around his cock after a long day of hardwork around the house!

and he hates the way you're licking the ice cream he got you for helping. hates the way you look at him and giggle because he knows you know what you're doing to him.

minho: he was bored out of his mind at the wedding reception for your parents. at least his dad was happy for once.

he glanced over and watched you order a drink from the bar, sipping it as you looked towards him. he quickly looked away and chuckled to himself, hoping you didn't notice how his eyes trailed down as he checked you out in your pretty dress. would it be disrespectful to put moves on his new stepsister?

he could ask you to dance, right?

he made his way over to you and leaned against the bar, smiling towards you.

"could i have the pleasure of dancing with you?"

you giggled at him and waved him off, explaining to him that you were to shy to dance.

"well then let's go somewhere private where no one can see us?"

the implications of his words made you flustered. this was your step brother now. did he mean his words in that sense or were you reading into it too much?

(he definitely meant his words suggestively.)

his eyes basically undressing you as you swallowed thickly. he could take you to the family restroom and no one would even know the two of you were missing.

he could easily slip past the huge blend of both families and fuck you outside behind all the cars.

he could make you hold his cum the whole night until your parents went their separate way to their honeymoon together. you could have the whole house to yourselves, fuck on every surface imaginable and no one would ever have a clue.

changbin: he's normally shy, very respectful. very gym oriented - going as far as setting up all his equipment in the garage with your dad's permission. you were interested in his work out routine, asking him if you could join him one day.

he didn't know why that made him so flustered, sputtering while he talked to you and letting you know it was perfectly fine that you used his stuff and joined him. you were surprised how disciplined he was, how heavy he could lift. he was trying hard to keep his composure, trying hard to push down the thoughts he was having of you spotting him.

the idea of you basically straddling his head while he benched was making him see stars. or what if he had you bench press? what if he was the one straddling your head, having you look up at him and see how his cock protruded from his gym shorts, the obvious outline giving away how hard he was.

what if he had you do russian deadlifts, coming up behind you to help with your form, cock brushing up against your ass while he tried explaining how to position yourself properly.

all changbin wanted to do was hold you open over him while he laid on the bench, licking at your cunt eagerly. all he wanted was to take you from behind while you tried to finish doing cable tricep pushdowns.

keyword on tried because he wanted to make sure he'd leave you dumb enough to even forget what number set you were even on.

hyunjin: hyunjin started to catch feelings well after your parents got married, you two just clicked, friendship quickly burning into something so much more.

but he knew you probably wouldn't feel the same, would probably be grossed out by him if he told you he loved you. he didn't want to ruin the family dynamic so he kept his feelings harbored deep within himself.

but his heart absolutely shattered when you brought another boy home, begging him to not tell your mom because you weren't sure if she'd approve of him.

all his hope of maybe one day confessing to you was thrown out the window. did he read you wrong? he could've sworn that maybe there was something there..

and he couldn't sleep that night, tossing and turning as he heard you through the walls, giggling with that other guy and hushing him. warning him that although your parents weren't home - hyunjin was.

but the hushes and scolding did nothing because hyunjin could still hear everything clearly. how you kissed him sloppily, how the bed shifted when he climbed on top of you, how you gasped out when he pressed his cock inside of you.

hyunjin closed his eyes tightly and to save himself from his misery, he pretended it was him between your legs, his hand reaching down to touch himself as he listened in on the both of you. he pretended it was his name that you were chanting. he took note of the pitches of your moans, how they got higher when you were about to cum, how breathy and incoherent you became.

he would do anything to see how your face twisted with pleasure.

at least he could pretend to be the one to bring you to your peak whenever he heard you through the walls.

jisung: living with jisung was definitely something to get used to. unfortunately with the sudden growth of your new family, there was not enough space for both of you to get your own room. you'd be sharing a space until your parents found an adequate place.

jisung didn't mind but you clearly did. having to share the en suite bathroom in the mornings was a challenge.

why did he have to take so long in the damn bathroom?

"jisung! c'mon i'm gonna be late, can't you please hurry up!?"

he always managed to beat you to the bathroon, always waking up early to start his day.

what you didn't know is he was taking care of his aching cock in the shower, fisting himself to the image of you sleeping soundly. he had gotten bold lately, picking the sheets carefully off your body to get a peek at your body, tugging your sleeping shorts to the side to reveal your panties, moving them aside to finally be met with your cunt.

how was it so wet?

could he give it a lick?

he didn't want to be caught.

rubbing himself through his shorts until he couldn't take it anymore, rushing to the bathroom to chase his release.

felix: he knew he shouldn't but he just couldn't help it.

watching you from his bedroom window inconspicuously as you tanned by the pool in your backyard. you looked so pretty, so unaware that he was jerking himself to the sight of you in a skimpy bathing suit. that dumb bikini top leaving little to the imagination, it wasn't your fault you didn't want annoying tan lines. he watched intently as you turned face down in the lounge chair, reaching behind you to untie the straps of your bikini top so they wouldn't leave a pesky mark. you were basically naked, your tits were basically on display for him, couldn't you just sit up and show him? flash him really quickly so he could finish in his hand?

it was torture - having to watch you from afar when he wanted to be down there with you. would you quickly cover up if he were to go join you? or would you barely acknowledge him and continue to enjoy the sun? would you ask him to reapply sunscreen on you? would you let his hands wander, trailing down to your ass to massage them? would you protest if he pulled your thong down or would you let him play with your ass a little?

he wanted you bad.

spurting cum all over himself and making a mess as he let out a loud groan, it must've been loud enough for you to hear and look up from your spot, making eye contact with him through his blinds.

goddammit.

seungmin: your mom wouldn't let you go out to that dumb frat party unless seungmin tagged along and drove you there.

you agreed because you didn't want to lose the opportunity to go talk to that football player you had the hots for.

seungmin thought it was funny, watching you fix your makeup one last time in his car's mirror. there was nothing to fix, you looked perfect in his humble opinion.

he knew you wanted to go to this party because of that guy, he wasn't fond of him at all. you were too good for him and in all honesty, seungmin wanted you for himself.

he wanted you to be his but it was complicated given the fact that your mom was married to his dad.

his advances didn't go unnoticed when he laid his hand on your inner thigh as he drove. impulse thoughts racing through his mind - what if he just turned around right now and took you in his backseat? he wanted to make you forget about that stupid jock.

"minnie?" snapping him out of his thoughts at a red light.

