#maybe I'll get to one or two of those this weekend

[c-is-for-circinate]

I would love to hear more mike wheeler - Steve Harrington masculinity thoughts (also whatever happened to Hopper to make him action guy my beloathed)! Also will we get a mike chapter for and they were married?

Okay yes! I am fascinated by Mike and Steve as narrative contrasts, and I always find myself looking for fic where the two of them meaningfully interact, and I keep meaning to write about them.

(Also: Mike deserves his own chapter of that fic, but he's getting folded into Dustin's. What Mike really deserves is his own fic that takes place in that universe, because I know what his deal is there and it's a doozy, but that is a very different post.)

Anyway! For starters, I don't think that Steve and Mike are intentionally meant to be foils. There's an element of it in the first season, where Steve exists to support Nancy's character, and Nancy and Mike are meant to be foils -- Steve is the Popular Kid, the antithesis of Mike and his friends' little group of nerds, he and Tommy and Carol are written into the same category as Troy but older and less actively murderous, and the fact that Nancy's dating him says things about her -- but they end up occupying oddly similar spaces and cool parallels come out of that anyway.

A core thing about it is that Steve and Mike are both the guy in their respective age group casts on the show. The Guy. The central one, the normal one, the presumed-to-be-straight one -- and yes, this is fandom and we have Opinions about that, but the Duffer brothers think they're both straight, and that matters here. They're white, they're able-bodied, they have money. They are, in a sense, normal.

Narratively, they very often act as central/POV character for scenes they're in, at least once Steve gets past the fistfight in S1 and awakens to the fact that he's a person who can make decisions. And that makes sense, because being The Guy also means they're the closest to the classic TV protagonist archetype, the guy who does the hero shit and gets the girl in the end. Hopper is also The Guy, and always has been: in S1 it's just him and Joyce, but even as we add more adults, the only real challenge to his The Guy status is Bob (which is of course why Bob had to die). Murray is a bizarre conspiracy nut, and queer-coded besides that. Owens is an affable bad guy. Alexei and Dmitri and Yuri are all Russian.

Being The Guy comes with a certain amount of baggage. All three of them have to be romantic leads, and have to be crossed in love about it. All three of them are protectors in one way or another. And all three of them are on occasion assholes who have one hell of a time with sincerity and affection.

And this is where we get into Toxic Masculinity, because again, while I don't think the Duffers intended a pile of parallels between these three guys, well. Firstly, The Guy as an archetype is built on a pile of toxic masculine stereotypes, so that's often there to begin with. Secondly, it's the same writers, so certain themes rhyme whether they're intended to or not.

In particular, one of the core tenets of toxic masculinity, not just in ST but as a thing in the world, is when and where it's acceptable to experience soft emotions of affection, care, and vulnerability. The first rule of toxic masculinity is don't. The second rule, the caveat rule, is a little asterisk saying 'except, occasionally, with a female romantic partner, if you absolutely must.'

And so we actually see a lot of unfolding of this in Steve! One thing we know about Steve, without precisely being told, is that he's deeply lonely -- for a popular kid he sure seems to only have two Actual Friends when the show starts and they hardly seem to even like each other. He has a new Favorite Person every season, and he clings to them with the joy of a devoted golden retriever. His mental image of happily-ever-after is a house full of kids with enough siblings to never get lonely, family vacations about close quarters and spending time together. We never see his parents. For all a lot of the 'horrible abuse' fanon is very much fanon, Steve is inarguably a lonely kid. And where do we see him reaching out for affection?

It's not Tommy and Carol, although until they break up he's constantly in their company unless he's alone with Nancy. They hardly even seem to like each other very much, and yet they've stayed at his empty house enough for Tommy to know about his mother's fireplace and Steve to insist he do laundry while he's here. No, the person who Steve is allowed to feel things with and for is Nancy, because she's the caveat, she's the exception. This is why Steve is consistently focused on getting Nancy back, getting a new girlfriend, getting a date. That's the rule!!!

The really fabulous thing about Steve's arc across the first three seasons, and even into S4, is that this quest for romantic affection and vulnerability is both thwarted and rewarded again and again. He tries to apologize to Nancy, to win her back: by the time he sees her again, Nancy's got a new boyfriend, but Steve has a new brother. Dustin is Steve's favorite person by the start of S3; he gets Steve's haircare secrets, he gets Steve's loyalty, he gets Steve's joy. In S3, Steve tries to pour his whole heart into a different girlfriend, and Robin turns him down flat while also simultaneously opening herself up with such vulnerability that they instantly become best friends. Robin is S4's Favorite Person, but the great thing about these relationships being platonic is that Steve gets to have more than one! He gets to have both Dustin and Robin in his life! He gets the other kids as part of the package! Bit by bit, instead of a girlfriend who Steve is "allowed" to be soft with, Steve gains actual friends who he gets to be real with whether it's allowed or not.

And the really tragic thing about Mike Wheeler is that he's doing the opposite. Mike starts out with three friends, three best friends, absolutely devoted to one another. As kids, they're young enough to be free of most of the stranglehold of toxic masculinity yet, although of course it's starting. And then there's El.

Mike charts a really interesting course over four seasons, and the shape of it is not a straight trajectory from 'Mike adores and is BFF with Will' to 'Mike thinks only about El.' Hell, from what we see of S1, the Party are all best friends pretty equally before Will goes missing -- Lucas is the one ready to break into a government lab for him, not Mike. Mike's trajectory is far more 'I derive the bulk of my personal self-worth from protecting other people, and as soon as somebody needs to be saved I go fully into Paladin Mode, making me feel worthwhile and important." It just so happens that the two people in Mike's field of vision who most generally need protection and saving are Will and El. Which leads to Mike's intense Will-focused devotion in S2 (El is gone but Will is also in really significant need, and Mike just straight-up activates, jumping immediately into solicitously taking care of his friend because Something Needs Doing And I Can Do It). And Mike's intense El-focused devotion in S4, where El needs a literal quest to come and rescue her. And just a lot of Mike in general.

The problem with all of that is the part where, unlike Steve who keeps forging new platonic relationships, Mike keeps neglecting his more and more. The S3 Will fight is so good at illustrating that, because look -- we all know Will has a crush on Mike, but at no point during that fight does Will ask, even subtextually, for romantic attention. He's asking for platonic attention, which Mike is absolutely failing to give. "Where's Dustin right now? You don't know, and you don't even care." But as Mike says, they're not kids any more -- and this is how growing up is supposed to work!

(Note: I don't want to say that it's toxic for Mike to be in love with El, or really caught up in that relationship -- he's fourteen! she's his first girlfriend! he thought she was dead! But Mike's an asshole in S3 because he's caught up enough to not notice his friend's feelings until they explode at him, and yeah, I do think part of that is because he knows he's Not Supposed To.)

S4 is a lot, because here's where we're really seeing the culmination of a lot of what Mike's been unfortunately moving towards. We've hit a point where those vulnerable feelings that Mike's allowed to share, at most, with his girlfriend, feel like too much to even share with his girlfriend. He can't say 'I love you'. He can't even talk to Will. The conversation he does have with Will is honestly mostly about Mike and his feelings of inadequacy, of not measuring up, not being special, but it has to be couched in the context of El. If there's a reverse-Bechdel test to be done on S4, past the very first episode I'm pretty sure Mike fails it -- I don't think he has a single conversation that isn't about his girlfriend in one capacity or another.

In contrast, S4 Steve is, yes, pretty focused on girls-in-general and Nancy-in-specific, and yeah, there's a little bit of backsliding going on there. But he's also having conversations with Robin about her fears and longings, having weird little interludes where Eddie's the one bringing up Nancy rather than Steve himself. He's hurt at the end when Nancy is clearly still with Jonathan, but he's able to move on, to go fold clothes and care about Robin's love life instead of his own -- his optimistic happy ending in S4 is that his best friend is going to get the girl, not him.

I think there's a lot more to say, which I only brushed on briefly here, about other aspects of Mike and Steve that work in parallel or contrast -- their protector thing, which feels very intrinsic but shows up very differently in both of them, the way Steve says 'I love you' so easily and Mike has trouble saying it at all, the way they are both very much extremely normal guys, at least on paper. There's so much to say. I think that has to be a different post.

I will say, in terms of Hopper: Jim Hopper is what it looks like when those pent-up feelings that you aren't allowed to express to anybody other than a romantic partner sit and fester for decades. Fuck, there were things about Vietnam he didn't even tell his wife, that sat like poison both emotional and biological between them. When we meet him in S1, he's processing grief with drugs and drinking and processing fear with rage. He has spent so much of the past four seasons processing fear as rage.

Of course Joyce is the one person he's allowed to, sometimes, on occasion, be soft with. Of course nearly his every interaction with Mike is macho dominance posturing. Of course the entire trajectory of his relationship with El is a push-pull of Hopper retreating into authoritarianism and anger instead of the terror of honesty, and then getting to see the consequences of that when his daughter pulls away. Every season has broken him down a little more that way, but then the yo-yo pulls back (Season 3 whyyyyyyyyy). By Season 4, he's been beaten and starved and frozen and shattered enough that we get maybe the most honest monologue of his life, to a Russian prison guard, because they're about to die so what do the rules matter any more. It's a clear window into an endless pit of self-loathing, because for twenty or thirty years Hopper's been letting those feelings eat in instead of out, and bit by bit they've been devouring him.

El is hope, for him, and Joyce is hope, and the cracks that broke open in Kamchatka to maybe let in a little more air that might not seal right back up again are hope. But it's hard. It's hard! It makes him an absolute asshole, including and especially towards the people he wants most to protect. (And there's that protector thing again.)

Anyway, I am on the record as liking Steve a lot and having very little patience for Mike and Hopper, but like. They're not that different, at their core. They just put the pieces together in a different order.

[bizarrelovetriangel]

interruptions.

all he wants is to have you all to himself but everyone keeps getting in his way.

fluff and slightly suggestive. brief references to chaotic velocity and his myth.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

He groans against your lips as his hands caresses your hips, urging you to grind against his thighs.

His bedroom is silent apart from the sounds of your exchange of heated kisses, your heavy breaths in-between, as well as the rustling of your clothes as your bodies yearn for friction.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Sylus thrusted up to let you feel his excitement, and you responded by palming him through his pants, earning a low growl from his parted lips.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You pulled away as the ringtone of his phone blares closely next to you. You gave him a look before he pinches his temples and reaching for the device on his night stand.

"You better have a good reason to interrupt me on such an important time."

This is the third time in just two days.

Sylus doesn't know how much more interruptions he can take.

"Looks like I'll have to cut our time short again." Sylus frowns as he gets up from the bed. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Don't worry about it."

Being Onychinus' leader can be demanding, so you're not mad at him at all. In fact, at the moment, you're doing your best to hold back a laugh.

"Before you leave, maybe take a cold shower first."

Two days later, as you were leaving your workplace, you ran into your lover who's dressed in his favorite leather jacket, bathing in darkness.

"Sylus?! What are you doing here?"

It's the middle of the week. You usually don't get to see each other until the weekends, unless spontaneous plans come up. You figured this is one of those special cases.

"Do I need a reason to see my girlfriend?"

"No, but you do need to be cautious when picking up said girlfriend from her job, which may or may not be interested in catching some suspicious people who love lurking in the shadows."

There's not an ounce of worry in his eyes at all. "Luckily, I have a strong kitten who'd protect me should anyone dare to put their hands on me."

You playfully punched his arm as you walked next to him. "You could've at least texted me."

"A surprise usually works out only if someone doesn't know what'll happen." He then taps your head. "There's a restaurant that I've been meaning to check out. Want to come?"

Your heart and stomach cheered happily, deeming him as your savior. After all, you're starving after such a long day at work. "Of course!"

Around ten at night, dinner was done and you ended up relaxing at an empty, quiet park. You sat down on a bench surrounded by red flowers and you rested your head on his left arm while he holds your right hand.

At first, the two of you enjoyed the moment of silence and appreciated each other's warmth and company.

You could've fallen asleep then and there.

If only Sylus didn't start leaving kisses all over your face. He dropped them one by one, slowly and softly, as if you're something precious that could vanish at any second if he isn't careful enough.

As his lips pressed against yours, his right hand brushes up and down from your knee to your thigh, warming up your body during the cold night.

Sylus' ragged breaths urged you to deepen the kiss while caressing his face, though your makeout session was short-lasted as a group of chatty, cackling teenagers had decided to hit up the very spot that you two are in.

Clicking his tongue, Sylus stood up and reached out one hand for you. "I guess this is our sign to leave. Shall we?"

"Yeah."

You couldn't even bother to hide your disappointment that your time together was once again shortened.

He came with you back at your apartment, though Sylus couldn't stay the night due to plans he has later on.

He wasn't even supposed to see you tonight; he forced it in his busy schedule because his urge to see you was just unbearably strong during these past few days, and the constant interruptions are absolutely not helping.

It's as if the world is purposely getting in the way.

The next interruption came during dinner at a restaurant that you and Sylus have been wanting to visit for months. You made a reservation two weeks ago, and you got to enjoy all the delicious meals and drinks that made the place worthy of Sylus' attention.

You were given the best seats in the restaurant, which would be the special table on the rooftop, decorated with dimmed, beautiful lights to illuminate the dark night, and flowers for your eyes and nose to feast on.

As you were finishing up your wine, you walked towards the edge of the rooftop to observe the scenery around you.

For a moment, Sylus remained seated, only shifting his position so that he could admire you in your beautiful dress.

It's one of his favorite views — you facing away from him, eyes beaming with happiness and lips curled into a soft smile, completely lost in the scenery around you and unaware of how bewitching you are and the trance that you always put him in.

He'll never get tired of it.

"Sylus, look!"

At your call, he appears behind you and immediately wraps his arms around your waist. He gave you a light kiss on the shoulder before moving his gaze to wherever you were pointing at.

Unfortunately, Sylus never got to learn what caught your interest because suddenly, you received signals that a Wanderer is nearby.

And so, dinner ended early and you spent the rest of your energy jumping in action.

The Wanderers certainly became Sylus' punching bags for the night.

At last, you finally won some time to spend in the N109 Zone.

You're at his house and you've just finished eating the dessert that you two made together a few hours ago.

And now, you find yourself trapped against the counter table with Sylus blocking all the ways to escape.

"Can't run from me now, kitten."

His lips touched yours.

"Boss, look what we found!"

"...."

"...."

"....oops..."

"...sorry!"

Luke and Kieran were frozen by the entrance of the kitchen, almost dropping the fancy looking weapon they were carrying.

You let out a laugh to break the silence. "Hey guys!"

Sylus sighs defeateadly. He did acknowledge the twins and the gift they brought to him by giving them a quick but sincere "well done" before turning back to you with a certain glint in his eyes. "I hope you're up for a midnight ride."

"Wait what?!"

He took your left hand and started leading you out of the kitchen.

"Right now?!"

Luke and Kieran only gave you a wave of their hands, still feeling guilty about the interruption. Sylus didn't look mad at them, but he does look frustrated.

Whatever he has planned out with you, they know not to interrupt. Even Mephisto stayed still after giving you a look.

"Here."

Sylus helped you put on a black and red helmet that matches the one he's about to wear.

You eyed the motorcycle and couldn't hold back your excitement.

"Blackrose Archfiend!"

The half-black, half-pink motorcycle with the trademark of a golden crow made you recall the first time you and Sylus rode it and race against other motorcyclists.

"It's been a while!"

Sylus smirks proudly. "I modified it again. I meant for us to test it out tomorrow when we have more time, but this is gonna be our ticket to peace and quiet so we'll use it now."

"Ticket to peace and quiet?"

He ascends the motorcycle and turns on its engine before reaching out a gloved hand for you, inviting you to join him.

"Will you let me be selfish for a little while?"

With a soft smile, you took his hand and sat behind him, holding onto his waist.

You didn't care where he'll take you or how long it'll take to get there.

Your heart races at the adrenaline rush from the roar and speed of the motorcycle, and the cold wind dances all around you as you dart across the moonlit, empty roads of the N109 Zone.

A high mountain roadside, underneath the stars.

That's where you ended up in.

Other than the noises made by the animals that live in the surroundings, there's absolutely no other sounds that'll disturb the comfortable, peaceful silence.

The only light source you have is the full moon right above you, but that's more than enough for you to see the look of content in Sylus' face.

His features are highlighted in such a way that makes him look like an artwork that deserves to be admired by many, and yet you're the only lucky one to see him like this at this.

"You're staring, sweetie."

"And what about it?"

He smiled and scooted closer to you so that your arms are overlapping as you sit on a giant boulder planted deeply on the ground.

"That means I get to stare at you as much as I want in return, right?"

You held up one hand in front of your face and used it as a wall to block his intense gaze. "No!" The way he gazes at you makes your stomach want to explode with various emotions.

No matter how long you've been together, he never fails to make you flustered as if it's just the beginning of your relationship.

Sylus laughed at your hand before intertwining his fingers with yours and putting your conjoined hands on your lap.

"You're mine for the rest of the evening, sweetie. Any objections?

You shook your head, melting at his words. "Not at all."

Despite your playful rejection earlier, Sylus' eyes were unable to keep away from you, finding you more entrancing than anything around you. While he could look at the moon, the stars, and the city lights, he can always see them every night.

He can't say the same for you.

Once upon a time ago, he lost you and you lost him. It was like having your entire world ripped away from you.

The day he found you again... he'll never forget the way that it felt. It was like seeing light for the first time in forever. Like gasping for air after holding your breath for so long.

He's reminded of how lucky he is to be given a second chance of a life with you. Even though he complains about the distance between your homes and your jobs sometimes get in the way of your plans, he'll always be grateful that he can spend any time with you at all.

He'll always cherish every second with you, and he will never take you for granted.

You didn't keep track of the time at all. You two sat there and enjoyed each other's presence, talking about whatever comes up in your head while admiring the stars above and the lights of the N109 Zone from below.

There were times when you two would pause your conversations and just embrace the silence, bringing nothing but comfort that made you want to cuddle — and you did.

At some point, your body had been enveloped by his arms. You're seated between his legs and your back is against his chest. You could feel his steady heartbeat that would occassionally lose its rhythm.

You're spared from the wind's icy kiss, but not from Sylus' warm, gentle ones.

It started off with him casually dropping kisses on random parts of your face. Sometimes, while you're in the middle of rambling, his lips will linger on your skin and you'd forget everything that you were about to say.