"you're quiet." you choose to say instead of bringing attention to the obvious hand on your thigh

"sorry, just thinking about the one hundred ways i could fuck you and how it would be so much better than that guy you're pining after." he speaks up, driving towards a turn lane to make a u-turn.

jeongin: he always thought you were pretty.

he had seen you around campus but was always too shy to approach you. how would he even start a conversation with you. when his mom told him she had found someone new, he was excited for her but the last thing he ever expected was for the 'someone' to be your father.

you, the girl he so helplessly daydreamed of was soon to be part of his family.

he didn't know if this was a blessing or a curse.

could he push down all the thoughts he's had of you or would he fail miserably. how was he ever supposed to tell you he liked you now?

when your families decided to spend the holidays together, he knew he was going to struggle. cock hard in his slacks as he watched you reapply some lip gloss that had gotten wiped as you drank wine and talked to people.

he felt hopeless.

he decided that socializing would be too much for him in this state of mind so he snuck upstairs, finding his way into your room.

there was a picture of you on your vanity, a pretty bow adorning your hair as you smiled widely. jeongin wanted to make you smile like that, wanted to tell you how gorgeous he thought you were but soon his thoughts became dirty, imagining how he wanted you to smear your lip gloss all over his shaft, peppering his cock with delicate kisses.

he shoved a hand into his pants and pulled his cock out, stroking it gently as he grabbed the photo with his free hand.

fuck, you were perfect to him.. the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

his brain became foggy, only thinking about you and you only as he pumped himself-

"jeongin?" you stood at your door, he nearly jumps out of skin, pathetically cumming all over your photo, face burning hot as he looks over at you.

oh fuck, how was he ever going to live this down? how would he even explain this predicament?

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

[sinsandsweetness]

across the hall - part 2 (Frank Castle x fem!reader)

part 1

cw- eventual smut, 18+ , nothing crazy<3

notes- definitely placed in the beginning of season 1. I know he goes by a different name at that time but… I don’t really care lol. I have no clue where this is going but it’s all my fingers will type today so I’m rolling with it. lmk what we think:)

Frank opened the door in plaid pyjama pants and a grey tee. Rubbing at his eye with his palm and leaning up against the doorway.

“Hey,” he seems a little surprised. Like no one has ever knocked on his door before. “You lose your keys again?”

You’re momentarily distracted by the stretched fabric across his body. Muscles in his arms bulging and flexing involuntarily as he crosses them against his chest.

“Oh, um, no I just- uh, I wanted to say thank you, for the other night. You didn’t have to do that and … yeah just, um, I made you this.” You bring attention to the casserole dish in your hands. “Just as a little thank you.”

He wants to smile but for whatever reason he bites it back. Nodding slightly and shrugging his shoulders. “Was just bein’ a good neighbour.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you didn’t have to. It was just really nice and I, um, I appreciated it. A lot.” You shift on your feet. Glancing down at your bunny slippers and pyjama pants.

“What is it?” Frank opens the door even more, nodding to the dish. He’s inviting you in. Not verbally. But he backs into his apartment and expects you to follow.

“Uh, lasagna. Hope you like it.” You step in and he closes the door behind you. “It’s still needs to go in the oven. A half hour?” You suggest, handing it to him.

He turns the oven on and places the tinfoil covered dish inside. Turning around and looking you up and down. You figure you weren’t supposed to notice that.

With his gaze on you, you find yourself suddenly a little self conscious of your pjs. White top, probably a little see through though you didn’t want to check. Faded pink striped pyjama pants and those fucking slippers. Why couldn’t you have just slipped on some flip flops. Anything else.

“Kinda late for dinner, no?” He cracks a smile to let you know that he’s not being rude. Just making conversation, acknowledging both of your attire.

“Well you work late, right? I mean at least it seems like it… I don’t know when you get off work or anything-“ you’re rambling. You do know when he gets off. Almost every weekday at 8 pm you hear his door unlock. It’s sticky, catching on the wooden frame. That’s how you know. It’s louder than anyone else’s in the hall. And, most of the time, you get home from college at the same time. Running into him in the elevator and walking alongside him to the two of your doors. At least on the days you decide to study.

Frank nods. Leaning up against the counter. A little smirk visible in the dim lit apartment.

“You want somethin’ to drink?”

“Oh, no I’m ok. I should get back to bed anyway.” You stutter, motioning towards the door.

“You’re gonna make me eat this whole lasagna all alone?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“Stay. Have a beer. Or water. I have water. Wine? Think I got some wine somewhere in here,” Frank is already in the fridge, pulling out a couple bottles of beer. Same as the other night.

“Beer’s good.” You finally answer.

“Here. Take a seat.” He hands You the bottle and pulls one of the stools at the island out for you.

You sit there and wait for the timer on the oven to go off. He asks you what you do. What you’re studying in school. How you like it. You ask him about work. What he does, how he likes it. Typical small talk, only this time you’re here on purpose. Not out of necessity.

When the timer goes off he makes you up a plate. Sitting next to you at the island, you eat with him. You’re not very hungry, seeing as you’d already eaten dinner. But you didn’t really want to leave. Not after his comment about eating alone. That pulled at a heart string.

“So…” you try to come up with more conversation. An empty plate and a fork in front of you both. Only a few sips left in your beer. “You live alone?”

He nods. Taking a swig of his beer.

“Oh. So you don’t… have a girlfriend or anything?”

He doesn’t know wether he should smile. Instead he just shakes his head. No girlfriend. Ok. You don’t want to admit it but you’re glad he said no. Even though you don’t know him very well, you feel drawn to the man. Big and burley and quiet. Handsome of course. And something else that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“You uh,” he swallows, “you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you huff a little laugh. Though it’s not very funny.

“So your buddy from the elevator…?”

“Oh no. That’s- he’s just my roommate. He’s got a girlfriend. Several actually,” you laugh awkwardly and wish you could smack your forehead.

“Lady killer, huh?” He cracks a smile.

“Somethin’ like that. Definitely thinks he is,” you smile back and take a few more swigs of beer. Not really feeling a buzz but definitely more relaxed. You don’t know why you’re always so anxious around Frank. He’s much more kind than the energy he puts off in the hall.

Two more beers and a few awfully raunchy roommate stories later and you find yourself back on his couch. Laughing so hard your stomach hurts. your slippers are kicked off and across the room. You’re sitting there, criss cross applesauce beside him and demonstrating the size of a hot pink dildo that your freshman year roommate forgot to take out of the shower. Frank is laughing and covering his face with a palm. Like he’s actually embarrassed for the girl. But you’re both a little tipsy so it really doesn’t matter.

“So what, you’ve never been the bad roommate?” He asks. His hand so close to your knee it’s burning hot.

“I mean…” you bite your lip. Trying not to smile and give yourself away.

“Ok. So you have. How?” He nudges your leg with his own. Urging you on.

“I have not!” You laugh. Trying to uphold your dignity.

“I’m callin’ bullshit. Pretty girl like you? No way you don’t have a few skeletons in that closet.” His hand is on your knee now. Undeniably there. Resting. Squeezing.

You blush. You can’t help the way your face heats up. He called you pretty. And he’s touching you.

You swallow, “I- I’ve had a couple of hookups that, maybe weren’t exactly the quietest. Or… safest.” You try to keep it brief. Hoping he’ll let it be at that.

“Safest?”

“Well… there was a bathtub incident, where he, um, broke his foot. And a… well a bed frame incident as well…” you’re face is burning. You can’t believe you’re admitting this to your neighbour. One that you definitely wouldn’t mind seeing shirtless again. One that you’ve been picturing in your bed for a much longer time than you’d care to admit.

“Hmm,” He hums a little laugh but he doesn’t bother asking for any explanation.

“What?” You ask. Nervous of the answer.

“Nothin’,”

“No, you were about to say something, go on.”

“I don’t know. You just didn’t strike me as that kind of girl. Always carrying all those books around. Seemed like the kinda girl who goes to school and to church and that’s it. Just… I don’t know. You surprise me.”

“I’m full of surprises, Frank. I think we both are.”

He nods. You have no idea.

“Besides, I don’t even go to church,” you finish off your bottle with one last sip. Placing on the floor beside the couch leg.

“No?”

“Why did you think that?” You ask.

“You’re up at 8 every Sunday. Dressed all nice. Figured that’s where you go.”

He notices you every Sunday. How does he notice?

“I meet a friend….for brunch. Been sort of a ritual since school started,” you explain, “how do you- how do you know that?”

“Hm?”

“How do you know that i’m up at 8 on sundays?”

“I see you, walking down to the corner of the street,” He points to the window. “Hear your keys in your hand as you leave the hallway. And I know about 4 minutes later, I’ll see you on the sidewalk. Going towards the lights.”

“So you’re spying on me?” You tease. Smiling like an idiot. He notices you! Frank notices you and he has for weeks. All while you’ve been trying to muster up the courage to talk to him in the elevator or the hall. He’s been doing the same thing.

“It’s not spyin’ if it’s general knowledge. Anyone can see you leavin’ the building.” He defends himself but you know he’s smiling.

“Yeah but you’re obviously the only one who notices.” You sit up straighter. Suddenly feeling really close to his face. Looking into those deep brown eyes.

“Trust me when I say, I’m definitely not the only guy who notices you.” His eyes keep darting away. Like he’s afraid of you seeing into them. Seeing into him.

You bite your lip. Not knowing what to say. It’s a compliment, though you’ve never been very great at taking those.

“Hey, Frank?” You ask, redirecting his attention back to your eyes. Your voice is quiet. Shy. “Would you wanna go for brunch sometime?”

“I got a better idea. Stay the night, and I’ll make you breakfast this time. How’s that sound?” His hand on your leg is squeezing you gently. And his words are pulling you even closer.

“I’d like that,” you breath out, nose almost touching his. Hand coming up to the side of his face, “I’d like that a lot.”

You press your lips to his and your suddenly thankful for all the beers he gave you. Feeling a hundred times more courageous than you typically do.

His hands are wrapping around your waist on no time. Pulling you around to straddle his lap. To kiss him and feel him underneath you. Hands roaming his broad shoulders and down his chest. His own hands dragging under the thin material of your long sleeve, sending pinpricks down your arms from the touch.

Your tongues taste of beer as they trace over each others lips. Muffled moans threaten to creep up your throat as you feel him grow hard underneath you. Grinding against his bulge, only the thin fabric of your pyjamas between you.

He picks you up by the backs of your thighs. Lifting you and him both to maneuver you around. He wants you underneath him. Your back hits the leather couch and his forearms frame your face. Coming back down to meet your lips again, you reach for his shirt, pulling on the hem. He lets you lift it over his head. Your own shirt quickly after. Pants being tugged down all rushed and inpatient before you find yourself inviting him in between your legs. Heels wrapped around the small of his back and your nails dig into his shoulder blades while he enters you slowly. Giving you a minute to adjust to his size.

His kisses are hungry. Warm and, somehow, already familiar. His beard tickles your jaw but you can’t complain. It feels too good. Him. Inside of you. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulling you closer as he fucks you. The sofa is creaking with every thrust but he doesn’t seem to care. Whispering sweet nothing in your ear. You can barely hear them you’re so high. Intoxicated by the taste of him. The feel of him. Nothing is going through your mind except him and how fucking good he feels.

“Frank, I’m- oh god I’m getting close,” you let him know with your lips brushing his neck the whole time. You want to kiss every inch of him. Every spot you can reach. He doesn’t mind. Going even faster at your announcement. Determined to get you there before him, because at your words, he’s trying so fucking hard not to finish in your tight, warm heat right here and now.

You press your forehead to his collarbone, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Pulling and tugging and silently telling him that you’re there. Your breath hitches and he feels you convulse around him. Your orgasm takes over and a warm, euphoric wave spreads throughout your core. Frank pulls out and hot, white ropes coat your lower belly. His own face pressed into your neck. A shiver of pleasure runs through his spine.

You catch your breath in his hold. Gripping his arm and the back of his neck. Trying to pull him back for one last kiss.

He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and leaning back, forcing you to follow and sit up with him.

“Sorry, I- you can shower. I’ll go get it started.” He days between kisses. But you shake your head.

“It’s fine.”

“No I shouldn’t of-”

“I liked it.”

He nods. Eyes closing and melting back into your kiss. Hands still refusing to leave your body. Feeling and memorizing every soft curve of your waist. Your hips. Your ribs and the dip in your spine.

“Can I stay? Can we- can you-“ you take a deep breath, “will tou take me to your bed, Frank. Please?” You ask and he feels his cock twitch. Fuck. He can’t say no. He doesn’t want to say no. He wants to fuck you in his bed until the sun rises. He wants to tell you to stay every damn night for the rest of your life. To move on in and give him a damn kid. He knew he was hooked from the first kiss. Screwed really. There’s nothing he can do except see it through. Ride it out and let the universe do the rest.

Before you know it your legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s carrying you through the apartment, lips on his the whole way to the room. His foot must have tapped your empty bottle, knocking it over to roll along the floor, clinking against the linoleum.

Distracted by eachother, you don’t seem to notice, and he doesn’t seem to care.

[leqonsluv3r]

liquid courage

infinite darkness!leon x f!reader

summary: reader worries about leon, she goes over to check on him. they end up drinking from there...and things get heated.

warnings/tags: MDNI, foul language, porn with (very little) plot, drunken behavior, mentions of alcohol, age gap (reader is 24, leon is 36 (my lore is probably wrong, dont kill me pls), dom!leon, sub!reader, unprotected pnv action (wrap or don't slap it), pet names (baby, babygirl), daddy!kink, oral (f recieving), praise, dirty talk, hickies and bruises, humping/grinding (reader literally cums in her underwear LOL). mentions of pain during seggs, and other foul stuff i forgot.

an: chat.ai got me all worked up, so here we are. sit back and enjoy pls and ty. also pls roblog <3 and lmk if u wanna be in my tag list.

You and Leon had a complicated "relationship".

He was your next-door neighbor in the loft building that had many, upon many units. He never rarely said anything to you ever, just occasional "hi's" and "hello's" in passing. Just to be polite, neighborly even.

There were times though when you would catch him looking at you as you went out in the hall to go somewhere, you two bumping into each other, he would scan your body...almost eye-fucking you.

Or maybe it was just in your imagination, you weren't ever sure.

Still, the thought of him fucking you for real...made your panties pool with want and need. If just his eyes could do that...you couldn't imagine what else you were missing out on.

You knew that he was always almost never home, probably working or something. You had your suspicions that maybe he was spending time at a girl's place or that he was occupying someone else's time.