Then, his kisses gradually became more fierce. From the moment he fixated on your neck, you'd become a mess that's unable to talk.

After leaving a couple of marks, Sylus wore a satisfied grin before diving into your lips with his own.

He kissed you over and over and over again, taking full advantage of the isolation. Finally, no one can interrupt.

No one can take you away from him ever again.

[norrisainz33]

indy || po5

summary: after working a fellowship with mclaren f1 team, you get offered your dream job but the only catch is…. they’re actually sending you to indiana

pairing: pato o'ward x nonfamous!!reader

fc & warnings: becky g kinda and poorly translated spanish and very minor bad language

requested: yes!! omg my first pato fic and request! wahoooo!!!

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

ynuser has made a post

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ynuser: AMIGAS!!!! i landed my dream job!!! say hello to arrow mclaren's newest full time photographer!! but please be for real with me rn how many aura points am i losing by moving to indiana………

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friend1: ay dios mío. indianapolis??? wHY

ynuser: no ik BUT why NOT!?

yourbff: i’m so proud of you hermosa chica

ynuser: gracias mi amor

friend2: ngl homie …. a decent amount of aura points

ynuser: ok…. and if i said i actually applied to work in the uk with the mclaren f1 team but they said actually we wanna send you to indycar instead then would i gain any back?

friend2: now hold on you should’ve lead with that

yoursibling: nooooooo you’re leaving me to go to INDIANA?!

ynuser: visit me loser

yoursibling: no!

friend3: too busy looking at how hot you are to even react to the caption

ynuser: 😘😘😘😘😘

friend4: congrats bb girl

ynuser: gracias 🤍

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liked by friend2, friend1, yourbff, yoursibling, patriciooward, nolansiegel, davidmalukas, arrowmclaren, and 895 others

ynuser: shes beauty, shes grace, shes me trying to figure out what an overcut is (send help) 😌😌 had the best weekend in st pete! thanks for having me florida xx

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friend1: the way i have followed all indycar and arrow mclaren socials despite not even know what an indy car is just to see all the amazing pics mi amiga takes

ynuser: fan behavior! jk love you bebe

arrowmclaren: welcome to the team y/n!

ynuser: thank you arrowmclaren! couldn't be happier to be here

patriciooward: i'll teach you! solo di cuándo [just say when]

ynuser: 🤯 say less

yoursibling: oh so you'll invite me to indiana but not florida? fake

ynuser: ungrateful for the invite to my new home so no fun trips for youuuuuuu

yourbff: ok hermosa, lo que digas! [ok gorgeous, whatever you say]

ynuser: 😘😘

nolansiegel: great to meet you this weekend y/n! thanks for the sick pics

ynuser: likewise nolan!! ofc its literally my job

user1: so you're the photographer who took those perfect pics for me and my friends!! thank you for being so kind and for indulging us 🤍

ynuser: omg of course!! you guys had the cutest outfits there was no way i wasn't going to photograph xx

ynuser has posted to their private story

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friend2: now hold up..... who dis?

ynusr: heheheheh a driver for mclaren

friend2: he can drive right into me fr

ynuser: ASFGNKF jajajajaja

yourbff: oh you weren't kidding he handsome handsome

ynuser: painfully so.... and he's so nice?? and funny?? and speaks spanish??? and laughed at all my jokes???? and said i looked pretty????? and explained all of indycar to me????

yourbff: nah im OUT

ynuser: he was like lowkey flirting and im freaking out

yourbff: DETAILS NOW

ynuser: well we went out for drinks after our media day here in long beach so he could give me a rundown of indycar right? and like it started professional but after a drink or two he put his hand on the back of my chair, leaned in way closer than necessary and started asking me all these questions about myself instead. like?? sir?? and the whole time his thumb was just casually rubbing little circles on my back like it was nothing??? i was trying to remember the different tire types and he’s over casually giving me bedroom eyes like its nothing. and MAYBE IT IS IDK!!!!

yourbff: i'm speechless. no one casually acts like that w out something behind it no no

ynuser: thats what im saying

yourbff: have you talked since?

ynuser: yes he texted me and said AND I QUOTE: "i really enjoyed getting to know you. lets do this again."

yourbff: i was JUST wearing my pants. no idea where they have gone.

yourbff: he wants you. only explanation.

ynuser: girl pls 😭😭😭😭😭😭

yoursibling: now you're posting a MAN ?! ay dios mío

ynuser: you will never let me live

friend3: your ability to make friend with everyone is incredible. i am so jealous of you

ynuser: omg stoppp

friend4: blah blah blah proper name back story

ynuser: you get it

friend5: i thought we were team penske in this house

ynuser: idk who house your in but it ain't mine!

paticiooward has added to his story

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user2: WHO THIS I INOW THAY AINT MY GIRL ELBA

frosenqvist: this who i think it is?

patriciooward: the chica i was talking about? yes 😏

frosenqvist: ohhhhh making moves huh?

patriciooward: if you mean getting her her favorite coffee and making her giggle then yes

frosenqvist: perfect

user4: PATITOT WHI IS THIS

davidmalukas: oh !

patriciooward: 😊

user5: ok so i’m gonna go camp at this coffee shop now

ynuser: omg not the candid what is this……. ugh at least i look good here

patriciooward: you look good everywhere

ynuser: omg 🥹 gracias pato

patriciooward: de nada y/n/n

user9: pato please don’t do this to me. i thought we had something special

nolansiegel: elba looks different here

patriciooward: hehe you know it’s not elba

nolansiegel: so things are going well with your girl then?

patriciooward: yes they are 😉

ynuser has posted to their private story

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friend1: you look incredible

ynuser: thank you my love ❤️‍🔥

friend2: CAN HE FIGHT BC I WANT YOU

ynuser: honestly i don’t think he can but he won’t have to bc i’m all yours mi amiga

nolansiegel: omg bestie im a private story bestie i could cry

ynuser: you do realize you’re my favorite person in all of indiana right?

nolansiegel: omg this literally made my day i dont think you understand

nolansiegel: now tell me…… is this outfit for a certain teammate of mine 🤨

ynuser: 😔 maybe

nolansiegel: well between you and me that teammate can’t stop talking about how excited he is

ynuser: 😭😭😭😭😭

yourbff: YES YES YES A MILLION TIMES YES

ynuser: yayyyyy gracias!!

patriciooward: damn what other man is taking you out today

ynuser: haha ……. you weren’t supposed to see this i’m gonna die of embarrassment

patriciooward: oh so there is another man?! WHO?! nolan?! david m? JASON FROM FINANCE?!

ynuser: pato please 😭 the only person i’m going on a date with today is you

patricioooward: well in that case your outfit is perfect 😍😫 can’t believe you think i’m the hottest man you’ve ever seen

ynuser: i’m so embarrassed 😔😭 (but you are i can’t lie)

patriciooward: good thing i can’t lie either because i do think you’re the hottest woman i’ve ever seen

ynuser: ay dios mío stopppppp 😭😭😭

friend4: beautiful gorgeous perfect

ynuser: 🤍🤍🤍🤍

yoursibling: you look HOT however i find it horrifying that you’re letting a man take you out

ynuser: it is alarming ik but hes not just any man my dear

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ynuser: life is truly crazy because one minute you're crying about moving to a new town and the next you're working your dream job and taking pictures of your situationship going over 200 mph like its no big deal

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friend3: did i miss a chapter here 🤨

ynuser: i’ll call you 😌

davidmalukas: wait im in these pics can i be your situationship too?

ynuser: i mean…..

patriciooward: watch it both of you

friend2: tea tea tea

ynuser: 🤯

patriciooward: oh who that in the number 5 car?

ynuser: mmm just some guy idk

patriciooward: sabes que soy mucho más que un chico cualquiera. [you know i'm much more than just some guy]

user3: love your photos!!

ynuser: 🥹🥹 thank you

yourbff: oh so we’ve upgraded to situationship now?

ynuser: maybe 🫨

patriciooward: she’s playing hard to get 🙄 i thought she was my girlfriend

ynuser: i’m calling hr

yourbff: let’s not fight children

user2: i wish indycar had gossip pages like f1 bc this interaction would be doing insane numbers

yoursibling: wait why you kinda famous who are all these ppl

ynuser: i’m gonna blow up and act like i don’t know you

yoursibling: i believe it

arrowmclaren: we’re so glad you moved to the new city

ynuser: me too 🧡

user5: waitttt you are living the actual dream

ynuser: i am incredibly lucky 🧡

patriciooward has made a post

liked by lando, arrowmclaren, ynuser, yourbff, friend1, user2, user3, user4 and 184,246 others

patriciooward: we gave it everything out there for a beautiful p1! gracias por todo y gracias a mi novia por dejarme publicarla. dejó de hacerse la difícil 😉 [thank you for everything and thank you to my girlfriend for letting me post her. she stopped playing hard to get!]

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user1: felicitaciones!

yourbff: you can tell which pics she took and which one someone else took 😭

patriciooward: the professional was a bit busy in that second shot 😉

ynuser: orgullosa de ti 🧡 [proud of you]

patriciooward: gracias mi amor

lando: congrats on a strong weekend mate!

patriciooward: thanks champ!

user2: naurrrrrrrrrr you have a girlfriend?! congrats ig

frosenqvist: got the girl and the win! let’s go!

patriciooward: yes sir 😉

elbaoward: obsessed with everything about this 🤍

patriciooward: me too 😍

arrowmclaren: that’s our driver!!! [liked by patriciooward]

user4: wahooo patoooooooo

ynuser has made a post

liked by friend1, yourbff, patriciooward, elbaoward, nolansiegel, frosenqvist, yoursibling and 9,345 others

ynuser: dream job lead me to my dream man who woulda thought! patitio te amo mucho 🧡

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yourbff: que románticaaaaaaaa 😍 [how romantic]

ynuser: si si mami

user2: violently sobbing. i wish my job led me to pato oward [liked by ynuser]

nolansiegel: woohooo!! best hard launch ever

ynuser: thanks for the constant hype noly

patriciooward: why didnt i get the same nice comment from you nolan?

ynuser: bc he likes me more :)

nolansiegel: that is true unfortunately! pato who?

patriciooward: W O W

patriciooward: yo tambien te amo bebe [i love you too baby]

ynuser: siempre y para siempre [always and forever]

yoursibling: we've lost a real one chat

ynuser: or gained one depending on how you look at it

frined3: YYEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS [liked by ynuser]

friend4: i wanna be you when i grow up please

ynuser: and you can be easy peasy

user5: imma need you to post a story time about how you broke into motorsports and became a wag at the same time bc you are the blueprint [liked by ynuser]

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

a/n: thanks for reading! likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[hyckstarz]

can i plzzz request bimbo yn and nerd! mark 🥺🥺🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

of course!! this was a fun request to write ♡

my little nerd | l.mk

pairing. nerd!mark lee x bimbo!reader

word count. 2k

genre. smut

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, use of pet name (baby), choking, oral (m. receiving), degrading language (slut, whore), unprotected sex, bimbo reader, shy/dom Mark, breast play/fucking

Mark didn't know how he got here. Maybe it was her honey, dewy voice that spoke pretty little words, or her manicured nails that drummed along the desk as she peered sexily up at him through her lashes. Either way, he found himself agreeing to tutor her, at her home, in the evenings of every weekend. He groaned out in frustration and disbelief, clutching the healthy locks of his hair.

Y/N giggles at his weird antics, placing a hand on his leg as she rubs circles on his inner thigh, which immediately has his eyes snapping to her, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, "What's got you so worked up? Is it because I don't get what meiosis is? It's just sex, is it not? I'll ace it after you give me a demonstration."

Mark really doesn't know how he got here. But he finds himself leaning in, blaming it on her intoxicatingly cheap, soapy perfume and her words that get increasingly quiet, drawing him in like a siren's call. He snaps out of it, however. His leg bounces under the table in an attempt to get her hand off of his thigh before he loses it again, "It's not sex exactly... not in the way you're thinking of, at least," he grumbles, trying desperately to distract himself from her plush, glossy lips that puckered cluelessly. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he turns to his study notes, "Besides, I'm only here to tutor you, you said you needed to pass science."

She pouts obnoxiously at him. Yet, when his gaze catches a glimpse of those perfect, god-crafted tits, he really feels like he should be paying a thousand thank yous to the man above, expressing his immense gratitude for having them press against his arm as she continues to whine with that sugary voice, "But I learn through hands-on experience! And sex is sex... how is it any different?"

Maybe Mark should take back his gratitude. There was no way his tutoring alone could save her from failing science in only two months and, he was starting to believe even miracles weren't strong enough, "No, it's different with cells. You'd know this if you paid attention yesterday. We went over this during class."

She scoffs, pulling back and fixing her top whilst looking at the mirror on her desk, pushing her breasts together which has Mark reeling, "Who cares about class when I have such a cute tutor?" She grins at him, leaning in enough for him to feel her warm breath brush against his lips, "What about you?"

"W-what about me?" Mark squeaks, his voice cracking at the close proximity.

She giggles, "Do you think I'm cute?" Her hand comes up to cup his jaw, thumb grazing his bottom lip as she watches it jutter out, entranced.

Mark squirms in his seat, cheeks a bright red under her intense gaze, "Yeah... you're cute."

He doesn't know what came over him, but fuck was she perfection. Sure, all of God's works were perfection, but when she pulls back to unzip her top, exposing the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra this whole time, he'd come to the conclusion that she needed a word that went beyond perfection itself.

"Fuck," he kept his eyes locked on the soft mounds and perky nipples. He wondered how they'd fit in his hand and whether they were as soft and plush as they looked.

"Surprised I wasn't wearing a bra? Well, it's one less garment to fiddle with," she giggles dumbly, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "that includes underwear. Wanna find out if I'm wearing any?"

But Mark, being the barely experienced, book nerd he was, forces his eyes to bore into the textbook in front of him. He tries to make sense of the words on the page, but it's hard when he can see her pretty, perky tits in the corner of his eyes. He desperately shifts in the chair, trying to calm his raging hard on. He hated how easily he was turned on by her. She was an air head. A gorgeous, sexy, air head that drove him insane despite being used by hundreds of men for being a cumslut.

She pouts, "You're gonna ignore me?"

Mark swallows thickly, eyes fluttering shut as if to drown out the pretty voice from the pretty woman next to him, "We-," he clears his throat, "We need to study... I need you to pass-"

Suddenly, she swivles his chair to the side, planting her knees to the carpeted floor as she lodges herself between his legs, "We can study after, Mark. I need your cum... need you to paint my mouth white, I can't focus otherwise. Not when you're so cute," she bites her lip, doe eyes pleading as she looks up at him.

It felt like Mark had experienced whiplash with the way she fit so perfectly between his legs. He was starting to believe her middle name was indeed... perfect. He moaned, clutching onto the armrests as she licked over his clothed crotch, yanking him back towards reality. Another lick, and he swore he could see stars, "Fuuuck, Y/N... w-we can't."

Mark clutched desperately onto the armrests, knuckles turning white out of fear that, if he were to let go, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going all the way with her.

"We can't or you won't?" She slowly starts to unzip his jeans, giving him the option to pull away. But, when he doesn't, she feels the anticipation start to throb between her legs, and she has to rub her thighs together when his cock springs free from the confines of his boxers, "Gonna make you feel so good, my little nerd. Wanna taste you so bad."

In a heartbeat, she leaves kitten licks along the raging red head of his cock. Each lick causes him to shiver, "S-stop teasing..," Mark groans, peering down at her through hooded eyes.

She swipes her flat tongue up his length before swallowing him whole. He bucks into her mouth, desperately grasping at her long hair, bunching it up and shoving her down on his cock, "Fuck... your mouth... so pretty wrapped around my dick..."

She hums, sending shivers through his body. Her tongue swirls around his length, sucking and bobbing her head with a vigour that leaves him breathless and, the erotic sight of her drool dribbling down his length, has him panting. When she pulls away with a pop, a string of saliva connecting between her lips and his dick, Mark can see the whore beneath the pretty exterior, and his dick twitches at the sight. He stops her before she goes back in, "Tits... wanna fuck your tits."

That alone has her clenching around nothing. She sits up, wrapping her breasts around his dick, "Go ahead, make a mess of them, baby."

Mark groans at how pliant she is. Slowly, he ruts into them, loving how soft they feel, and he can't hold back anymore. He picks up the pace, rocking his hips between her breasts and he swears this is better than any fantasy he could cook up about her. At the same time of his thrusts, she rubs her breasts around his length, spreading the wetness from having sucked him off, watching his dick twitch and the skin tug with every drag.

But Mark forces himself to pull away before he reaches his orgasm, and Y/N starts to complain "Mark, why did you stop?"

He sends her a lazy chuckle, one that has her swooning. Sure, she could get with any man without a care, but Mark was attractive in a subtle, cute and sexy way, as she now realises with the look he sends her. She swallows hard, his heavy gaze raking over her smaller frame. She swears if he continues to look at her like this, she'd come on the spot and stain her favourite rug.

Mark grabs at her waist impatiently, yanking her out of her thoughts and manhandling her as he hoists her up onto the desk without much gentleness, "Look at you, you'd sooner bend over for any dick than pass your exams," his hand cups her cheeks, squishing them roughly, "If you're gonna act like a whore, maybe I'll treat you like one."

Without warning, he reaches under her skirt, feeling the cloth of her panties, "So, you were wearing one." His lip twitches into a smirk, tugging her underwear to the side as he thrusts into her, and it's a feeling she found herself addicted to — getting filled up, used and fucked until she couldn't form coherent thoughts. Sharp moans pushed out of her throat, echoing in the room as she rocked her hips against his, spreading her legs wider for him.

Mark's hand moves down to her throat, applying enough pressure to have her gasping, "You're just a slut. Say it."

"I-I'm a slut," she moaned, her eyes rolling back and jaw going slack. She could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it stretched her out, pulling back just enough before slamming back in. He was the perfect size, and she swears she lucked out after perfecting her dick radar. That little nerd tucked away in the corner of the library, unsuspecting and easily flustered... who would have thought he'd be so... commanding and intense. It made her clench around his dick, earning a groan from him as his glasses slipped further down the bridge of his nose, already fogged up from their coupling.

Mark leant in, his hot breath tickling her neck, "That's right... my filthy slut," he nips at her skin, trailing open-mouthed, sloppy kisses along the column of her neck, biting into her skin as he ruts into her, "So... so sexy..."