You had barely said a word to the man, yet, that thought made you jealous and almost predatorily angry. Because you just knew, the way he walked and the way he carried himself...that he knew what he was doing.

He did have his moments, where he broke the silence. One day, he knocked on your door, holding a package out to you.

Not just any package...a vibrator.

Dear god, you wanted to coil up into a ball.

"I think this is yours..." he said, sticking out his large hand that held your sex toy. He didn't even look embarrassed...like you did. Cheeks all red and flustered, staring dumbly as he held out the package to you.

You couldn't stop staring at his hands, the one that held your package. The thoughts of what he could do to you with those hands made your pussy flutter, naughty images filling your brain.

You finally got words out, "Uh, y-yeah...that's mine." you reached out slowly and grabbed the package from him, your fingers brushing. Electric jolts to your body and the small contact. He smirked a little, eyeing you (like he would sometimes do), "Boyfriend not satisfying you?"

Holy fuck, you thought as you parted your lips a little.

"N-No boyfriend..." you nervously stutter out as you feel his eyes grazing your body. He hummed, nodding slowly, almost confirming his suspicions.

"Thats a shame..." he starts trailing off. "Pretty girl like you, should have a boyfriend." He said with a tilt of his lips, your eyes widened a little and you tried not to let a gasp escape your pink lips.

You didn't even say anything, not until he said bye and walked back next door to his apartment. You watched him go, trying to process the words that he had said to you...the way he looked at you.

God, his gaze, you felt so hot underneath it. Like a reptile under a heated lamp.

You closed the door and walked back into the threshold of your apartment, ripping the box to the vibrator open and charging it while you still had the pool between your thighs.

That's where your crush started...you whiny and moaning under your toy as you thought of him fucking you. It was almost pathetic, he didn't even know you existed, yet you were coming undone on your own accord at the thought of him.

"Daddy...please..." you moaned to yourself, chanting it like a mantra as you came fast. It was embarrassing, thrilling and fun but you felt like a naive little girl with a crush on a man you could never have.

After that, you tried to get yourself involved in anything involving him. You found that harder than actually planned so you decided that maybe looking him up would be a good idea.

Just to know a little more about him.

You typed his name into the search bar, a thousand results popped up but only one interested you. ROOKIE COP UNDER SIEGE you read. The rest of the article was basically outlining a strange occurrence in Raccoon City...involving a younger looking Leon.

It was his offical police issued picture that he took and... He looked...so small and just...innocent. The other picture in the article was of him...but he looked different.

His mouth was pressed in a firm line, jolting blue eyes looking straightforward at the camera, then...his eyes. His eyes didn't look hopeful and full of life like they were in the other one you saw.

They looked...like he had seen something, witnessed something truly awful and you had no idea what. The article states that the incident was unreported and handed over to the government.

'21 YEAR OLD COP' it read...and that was years ago...that meant...he was 36 by now. A lot older than you...

And my lord, did he age well. Even at 36 he still had his looks going for him...and you knew that the age gap between you both was large but...you still wanted him.

You closed your computer and leaned back on the couch, you couldn't even do much except wait for him to show up or "conveniently" bump into him out in the hallway.

So, you just had to sit back and wait, wait until you saw him again or until your curiosity got the better of you.

Turns out, time was definitely not in your favor, not one bit.

Days passed, weeks, and eventually a month...

You thought you were never going to see Leon again, ever, he was always working or never home. You just wanted to see him, so one day...after getting off the computer from working all day, you decided to go next door and knock.

No harm, no foul...right?

You had just convinced yourself that you were doing the neighborly thing and going to check in on him.

You got dressed into a lavender lace underwear set, sliding on your favorite sundress. You brushed your hair out...you even shaved. You weren't expecting anything to happen but you just wanted to be prepared...right?

So you nervously walked out your front door and went next door, each footstep felt heavy as you stepped towards the oak. You didn't know if you should knock or...ring his bell...

Both made you feel like your heart was about to beat right out of your chest and catapult into the sky.

"I wonder..." you reached your hand towards the doorhandle, twisting it a little. You expected it to be locked and you'd just have to knock to see if he was home but...it opened and you gasped.

You walked into the apartment, knocking on the door as you entered.

And what you saw...shocked you a little.

Leon was resting on the couch, nursing a drink, a ton of other bottles were littered on the coffee table in front of him. You had no idea how much he had actually consumed but you stepped in and softly closed the front door behind you.

It felt wrong to be here, witnessing him like this, but curiosity poked at you so you stepped further in, going towards the living room where he was sat. He didn't even acknowledge your presence until you came up to the opposite side of the couch.

"What do you want?" his voice was tired and deep, gravelly as if he had been up for days. But god, he looked so damn good and you hated yourself for how your eyes scanned his face as he said it.

"I-I just came to check on you, your front door was unlocked." you say softly, motioning to the door behind you. Leon didn't say anything, he took another sip of his whiskey. "Seems you took happy hour a little bit too literal..." you laugh nervously.

He tossed back the remaining liquor in his glass and lazily looked over at you with dark eyes, "And what if I did?" his voice was sharp, he seemed bothered that you were even there to begin with.

Which you understood, you basically just walked in unannounced into his apartment. But...you were glad that you showed up when you did. He did not look his best and judging by the bottles littered on the coffee table, he had been at this awhile.

"You shouldn't be drinking alone, just saying." you commented, sitting on the arm of the couch. Your eyes scanned him as you waited his response. He spoke after a beat of silence, "Why not?" he pours more liquor into his glass.

"I got my own problems...and they aren't yours." Leon followed up, tossing some of his hair out of his eyes. He held the glass in his hand, sloshing it around and sending a small glare to where you sat on the arm of his couch.

You decide to take the moral high ground and not argue with him, "Because I want to help but you're being a stubborn ass...so." you pop out your lips and carefully take a seat on the couch next to him.

He leans forward as he looks at you, "and why do you even care?" he harshly said, taking another small sip of whiskey. That was a question, why did you care? You've always cared about people, but you were too stubborn to admit that that to him.

"I don't..." you said slowly. "You have made it obvious that I don't need to care about you." you mutter, looking away from him and at all the bottles sitting on the table in front of you.

Reverse psychology, works everytime. You smirk to yourself.

He leans back onto the couch cushions, eyeing you, "So if you don't care..." He trails off. "Why are you still here?" he asks with a stern tone, no harshness but just. Curiosity.

Because I wanted to check on you...and I want you to bend me over the table and rail me. You thought with a shake of your head, you could not say that...god, you sounded insane and...horny.

You just settle for, "It's complicated." as you lean back onto the couch, the dress pooling around your thighs as you do. "I do care...maybe...a little." or a lot, your brain corrects.

He sets his glass down, leaning towards you. "Well, if you care about me, get me another damn drink." He was being playful with his words, but his eyes still pierced your skin, all dark.

Disappointment pooled a little in your stomach at that, "That's all? That's all you want?" you blink at him. "Just more...alcohol..." you didn't let the disappointment in your eyes falter a little.

He speaks up as you adjust a little on the couch, "What do want me to say?" he takes another swig from his almost empty glass, looking over at you. "I'm an alcoholic...you want me to apologize? To say I'll change? Cause you and me both know that's a load of crap." Hiis tone sharpens as he says that, he scrunches his face up, almost wincing at his words.

"...you going to get me that drink?" he asks, his tone suddenly 10x calmer than before. You swallow and get up from his couch, "Fine. Whatever, doesn't matter." you clear your throat before going over to where his alcohol is sat on the counter.

You grab a glass off of the drying rack by the sink, an idea forming in your head. If you were going to be bold, best to have some liquid courage. So, you grab the glass and the other bottle of whiskey on the counter.

Leon was leaning back against the cushions of the couch, his hand running through his brown hair. When you come back into the room, you unscrew the lid on the bottle, not even looking at him, pouring some whiskey into his glass.

He sees her set down a glass too, as she sits down on the couch beside him. "Hey, uh, thanks." He looks at the drink and then back at you. You smooth the fabric of your dress out against your thighs.

Leon clears his throat, "You know what, how about we drink together?" He reaches out and grabs his glass, motioning towards the empty one you brought out. "Go ahead."

You don't need to be asked twice, he had taken the bait...or maybe he had planned this but deep down you doubted it. You take the glass, filling it up a little bit with the amber liquid.

You sigh a little, leaning back on cushions, taking a sip of the burning liquor. "Thanks."

He looks at your glass that rests in between your hand, on top of your eyes before they flit back up to your face. "So..." he fills the silence with his voice as you look over at him. "...What is this 'complicated thing' you have to say to me?" He quirks a brow at you.

I want you to absolutely ruin me...

You take another sip of the liquid as you look away from him, "Nothing, s' stupid." you say quietly, mumbling into your glass. The alcohol was starting to take affect a little bit. The small sips you've had burned your throat, but they urged you to stay sitting next to him on the couch.

He pauses then shakes his head, "No no," He looks over into your eyes. You look up at him as he talks, "you can't start a conversation and then back out." Leon takes another sip of his drink as he says this, eyes boring into you. His tone being playful and stern.

You rake a hand through your hair, taking another sip of whiskey.

"I can't even entertain the idea because...i'm 24 and you're...older." You admit bravely with a blush covering your face, taking a large gulp of the whiskey, throwing it back all at once. You felt his eyes bore holes into you as your heart almost pounds right out of your chest.

Leon stares at you for a beat and then shakes his head, "So?" he pauses and then speaks through a sigh. "Just because we got an age gap doesn't mean anything...unless you think I'm still dating high school girls."

You gulp, reaching forward and pouring more whiskey into your glass, then leaning back as he continues. "You think I'd try making a move on you?" Leon's deep blue eyes bore into your head as he's scanning your features, trying to read your reaction.

You blink a couple times, a blush still covering your face as you take a swig of the whiskey. "S' a little more complicated than that, Leon." you breathe.

Calm down, he's not gonna pounce on you, you think. But you would probably like it anyways.

"Well then, do you want to tell me, 'What's more complicated than that' or just keep beating around the damn bush?" He keeps glancing from his drink to you. Your breath stutters as you bring the glass back up to your lips, drinking another small gulp.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was you being truly bold but the next words you said put everything into motion for the rest of the night.

You inhale another gulp of air, looking over at him, trying not to look him directly into the eyes as you said this. "Maybe I've...thought about...you making a move on me..." you swallow.

"...and I've not entirely hated the idea." you admit to him, the silence of the room stretched around you and him as you said the words.

He pauses, you can see it out of your prochiral vision. "...What?" he says. Leon glances back down at his drink, his dark brown hair moving with him before he looks back up at you.

Raising a brow, he asks, "You're into me?"

And you swear your stomach might just fall out of your ass, you take a swig of whiskey, slowly. Shifting a little bit, crossing your legs so the fabric moves a little on your thighs.

"Well when you put it like that..." you sigh, looking down at the glass in your lap. "I might be...yeah." you admit.

"But it doesn't matter. Your older and you just...your way more mature than me and I'm just some stupid little 24-year-old girl with a dumb crush." You surprisingly admit, tossing back more whiskey. Your sober thoughts had started to come out the more you consumed his liquor.

You down the rest of the glass, waiting for him to say something beside you. You wouldn't dare look at him, he was so beautiful and just...god, you wanted him inside of you...

He swigs down the rest of his glass like you did only moments earlier. Leon rests both arms on the couch and looking up at you. His eyes were locked on you.

"I want you to answer me, honestly." His voice is slow and serious, stern. Almost like a father disciplining you, the thought of him ordering you around like that...it made your pussy throb for him.

"Yeah?" you ask, waiting for him to ask you whatever he needs to.

He steadies himself as he looks at her, responding, "Do you honestly think this can work? For a guy like me to start something with a girl like you?" Leon takes another sip of his alcohol as he looks at you again.

You listen to him speak, desperation and disappointment pooling in your belly as he talks. "...I work for a secret government agency, that no one knows about, I do...unsavory things for the good of this country and for people. I'm not the kind of guy you want to get mixed up with." He says slowly, warning you.

The message is loud and clear to you: don't start something you can't finish, especially with me.

Challenge accepted, you think.

"I know what you've done Leon..." you bravely say, looking at him with innocent eyes. "I'm not some naive girl, I've done my research." You toss more of the whiskey back into your mouth as you say this.

He looks up at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, he was trying to understand why you were defending him heavily. Leon was trying to even understand why you were over here in the first place.

He grips his glass a little, you watch him do this as he speaks again, envious of the glass in his hand.

"Then you also know the risks of being with someone like me?" Leon looks at you, scanning your body, his gaze dark. You swallow and slowly raise your glass back up to your lips, taking another sip of your drink.

He got you there. you think as you try to come up with a response that doesn't make you sound needy or desperate, even though you were.

But he didn't need to know that.

You press your thighs together, his gaze making want pool in your panties. "A-And what would I be risking exactly?" you say softly, your innocent eyes looking at him.

Leon exhales, tossing back the rest of his glass before sitting it on the coffee table in front of him. "Everything." he mutters. He pinches his brow as he leans back on the couch.

"You're 24, a damn kid to me, and if you honestly think it'll be easy sailing with me then just think...about all the ways that it could go wrong." He closes his eyes with a sigh, not out of frustration but out of the risk he would be taking...just to be with you.

His eyes scan your face for understanding, "If something happens to you...then I'd be the one to blame. Do you understand?" You blink and sit your glass down on coffee table next to his, releasing a breath.

You lean back on the couch, your back meeting the large cushions, yet again, and the heaviness that his words carried sobered you up. He trusted you with his secret, he was trying to make sure you were serious...that you weren't going to go running off on him.

He worked for the government, he told you and you realized that in that moment, he was probably not allowed to share such information. Especially, with you.

You did realize the weight of his words, what he was saying and trying to get you to understand.

"I'm...not a little kid, I know what I'm doing." You sigh, playing with the hem of your sundress, not daring to meet his eyes that were watching you with skepticism...almost wonder.