Her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging with each thrust. She loved the feel of his soft lips against her skin and the cool metal of his glasses bumping into her jaw, "Your f-filth... filthy slut..."

But it wasn't enough. It never was enough. Mark pulls out of her, flipping her over so that her ass presented itself to him tantalisingly under her mini skirt. He groaned at the sight, spreading her apart as his dick rubbed along her folds, teasing her entrance, before pushing back in. This new angle had her knees buckling, gasping as her clit brushed over the desk with every hard thrust. Her manicured nails dug into the desk, gripping as spit dribbled down her chin. She hadn't been this fucked out in so long, and it was none other than a nerd who had the slut seeing stars.

She cries out, and Mark leans over, tilting her face to meet his lips, kissing her lazily, swallowing her wanton moans and smearing her spit along her cheeks, "So dirty."

Y/N rocks her hips back against his and Mark grabs a fistful of her hair, pressing her face to the desk, free hand splayed out on her lower back to hold her firmly down as he picked up the pace, feeling his climax approaching, "Fuck, I'm close... wanna cum on your tits though, like I was supposed to."

She concluded he was a tit-obsessed nerd, but she loved every second of it. She nods her head eagerly, "I don't care where you cum as long as it's on or in me," she begged, desperation eating away at her as she came, shuddering under him, "please... please..."

Mark smirked, yanking her head back enough so that she lay on her side as he pulled out, cum spurting on the side of her face and along her breasts. He leans in, suckling on her cum-coated nipple before moving up her body to kiss her. She tasted sweet, mixed with the saltiness of his release, and he swore again that she was perfect. Perfect just like this; fucked out and smeared with his cum as she babbled pretty, incoherent words.

© hyckstarz

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 40 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Work is finally peaceful for Bradley. While it seems like everyone around him is moving to a new stage of life, he knows he is, too. He's surrounded by so much love already, and more will be blooming soon as he counts down to the end of your pregnancy.

Warnings: Adult language, DILF Roo, pregnancy, smut, lactation kink

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Work was an adjustment. In a good way. It took Bradley a few days to remember he didn't have to look over his shoulder for Indigo. He didn't have to keep his head on a swivel, wondering if she was giving you a hard time somewhere on base. He could just get his work done without interference.

When he eyed the burrito bowls in the cafeteria at lunchtime, he checked his phone, wondering what was taking you so long to come down. "You okay, Soul Sister?" Nat asked, squeezing his shoulder. "Want to sit with Bob, Maria and me?"

Bradley grunted, and shook his head. "I'll wait for my wife."

"I don't think she's coming," Nat replied casually, bypassing the burrito bowls in favor of the baked pasta.

"How do you know that?" Bradley asked, double checking to see if he'd missed a text from you while he was in his classroom all morning. But there was nothing.

"I was talking to her when her boss tracked her down. He looked flustered, telling her he needed her in his office."

Bradley's brow creased as he picked up just one burrito bowl instead of two. He eyed the green hot sauce you were obsessed with, but it wouldn't taste as good without you sitting next to him. "Did Bickel seem upset with her?" Bradley knew how much you loved working for your commanding officer, and that feeling seemed to go both ways.

Nat shrugged. "Less upset and more concerned. I'm sure she's fine."

Bradley settled in next to his best friend and across the table from Maria and Bob, but he barely got one bite of food in his mouth before Maverick was standing next to him.

"I'd eat that as quickly as possible. Cyclone wants to see us."

"Now?" he asked his godfather, wondering why his day kept getting more annoying since parting ways with you. Maybe he should just cancel his afternoon flight.

"I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes," Maverick said, leaving him to practically inhale his food while the others conversed. 

Apparently Bob and Maria were giving up their lease to move into a nicer one-bedroom place together. While that information wasn't surprising, it made Bradley a little sad. You'd been the one living in that apartment with Maria when Bradley fell in love with you. Your little bedroom was where he'd poured his heart out to you in the early days. It was where he made love to you for the first time.

"I'll help you move," Bradley immediately offered, getting a nod in return from Bob. He really wanted the opportunity to be in that sacred space one last time while he had the chance. And getting brownie points with one of your best friends was never a bad move.

"Thanks, Rooster," Bob replied as Bradley shoveled the last of his burrito bowl into his mouth and got up to leave again. Whatever Cyclone wanted, it was best not to keep the man waiting. But honestly, Bradley couldn't understand how his perfectly good morning was deteriorating so quickly. Waking up with his hand on your belly felt like days ago, and what if Admiral Simpson wanted him for something annoying? Fuck, what if he was about to get deployed even though he'd been promised those would become few and far between? What if he wasn't even home for your due date?

He was counting how many weeks were left in your pregnancy while he knocked on the office door. If he had to spend the anniversary weekend he'd planned at the cabin telling you he was leaving, you would be so upset. You and he needed a break together.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. Have a seat." Bradley met Cyclone's eyes where he stood next to his desk with Maverick. He hated to be the only one in the room sitting, but he was left with little choice. Bradley sank into the chair while Cyclone cleared his throat. "I wanted to take a few minutes to wrap up your complaints against Lieutenant Jeffries."

Bradley cringed, and Maverick crossed his arms over his chest like he was fighting to stand still. "Yes, Sir," Bradley agreed with a nod, hoping he wouldn't have to rehash anything that had already happened.

"I was notified of her separation this morning. An admiral in Texas called me first thing." Bradley sat up straighter in his chair as Cyclone said, "Lieutenant Jeffries has been formally discharged."

Now Bradley had to fight a smile as he replied. "Thank you for letting me know, Sir."

It was obvious Maverick had something to add. "Bradley. Uh, Rooster," he corrected quickly. "During some of our discussions, you voiced concerns about staying in your current role." Bradley swore his heart stopped as Mav added, "Do you still feel that way?"

Bradley stayed silent. For weeks and months he'd been wondering if he was in the right place. Wondering if he was effective as a teacher rather than just another body in another Super Hornet in the air making decisions without considering the consequences. But the main reason he had been second guessing himself was Indigo. He'd keep his head on a swivel from now on. He'd never let something like that happen again. It was easy to reconsider things without her on base. His classes were fun again. He enjoyed teaching. He loved watching his students take what they learned to the air.

But the best part was being at home with you every night. At home with Rosie. At home enjoying the countdown to the arrival of his second daughter.

"No, I don't feel that way now," Bradley rasped as he shook his head. "I'm where I belong."

--------------------------

When you realized you'd inadvertently bailed on your husband, you felt bad, but that feeling didn't last for long. When you got to Bickel's office at the same time as Cat, you and she shared a brief look before he ushered you inside. Once you were all seated, your boss broke out into a smile.

"I don't know how you manage to do it, but you two always surpass my expectations."

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself quiet, because you had no idea what he could be talking about. The baby was squirming around and thumping on your ribs as you tried to remain chill without looking at Cat. You adjusted your maternity tent and let your boss continue.

"The quick work you put in to test the new software updates ahead of schedule was so successful, your efforts are being recognized."

Now you were shaking from holding back your laughter, and Cat cleared her throat awkwardly three times. "Thank you, Sir," she said calmly with a smirk. "We try our best."

The look on her face made you start coughing. Was she hoping to make you pee your pants? You thought you might as you took a deep breath and listened to Bickel lay out an upcoming timeline for the continued software testing. It wasn't like you didn't know the updates would be successful; you and Cat worked too hard for anything otherwise. But Indigo was the reason you wanted to ground an aircraft ahead of schedule.

When you were finally dismissed, you rushed toward the bathroom with Cat on your heels. "Are you still nauseous?" she asked as you headed for the first stall. "You're awfully late in your pregnancy to still be so nauseous."

"No! I have to pee! I don't know how you stayed so calm throughout that meeting. I thought I was going to explode with laughter."

She was still smirking when you washed your hands. "Remember all those promises you made about watching Jer for me if I was willing to finish the code in a hurry?"

"I do," you replied easily. "Want to drop him off at my house after work one day this week so you and Jake can get into some nasty shit for a few hours?"

Cat's laughter echoed throughout the space as she doubled over, cackling. "I guess that depends upon your definition of nasty.... we're trying to figure out which day we can go apply for our marriage license." You screamed before she clapped her hand over your mouth. "Shh! Are you out of your mind?"

"Marriage license!" you screeched when she freed you. "Jake is such a fuckboy, and you're so in love with him!"

"You're the one who told me he's a good guy in the first place!"

"He is!" you insisted, beaming at her. "And he'll be the best dad for Jer."

Instead of returning to your office or the lab, you dashed toward the elevators and went downstairs. As soon as the November sun hit your face, you felt like this day couldn't get any better. The walk to the tower was filled with the distant sound of jet wash and a breeze that gave you goosebumps. When you reached the aviator's lounge, the first person you saw when you opened the door was your husband holding a disposable coffee cup and chatting with Natasha, but you rushed past them.

"Hi, Roo," you offered, patting him quickly on his flat belly as you headed for Jake who was sweaty and unzipping the top of his flight suit. You flung your arms around him, and he held you awkwardly with your bump pressed against him.

"Whoa, Angel. What's got you throwing yourself at me?" he asked with a laugh. "Not that I mind..." he added, winking at Bradley as you pulled away.

"You didn't tell me you're getting married," you hissed quietly so the others couldn't hear over their conversation. "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

Jake's cheeks paled as he wrapped his fingers gently around your bicep, guiding you toward the window. "Damn, Cat can't keep her mouth shut," he muttered, glancing outside. "We don't actually have anything planned yet, but I convinced her to get the marriage license. That'll give us ninety days to make it happen." He turned his green eyes your way and added, "My lawyer said Jeremiah's biological father stands less of a chance of locating him if I adopt him. Make him a Seresin," he grunted softly. "It's just Cat's name listed on Jer's birth certificate, and I'd really like to change that as soon as possible."

"Jake," you gasped, tears filling your eyes. "You're so in love with them."

He nodded. "I am. And I told Cat she'd have a spectacular wedding in ninety days or less if she promised to get the marriage license now. She told me she doesn't want to spend any money. Claims I've spent enough to help her get free from her ex. But I want her to have whatever she wants-"

"She wants you. You're already Jer's dad. Just marry her. Keep it simple."

"Are you ever going to give me a hug?" Bradley called from across the room. "It's been like two minutes, Sweetheart."

Jake smirked and nudged your shoulder with his bicep. "Get over there so he stops whining."

"I'm not whining," Bradley whined. "I just want a hug from my wife and daughter." He tossed his empty cup into the trash when you slotted yourself into his arms. "That's better," he murmured, lips meeting your forehead as you let your cheek rest against his chest.

"He whined when you missed lunch, too," Natasha said casually as you laughed.

Bradley huffed. "Is it really such a bad thing that I like being around my family?"

"Not at all." You glanced up at him. "And I think it's kind of cute when you whine about it." He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as his fingers crept around to your hip, holding you tight. "Guess what Bickel told me earlier."

"That you're the best officer he's ever worked with and he wants you to take over his lab when he retires?"

Your heart fluttered at your husband's words; he was your biggest fan. "Not quite. But Cat and I are being recognized for our work on the Super Hornet comms. And I kind of have Indigo to thank for it in a very twisted way."

"Oh! She's out of the Navy, Baby Girl."

You blinked up at him. "She is?" you whispered, mind swirling with the image of Indigo storming away from you in a rage the last time you saw her.

"Yeah, she's toast," he replied, lips meeting your forehead again as Natasha and Jake headed out. "I had a meeting with Mav and Cyclone."

"When were you going to tell me?"

Bradley's lips curled into a smile as he took your hand and kissed along your knuckles. "I'd have remembered later at some point, but Indigo is the farthest thing from my mind now. I'm more intersted in going home and packing for our trip and fucking you."

You glanced around to make sure everyone else had cleared out. "Okay, that does sound fun, but we have to babysit Jeremiah one evening this week."

"Can't it wait until next week after we get back from the mountains?" he whispered. "I'm in family mode, looking forward to our anniversary."

"Nope. We absolutely have to watch Jer for them. It's a necessity, Roo."

-----------------------------

"Jesus," Bradley groaned, kicking your maternity uniform across the bedroom floor before it could trip him up. Dinner was in the oven, Rose was napping, and you were easing yourself back on the bed, nearly naked. He watched you pull your sensible underwear down until he could see your rooster tattoo, and then he pounced.

"Roo!" you squealed, wrapping your leg around his hip as he held himself over your body, his hands planted on either side of your head. "You have to make it quick. And you're never quick."

"I know," he grunted, biting his lip as you rubbed yourself against the fly of his khakis. All he wanted at the moment was to take his time licking that bead of milk from your nipple before treating his mouth to your entire body. But there wasn't time. Jake Seresin would be here shortly to ruin his fun.

Your hand on his zipper prompted him to savor that bit of your milk as you pulled him free of his pants. Then you guided him right where he belonged, and he sank inch by inch into your pussy until you moaned his name.

"That's fucking beautiful." He kissed away all the little sounds you made as he fucked you slowly; they could just wait out on the porch with Jeremiah until Bradley was done with you for all he cared.

But something about having you naked and beneath him while he was still fully clothed in his uniform made Bradley realize he wasn't going to last too long. The bounce of your tits as your fingers dug into his hair. The scrape of your nails along his scalp as your pupils grew wide. The way your growing belly took up more space than usual. It was all designed to make him insane. He knew it. He wasn't going to fight it. You'd win every time anyway.

"How do you do this to me?" murmured against your neck, inhaling your scent with a gasping breath as your pussy pulsed around him. "How do you fuck me up like this?"

Your answer was your lips on his jaw as Bradley swallowed hard, fucking you as his body tensed above yours. "Roo," you gasped, lips parting, rolling your hips. He couldn't hang on when it was this good. When your voice was in his ear, coaxing him along. 

"God, Roo. Daddy!"

That did it. His thrusts grew shorter as he came, pushing himself deep, filling you with his cum until he let his weight settle halfway on top of you. He was never done until you got what you deserved, but as soon as he dragged his fingers along your tattoo and let them settle on your clit, Tramp started barking.

"They're here," you moaned, starting to sit up with Bradley's cock still buried deep.

"But I'm not done with you," he whispered, keeping you in place while Tramp howled. But it was useless. "Fuck!" He pulled himself free, forfeiting the opportunity to watch his cum leak out of you as he stood. Bradley tucked himself back into his pants and did up the zipper, scowling. "Hangman ruins everything, I swear to god." He pulled one of his old undershirts and some gym shorts from his drawer as you laughed and stood. "I'll finish you off later," he promised with a kiss, pressing his clothing into your hand.

"I know you will."

Bradley was in no mood for company, but when he opened the front door, Jer clapped his hands with a big smile on his face. "Hey, Buddy," he said, smiling reluctantly as Jeremiah climbed from Cat's arms into his. "Tramp is so excited to play with you."

"Tramp!" Jeremiah reached down trying to pet the dog while he went wild.

"Thanks for babysitting," Jake said as he strolled in from the porch earning an eye roll from Bradley.

"It's no big deal," Bradley replied through clenched teeth, trying not to glare. It wasn't like Jake and Cat had any idea what they'd interrupted. Or at least they didn't until you came rushing down the hallway into the living room with Bradley's undershirt on backward. Cat didn't seem to notice, but Jake stifled his laughter behind his hand.

"Hi, Jeremiah!" you crooned, running your fingers along his cheek. "We're going to have so much fun. Rose will be awake soon, and we can go out back to the playset."

"Sorry about the timing," Jake muttered.

"No, you're not," Bradley whispered. "Now get out of here."

Jake laced his fingers with Cat's as she said, "We'll be back in less than two hours."

"Take your time," you said, waving her off. "We'll have so much fun while you're gone." You took Jeremiah's hand and led him to the couch where you'd left a stack of Rose's books, ready for the occasion. 

When Bradley closed the front door, he heard his daughter's cries coming from the nursery. He rushed in to scoop her up, kissing her fuzzy hair and changing her diaper before carrying her to the living room where you were reading Jeremiah the silly goose book.

"Whoa, Baby Girl. You need to start over. Rosie and I love this book."

"Love!" Jer cheered as Bradley settled down on the couch next to him. The little boy suddenly seemed more interested in Rose than in the book, but you obliged everyone by starting the story at the beginning.

--------------------------

The sun was setting after dinner as you nursed Rose on the patio wearing Bradley's clothes and your boat shoes. You hadn't taken the time to turn his shirt the other way, too busy bustling around with the two, well, three kids.

"Higher?" Bradley asked.

"Higher!" Jeremiah replied, and you watched your husband push his swing harder. Peels of laugher filled the backyard, and now Rose was crying for a different reason. She seemed to want to join in the fun as Tramp ran around the playset in circles.

"Jake needs to get this kid a puppy," Bradley eventually said as Jeremiah reached for the dog again. Really, the only thing that seemed more interesting to him was Rose, and he shifted his focus as you walked their way, Tramp immediately forgotten.

"Can you say Rose?" you asked Jeremiah as his swing came to a stop in front of Bradley. "Rose."

He tried his best but struggled with the R sound as Rose reached for his hair. "Be nice, Rosie," Bradley scolded, scooping up Jeremiah at the same time he took Rose from your arms. The sight of him holding both kids was almost too much, and you reached for one of the wooden playset posts to keep yourself standing. He kissed your daughter's cheek and said, "It's getting dark out here. How about a snack and one more round of the silly goose book?"

"We could do that," you whispered, letting your hand rest on your belly. For the briefest second, you started rethinking your threat about the vasectomy.

"You have to read it again," Bradley murmured, leading the way to the sliding glass door with his arms full. "The kids love your voice, and so do I."

By the time you finished the book, Rose was falling asleep and Jeremiah was yawning. But Bradley looked attentive, eyes calculating. At the sound of a knock on the door, he was up from the couch with Jeremiah in his arms. "Well, it's been fun, little man, but it's time for you to leave."

"I didn't even get to say goodbye!" you complained, holding Rose. 

Bradley turned around so you could kiss Jeremiah on the cheek, and then he thrust the child into Cat's arms and closed the door as soon as she said thank you.

"That wasn't very nice," you said with a laugh.

"I disagree, Sweetheart," he told you as he reached for Rose. "I thought that was pretty fucking nice considering what they interrupted earlier. Now say goodnight to your daughter and go get undressed."