Leon nods, silently, thinking as he looks at the empty glass next to hers on the coffee table. "Why me? Why not someone your own age? Someone that doesn't work for the D.S.O?" he queries you with curious eyes.

You take a stuttering breath, admitting the truth. "None of the guys my age..." you start, trying to not let the alcohol fail you now. "...make me feel the way that you do...I don't know why but..." you shake your head as your face flushes, your eyes flitting up to meet his.

His eyes widen a little, if you weren't watching him so closely, you probably wouldn't notice the subtle shift. His tone shifts as he speaks, breathing out some air.

You watch him as he processes what you just said, looks like he had been slapped in the face. You almost want to take back your words, forget the pool in your underwear and leave but...then he speaks.

"You feel something...?" He trails off.

"Like what kind of...?" and you just press your thighs together and look at him with desperation in your eyes.

"I want..." you swallow. "You."

He doesn't say anything for a minute as he looks at you. Leon was processing your words, his eyes trailing down to your thighs that are pressed together, which just confirmed his thoughts.

You wanted this.

"I feel the same way..." He says, looking away towards his lap. You gasp a little at his words, your nerves still on fire. The alcohol buzzing through your body, making you feel electric at his eyes on you.

"But..." you didn't like the 'But', they were never good when spoken by a man you wanted.

"...just know what your getting yourself into..." His eyes return to yours as you bite the inside of your cheek, confusion at what he meant.

Did he mean in bed or...? because you could handle it. Or you would try for him...anything he wanted you would do.

Shamelessly enough, it made you aroused at the thought of him ordering you around. God, you just wanted him inside of you.

"As in? What?" you innocently ask, a knot forming in your lower stomach at the question.

Leon presses his lips into a line again, his harsh tone almost a bite as he speaks to you this time. You couldn't tell if he was just really impatient with you or if this was just his regular nature towards people.

"I already told you." He grumbles, leaning forward a little bit, elbows on his knees. "I'm not a good guy, not some knight in shining armor."

He shifts a little at this, continuing, "I do bad things for this country. Things that no one should have to do." The agent looks up at you, his eyes somewhat vulnerable. "Can you handle the things that I do?"

You just nod, vigorously.

Even though the thought of him having to kill people, kill things that were probably behind your comprehension. It scared you. But that was just the career he chose; it was his life, and he was the one to live it.

Not you.

His eyes turn dark in an instant, "Can you handle that part of me?"

You would be dripping on the couch by now if it wasn't for your underwear. You knew what he meant but the way he was looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

It made you want him even more, if that was even possible.

You take a stuttering breath, your nerves getting the best of you, yet again as your cheeks flush, "I mean...I've...not run away yet? Right?" you let out a nervous laugh at this.

"Gotta mean something..." you offer him a nervous smile.

It almost looks ridiculous in your head, the way you're smiling at him as he just looks at you almost no emotion on his face. His gaze serious and his eyes dark, made you feel foolish and small to him.

As if what you said or did, didn't make any difference in the slightest.

Leon stares at you for a long moment, his eyes scanning your face, looking at your lips. The air is thick in the room, his breathing and yours taking up the sound.

Thats before he pulls you towards him, saying in an almost groan, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

You land on top of him almost as your legs go either side of his lap, straddling him. He has you close now, exactly where he wants you. His hands planted firmly on your hips, pulling your face close to his.

You could feel his breath against your lips, you grabbed onto his shoulders, keeping yourself steady. Removing one of his hands off of your hip, reaching up to trace the large pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. You part them only slightly.

"How do you want me to handle you?" He smirks a little, his words only echos in your ears. You were practically leaking, sitting on his lap lightly.

The want in his eyes, he would melt you into a puddle on the floor if he really wanted to.

As innocent and as sweet as you can muster, you say, "However you want..." The alcohol was making you bolder, pushing you to say and do things that would make more sober you, blush red.

He lightly pulls down your bottom lip with his thumb, "Good. Because..." he leans closer to you now, slowly dropping his thumb away from your mouth. "I wanna do this." he whispers, pressing his lips to yours.

You hum into the kiss, not even wasting any time as you kiss him back in a daze. His lips were soft, even softer than you imagined, they felt good against yours.

His tongue teases your lips, you let him in, now kissing more messily and frantically. You were starved and he was feeding you, giving exactly what your touch starved body, desired.

"Taste so good, baby." He mumbles in between kisses, that only spurs you on more, pressing a bruising kiss too his lips. Leon groans against the kiss pressing you directly on to his crotch.

You felt his erection as you whimpered into the kiss, carefully rolling your hips against it. He felt so big and he probably wasn't even fully hard yet.

"What? Feel good? You like grinding down on my dick?" He whispers, pulling his lips away from you and moving them down to your jaw. The foul words made your stomach coil, you nodded as you pressed your clothed entrance against it again.

"God, baby, so needy." He sucks at the skin on your neck, making your pussy throb at his words. You keep grinding down on his dick as he groaned against your neck. "Fuck." you heard him say as you kept rolling your hips over his clothed erection.

"Feels s'good." You whimper, your voice breaking in desperation.

"I know, babygirl, fuck..." He groans as your hips keep up their unrelenting pace. He holds onto your hips for dear life as he keeps sucking and nipping at your neck.

You feel that coil unwind, feel yourself become closer as you release a soft moan, filling the air. Your hands hold onto his head, gripping his hair. "Leon..." you moan, pressing yourself harder on his clothed dick.

"What do you want baby? You wanna cum? Wanna cum for me?" He growls into your ear as you keep up the pace, feeling your stomach bubble. You bite your lip and nod.

"Use your words for me." He orders. You whimper and keep going, trying to find the words without releasing a moan instead. "W-Wanna cum for you d-" you stop yourself as you moan. Your eyes almost going wide at the word that almost slipped out of your lips.

"What was that? Couldn't hear you sweetgirl?" he teases, licking the sensitive part of your neck. You whine again, so close to your release, he grips your hips, stopping you from moving.

You almost cry, feeling your release just barely in your grasp. "What did you say baby? Be a good girl and use your words for me." he growls, holding your chin in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

You bite your lip at his hungry gaze, "Daddy..." you mutter.

His eyes don't widen and if he's shocked, he doesn't show it. You expected him to kick you out and to never see him again as you muttered it.

But to your surprise he looks up at you with hunger. "You want to suck on Daddies cock?" He growls, as you gasp and nod at his words. Not expecting him to just fall into your kink so easily, most guys are embarrassed to have you call them that in bed.

Most guys weren't Leon.

"Okay, baby, go ahead. Show me how good you feel." He releases the grip on your hips, letting you continue to grind against his clothed erection.

"Mmmm, want you so bad, daddy." you whimper as you keep rolling your hips down, harder, your release slowly building again. The friction was making you leak, probably dripping onto his dark jeans.

He groans, watching as your hips move over his. "What do you want Baby? My fingers?"

You shake your head, close to cuming in your underwear. "Want your cock, daddy. Been...wanting it...forever." You say through a moan. Keeping your assault against his hips.

"How long?" he grunts, holding onto your hips tightly as you move them frantically.

You lean back your head in a moan, the coil unwinding again, "Since...I first...saw you." you admit in a daze, letting your hands grip his biceps, probably drawing blood.

"Fuck...baby, if I knew you would've wanted this sooner. I would've just given it to you." He bites his lip in a whimper, he was probably about to cum in his pants. You were almost there, barely, you just needed his words and his touch for the coil to finally break.

You admit another thing, to get his attention as your fucking yourself against him, "I fucked myself to the thought of you..."

"How? Your fingers or..." he trails off in lust as he remembers a month ago when delivered that package to your door. How flushed you were as he stood there, eyeing him, and how you bit your cheek at his words.

"You fucking little..." he trails off in a moan, you roll your hips harder. "Fucked my vibrator, pretended it was your cock..." you moan again, rolling your head forward onto his shoulder.

You were reaching it, fast, you could feel it.

"Gunna cum, daddy, gunna cum." You whimper fucking your hips faster against his clothed erection. He has gripped onto your hips letting you come undone on top of him.

"Cum for me, baby." He growls.

"More, say more, so close..." You whine, into his shoulder.

Leon kept you steady as you rocked, trying to talk you through your impending orgasm. "Going to fuck you so good. You'll be feeling...it for days." he said.

"Oh god, daddy, yes..." you reach your peak, cuming hard in your underwear, basically ruined and soaked in your juices now. He softly touches your face, moving hair back behind your ear as you ride out your high against his erection.

Leon is the one to speak first afterwards and your thankful. Worried that he would be thinking it was awkward for you to have come undone just by humping him.

"How do you feel, baby?" He asks, his voice low but sweet as he traces his thumb over your cheek.

"Felt good, felt really good." You mumble to him. You look down between you at the wet spot you left on his jeans. "I'm sorry..." You start, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

He shakes his head, looking at you gently, "It's okay. I can just wash them." He is still tracing his finger over your cheek as looks at you, you don't know what he is thinking but it makes you nervous not knowing.

"Did you really mean what you said?" you ask, trying not to seem shy under his gaze when you literally just came undone on top of him.

"About what, baby?" He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip again. You blink slowly trying not to seem desperate or whiny, you still wanted him. You wanted him to fuck you. The release on his lap only made it worse.

"Fucking me...until I can't...walk or something like that?" you ask, nerves overtaking you again as you gaze into his blue eyes. Feeling him still hard beneath you.

"You still not satisfied, babygirl? You need daddy's cock?" He teases with a smirk, watching as you shiver underneath him with nothing but his words and his soft touch.

You nod frantically, he moves his other hand up to tuck some hair back behind your ear. "Words, use your words." He sternly says and you recoil a little at his order.

Something bubbled in your belly, you didn't know if it was his authority or...what but jesus. You wanted to do anything he asked.

"Yes, daddy, I want your cock." you say sweetly, trying not to seem nervous under his gaze and his hands slowly lifting up your sundress. He licks his lips, looking at the dark spot on his jeans from your cum.

"You made a mess on daddy's lap, baby. You've been naughty, very naughty. I don't think I should let you have my cock." Leon teases, smirking as he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers.

His cock was uncomfortably hard beneath you, made your want pool in your lower stomach all over again. “Daddy, please.” you whimper, pathetically, trying to roll your hips again.

“Just want you inside me…” you whimper, trying to get more friction, anything or everything. You don’t care anymore.

"I'll take care of you, baby. I'll be good to you." You whimper at his words, trying not to wiggle anymore for friction. He carefully lays you down on the couch, on your back.

He leans up and presses a bruising kiss to her lips, his hand stroking her thigh, “Such a good girl for me.” He mumbles in between languid strokes of his tongue.

You want him everywhere, you don’t know how much long you can keep this up, he already made you cum once and that wasn’t even by his own accord.

He reaches down and carefully runs a finger up her soaked underwear, pressing a sloppy kiss to your jaw as he does. Your chest is rising and falling as he teases your already soaked panties.

“Baby, you’re underwear is soaked.” He lowly chuckles as he presses another kiss to your lips. You whimper in anticipation as he plays with the hem of your panties.

Leon leans back, he smirks, “Or is that because you drenched yourself once already?” He asks as he finally pulls the underwear down your legs.

You nod frantically, not sure if he was actually asking or just commenting on your current state of arousal. He slips a hand through your wet folds, causing you to shiver.

"Use your words, babygirl." He says as he just brushes his finger lightly across your clit, causing you to whimper. You look up into his dark blue eyes, "S' all for you, daddy." You say as he pushes your sundress up with his hand.

"All that just from grinding on my dick, sweetheart?" He tuts, running his hand down your stomach and too your aching cunt. You writhe under him with another frantic nod.

He tuts, "You dirty girl." Leon smirks as he teases your clit again with his fingers, running the pad of his thumb over the sensitive bud. You shiver and feel a wave of arousal at his thumb's movements.

You let out a small moan as he continues to stroke it. This seems to catch his attention. You were already so needy and sensitive from the orgasm moments before.

"You think you can take my fingers, baby?" He groans as he continues to stroke your clit, you feel another orgasm bubbling in the pit of your stomach as you nod, "Yes, daddy."

He complies, seeing that your answer was good enough to slip one finger into your tight and needy cunt. "Uhh! Daddy!" you moan, his fingers were much larger and thicker than you even imagined, stretching you out beyond your imagination.

"You like that? You like my fingers fucking into your tiny hole, baby?" He whispers dirtily into your ear as you let out another strangled moan.

"Yes...yes!" You whine as your orgasm slowly builds again, he's pumping his finger in and out of you at a faster rate now, your whines and moans echo through the large loft apartment.

Leon keeps flicking his thumb over your clit as he pumps his finger in and out of you, you grip onto his bicep so hard you think you might draw blood, again.

"What if I just..." he says lowly as he removes his finger, quickly adding a second one. "...do this?" you practically moan out, it's pathetic really because it's not even his cock that's got you like this.

It's two of his fingers pumping in and out of your drenched hole, stretching you out and making you edge closer to the second orgasm.

"Daddy! Please don't stop! Feels s' good." You say, biting your lip, your back arching off the couch as he finger fucks you into oblivion. You babble more about his fingers pumping in and out of you.

"My cock is going to feel so good inside of you, sweetheart." He whispers into your ear, his words spurring you on as you feel your second release coming up. You release a pornographic moan as he curls his fingers.

"Please! Please! Please, daddy. Need you inside me so bad." you whine as you feel your second orgasm rapidly approaching. He presses more kisses into your neck as he groans.

"Gonna fuck your tight little hole so good, baby. You'll be feeling it for days." He rasps into the skin of your neck as he speeds the movement of his fingers, his thumb assaulting your clit.

His words making you clench against his fingers with trembling thighs, you grab harder onto his bicep as you reach your second release, "Fuck! I'm -- coming!" You pathetically moan.

"Good girl, drenching my fingers." He coos as he presses a featherlight kiss onto her jaw. He slowly works you down from your orgasm, slowing down his fingers as you finally catch your breath.