"Stop swearing in front of the baby," you scolded half-heartedly before he kissed your lips. God, he was doing numbers on you right now. He was in his demanding 'dad' mode while still wearing his uniform, and you moaned out loud. "Okay, fine. I'll go get undressed."

Everything felt so good tonight. You could hear Bradley singing to Rose as you went to the bathroom and did your bedtime routine. You didn't have to wait long after you tugged his undershirt over your head before he appeared in the bedroom doorway. His brown eyes were playful, but his gaze was glued to your body. "Now, where were we?"

You trailed your hand down your side, along your swollen belly, and let your fingertips graze your tattoo. "Right about here, Roo."

He nodded in agreement, closing the distance with three long strides before kneeling in front of you. His hands wrapped around your thighs as his lips and mustache met your rooster tattoo before skimming along your belly. "Yeah. Right about here."

--------------------------

Well, I was wrong... there will be one more part after this! Stay tuned for an anniversary trip. And don't forget to send me your thoughts about hcs and blurbs! Thanks for reading!

PART 41

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[msgexymunson]

Shotgun

Description: you're on a camping trip with your two friends, and the scariest guy from school: Eddie Munson. A few beers and some weed change the way you look at him however. Maybe he's not so scary after all. Cocky, oh yes, but not scary. Especially the way your legs start to squeeze together at the sight of him. But, does he like you, or is this some cruel game to play on the innocent band geek? 

A/n: do I have 10 WIPs? Yes. Do I have requests I'm working on? Also yes. So logically, I started a one shot from a smutty dream I had, that turned into a freaking long one. Enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll feed you to the fishes. Very smutty, a bit of angst, hella fluff! Reader is AFAB, cocky!experienced!Eddie x Virgin!band geek!fem!reader, very slight dub con in the beginning (touching over panties, explicit consent not given), female fingering receiving, dry humping, female oral receiving, p in v protected sex. 

❤️Reblogs are what keep me going; they keep Tumblr going, and my little black heart beating. Reblog my work and I'll love you forever sweetheart. ❤️

12.5k words (oops) 

Masterlist

"You know you guys can't handle this shit!" 

Eddie laughs, nearly spilling the beer cradled in his hand. 

Steve rolls his eyes, chucking his beer top into the campfire you guys had set up for the evening, the paint sparking briefly. 

"Come on Munson, pass it round, quit being a bitch." 

"Yeah Eddie, share the love!" 

Robin giggles as she clutches her chest dramatically. Shaking your head, you shift uncomfortably on the ground. It's not that you haven't been around this sort of stuff before, people you weren't too keen on have smoked once in your company. It wasn't even a moral thing, you were just a little scared of the effect. That, and the fact you were sitting right next to Eddie Munson. 

Eddie, the guy you've literally been frightened of since you saw him leaping on tables in the cafeteria. That was some time ago, and Robin had assured you he was a good guy. You trusted her judgement completely, hence why you'd even considered going camping with the three of them for the weekend. It didn't help the fact that you were just a band geek, not used to these sorts of get togethers. Hell, your closest friends played chess for fun. This was so out of your comfort zone that you felt like a deer in headlights. Only a week ago you had your first beer, at 21; the proper age. Now you were sucking back a brew in the woods at night, sitting next to the drug dealer of the area. 

It could just be the beer talking, but Eddie looks good right now. Every time he shook his mane of hair out of his face it had you biting your lip. He threw his head back when he laughed and the sight of that stretched neck of his had you clenching your thighs, feelings bubbling up that you'd never felt before. 

So when his hand reached out and his fingertips grazed you, a blunt pressed between his thick ringed fingers, you gasped, pulling your hand away as if it had been burned. 

"Come on, take it." 

Your tongue feels thick and swollen, sticking to the roof of your mouth. Words. Think of words. 

"Can't you, erm, pass it the other way?" 

"No, it always goes to the left sweetheart." 

Sweetheart.

Glad the low light hides your blazing cheeks at the pet name, you dip your eyes downward for fear of them exposing you. You played the flute for Christ's sake. This was not your thing. 

"I-I, well, I-" 

"You not smoked before?"

Robin's voice cuts through the myriad of noises in your head, making you turn violently. 

"I just, I never-" 

"Look at me." 

Those words from him sing through your nerves, making you forget any thought you had, or anticipated. As you turn, Eddie's dark eyes bore into you. 

"You trust me?" 

No. A thousand times no.

"Yes." 

"Come here." 

He shifts and gets up on his knees, joint pressed between pouting lips as he lights it again, the cherry blazing almost as hot as your blood right now. You mimic his movements, rising on shaky thighs to kneel in front of him. 

"Right, I'm gonna take a pull, and blow the smoke, when I breathe out, you breathe in, 'kay?" 

His words are sweet, and a little condescending, an edge of talking down that just stirs up your insides further, guts a puddle. 

"Okay." 

He cups his hands to his face, gesturing for you to do the same. Raising your shaking hands, you touch them delicately with his. He flips his hands so they are on the outside, cupping yours, pushing them together with a lot more force than you did. 

He's close, so close. Your breath hitches in your throat, those deep eyes a couple of inches from yours. Heat radiates from his body, your skin itching almost from its blistering warmth. That could just be from the fire. Or the fire in between your legs. 

He smells good. There's weed there, sure, and the beer you've all been drinking, and some aftershave you couldn't place, maybe bergamot? An undercurrent lies beneath it all, of man and skin, that makes your toes curl. 

He breathes into you then, the swirling smoke trying to escape your cupped hands. 

You inhale deeply, focusing on the feel of Eddie's rough hands, on his touch. You breathe in until there's nothing left and hold it. His eyes don't leave yours, sparkling in the fire light. 

The exhale hurts more. Breathing out smoke, you revel in the fact you didn't cough or startle. The feeling of him letting go of your hands is far worse. 

A ringing, whooping noise finally reaches your ears, between the sound of your own blood pumping. Robin and Steve are cheering like morons, but your gaze doesn't leave Eddie. 

"There you go. Good girl." 

Damn. 

A sharp intake of breath pulls into your lungs and straight to your heat. The pure shock and desire those two words drew from you have you dropping backwards, butt slamming into the pine needle dusted ground. 

"Hey you OK?" Robin's hand on your shoulder distracts you briefly and you flash a weak smile. 

"Sure, just went to my head a little, I'm good." 

Eddie's hand reaches over you, passing the blunt to Robin. You dare not look him in the eye, fearful that everything you felt was written all over your innocent face. Out of your periphery, you can tell he's facing you. Suddenly the fire was extremely interesting. 

Robin has a couple of tokes, and tries a third when Steve waves at her. 

"Quit hogging it!" 

"OK, don't get your panties in a twist!" Passing it to Steve with a loud huff, he takes it and breathes deep. And promptly coughs his guts out. 

Robin and Eddie cackle, and even you can spare a giggle at the irony. 

"Told you Harrington. Even the little band cutie took it better than you!" 

"Fuck off Munson." 

Hell, he knows who I am. And he called me cute.

This is Eddie. Scary, metal head, drug dealer Eddie. Eddie who all of a sudden stirs your insides up and makes your head dizzy. Eddie who you now realise is actually goddamn gorgeous. 

Eddie takes a hit and turns to you. 

"You wanna try smoking it sweetheart?" 

Heart hammering in your ribs, you manage to speak. 

"C-can you do, that thing, again?" 

His smile is dipped in sin as he scoots nearer to you, and you copy him. Suddenly this seems more intimate, sitting on the ground, twisting to face each other, inches away. He takes a hit and holds it, gesturing at you to lean closer. The way he tilts his head, you could almost believe he's going to kiss you. This time, he cups your face, blowing smoke at you. It's so close his lips brush yours ever so softly. 

You're not sure if your inhale was intentional or a shocked gasp, but in the smoke goes. 

Did he mean to do that? 

One look into his eyes tells you yes. There's a cockiness to his grin, the devil dancing across his face. 

So, did he do it because he likes you, or is he just messing with you? Only Eddie knows the answer to that. 

You exhale, less than an inch from his full lips. Time stops. That is until Steve and his loud mouth break the spell. 

"Come on, get a room you guys!" He practically yells, throwing a twig in your direction. 

You snap your head away from Eddie and stare at Steve with wild eyes. 

"I-I wasn't, we- we weren't-" 

"We weren't? Well, that's a damn shame."

As you glance back at Eddie he's leaning on propped up elbows, looking so sure of himself that it's annoying, bordering on making you angry. 

Cheeks flooding with warmth, your mouth forms words without checking with your brain first. 

"Y-you know what you are Eddie?" 

He tilts his head at you, still smirking, and gestures a hand willing you to continue. 

"A cocky mother fucker." 

The grin falls from his face as he looks at you in shock. Robin and Steve practically piss themselves laughing at your sudden outburst. 

"Shit Eddie you better watch out!" Robin laughs out. 

"Yeah, that kitty's got claws dude." Steve agrees. 

Embarrassed at your own words, you risk glancing at Eddie. You were expecting him to be upset, angry even. That's not the case; he looks impressed. 

"Shit, yeah, I can see that. Didn't know you had it in you sweetheart." 

Smiling to yourself, you stretch your legs and wiggle your feet. You impressed him. Your turn for a smug smile. 

Pretty soon the high starts to settle in; a warmth seeps through your bones and a tingle spreads from your head into your body. It feels like you're quivering whilst sitting still. Steve offers you another beer but you turn it down, well aware that being too foggy right now would be a bad idea. Especially since Eddie has been creeping closer. Now you're side by side, hips so close any time he moves he brushes against you. 

The fire dies down, turning to embers. The beer coat has vanished, leaving you shivering. Steve and Robin are already under a blanket; you can see Robin's eyes are close to closing. 

"You ok there sweetheart? Cold?" 

"I-I'm O-OK." 

"No you aren't, you're shaking." 

Without a further word he's taking off his jacket and putting his arm firmly around you. Whatever space there was between you has melted away, sides now flush. 

You could say the same for your face. This may well be the closest you've been to a boy. Well, a man. He drapes the jacket over the pair of you, covering your crossed legs and his lap, and rubs his hand smoothly up and down your arm to warm you. Little does he know how much he's warming your insides, each stroke sending a buzzing desire through your limbs. 

Steve's chatting away; yet another story about Dustin spilling from his lips when you feel Eddie's other hand snaking underneath the jacket, coming to rest on your thigh. 

Eyes wide, you flick your gaze towards him. 

"What are you doing?" You whisper urgently. 

"Just warming you up sweetheart." 

He says it so sweetly, yet it belies the movements of his hand, moving further up your leg to run soft circles just underneath the hem of your skirt. 

You can't hear a word Steve is saying, unable to concentrate on anything but Eddie's touch and the whooshing blood in your ears. No one had ever touched you like this, not once.  

Robin's shrill voice breaks through the fizzing in your head; once again her and Steve are arguing over something. You might have heard Vickie being mentioned but you can't be sure. 

Eddie's hand trails higher, within reach of your panties. Breath catching in your throat, you mean to admonish him but all that comes out is a breathy noise. 

"Eddie…" 

He rests his chin on your shoulder, hot breath fanning your ear. 

"You want me to stop?" 

You don't answer, you can't. You're frozen, unable to move, unable to make a sound lest a moan escape your lips. 

He wouldn't dare, not with Steve and Robin here, would he?

He would. 

Eddie runs a finger gently down the front of your panties. The softest touch, a whisper of a thing. Then he does it again, up and down, pressing the cotton of your briefs into your private parts. 

You can feel your insides fluttering, a burning settling between your legs, being stoked by every barely there touch. Suddenly, he presses down on something that has you softly whimpering and clenching at nothing. A tingle shoots down your legs to the tips of your toes. 

You hear a small noise; it's Eddie chuckling in his throat. It snaps you out of your frozen state and you move to get up. 

"I'm going to bed guys." 

Standing abruptly, you let Eddie's jacket fall from you as he scrambles to keep it over his own lap. 

You turn to your tent and hear Steve and Robin wish you goodnight, and mumble about going to bed soon too. 

"Night guys!" 

"Want any company sweetheart?" 

There he is, sitting with that arrogant look on his face. 

"Goodnight, Eddie." 

You say it firmly, even though your resolve is as substantial as tissue paper. Stomping over to your tent, you turn on your camp light and sit on your double inflatable bed, hugging your knees. 

Now that you're alone you realise how much that weed affected you. You feel airy, light as a feather, fingers and toes still tingling. 

It must be the drugs. 

You focus on the reality of the situation. You just let some guy touch you down there. Eddie Munson touched you over your panties. 

So why weren't you scared? Or angry at him? It's not like he asked. The fact is that  no one's done anything like that to you before, and it felt incredible. Left you aching for more. That thought was making you more frightened than anything else. 

You listen to the group slowly pad their way off to bed, rustles of clothing, mumbled 'goodnights', and tent zips. 

To the left of your tent was the huge six berth Steve had brought for him and Robin. It was fancy, you assume he 'borrowed' it from his parents. On the cusp of hearing there was bickering. You don't know how Robin and Steve became friends, or how they maintained it since they acted like an old married couple most of the time, but it seemed to work. After a few minutes soft snores echoed from the two of them. 

No sound comes from the other side, where Eddie had pitched a little coffin tent. You wonder if he's still sitting by the dying embers of the fire. He's probably smoking. 

Stop thinking about him.

You undress, only pulling an oversized t-shirt on to sleep in since your big sleeping bag is so warm. You'd bought a double one with your birthday money last year because you hated feeling restricted. It was a luxury but with all the camping you did it just made sense. Snuggling into its spacious depths, you attempt to quiet the raging hormones coursing through your veins. 

God, why is he so annoying and smug? It burned you up, but you couldn't deny how much it turned you on. 

You slide your hand between your legs, pressing hard to try and quench the fire. He did something, you're sure of it. This wasn't natural for you, movements unsure and bordering on clumsy. When you run your finger through your naked folds you whimper, and see how wet you are. Gasping, you explore further, and find that spot, a hidden nub that sends a bolt of lightning to your core. 

"Oh fuck," you breathe out in a moan, starting to rub up and down. 

"You alright in there sweetheart?" 

Oh shit, he's right outside the tent. Was he there the whole time? 

"Yeah, what do you want?" 

"I'm cold, can I come in?" 

No.

"Y-yeah." 

He unzips the tent and enters, crouching to accommodate his height. Closing the tent up, he takes in his surroundings, letting out a low whistle. 

"Pretty sweet set up you've got here, your folks rich or something?" 

"No, I just do a lot of camping with the troop." 

"Huh?" He looks confused, falling to his knees to look you in the eyes. 

"The girl scouts, I volunteer as a leader." 

The laughter that comes from him is loud and rich. 

"Fuck, you got that little innocent act down don't you?" 

It's your turn to look confused. 

"What on earth are you talking about Eddie?" 

He scoffs at you, clearly not buying it. 

"The cute little band geek thing, helping out with girl scouts. Shit, the whole 'can you do that thing again?' " He mimics your words from earlier and you flush crimson. 

"Eddie, I honestly don't know what you're going on about. I never smoked before, I hadn't even had a beer before my 21st last week. I've never even- no one's done what you did, outside." 

Eddie's jaw may as well be on the floor. 

"You're fucking with me." 

You shake your head, lips pressed tight. 

"Well, now I feel like an asshole." He huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. 

"Well maybe you should, you never asked." 

"I'm sorry, I just- I thought you were one of those freaky band kids. You kept looking at me like you were gonna eat me alive, I thought I was in for a rough night." He laughs, shooting a gaze at you. 

"Well you thought wrong." You turn your head, arms crossed firmly over your chest. 

"I'll go if you want. Want me to leave?" 

Yes. 

"No." 

A smile spreads slowly across his face, and he inches closer to you on his hands and knees, palms splayed on the foot of your air bed. 

"So, you want me to stay?" 

"No." 

"So… should I sleep in the doorway?"

A fair question, considering your answer. You laugh, looking back at him. His smile is softer, much less mocking. It's sweet almost, sanding down your rough edges. 

"Yeah, you can be my bodyguard. Protect me from bears and mountain lions and stuff." 

He chuckles and climbs over; you lay back on instinct, further away. Leaning right over you, his face is an inch from yours, hair tickling your cheek. 

"You know, I could protect this beautiful body of yours better if I was in the sleeping bag with you." 

"You don't give up, do you?" You whisper into his skin, sounding braver than you felt. 

"It was the sweet and innocent thing, did me in." 

He plants a soft kiss to your cheek, brushing your skin, and another, to the corner of your mouth that makes you shiver. 

"Tell me to stop." 

"Eddie, kiss me." 

His mouth is on your then, hot and heavy, tongue begging at your bottom lip. You give him an inch and he takes a mile, tongue sliding against yours with practised movements. Not expecting the full force of his kiss, you suddenly realise you're moaning into his mouth, hands coming to wind into his loose locks. 

He breaks away, chuckling at the way you chase his lips. 

"You know, you don't kiss like a good girl." 

Merely whining in response, you try to catch your breath. 

"So, can I get in the sleeping bag? I'm freezing out there." 

"Fine, just, no funny business." You point your finger at him, gasping when he licks it long and slow. 

"Nothing you don't want me to do." He winks, and pulls his t-shirt over his head. 

"What are you doing?" 

He ignores you, pulling his socks off and  unbuttoning his jeans. 

"I'm getting undressed. Why, expect me to sleep in my jeans?" 

You merely screw your nose up in response. Stripped down to his boxers, he clambers his lithe body onto the sleeping bag with you, all elbows and knees. Sighing, you move over to accommodate him but he wraps his arms around you. 

"Eddie, what-" 

"I'm cold sweetheart, just, warm me up a little?" 

Your heart is hammering in your ribcage with the realisation that you're entirely out of control of this situation. You allow him to hold you, and hesitantly rest your arm over him. Your head is snuggled into his neck, feeling more comfortable than you had any right to be. 

"Eddie, your legs are freezing." 

"I know! I wasn't lying, my sleeping bag's shitty." 

He pushes his thigh between yours, and you remember a split second too late that you're not wearing any bottoms. Suddenly, his bare thigh is pressed against your naked heat. You're praying to any Gods that might be listening that he doesn't notice, attempting to stay as still as possible. 

He's warming up slowly, but you're stiff as a post, trying not to focus on his thigh and the slight pressure it's putting on your most delicate parts. 