Your chest rises and falls, feeling like you just ran a marathon. Leon pulls his fingers out of you with a languid groan as he sits back, keeping eye contact with you.

Two drenched fingers rise as you look at them with a small whimper, he smirks a little before putting them into his mouth, sucking your release off of his fingers.

"Sweet, just as I thought." He softly says, leaning back over you, slotting himself between your hips. He braces himself on either side of your head as he presses his lips to yours.

You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as he sloppily kisses and licks your lips, your arms chaining around his neck.

You sloppily make out for a few seconds, moaning and groaning from you both are the only sounds heard in the loft apartment. His clothed erection makes contact with your sensitive core again, making you clutch onto his lips tighter, whimpering.

"Please, I want...I want it." you say softly, begging him in a whine as you try to meet his erection that keeps brushing up against your clit.

Something dark gleams in Leon's eyes as he looks at you, seeing you all pathetic, whining underneath him for his cock. "Ask me, very nicely baby. Maybe I'll consider fucking you good." He says with an evil sort of grin as he teases her. He was going to fuck her anyways but teasing her was just part of the fun.

She whimpered as she looked up at him, "Don't make me."

Leon smirks down at her grabbing a hold on her chin, forcing her to look right into his eyes, blue and daring as he looks at her. "You'll ask nicely or not get anything at all." He says in a stern voice, holding onto her jaw with a strong hand. "Is that clear?"

Fuck. Me.

She feels her drenched core throb at his voice, so stern and demanding making her nod her head vigorously. "Yes, daddy." She says as she looks up at him, biting her lip.

He nods with a smirk, "good, now ask." He removes his hand from her chin, making sure her eyes are still locked on his. She swallows a little and tries to gain what's left of her breath to ask him.

The silence hangs as she utters the words, they both need to hear, "Please fuck me, daddy." she asks softly as she looks into his eyes. She didn't know how much longer she could last, the arousal was getting uncomfortable at this point.

Luckily, she wouldn't have to wait much longer, Leon's face spread into a mischievous smirk. "Good girl." He says with a small squeeze to her ass.

Woah, when did his hands get there? Fuck.

You practically mewl at his praise, he props himself up back up on his knees, still in between your thighs. You watch as he undoes his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his hard on in his boxers. She whimpers and tries to grab for it to touch it, he moves her hand away.

"No, no. If you do that, I'll cum without you. Hands off." He says sternly and you nod at him, biting your lip as you obey him. "Sorry, Daddy." she says softly.

He smiles at you gently as he pushes his boxers down, his cock springing free. She swallows and looks from it to his face, practically drooling.

Holy shit, oh my god...

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He says as he caresses her face with his hand, you lean into the touch as he moves down to be on top of you again, his large cock brushing against your entrance causing you to whine pathetically.

"Oh, so whiny. Shhh, you'll get it. Be patient." He murmurs into your ear, hands resting on the couch pillow behind you. You had no choice but to wait, your hips bucked a little, trying to see past the teasing and desperately find some friction.

He reached down between you, grabbing his dick and running it through your wet and overstimulated pussy. "Daddy..." You find yourself whining again. He nudges the tip against your entrance, his large hand guiding it.

"Mmm, still so wet for me baby, good girl." He groaned into your ear as he let the tip nudge your opening and slip in a little. You moan softly, feeling the head of his cock in your pussy. "Please..." She whines, holding onto his bicep in a vice grip.

He chuckles in your ear, his voice soothing. "Okay, okay baby, no more teasing." He lets his hips move slowly inside of her, his dick stretching her out. The white heat burned but felt so good, your skin was on fire in the best way possible.

"Daddy." you whine as you bite down on your lip hard enough, your eyes squeezing shut as stars danced in your vision. She leaned her head back, lips parting in a silent scream. "So tight around me, fuck." He says in almost a low growl, nipping at your earlobe.

Your pussy would never be the same, he was sliding all the way in until the head of his dick hit your cervix. She whimpered and clawed at his arm, probably leaving scratch marks later, neither of them seemed to care right now.

He started moving his hips, hitting her deeper and deeper with each thrust. "God, yes. Fuck." He cursed into her ear as he fucked her hard and deep. "Daddy!" she moaned loudly, not even caring if the neighbors in the other loft apartments could hear them.

"So, fucking good, so good." He repeats into her ear, she clenches around him, feeling more arousal as his words spur her on more, her legs going to wrap around his hips, letting him go as deep and fast as he wants with her.

He takes the hint, slipping his hand under her dress, palming her tit over her bra. His hips moved faster as if he was a wild animal, hitting deep inside of her. She cries and whimpers around his cock as it hits that spot over and over.

"Daddy, daddy, mmm..." He was fucking the words right out of you. You couldn't even form any thoughts as he pounded into you. She felt something bubbling in her belly as he fucked her. She dug her fingernails into his skin, his face buried in her neck, licking and biting. "Daddy, not going to...last..." She whimpers as he presses a final bite to her neck.

He leans his head up to look at her as he pounds into her, she looks into his eyes, she sees how his face is scrunched up in pleasure as he pounds into you. "I know, you going to cum for daddy?" He asks in a small smirk, his face watching hers as she nods and starts to moan a little bit louder.

"Yes, gonna...gonna cum!" She moans out pathetically as he sees her whimpering and whining on his cock. He presses a bruising kiss to her lips, his hand holding onto her hips steadily as he keeps up his hips.

You moan into the kiss, letting him rail into her with no hesitation. "Cum for me baby." he whispers against her lips; she lets her eyes roll back as she finally releases on his cock. He groans as she cums around his cock, squeezing it and milking it with her pussy.

"Good girl, good girl." He says with a smirk as he continues fucking her through it to reach his own release. She whimpers and whines, holding onto him tighter and moaning. Eventually, he fills her up with his cum. He lets his hips stutter against hers, she lets her core tighten around his dick, sucking his cum in. "So good..."

He nods with a soft and simple smirk, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips. "You did good, very good." You feel yourself melt at him and his words as he pulls away, slipping out of you. You both moan softly at the loss, your eyes lazily falling shut.

His cum mixed with yours drips out of your stretched entrance, he tucks himself back in his boxers and pants, climbing off the couch. "Stay there, I'll clean you up." Leon says in a soft smile as he walks out of sight for a second before coming back with a washcloth and wiping your shared mess up.

The washcloth makes contact with her sensitive clit, causing her to jerk away a little. He puts a supportive hand on your knee, gently rubbing circles on it. "It's okay, shh." He says soothingly.

She nods at him dumbly, watching him with lazy eyes as he gets up and puts the washcloth in the laundry room, tossing it on the floor. He comes back and sits beside your open legs, he grabs your underwear, slipping them back over your legs, you lift your hips and let him cover your core completely.

"C'mere." He motions for you to move closer next to him, she gets up and weakly moves over, resting her head on his lap. Leon looks down at you, playing with your hair. "Feel better now?" He asks you simply, being gentle with his touches.

"Much better." you reply. And you think that you just might be.