"So, you gonna tell me what you were doing sweetheart?" 

"What?" You whisper into the soft skin of his neck.

"Well, I came out of my tent to see if you were still awake, and imagine my surprise when I heard moaning." 

"N-no, I wasn't!" 

"Quit lying, I can feel your cunt on my leg." 

You nearly choke on your own saliva. 

"Eddie, you can't just say that!"

You hit him on the chest. He just laughs, dragging your little fist to his mouth to kiss it. 

"I can when you're soaking my leg." 

Opening your mouth to respond, all words escape you. Especially when he grinds his thigh against your folds. Instead of words, a whimper breaks from your lips. 

"Yeah? That good sweetheart?" 

The smugness is back, but you can't find it in you to care, not when he rocks his hips and the force of his leg sets loose a roll of pleasure. He's hard, it's pressing into your hip. 

A lean arm curls around you, his thick thumb finding its way to your chin to lift it upwards. You stare into his darkened eyes as they dart to your lips and back up. 

All resolve is dissolved like ash in the rain as you feel the intensity of his stare and the warmth of him between your thighs. You crash your lips to his desperately, hips chasing friction. When his heavy tongue slips into your mouth you respond in kind, needy and vigorous. 

He takes his thigh away and you huff at the loss, but it's not for long, not when that hand of his is stroking down your front, lightly massaging your hardened nipples and chasing down to your stomach. He cups your mound, one finger pushing down on your swollen nub. 

"Eddie." 

It's a whimper, a plea into his open mouth. Responding by biting your bottom lip softly, he dips his finger lower, circling your entrance gently. His finger slips inside then and you clench around it immediately, moaning at the foreign feeling. It's odd, yes, but it's so good that you cry out. 

"Gotta be quiet sweetheart, don't want anyone hearing me fuck you with my fingers." 

His crude words are peppering your insides with fire, the evidence of your arousal seeping out of you. Humming in response, you bite your lip, clinging desperately to his side. 

He slowly pumps his finger in and out, watching your face. You're slick jawed, eyebrows knitted tight, hips rolling with each thrust of his hand. 

"Fuck you're so tight, can barely fit my finger in." 

"Eddie, no one's ever-" 

"Shhh, I fuckin' know sweetheart. Gonna make you feel really good. Just enjoy it." 

He curls his finger inside you, incessantly stroking at something that's making your legs tense up and your insides flutter around him, the heel of his hand flat and hard against that spot again. 

"Oh my God!" You whisper urgently, fingernails digging into his sides. 

"I know baby, feels good yeah?" 

"Uh huh" you manage to breathe out as your eyes squeeze shut. 

The pressure collating in your tummy is building and building as he speeds up, finger reaching deep inside. It releases, and flows from you, wave after wave crashing down and washing away everything but Eddie. 

You muffle your cries of pleasure in the skin of Eddie's chest, resisting the urge to clamp your teeth into his flesh.

As you come down, he releases his digit with a wet sucking sound that probably would have made you embarrassed five minutes ago, but now it's just inconsequential. 

"Still with me?" He asks softly as he hugs you close. 

"Barely" You mumble; he chuckles at your reply. 

He rolls you on top of him, moving your legs so you're straddling him. His hard on is pressing firmly into your privates, your slick dampening the front of his boxers immediately. 

"Eddie, I'm not- I can't have sex with-" 

"Sweetheart, you trust me?" 

Yes. 

"No."

There's that look again, that edge of mocking that isn't making you annoyed anymore, it's making you want to pull his underwear down and slip him inside of you. 

"I'm not gonna fuck you. Not unless you want me to. Relax sweetheart." 

His hands are on your ass, moving you against him to grind on his rock hard bulge. Your eyes widen, the friction so much better than his thigh. 

He lets out a stifled moan, and damn if it isn't the best noise you've heard in your life. 

His hands trail under your shirt as you take over moving against him, feeling the shape of him under you. Tugging at the hem, he looks up at you with pleading eyes. 

"Can I- can I take this off?" 

All feelings of modesty have fled and you whip your shirt over your head and fling it across the tent. 

"Fuck, look at you." 

Leaning forward he takes your nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around and around. 

"Eddie, oh Holy fuck!" 

Your movements become faster and sloppy, so he grabs you by the hips to slow you down. 

"You know what I think?" He says, in between wet open mouthed kisses to your breasts, "I think you are a freak. You just didn't know it yet." He chuckles darkly, and sucks hard at one of your nipples. 

Your moan is loud and bordering on pornographic as you rut yourself against him harshly, all pretence of keeping quiet forgotten as your stomach tightens again in thick knots of pleasure. 

"Oh Eddie, I'm- I'm gonna cum oh fuckfuckfuck!" 

It all undoes at once as you release and clench around nothing, pussy throbbing with ecstasy. The bones in your body seem to disintegrate, muscles a distant memory as you flop against him. 

Eddie's not done. 

"Come on sweetheart, just a little longer." 

He encourages your hips to move again as you lay on his chest, skin glowing with perspiration. You can only grunt in response and start grinding against him again, the feeling so intense it has you clenching your teeth with pleasure pain. 

"That's it, fuck, I'm so close. There's my good girl, just, oh shit, little more." 

His praise bubbles through you and you speed up to meet his rutting hips, your slick sticking to the tops of your thighs. 

"Feel so good sweetheart, oh shit!" 

Lifting your head, you do it just in time to watch Eddie's eyes screw shut, mouth panting open with pleasure as he holds your hips in a death grip. His cheeks and neck are flushed, the vein in his neck pulsing. You press your lips to it softly, leaving feather dusted kisses over his neck and jaw as he comes down from his glowing high. 

"Holy shit." He laughs into you, kissing the top of your head over your hair. 

"Indeed" your reply is breathless as you melt into his front, attempting to ignore the stickiness. 

"As much as I'm enjoying you naked on top of me, I need to, er-" He gestures vaguely at himself with one hand. For a minute you think he's just going to go, but instead he wriggles out of the sleeping bag and whips his boxers down. 

You sit back on your heels, mouth agape as he casually cleans his spend with his underwear, wiping at the matted pubic hair. He's big; you could feel him under you but now you're faced with it you fear your eyes may bug out of your head. 

Glancing down, you can see some of his cum escaped its fabric confinement; a few drops glisten on your lower abdomen. Curiosity gets the better of you as you gather it on your fingers to feel the consistency, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. It's stickier than you thought. You bring your thumb to your mouth and suck the excess off. It's salty, and strange, but not unpleasant exactly. 

When your eyes meet again Eddie looks awestruck, staring at you with the queerest expression on his face. 

Embarrassed at being caught, you hide your hand behind your back as if scolded. 

"Sorry, was that wrong?" 

"No, fuck no," he chuckles, looking away, "just have to stop looking at me like that sweetheart." 

"Why?" 

"Hell, 'cause you're making me hard again." 

"Oh." 

You shyly put your head down and settle back down in the sleeping bag's warmth. To your amazement Eddie gets in with you. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I thought you said I could stay? Or you had enough of me?" 

"N-no, I just… well, you're naked." 

He laughs hard at that. 

"So are you." 

Nothing about this seems to phase him, but your mind is swirling around and around. You'd just had your first orgasms ever, and now you're going to be sleeping naked with a man. With Eddie Munson.  

He's so much warmer now, skin hot to the touch. Hesitantly, you rest your hand on his chest. He pulls you close, picking up your little camp light with the other hand, fiddling with it briefly before offering it to you. 

"Can you switch this thing off?" 

You reach and press the button, plunging you both into darkness. 

"Night sweetheart." 

"Night Eddie." 

********************

Early morning light wakes you, filtering through the tent fabric, coating everything in a warm glow. 

Eddie is still here, laying on his back, snoring softly with you cuddled to his chest. You'd hate to admit it, but you were glad. Glad he didn't run off in the night. Glad that last night had actually happened and wasn't just your over active imagination playing some cruel joke. 

Laying there, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, you take a second to really think. 

What was actually happening? A part of you is frightened; scared that maybe Eddie sees your virginity as a challenge. Maybe that's why he stayed? You were staying another night after all. Or maybe this is a little holiday romance, something to keep him occupied whilst he's away. You'd had one before at band camp; nothing serious, just kisses and cuddles and radio silence on your return. 

What were Robin and Steve going to say? You contemplated waking him up right now to sneak him back to his own tent, but that thought went straight out the window when you caught the sound of their tent being unzipped. 

A soft bash to your tent startles you and makes Eddie snort himself awake. 

"Hey guys I'm making coffee! Come and join us!" 

Robin sings out and walks away to fuss over the fire it sounds like. 

Oh Holy shit balls. Hey guys?? She knew Eddie was here. And if she knew, Steve knew. 

Eddie smirks down at you as you stare at him with wild panic in your eyes. 

"Guess our little secret is out sweetheart." 

Before you can say a word he's unzipping the sleeping bag and fumbling about for his jeans, slipping them clumsily onto his legs. 

"Eddie!" You whisper urgently. He just chuckles. 

"What, want me to cut a hole in the back of the tent? Tunnel out?" 

He's got a point. 

"Eddie, please just don't-" 

"Hey, I ain't one to kiss and tell, relax." 

Before you can say another word he's perching a cigarette in between his plump lips and making his way out of the tent. 

Fuck. 

You pull on your clothes hastily, a skirt and t-shirt, and slide on your sneakers, attempting to untangle some of the messy bed head that had been created during the night. 

It's now or never. 

You exit the tent, attempting to look as casual about it as you can. 

"Morning guys." 

Steve smiles at you. 

"Howdy cowgirl." 

"Hi?" 

You return his greeting, utterly confused, but by the sound of Robin shushing him violently and Eddie coughing on his cigarette you can only assume he meant something by that which went over your head. Robin breaks the tension, talking a mile a minute. 

"Hey sleepy head! You want a coffee? I just made it over the fire. Crazy! I know it took forever. It'll wake you up. Not that you need waking up you're up and about and it's early! It's not like you had a long night. Well you might have how would I know anyway here's your coffee!!" 

Seems you might have gotten a little loud, why else would Robin be breaking the sound barrier? You don't say a thing, just smile gratefully and take your coffee, entirely avoiding Eddie's eyes, and try to wish the blood away from your darkening cheeks. 

"So, we thought we might have a swim in the lake in a couple hours when it's warmer, you in?" 

Steve asks and you nod, aware your voice right now is not to be trusted. 

So, after a little breakfast and small talk about the cold last night, which you put a particular emphasis on to try and explain away your little situation, you all go and change into your swimwear. 

In your tent you lay out your usual one piece, the plain black one you always wear with the troop, and the other set. The bikini you bravely bought but never wore, deeming it far too skimpy for camp. But this wasn't girl scouts. 

God damn he's already seen me naked, come on, be brave. 

Skimpy number it is. You wear it underneath your clothes and grab a towel and a book, readying yourself to join the others. 

Eddie and Steve walk ahead, talking obnoxiously loud; something you're quite glad of. At least they aren't whispering about you. 

Robin walks side by side with you, practically vibrating. 

"Just, whatever you wanna say, say it before you explode." 

The voice that exits her mouth is so high pitched you're surprised dogs didn't start barking. 

"You had sex with Eddie Munson!" 

"I did not!" 

"Totally did, we saw you!" 

You stop in your tracks, mouth hanging open.

"What the fuck Robin!" 

"Sorry, we didn't actually like, see you see you, we saw your shadows, 'cause of the light in your tent." 

"We- I- I mean, we didn't, like, have sex, we just- did something else." You settle at lamely. 

"Are you going to? He really likes you." 

You scoff at that, continuing your walk. 

"He's just trying to get in my pants, take my virginity. I doubt he'll even talk to me after." 

Robin's hand shoots out to grab your arm. 

"Oh, you don't know, do you?" 

Feeling utterly confused, you turn to face her. 

"What are you going on about?" 

"Eddie likes you, he had a crush on you in high school. He was the one that suggested inviting you and nearly killed me when I actually did." 

Your world turns sideways in your mind; everything is upside down, thoughts smashed, memories cut to ribbons in their wake.

"Huh? How- what?" 

"He was telling Steve like a week ago, I was listening in and opened my mouth as per usual. I tried to tell you, remember?" 

You rack your brains trying to come up with answers when a light bulb switches in your head. 

"Hang on, you said Eddie wanted me to go before, didn't you? I honestly thought you were just joking with me, I didn't think he knew who I was!" 

You reach the tree line and see the two boys a little further on, just on the tiny beach leading to the lake, stripping off their clothes. 

"But he was so- so sure of himself!" 

"Oh he's always like that. Pretty sure it's an act, he's actually super sweet when you get to know him." 

You look up and stare at Eddie in his swim shorts. He'd been naked last night, but with the low light and distraction of seeing his privates for the first time you hadn't had the opportunity to really look at him all over. 

He was lean and tall, but there was a broadness to his shoulders and a sinew to his muscles that made him stand out. Tattoos littered his frame, more than you thought he had but the detail was lost at this distance. You were walking closer, still staring at him, when he captures you. Smiling that smug grin of his he holds his arms out as if on display. 

"See something you like sweetheart?" 

On the edge of shying away, you look down; but then you remember Robin's words. He's the one with the crush on you. Feeling a little braver, bolstered by that thought, you walk closer, a couple of feet away from him, and stop. 

"You look really good Eddie." 

Pulling your t-shirt over your head, you smile at Eddie's reaction. Clearly not expecting such a bold move from you, his cheeks and neck are flushed pink. For once he seems speechless. You slip your skirt off and away, kicking it to one side. 

This leaves you in your tiny baby blue triangle bikini, with delicate daisies embroidered on the hem. For once, your cleavage is fully displayed, and the ties for the bottoms ride high on your hips. You slip two fingers under each tied side and pull them up ever so slightly. 

Eddie's eyes dart down and back up again, and you swear you see him swallow thickly in his throat. 

"Well, you swimming or not handsome?" 

Without a further glance you kick your shoes off and wade into the chilly water. 

OK, keep calm, just look at him now. 

Risking a quick peek back, you see him standing gormlessly on the sand, mouth hanging open. He looks so dorky, so unlike the Eddie you've seen so far that you giggle aloud. 

Steve calls out to him, already in the clear water. He's stumbling into the lake after you then as if a fire was lit underneath him. Robin makes her way in too, and pretty sure you're laughing and splashing each other in earnest, the boys taking turns in dunking each other underwater. 

Steve keeps screaming about his hair, which just makes you all laugh that little bit louder. Soon he's moping about it and swims off surprisingly fast. Robin says she wants to dry out and wanders back to the beach to read a little, leaving you and Eddie alone. 

He swims straight to you, bodies a couple of inches apart. Suddenly the water doesn't feel so cold, warmed by the heat he seems to pull from you just by being close. That ache is there again, wanting to be filled by Eddie. You try and shake the thought away. 

"Seems a little skimpy for a scout leader," he says, gesturing at your two piece. 

"Well, I don't wear this one with the troop," you reply, attempting to look blasé about it. 

"So, wore this just for me, sweetheart?" 

You shrug, but know your eyes betray you, honesty etched into the look you give him. 

"You did, didn't you? That's cute," he responds to his own question, reaching a hand up to hold you by the waist. All of a sudden his breath is in your ear, his other hand reaching up to your chest. 

"You look hot by the way, I like the little flowers," as he says it he runs a finger over the hem of your bikini bra making you shudder. 

"Eddie," you whisper, meaning to scold him but it just comes out a little too breathy for that. 

He continues to whisper in your ear, each word sending a butterfly loose in your swirling stomach.  "Wondering if I can stay in that tent of yours again. To stay warm?" 

You laugh, turning to face him. "That's not all you want and you know it." 

"Yeah?" He comes closer, lips so close to brushing yours, holding your chin between thumb and forefinger. You clench your thighs together as your eyes flutter shut. 

"Seems you want more as well," he laughs, pulling back from you. The frown that appears on your face tells him all he needs to know. 

As he moves away, his hand drops down, knuckles dragging slowly over your nipple, already pebbled by the water. 

"Maybe later princess." 

He turns to get out of the water. Furious with how forward he just was you shout after him. 

"Eddie, you are such-" 

"A cocky mother fucker?" He shouts back, stealing your thunder. 

You clench your fists, nearly losing it treading water, and decide to swim away to cool off. 

You're finding Robin's words hard to believe. He still seems so confident; maybe his little chat with Steve was a rouse to get you here so he could tease you. If he has liked you all this time, maybe it's just a sexual thing. Seduce the band geek. 

When the ache between your thighs is lessened by the burning muscles in your arms and legs you swim back to shore and dry off, laying on your towel to read. 

It's like the universe has it in for you today. A few more pages into your fantasy book and suddenly there's a sex scene. Usually, you'd just skim over the 'fruity bits' as your mom called them but now? Now it was as if Eddie had altered your brain chemistry and you found yourself absorbing every word in detail, thighs clenched together almost to the point of pain. 

"What you reading?" 

You jump visibly and look up to see Eddie couching over you, sodden locks leaving pitter patter drips on your legs. 

"Eddie, you're dripping." 

He smiles mischievously. 

"Am I making you wet, sweetheart?" 

You roll your eyes and replace your bookmarker, putting your book down to one side. 

"Yes, Eddie, I'm soaking wet for you." 

Triumph flashes over your features as you take in his wide eyes; so shocked at your reply he's nearly choking on air. 

"You are strange Eddie. You can give it but you can't take it, can you?" 

His eyebrows raise and he attempts to cover his flustered appearance. 

"I'm just surprised, I thought you were a good girl." 

Ignoring your heart thumping hard in your chest at those words, you shrug. 

"And here I was thinking it was because you've had a crush on me since high school." 

Eddie opens his mouth, and promptly closes it. When he speaks again it's quieter, almost like he's embarrassed. 

"Who- how did-" 

"Robin." 

"Of course." 

He stares at you then, all bravado gone. A moment passes where you both try and work out what this means, what the other is thinking.

Eddie coughs and stands up, breaking the spell. 

"We're heading back to have lunch, if you wanna come." 

He walks off then, not a further glance at you. Wondering if you upset him somehow, you gather your things and head back to camp. 

********************

Later that evening, you're huddled around a campfire again having a couple of beers; or, in the case of Steve, several beers. Eddie had been civil, nice even, but there was no edge to him right now. You're not sure if you miss it or not, realising that you had actually grown fond of the push and pull between you, and that grin of his. 

He'd disappeared at one point, and returned a little later with his acoustic guitar; beginning playing a little aimlessly, just background music to your tiny circle. He played beautifully; it really was mesmerising to watch his fingers dance over the strings. 

"Play me a song, Eddie." You say, before you realise you were saying it aloud. 

"Yeah?" He flashes a small smile and you encourage him by placing your hand on his knee. 

"OK, just for you then sweetheart." 

He breaks into a rendition of Should I Stay Or Should I Go, by the Clash. You're almost certain it's a jab at you because of last night and your failure to make your mind up. You don't mind; listening to the rest of the lyrics you realise you're hoping he means more than just a little in-joke. If you say that you are mine, I'll be here till the end of time.

When he finishes you all clap, Robin as quickly as a bird's wings flutters, and Steve just a little too loudly, probably due to too much alcohol. 

"Thank you Eddie, that was brilliant." You smile softly at him. 

"No problem sweets." He moves to put the guitar away but you wave your arm at him. 

"Can I play something?" 

A sharp intake of breath rings out from Steve and Robin but you pay it no mind. Eddie looks at you like he's sizing you up. Seems he comes to the conclusion that you aren't just going to pull some rockstar move and smash it on the ground, he passes it to you carefully. 

You take it reverently in your hands and get comfortable with it, tuning the G string slightly as it was a little off when you heard it. 

An idea springs to mind and you grin deviously to Robin over the fire, a grin which is reciprocated. She knows what you're about to do. The Band Camp thing.

You start to play the very beginning of a song extremely loudly, singly wildly off key.

"Kumbaya, my Lord-" 

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Eddie shouts, lurching a hand toward you to clamp over the fret. 

"I'm kidding!" You giggle, prying his fingers away. Robin's laughing and Steve looks like he's about to burst, swaying in his seat. 

"OK, no funny business." 

"Not unless you ask for it." You wink, and start to play what you had intended all along. 

"One pill makes you larger

And one pill makes you small

And the ones that mother gives you

Don't do anything at all…"

You lose yourself in the song, the melody. When you were younger you had just assumed it was nothing but a song about Alice in Wonderland. You knew better now, but it was fun to play and it suited your voice. 

As you came to the conclusion your eyes fluttered shut and you sang out the last couple of lines like no one was even there. 

"Remember what the dormouse said

Feed your head

Feed your head!"

Whooping and clapping finally reaches your ears as you open your eyes. Robin is going insane; Steve is shouting but it sounds slurred. Eddie just looks stunned as you pass his precious guitar back to him.

"You're incredible sweetheart." He looks genuinely impressed, staring at you with such intensity it makes you squirm. 

"It was OK, my strumming's a little sloppy." 

"But your voice! Jesus Christ, I've got goosebumps. You should sing, like, all the time." 

You laugh, swatting him with your hand. 

"I think that might get a little annoying." 

"I'd love to listen to it all the time." 

The sweet moment is broken by Robin gagging loudly. 

"Munson that was so cheesy I'm gonna hurl." 

He just shrugs, unbothered, and puts his guitar away. You didn't think it was too cheesy. In fact, you're breathless, thoughtless. The ache was settling back in, so deep in your bones there was no willing it away. It was clear; you needed him. Biblically. 

As that realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, a soft thud breaks through to you. Steve has fallen backwards, already snoring. 

"Well, looks like he needs to go to bed. Give me a hand guys." 

Eddie stands up and lifts Steve bodily round his waist. Robin and you hover nearby, but he doesn't need your help after all. 

Steve's giggling childishly, slurring words together. 

"Don' wanna go bed, wan' sing too!" 

"Sing in the morning, big guy." 

You help Robin tuck him into his sleeping bag, as Steve mumbles Kumbaya under his breath. 

Robin huffs. "I'll take it from here," and quieter, just to you, she whispers, "I'm putting earplugs in, go have fun." 

"Robin, I-" 

"Shhh you'll wake the baby. Just go, go!" 

You leave the tent and see Eddie sitting by the fire, rolling a joint. 

"Erm, Robin's going to bed too." 

"Oh?" He looks at you, quirking one eyebrow. "Are you?" 

"I'm not tired." 

That shit-eating grin of his is back, tugging at the corners of his mouth slowly. 

You sit down, right next to him, knees touching. He finishes rolling, licking it closed with a pointed tongue you can't help but stare at. 

As he starts smoking, you finally let loose what's been on your mind all day. 

"Why did you act funny with me? After I said you have a crush?" 

He huffs a little laugh, blowing smoke through his nose. 

"I thought that was obvious. I was embarrassed." 

"Really? I didn't know Eddie Munson could get embarrassed." 

He takes another drag and looks away. 

"Yeah, well it happens. I don't like people knowing too much about me. Rather come across as mean and scary and-" 

"-cocky?" 

"Ha, yeah." 

It's quiet again, but not a loaded quiet. You feel comfortable, almost enjoying the silence; just the slight rustle of pine needles in the breeze, and an owl hooting far away. 

"You want some of this?" 

Eddie's touch pulls you back to the moment, rough fingertips grazing you. The touch burns again, but differently this time. This time you melt under it. 

"Can you, do that thing?" You ask in a small voice. 

He smiles wickedly, straightening his legs out. 

"Come here" He says as he pats his lap. You straddle him awkwardly, not sure if this is what he meant, but a firm hand grabs you by the ass and shifts you closer to him so your chests are flush. 

"Like this?" You ask quietly, breathing the question. 

"Just like that baby." 

He takes a long toke and beckons you forward with one finger. When you're in range, nose lightly brushing his, he brings your chin toward him with one firm hand and presses his lips to your mouth. 

Stiffening with surprise, you quickly soften, disarmed by his lips. You part yours and he breathes the smoke into you, allowing you to inhale deeply. Breaking away, you exhale the smoke downwards and look into his deep eyes. 

"Do it again." 

He bites his lip and smiles, flashing his teeth. He repeats the gesture; taking a pull, smashing his lips to yours and breathing into you. He doesn't let you pull away to breathe out; instead he presses his tongue into your mouth. Smoke burns your nose as you submit to him, the kiss becoming filthy and desperate as he grips onto the flesh of your ass. 

Finally he lets up, if only to breathe. You're both panting, electricity in the air passing between and through you. 

"I like it like that." You smile, hand resting on his chest. 

"You keep surprising me sweetheart." He responds, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips. 

A fuzziness rushes through every nerve, all of your body crying out, singing for him. 

"You know, I don't mind cocky Eddie." 

"Yeah? I thought I annoyed you." 

"A little. But it kinda turns me on." You respond, rolling your hips into him.

"Oh fuck sweetheart," he roughly grips you, forcing you to do it again, "you drive me fuckin' crazy." 

He's on your neck, kissing and licking at you almost tenderly. 

"Eddie, please," you whisper, mind abandoning any clarity as he kisses you. 

"Please? What do you need, sweetheart?" 

How can you answer? What do you need?

"Eddie, I-I need you, please," you whisper into his ear, rocking against his hardening bulge. 

He bites down on your neck, eliciting a gasp to spill from your lips. 

"Tent." Is all he manages to say, and you stumble upwards on wobbly legs, to lead him to it. 

Fumbling for the zip, you just about get inside it when you feel his hands on you gently pushing you forward. A small touch is all it takes and you're falling onto the air bed, knees bending as you collapse face forward. 

He's on your back before you can think, firm arms caging you in from behind. 

"You need me? Really?" 

You nod, squirming underneath him, a small hand curling around his forearm. 

"Dreamed about you saying that, fuck." He whispers, lips pressing to your shoulder, "turn around." 

You can't find it in you to not comply. Wobbling the mattress, you twist to face him, engulfed in the intensity of his stare, illuminated by the fading light emanating from the fire. 

"Say it again." It's soft, but ironclad in the centre. 

"I need you Eddie." 

"Fuck" He huffs, moving down your torso, pulling your t-shirt up so it kisses the edge of your breasts. He looks up at you with pleading eyes; a look that turns your insides to mush. 

"Can you turn the light on? I need to see you." 

He sounds so desperate, so in need that you waste no time in grabbing your camp light and switching it on, bathing you both in cool white light. 

As he's pulling your top up, you assist and pull it over your head, flinging it to a corner. 

"You are really beautiful." He says, drinking you in with his eyes, as a calloused hand strokes between the valley of your breasts. You slide under his confident touches, getting more anxious by the minute. 

"Can I taste you?" 

You nod, and he unbuttons your skirt, pulling your panties down with a roughness that makes you flinch. You're entirely exposed. 

"I've wanted this, wanted you, for a long time." 

You wriggle underneath him, and reply. "Didn't you get me like this last night?" 

"This," he says, gesturing to your revealed flesh, "this is different." 

You don't quite get it and want him to explain further, but his lips are on your nipples and all that comes out of you is a heady moan. A firm knee pushes your thighs apart and you bend to his will, allowing him to kiss down, and down, leaving hot pressured mouth trails to your stomach. 

When his lips meet the tops of your thighs you cry out his name. 

He understands, slipping his tongue between your folds and licking at your clit with pointed precision. 

"Oh fuck!" 

A chuckle emanates from his throat as he doubles his efforts, flicking and suckling at you in earnest. Thick fingers tease your entrance and one slides into your glistening opening, pumping slowly. 

It shocks through your body, setting loose tendrils of pleasure so profound it's almost a religious experience. He prods another finger at you, sliding it next to the first and it burns, making you hiss. 

Eddie mumbles platitudes into your pussy, telling you how good a job you're doing, how proud he is, how you're a good girl. His good girl. 

The tension is unbelievable, clenching every muscle as your breath comes in short pants.

"That's it sweetheart, sing for me." 

The fingers curl, stroking something incessantly inside you that rips a sultry groan from deep within your chest cavity, and without further warning your orgasm washes through. It collects and expands, a force of nature that flies out and collides like stars in the universe.

Your back falls to the air mattress, and that's the only signal you have that it ever left. You feel soaked in your own juices, thighs uncomfortably wet. 

Eddie hovers over your face. You're not quite sure when he got there. 

"That OK sweetheart?" 

You don't reply, you can't. Your response can only be carnal, feeding into the biting, gnawing need that still refuses to lessen its grip on your core. Bringing shaking hands upward, you wind them into his hair and pull his face forcefully towards yours, tongue slipping in to taste your slick in his mouth, groaning at the tangy sweet flavour. 

He collapses against you, full weight of his lithe body pressed into yours, but it's not enough. Pulling away and leaving less than an inch of space you voice your frustration. 

"Eddie, please, I- I want you. I want you inside me, please." 

Eddie shakes his head for a second, then deep brown eyes seek yours for any doubt, and come up empty. 

"Are you sure sweetheart?" 

The nod you reciprocate with is painfully fast, hurting the muscles of your neck. He looks uncertain, but discards his clothes, kneeling in front of you in his boxer shorts. 

"I need you to be sure. I can't give it back." 

You let your legs fall further apart, giving him the view of you open and ready for him. 

"Please." 

Underwear has never been discarded quicker. He has his cock in his hand, sliding on a condom from his crumpled jeans at record speed. A second later and he's towering over you, nose brushing yours and dick lined up to your sopping entrance. 

His tip breaches you, so much thicker than his fingers, and you wince. You can tell he's trying to be careful, pushing into you slowly, watching for any signs you want to stop. 

You're so full, and he just keeps going. A moment later and you let out a little startled cry as a sharp pain shoots from deep inside. 

"You OK sweetheart?" He stops his movements, staring at your face with a worried expression. 

"I'm fine, just, go all the way" you manage through gritted teeth. 

He slips the last of it deep, deep inside as you yelp at the suddenness. Then, he's still, grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers with his over your head, his other arm holding him perfectly motionless above you. 

"That's it, you're OK, so fuckin' tight, fuck," he says to you, kissing your cheek. It burns, the feel of him, but a fullness is beginning to overtake that ache. 

"You know, I thought you were afraid of me in high school." He half laughs, kissing the tip of your nose. It's such a sweet gesture from the so-called frightening man that you giggle a little too. 

"I was," you admit, staring into his deep eyes.

"Then, we come here and you look like you're gonna eat me alive. Then, you're all innocent, and now… fuck, I can't keep up." 

You appreciate what he's doing, talking to you, distracting you from the pain. It helps; it's settled into a dull throb and your need from him is outranking it. 

"Eddie, you can move." 

With a peck to your lips he pulls out a little and thrusts back in, setting a slow and steady pace. 

This is so much better than his hands, or his tongue. On every thrust he's massaging at something that makes you moan, again and again. 

"You're doing real good sweetheart, my good fuckin' girl." 

All of a sudden you feel it, all of it. His lean weight comforting over you, the squeeze of his fingers in yours, the throb of his member inside you, his words. It's all too much. Your eyes gloss over and a tear works its way down your temple. 

"Oh shit, you want me to-" He starts as he slows down a little. 

"Don't you fucking dare, please, please, I-I need-" 

He grins at you; that self satisfied look that turns your legs to jelly. 

"What do you need, sweetheart? Whatever you want, I'll give it to you." 

"Harder Eddie, oh God!" 

He snaps his hips into you with much more force; once, twice, three times and you scream his name, pussy clenching him hard, every muscle tense. As everything unravels you go limp, whimpering at the pulse that you can feel pounding in your core. 

When your eyes finally decide to open, he's leaving kisses as light as a butterfly's wings on your cheek. 

"Woah," is all you can say, between breathless giggles. Tears are falling but you don't care enough to wipe them away. 

Eddie unlatches his hand from yours and does it himself. 

"That was so hot. You need to do that again," he whispers, beginning to grind into you slowly.

"I nearly died Eddie, it might finish me off!" 

He laughs back, but doesn't quit; hips still driving into you leisurely. 

"What's life without a little risk?" 

You stare up at him, biting your lip, a question on the tip of your tongue that you're too nervous to ask. 

"What is it?" He asks, brow furrowed, as if you were about to ask him to stop. 

"Can I… wait, don't worry." 

He does stop then, to put his hand to your face and stroke you with his thumb.

"Hey hey hey, come on, what baby?" 

You whisper it quietly, voice small and second guessing. 

"Can I try, erm, being on top?" 

You're surprised that Eddie's face didn't split in half from the sheer wideness of his grin. 

"Holy shit, yes, please." 

He winds his arms underneath your frame and flips you so fast your vision blurs, until he's underneath you. You sit up, his cock still buried within, and you gasp at the new angle. 

"Eddie, Jesus Christ!" 

Palms splayed on his chest, you control your breathing a little. This angle is devastating, pressing harshly against that place inside that has you throbbing around him. 

Eddie chuckles darkly as his hands slide over the flesh of your thighs, rubbing back and forth, until they work their way to your hips and pull you up ever so slightly, only to drop you back down again. 

"Just like that sweetheart, 'Kay?" 

He tilts his head to one side, that mocking tone fuelling the embers of your desire. Rising up on shaky knees you pull off him and slide back down, trying to find some semblance of rhythm. Your clit grazes his pubic hair on one pass and you nearly lose it completely, the feeling sending a bolt of pure pleasure up your spine. 

"Oh my God!" 

"Yeah? That good?" 

You hum and nod, words escaping you, now rolling your hips on each bounce to get that sensation over and over. 

Eddie's talking now, watching how much you writhe and whine at his words. 

"That's it sweetheart. Wanting to- oh fuck- ride me, on your first time. Oh yes, fuck, just like that- dirty, my dirty fuckin' girl." 

"Eddie, oh God, can you, fuck, please-" 

"What is it sweetheart? Anything, you can have anything." 

His words embolden you, and before you can hesitate your hands are gripping one of his and leading it to your throat. You're not sure why, but you know deep in your core that you need it. 

Eddie looks shocked by your moments but quickly recovers, fingers slotting around your throat, squeezing lightly at the sides. 

Speeding up, feeling the pressure of his hand on your windpipe, you throw your body into each movement. 

"Fuck Eddie, harder!" 

He squeezes and you let go of everything, breath leaving you. All composure, all thought. It's just you and Eddie, and his hand, and his cock. Screaming aloud, you fold almost double, collapsing into him with a shocked, delicate whimper. 

His fingers relinquish their firm grip, coming to rest on the back of your head in a comforting, tender hold. 

"I was right, you are a freak." 

Laughing aloud, you have just enough bones left in your neck to lift it ever so slightly. He looks surprised, sure, and really aroused, judging by his hooded gaze. 

"Are you not… done?" You ask, as you feel his impossibly hard length still throbbing inside you. 

"What can I say, I've got stamina." 

That smug face is back, a flash of canines and confidence. You'd roll your eyes if it wasn't so sexy. 

No time for a witty comeback though, as he holds you close to him and thrusts upwards with abandon. Colours swirl in your vision as you try to stay attached to reality, focusing on the feel of his skin, the pounding of his rhythm, and the light in his eyes. 

"Fuck I'm close, I'm so fuckin' close. You're, oh shit, so- oh God, can't believe you're letting me do this." 

Slack jawed and practically dribbling, you let him use you to chase his own release, trying to weakly meet his thrusts. A pulse deep inside is brought to your attention, and it's not yours. Looking at his face, you watch it awash with ecstasy as he holds you tightly and throbs his climax out. 

His muscles melt, holding you still but so loosely that the lack of pressure surprises you, as if you were only aware of how tight his grip had been at this very moment. 

The only sounds are the nightlife of insects around the tent, and panting, heaving breaths. Sliding off of him in an organic gesture, you curl up into his arms, finally feeling sated and at ease. 

Lips are pressed into the top of your head, kissing you over your hair. No words are spoken; none need to be. For a shining moment, this is all you need. To be held, and cared for. 

Minutes go by, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Before you drift off, Eddie breaks the spell cast over both of you. 

"Was that OK princess?" 

"That was incredible Eddie." 

He kisses the top of your head again, then seems to remember himself. 

"Fuck sweetheart, just, stay right there." 

Clambering to his feet he pulls the condom off, tying it in a knot and discarding it into a corner to be thought of later. He's back then, spreading your legs. 

'Eddie, you can't just-" 

"I'm just looking after you sweetheart. You got some tissues or something?"

Furrowing your brows, you point to your wash bag near the foot of the sleeping bag. He paws through it wordlessly, and brings out some tissues and wet wipes. 

"Sweetheart I'm so sorry." 

"What's wrong?" You ask, panic riding your words. 

"I've made you bleed." Eddie looks crushed, so upset at your prior pain, anguish etched into his face. 

"It's OK Eddie, it's normal." 

"You should have said. I'm so sorry." 

You laugh a little, touched by his concern. 

"I didn't know! It's alright, it doesn't hurt now." 

Placated slightly by your answer, he cleans you both up as well as he can, before slipping into the sleeping bag with you. 

A thousand questions perch on the edge of your tongue, but it's so warm, so cosy and right, that your body denies all words for a moment. 

When you feel capable of speech you look up at him. 

"Stamina, huh?" 

He flushes, looking down at your smiling face. 

"I may have tactically jerked off beforehand."

"When??" You giggle, fingers flirting over his exposed chest. 

"When I went to get my guitar." 

"Eddie, how did you know that-" 

"OK, OK!" He grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles before hiding behind it, "I didn't know, not for sure. You just looked so good in that little two piece, I couldn't hold it in." 

"Perv," you respond, but your eyes are soft. 

"Yep." 

Giggling, you slip into a calm, contented sleep in his arms.

********************

You wake up a little later than intended, no doubt exhausted from last night. The tent feels empty. Upon realising that Eddie's missing a dread settles in your stomach. Bile rises as you sling some clothes on. Maybe he's had his way with you and that's it.

Exiting the tent, you see he's just by the fire, trying to get it going again, a cigarette dangling from his pouting lips. 

"Oh would you just- come on!" He says as he angrily flicks his lighter, trying to get the wood to catch. 

You smile, relief washing over you, and walk over to help. 

"I'm begging, come on- oh, sweetheart," he looks a little sheepish as he speaks to you, mumbling around his cigarette. "I was gonna make you coffee and bring it to you but the damn fire won't start." 

You giggle, and rearrange the little pile, adding a few twists of paper to the base, and hold your hand out to him. He looks at you blankly for a second, then comes to his senses, placing the lighter in your palm. 

With one stroke the papers alight, and starting to catch the rest of the twigs. The couple of logs won't take long to catch. 

"Witchcraft." 

"Nope, just girl scouts." 

"You can go back in the tent if you want, I'll make you a drink." 

"Eddie?" 

"Huh?" He turns to you, pot of water in his hand. 

"Good morning." You smile shyly at him. He grins, placing the pot on the ground and stubbing out his cigarette. Strong arms slot their way around your waist and you fling your arms around his neck, grinning stupidly at each other. 

"Good morning. Good night?" It's framed as a question, and you know what he's getting at. 

"Great night." 

Smiling wider, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Puckering your lips to ask for a proper kiss, you hear a very loud cough. 

"Good morning love birds." Robin wiggles her eyebrows at you both. You move to break away from Eddie, but he steals a kiss anyway, and pulls you close to his side, arm firmly around you. 

"Is Steve alive?" He asks, looking at Robin. 

"Well, he got up in the night to throw up, just glad he didn't do it in the tent. He's dead to the world right now. He's been singing in his sleep you know. Nearly suffocated him with a pillow." 

You both laugh at that, and then hear a loud groan from the tent. 

Eddie glances at you with mischief and shouts out towards Steve's tent.

"Harrington! Wanna sing for us, big guy?" 

"Urgh." Is the only reply. Robin rolls her eyes and busies herself with the fire. 

After a while, the coffees are ready; you all attempt to rouse Steve but he's gone back to sleep, groaning whenever you call out to him. 

Then, it's just the sad business of taking down your tent. There's a special kind of melancholy reserved for such an occasion; pretty soon there's no sign at all that it was ever there. Afraid that your memories, your feelings, about last night would fade too, you walk over to Eddie who is perched on a stump fitting the last of his things in a bag. 

"Eddie?" 

"Yeah sweetheart?" He asks, still fumbling with his bag. 

Do you still like me? Do you want to see me after this? Was this all a dream?

"Can I get a ride back with you? Steve and Robin are gonna be a while." 

You gesture over to where Steve had finally emerged, whining and packing his stuff, tent still upright. 

"Sure, anything you need." He flashes a tight lipped smile and reaches to grasp your hand briefly. 

The ride back to town with him is chatty, even if it's only surface level stuff. Your rendition of White Rabbit had him fumbling around the glove compartment and pulling out a few older classic rock tapes that you happily listened to; music was a big part of your life, at least you both had that in common. His eyes light up whenever you talk about a band or song that he likes too, gesturing so emphatically with his hand you have to remind him to look at the road. 

Pretty soon you're pulling up to a crossroads, except Eddie pulls over instead. 

"What's wrong?" 

He huffs, smiling at you sadly. 

"If I keep driving forward I've got to say goodbye to you, take you home," he admits. Your heart flutters at the admission. 

"Where do you live, Eddie?" He looks confused, but points to the left turning. 

"Eddie, turn left." 

"Really?" 

"Really. I was supposed to stay at Robin's tonight anyway." 

His grin is downright manic as he pulls back on the road, making short work of the drive to his trailer. 

He bundles you out of the van and opens the trailer door, both of your bags heaved over one of his shoulders. 

The sight of an older gentleman startles you as he potters around the kitchen area. 

"Hey! This is Wayne, my Uncle. Wayne, this is my girlfriend." 

Your eyes widen as he gives your name to his uncle and you shake hands with him, the roughest hand you think you've ever touched, but the softest grip. 

"Pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm heading out today, so I'll see you two later I'm guessing." 

He waves and smiles fondly at the pair of you, and leaves. 

"Sorry, thought he would've left already." He explains, pulling you both to the back of the trailer and into what you assume is his room. 

Allowing yourself to be led, still feeling shell shocked, you perch on the edge of his bed as he dumps the bags on the floor. 

Eddie's talking, saying how he wishes he tidied before he left, how the trailer's not much but it's home, and his uncle…

"Eddie, wait." 

He stops mid flow to look at you. 

"Girlfriend?" 

"Well yeah? I mean, if you want to. I didn't ask, did I?" He flushes pink, hand reaching up to nibble at his thumb. 

"I mean, you don't know me, really." You shrink, almost folding in on yourself. 

"Hey," he sits down next to you, stroking your jaw with his finger, "I know enough. And I let you touch my guitar. We're practically married now." 

Lips press softly to yours, a delicate touch that has all tension flying from your body in a rush. 

"Eddie…" You whisper, giving him a butterfly kiss with the tip of your nose. 

"Hmm?" 

"You smell really bad." 

He laughs and grabs you around the waist, pulling you down sharply to lay on the bed. 

"So do you." 

"A point well made." A response, but you don't move, snuggling deeper into his neck. 

"So, I've got an idea. Let's have showers, get into some comfy stuff, and cuddle. Probably got a movie or two we can watch?" 

The normalcy of the situation is surprising, but most welcome. 

Smiling wickedly, you nip at his neck and whisper in his ear. 

"One condition: we shower together." 

He groans loudly, hands stroking at any skin he can reach. 

"Fuuuck, sweetheart, I've created a monster." 

You laugh, and hold him tightly. Eddie Munson isn't so scary, after all.

Taglist (just some people I thought might like this, hope you don't mind!)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonfuxks

[postracehair]

altitude

max verstappen x reader | 1.5k

you hate flying. but it's a necessity if you want to see max during the f1 season. when you finally fly home together during a break, will you let him help calm you down?

cw: r hates flying, anxiety, kissing, like, lots of kissing, worried max, allusions to more than kissing, fluff, george/carmen cameo

a/n: she's so me! i hate flying! but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! wrote this way back after brazil, but have it now as a race week gift.

--

Everything changes very quickly after you meet Max Verstappen.

You are pulled into a world of action and luxury all because he wants you there. And you go willingly because you want to be with him, too. How could you not? The world famous champion is a kind, funny, and sweet man who loves his cats, his friends, and, as is becoming clear, you.

Much of the start of your relationship is scheduling. A day here and there between races, dinners and walks and movies at his place or yours. You spend a lot of time in airports when you can, working on the go and white knuckling your way through flight after flight. It's worth it to see him on the other side.

Somehow, you've never actually travelled together.

Until now.

The race weekend ends the best way possible -- the top step of the podium. A night of celebrations fades into an early morning flight on a private jet and this time, you're coming with. Because Max has three weeks off. He'll have to work, of course, spending time in Milton Keynes before the final stretch of the season, but for the most part you're going to have him all to yourself.

It does not occur to you until you're in the car on the way to the tarmac that Max has no idea how much you hate flying. You're in one of those big Sprinter vans, head on Max's shoulder as he scrolls through his phone. George and Carmen sit on the other side, the former's head tipped back as he dozes. Everyone is quiet and you're working a bit hard to keep yourself calm.

"What is it?" Max whispers. He puts his phone down and you look over at him. His hair is a mess, you can see that much even in the low light of the van. You reach out and run a hand through it.

"What?" you whisper back.

He shakes his head a little and wraps his fingers around your wrist. "You were all loose and then you got tense."

The frequent distance between you and the busy nature of your schedules demands that communication be top of mind. You do not lie to each other about your feelings, and you do not hide things. Even things like this.

"I don't really like flying," you say, softly. "I've never told you because we've never flown together. It just makes me kind of anxious. I've never been able to shake it."

His brows furrow. "Really?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him. "Just, maybe hold my hand during takeoff and landing. And if there is any turbulence."

"But -- I don't understand. Are you afraid?"

You know that there is really no way to make him understand but also that he won't stop trying to. Max gets afraid, he gets nervous. He's only human. But he combats it with sheer willpower, focus, and skill.

"I fly this way all the time," he says, urgent this time. "It's totally safe."

"That's not -- Max, I just get nervous. It's not really to do with safety. I just don't really enjoy it."

"Oi," George says, rousing. "What are you two yapping about?"

"Go back to snoring, George," Max says, not taking his eyes off you.

"Do I really snore?" you hear him ask in a hushed tone. Carmen shushes him.

"Pulling up to the plane now, folks," the driver calls back.

"Seriously," Max says, sounding a little desperate. "It'll be alright."

"I know. I fly all the time, Max." His frown deepens.

"To come see me," he reminds you. "If I knew you didn't like it, I would have --"

"What?" you interrupt. "Invented teleportation? It's okay, Max. Knowing it's to see you makes the whole thing easier, honestly."

This does not satisfy him. You can tell. It's a problem he can't solve -- his least favorite kind. There is no simulation to run for this, no meeting he can talk through, no track he can circle a thousand times.

The van door opens and you're all beckoned out onto the tarmac. You follow George and Carmen with your bag and Max is at your heels, his duffle slung over one shoulder and his other hand on the small of your back. Normally, he's not this touchy, but he seems reluctant to let your conversation in the van go.

"Max--"

"I'm thinking, liefje."

You roll your eyes. "About how to invent teleportation?"

"Something like that," he grumbles.

The jet is narrow, an aisle on one side and four rows of seats on the other. Four sets of two, a table between them. Carmen and George settle into one nook and you toss your bags into another. You slide into the window seat and Max sits heavily in the one next to you, still frowning. You let him, instead looking around to absorb the new experience.

It's much nicer than a regular plane, that's for sure. There is a cooler stocked with drinks and a cabinet full of what seems to be snacks. You can stretch your legs to rest your feet on the seat across from you. It's so early you figure all of you will just sleep, though Max's mood seems at odds with that plan.

The pilot introduces herself and gives a quick rundown of the route and airtime. You all nod and smile and then the doors close and the lights dim.

Max's hand finds yours immediately. You sit up a little and look over at him. He looks even more frazzled than he did at the hotel, when you both rolled out of bed and into comfy clothes. Soft pants and a hoodie that make him look boyish, younger than he is. But here, his cheeks are a little flushed and his jaw is set like he's about to get in his race car.

"What do you do normally?" he asks, softly. You can hear George's soft snores already. "When I'm not there."

"Max," you sigh.

"Tell me, please?"

The seat shifts under you as it heads for the runway. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

"Well, I don't hold some random guy's hand," you tease. He squeezes your palm and huffs. 

"He could be so lucky."

The plane comes to a stop and you know what happens next. Your mind remains preoccupied with Max -- a good thing, right now -- but your body tenses and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter as the engines kick up and you pick up speed.

Max says your name but you don't budge. "Liefje," he whispers, much closer than before. You can feel his breath on your cheek as he gently holds your chin with two fingers and turns your face towards him.

And then he's kissing you. A closed mouth press of his lips to yours, firm but still. At least until you sigh into it, releasing your death grip on the arm rest to reach for him blindly, your tangled fingers between you. The kiss deepens, his nose sliding against yours as you part your lips and the chaste press becomes more. Max's tongue licks into your mouth leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to explore you. 

You kiss and kiss and kiss, so long that a voice in your head wonders if maybe you can do this for the whole flight, please? Max tugs your legs across his until you're practically in his lap, spread across the two seats like they're one.

"We're reached cruising altitude," the speakers crackle. "Feel free to move about, but please be mindful."

Max pulls away, a strand of spit glistening between you until he wipes it away with a smirk. His hair is even messier than before and his cheeks are pink. Lips swollen, eyes glassy -- you must look the same. Your heart is racing and you laugh, breathless.

"Well," Max says, then swallows. His voice is raspy, hoarse with desire. "Guess you have to fly with me from now on."

"Max." You pitch forward and settle where his neck and shoulder meet and inhale. His arms wrap around you and he holds you close. You can hear his heart racing just as fast as yours.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles. "I know."

"I can do it," you remind him. "I do it all the time. I just don't like it, that's all."

You feel the press of his lips on your hair.

"I just don't like that I can't fix it," he says. "I can't get inside your head and make you know it's alright."

"No, you can't," you sigh. The plane jerks just a little -- a swoop of your stomach that has you gasping. Max's hold on you tightens and he says your name.

"How do you do this alone?" he rasps, mouth next to your ear as he rubs your back.

"I close my eyes," you say, taking deep breaths. "And I imagine you with me."

He curses softly. "We should get a jet by ourselves next time," he mutters. "Then I can really distract you."

That gets you to laugh, though you can't say you hate the idea. It makes you feel warm, makes you press your thighs together.

"Next time," you echo. "But for now..."

Max cups your jaw and ghosts his nose over yours. "For now..."

He brings your lips together.

[bunny-jpeg]

hii bunny can I get blueberry muffins and a crepe on the house? served by lewis hamilton?? thank you!

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? hit up the menu to see what we're serving up!! thank you so much for the prompt and i loved what you wanted! enjoy!

blueberry muffins ("i don't think it'll fit.") + crepe ("pretty girl.") + on the house: juice (cockwarming) served by lewis hamilton (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, cockwarming, size kink, praise kink, personal assistant!reader, secret relationship, missionary

"pretty girl." lewis' voice was a sing-song when you passed by him in the paddock. you looked over and saw him approach you with something behind his back, "there's my pretty girl!" when he got close enough he showed you the flowers that were behind his back, "and how are you today?"

you looked him in the eyes and chuckled, "oh no, what do you want now, lewis?" you looked at the flowers soon after.

"nothing, nothing at all. can't i spoil you, my favourite p.a has been doing so much lately. she deserves a thank you." he smiled before he leaned forward and kissed you on the cheek.

you chuckled and patted him on the chest. you took the flowers and asked, "should i find a hotel key card in here?"

he shrugged a little, "maybe. guess you'll have to see the find out."

after qualifier you ended up at lewis' hotel room with the card between your fingers. you sighed a little when you slid the key into the slot then opened the door.

"hello, hamilton." you said in a sweet voice.

he got up from his seat on the couch and headed towards you. in a white t-shirt and sweatpants. he draped his arms around you and kissed you on the face, "glad you could join me tonight, i know you must've been so busy."

you leaned up to kiss him on the lips, "you have to be more careful, lewis. if someone gets the wrong idea, it could be trouble for us."

he smiled, "then i'll have to simply tell the world how much i adore you, my p.a." he then kissed you once more before he pulled away and lead you to the bedroom.

he was a sweet talker you knew that, anyone who looked at him for more two seconds knew that he could talk his way out of any situation. you found it endearing, his soft words in your ear. in all fairness he was only sweet as honey to you.

bringing you flowers, expensive little gifts from far off places, those strong arms around you. the kisses on your neck, he wanted you in all the way he could have you. you were beautiful, ethereal in a way that he could not put into words.

he took off his t-shirt an you admired the sight of his tattoos. you ran your hands down his chest and went in for another sweet kiss. he was like that, lips like sugar and a hold that made you melt like caramel in the hot sun.

"you did well today, hamilton. i'm proud of you, i see you still have that spark of yours." you chuckled as you splayed on hand across his broad chest. he really was handsome, but you bit your tongue as you continued to drag your nails lightly across his skin.

"only when i know you're waiting for me at the finish line."

you held his face and kissed him sweetly on the lips, when you pulled away, you continued to hold his face, "where else would i be?"

he smiled, "at my house, under my covers. watching me on the big screen with your hand between your legs."

you laughed, "too funny, someone has to keep you in check." then you started to take off your own mercedes branded t-shirt for work, followed by your pants. you were left in a white bra and grey panties.

"fair and i'd want no one else." he got out of his own clothes and you were on the bed. he helped you get onto his lap and let you sink down on his cock. but instead of the two of moving together.

you sat there, keeping his cock warm in your slick pussy. the kisses between you two were hot but there was no movement elsewhere. you stayed still, letting him keep you full.

it was nice to feel so close to him, after the weekend you had so far, it was nice to take a break and let the two of you just feel close together. you peppered kisses along his jaw and face, and he melted into them.

you moved your hips a little but he placed both hands on them to keep you still. he chuckled against your lips before he said to you, "you're not going anywhere."

lewis had a perfect size cock for you, which let you feel nestled against him. you sighed contently as you continued to kiss him with a certain passion.

"i'm so proud of you." he said softly, his lips on your skin. he exhaled deeply and remained close to you, 'you were so nice at qualifier, how you look when you're doing your job. it's honestly a cute sight. miss professional making sure that i'm where i need to be." he then joked, "it'll be good when you're herding the little hamiltons."

you laughed and then held his face to look at you, "really now, lewis? how about we do one thing at a time. i refuse to be your stay at home bride."

he smiled, "of course, i wouldn't expect anything less." then rolled his hips a little up into you. he knew you were on birth control, but still let him sink in bare.

it was a level of trust that made his heart skip. you moved a little bit as well, letting your arms drape over his shoulders. he soon got you onto your back, you looked even more perfect under him.

he nuzzled your neck and got your arms around him. his cock slipped back in with ease and he got his legs around you. he thrusted up into you and felt the curl of pleasure in his gut.

you were beautiful, he couldn't believe it. you just looked like a perfect image under him. you briefly let go of him to push hair out of your face as he continued to thrust in and out of you.

"you look so beautiful, it would be illegal for a woman this beautiful to be around the paddock. i see how they look at you, the crew, the press, even other drivers. makes me realize how lucky i am."

"why because i don't even notice them?"

he chuckled and kissed the bridge of your nose, "yes, because you only look back at me. i guess that makes me lucky." he planted both hands on either side of you to give you more leverage.

you held onto him, then pressed his face into your chest. he groaned against the warmth of your skin. it was like touching the sunlight on a summer's day. he continued to move against you, his cock rutted against your insides. it all felt so good.

"you're a beautiful woman." he said.

"and you're not too bad yourself." you said as you lightly raked your nails across his shoulders. his lips landed on yours once more as the two of you moved together.

when he broke the kiss, he got comfortable with his head against your heart as he fucked you. the two of you moved together as one, it felt so nice being laid out under him. he could hear your quickening heartbeat as he moved his hips.

he continued the praises, he kept his pace steady with you. but even then he knew he wasn't going to last long. your warmth was comforting and your affection for him was strong. he held onto the bed under you and quickly moved his hips.

"you're actually quite handsome." you said softly, "you just look so pretty. even post-race, that's a whole other beast."

"of course, i have to look good for you after all that." he laughed.

he picked up the pace, and lips were all over your chest. he pressed into you further and loved the feeling of you under him. you held onto his shoulders further.

"you look beautiful like this. you are so painfully beautiful."

you came first with an arch of your back. you held onto him tightly and let out a sweet string of moans. you looked beautiful under him, right as you should. you orgasm hit like a train and you felt yourself be drawn under the waves of pleasure. it made your heart jump, it felt so good.

"please, lewis." you panted.

"i've got you." he replied softly as he put all of himself to it an finished inside of you. he kept up the pace and eyed you. he felt the thrill of pleasure through his body as he gave it a few more heavy strokes before he finished inside of you.

you whined, "holy shit. so good."

he slowed to a stop and rested against you for a moment, he pressed a bit of his weight onto you. it didn't crush you, i was rather comforting. you trailed your nails through his hair and kissed his forehead affectionately. he made a soft noise into your chest.

the labels of your relationship changed by the hour in some cases. lovers, friends, co-workers, all you knew was that you were in each other's orbit. as he looked up at you and you craned your neck to kiss him on the cheek, you could see a future in those beautiful brown eyes.

you rubbed his cheek and asked, "why don't we get something to eat, just the two of us? like a date."

he leaned in to kiss you on the collarbone as he settled down next to you, "that sounds great, but just give me a few minutes. i'm still getting myself together."

you'd give him more than a few minutes, you'd give him a whole lifetime. <3

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bluesky and enshittification

NEXT WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

I would like to use Bluesky. They've done a bunch of seriously interesting technical work on moderation and ranking that I truly admire, and I've got lots of friends there who really enjoy it.

But I'm not on Bluesky and I don't have any plans to join it anytime soon. I wrote about this in 2023: I will never again devote my energies to building up an audience on a platform whose management can sever my relationship to that audience at will:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/06/fool-me-twice-we-dont-get-fooled-again/

When a platform can hold the people you care about or rely upon hostage – when it can credibly threaten you with disconnection and exile – that platform can abuse you in lots of ways without losing your business. In other words, they can enshittify their service:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/17/hack-the-planet/#how-about-a-nice-game-of-chess

I appreciate that the CEO of Bluesky, Jay Graber, has evinced her sincere intention never to enshittify Bluesky and I believe she is totally sincere:

https://www.wired.com/story/bluesky-ceo-jay-graber-wont-enshittify-ads/

But here's the thing: all those other platforms, the ones where I unwisely allowed myself to get locked in, where today I find myself trapped by the professional, personal and political costs of leaving them, they were all started by people who swore they'd never sell out. I know those people, the old blogger mafia who started the CMSes, social media services, and publishing platforms where I find myself trapped. I considered they friends (I still consider most of them friends), and I knew them well enough to believe that they really cared about their users.

They did care about their users. They just cared about other stuff, too, and, when push came to shove, they chose the worsening of their services as the lesser of two evils.

Like: when your service is on the brink of being shut down by its investors, who demand that you compromise on privacy, or integrity, or quality, in some relatively small way, are you really going to stand on principle? What about all the users who won't be harmed by the compromise, but will have their communities and online lives shattered if you shut down the company? What about all the workers who trusted you, whose family finances will be critically imperilled if you don't compromise, just a little. What about the "ecosystem" partners who've bet on your service, building plug-ins, add-ons and services that make your product better? What about their employees and their employees' families?

Maybe you tell yourself, "If I do this, I'll live to fight another day. I can only make the service better for its users if the service still exists." Of course you tell yourself that.

I have watched virtually every service I relied on, gave my time and attention to, and trusted, go through this process. It happened with services run by people I knew well and thought highly of.

Enshittification can be thought of as the result of a lack of consequences. Whether you are tempted by greed or pressured by people who have lower ethics than you, the more it costs to compromise, the fewer compromises you'll make.

In other words, to resist enshittification, you have to impose switching costs on yourself.

That's where federation comes in. On Mastodon (and other services based on Activitypub), you can easily leave one server and go to another, and everyone you follow and everyone who follows you will move over to the new server. If the person who runs your server turns out to be imperfect in a way that you can't endure, you can find another server, spend five minutes moving your account over, and you're back up and running on the new server:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/04/pick-all-three/#agonism

Any system where users can leave without pain is a system whose owners have high switching costs and whose users have none. An owner who makes a bad call – like removing the block function say, or opting every user into AI training – will lose a lot of users. Not just those users who price these downgrades highly enough that they outweigh the costs of leaving the service. If leaving the service is free, then tormenting your users in this way will visit in swift and devastating pain upon you.

That not only helps you steer clear of rationalizing your way into a bad compromise: it also stops your investors and other people with leverage over you from pressuring you into taking actions that harm your users. These devils only sit on your shoulder, whispering temptations and threats, because they think that you can make things worse without spoiling their investment. They're not cruel, they're greedy. They will only insist on enshittification that they believe they can profit from. If they understand that forcing you to enshittify the service will send all your users packing and leave them with nothing, they will very likely not force you to wreck your service.

And of course, if they are so greedy that they force your hand anyway, then your users will be able to escape. Your service will be wrecked and you'll be broke, which sucks for you, but you're just one person and your pain is vastly outweighed by the relief for the millions of people who escape your service when it goes sour.

There's a name for this dynamic, from the world of behavioral economics. It's called a "Ulysses Pact." It's named for the ancient hacker Ulysses, who ignored the normal protocol for sailing through the sirens' sea. While normie sailors resisted the sirens' song by filling their ears with wax, Ulysses instead had himself lashed to the mast, so that he could hear the sirens' song, but could not be tempted into leaping into the sea, to be drowned by the sirens.

Whenever you take a measure during a moment of strength that guards against your own future self's weakness, you enter into a Ulysses Pact – think throwing away the Oreos when you start your diet.

There is no such thing as a person who is immune to rationalization or pressure. I'm certainly not. Anyone who believes that they will never be tempted is a danger to themselves and the people who rely on them. A belief you can never be tempted or coerced is like a belief that you can never be conned – it makes you more of a mark, not less.

Bluesky has many federated features that I find technically admirable. I only know the CEO there slightly, but I have nothing but good opinions of her. At least one of the board members there, Mike Masnick, is one of my oldest friends and comrades in the fights for user rights. We don't agree on everything, but I trust him implicitly and would happily give him the keys to my house if he needed a place to stay or even the password for my computer before I had major surgery.

But even the best boards can make bad calls. It was just a couple years ago that we had to picket to stop the board of ISOC – where I had several dear old friends and comrades – from selling control of every .ORG domain to a shadowy hedge-fund run by mustache-twirling evil billionaires:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/12/how-we-saved-org-2020-review

Bluesky lacks the one federated feature that is absolutely necessary for me to trust it: the ability to leave Bluesky and go to another host and continue to talk to the people I've entered into community with there. While there are many independently maintained servers that provide services to Bluesky and its users, there is only one Bluesky server. A federation of multiple servers, each a peer to the other, has been on Bluesky's roadmap for as long as I've been following it, but they haven't (yet) delivered it.

That was worrying when Bluesky was a scrappy, bootstrapped startup with a few million users. Now it has grown to over 13 million users, and it has taken on a large tranche of outside capital:

https://fediversereport.com/on-bluesky-and-enshittification/

Plenty of people have commented that now that a VC is holding Bluesky's purse-strings, enshittification will surely follow (doubly so because the VC is called "Blockchain Capital," which, at this point, might as well be "Grifty Scam Caveat Emptor Capital"). But I don't agree with this at all. It's not outside capital that leads to enshittification, it's leverage that enshittifies a service.

A VC that understands that they can force you to wreck your users' lives is always in danger of doing so. A VC who understands that doing this will make your service into an empty – and thus worthless – server is far less likely to do so (and if they do, at least your users can escape).

My publishing process is a lot of work and adding another service to it represents a huge amount of future labor:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/13/two-decades/#hfbd

But I would leap into Bluesky and gladly taken on all that extra work, every day – if I knew that I couldn't get trapped there.

I don't know why Bluesky hasn't added the federation systems that would enable freedom of exit to its service. Perhaps there are excellent technical reasons to prioritize rolling out the other systems they've created so far. Frankly, it doesn't matter. So long as Bluesky can be a trap, I won't let myself be tempted. My rule – I don't join a service that I can't leave without switching costs – is my Ulysses Pact, and it's keeping me safe from danger I've sailed into too many times before.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/02/ulysses-pacts/#tie-yourself-to-a-federated-mast

[hp-hcs]

OKOKOK SENTENCE 9

maybe theres a party in the slytherin common room and reader gets absolutely shitfaced

so being a flirty drunk they start chatting up a random dude (lets just say cormac bc hes always the bad guy) and boyfie theodore <3 gets jealous nd pulls them into his dorm nd hes all like

"I'll carve out your tongue if it’ll stop you from flirting with anyone else."

but reader still being drunk asf is just like :] snd gives him a kith and tells theo how pretty he is

poor baby just cant stay mad

HOW DARE YOU (be so cute?) — yandere! theodore nott x gn! drunk! hufflepuff! cutie patootie! reader

warnings: underage alcohol consumption, teen partying and drinking, threats of violence, aggression, possessive/obsessive behavior, jealousy, general yandere tendencies

please enjoy my attempts to see how many ridiculous near-rhymes to ‘cormac’ i could come up with

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Yeah, yeah. Gryffindor’s playing Ravenclaw this weekend, you know. Maybe you can come out and…show your support.” The boy you’d been talking to all night leaned in close, resting one hand on your hip and letting the fingers of the other brush over your collarbone.

You honestly couldn’t be bothered to remember the boy’s name when you had a plastic cup of White Wyvern in your hand. It was something dumb, you remember that. Cognac, Corsac…?

“Y/n?” CarMax asked, trying to regain your attention. “You gonna cheer me on, sugar?”

“Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah,” you grinned, taking another sip of your drink. “I’ll get all decked out in red ‘n gold, jus’ for you.”

Tarmac grinned back and tightened his grip on your hip, tugging you a bit closer. “Maybe I oughtta give you my spare jersey to wear to the game then, huh? Wouldn’t you like to have my name across your back, little badger?”

(You shrugged noncommittally at that, not quite sure how to express to Shellac that literally no one wants the name Cornsack written across the back of their shirt.)

“Oh, I see. You want me to be your good luck charm, huh?” You teased, resting a hand on Callback’s forearm.

Rickrack smirked and opened his mouth to reply when a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder from behind.

“McLaggen. You’ve got two seconds to get your hands off my partner before I cut them off.”

Trashbag paled, hurriedly snatching his hands back and holding them up in surrender as he whirled around to face the newcomer. “Woah, woah- calm down, Nott,” he chuckled nervously. “We were just talking. No harm, no foul.”

Theodore stared back at him with an unamused, dead-eyed expression.

Hackeysack swallowed nervously. “Uh…yeah. Yeah. Well, I uh…I think I’m gonna get going now, Y/n. See ya at the game.”

Theo interrupted you before you could even respond. “I assure you, they won’t.”

And with that, Theodore wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders and dragged you away from Radioshack.

~~~

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, darling, I’m not in the mood.” Theodore pushed you up against the wall of his dorm, one hand with a possessive death grip on your hip, and the other tightly grasping your jaw to hold it still. “I swear to Salazar, Y/n, I’ll carve out your tongue if it’ll stop you from flirting with anyone else.”

Whatever reaction Theodore was expecting you to have to those threatening words, you drunkenly giggling and kissing the tip of his nose was not one of them.

“You’re so pretty when you’re jelly, baby,” you gave him a dopey grin, reaching out to fix his rumpled shirt collar and smooth your hands across his chest. “You’re always so pretty.”

His heart melted and he let go of your jaw with a sigh, running his fingers through your hair and leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Merlin- what am I going to do with you, love?”

“Cuddle me?” You asked hopefully, a sweet pout on your face.

Theodore whined. “Shit, darlin’- I’m trying to be mad at you right now.”

“But cuddles, Teddybear!” You pouted further, tossing your arms over his shoulders to pull him into a hug. “Why would you wanna be mad when cuddles are an option?”

“I guess I can’t argue with that logic.” He conceded slowly, resting both hands on your waist and rubbing small circles into your sides with his thumbs. “Alright, fine. We can cuddle.”

You grin proudly at your incredible drunken convincing skills, disentangling yourself from your boyfriend to clamber onto his bed. “C’mon!”

“Hold on, hold on,” he laughed. “I need to find you something to sleep in that isn’t your party clothes, love. Here,” he tossed something at you as he finished digging through his dresser.

You caught the item, unfolding it to reveal his Slytherin quidditch team captain jersey, complete with NOTT written out in a big bold font. You snorted and glanced up at him.

He gave you an innocent smile as he stripped out of his own clothes and climbed under the covers next to you. You rolled your eyes fondly, changing into his jersey and lying down beside him.

“Goodnight, darling,” he murmured against the top of your head as he wrapped his arms around you.

You grinned into his chest. “G’night, Teddybear.”

You fell asleep cuddling Theo, in Theo’s bed, in Theo’s clothes, with Theo’s name written across your back. And as long as you didn’t think too hard about how your boyfriend was absolutely going to kill Hazmat McLovin tomorrow, then all was quite well in the Slytherin dorms that night.

[enwoso]

not sure what your plans or chronologically for the grumpy universe

but could you write something where tiny is a teenager and she’s going through a rebellious phase. out late, parties, that sort of vibe

teenage terrors | alessia russo x teen!reader

buckle up she’s a long one! i didn’t really know how i was going to end this so the ending is a little iffy but ENJOY!

lil psa, not wanting to disappoint anyone but this is probably one of the only ones i’ll write with lovie as a teen just as its a little bit more difficult to get the dynamics right. i’m sorry, i still love you all🤍

grumpy masterlist

you were now sixteen, however you were still your mums little girl.

your mum had since retired from football and had moved into working still within the football scene: part time football pundit for the international matches but still giving back to the local clubs making sure that girls sports was supported in a way they should be.

since you were now able to look after yourself, your mum was rarely around during the week. always being out the house sometimes before you even woke up having to be somewhere for a meeting.

but it worked out well as you would be at school, and then after that she would pick you up from school and drive you to football training and sit and watch you flourish in a sport that had quite literally been your entire life.

you still lived in london, but you had moved slightly further from central london from the first home you lived in when you moved to london all those moons ago. still going to all of arsenal's home games at the emirates both men's and women's.

hoping one day that would be you, you on the field playing for your club.

your mum still very much good friends with her teammates she used to play with, most coming around on a weekend to visit when they had the time. but most importantly, ella was around at every chance she could.

you could have sworn at one point she had moved in for a little bit while her boyfriend had been away on a work trip, alessia sometimes wondering when ella was around if she had one child or two.

alessia had a lot of trust in you, she didn't think she had to worry about you being lead down the wrong path.

you were naturally quite clever, your grades in school were very good, your teachers would never really have a bad word to say about you, maybe the fact you were a little chatty in the wrong moments, and you had a good group of friends which alessia had met and there impression to her was good.

but you also had a strong head on your shoulders. you weren't the type to let others tell you what to do.

but with that you were a teenager and your mum should've maybe been a little more tentative in what you did with your spare time.

it was easy to slip things past your mum as for one she wasn't exactly the hardest to convince — something you more often than you would like to admit used to your full advantage.

which is why when you started coming home late, being out every weekend at someone else's house for party's your mum didn't exactly pick up on anything. your mum just thought you were having fun, she trusted you that you knew what was sensible and what wasn't.

but maybe the trust each time you were late home, or came home smelling of alcohol was being stretched further and further like a rubber band to the point where it could break at any point.

which is what lead to the weekend, you were off to another party.

"mum! i'm going out now, i'll see you later" you called out from the hallway as you touched up your hair in the large floor mirror that hung in the hallway.

your mum sat in the living room watching a series on the large tv that took up a large part of the wall, a small glass of white wine in her hand as a small way for the blonde to unwind after a busy week.

"wait, lovie. c'mere!" your mum called out quickly at the sound of the door keys being rattled around. you huffing slightly at you checked the time on your phone before poking your head into the living room.

your mum turning so that she could see you a sad look adorning on your mothers face, "you never said you were going out? i thought you were staying in, we were gonna do a movie night remember?"

you eyebrows knitted together with confusion, ok you may have forgotten to tell your mum your weekend plans but you couldn't just cancel your plans with your friends now, it was too late.

"i- uh. i did i told you in the car on the way back from training on wednesday!" you lied, you were now getting a little impatient as your mum hummed, she still not really remembering if you had or not a lot having happened since wednesday night.

"we can have our movie night another time, i really need to go now. i'll be back later mum" you spoke fast and your mum could sense the urgency that you had to leave.

"right, what time will you be back?" your mum asked, as you thought for a moment not wanting to say to early but also not too late that your mum would complain.

"about eleven maybe" you shrugged, the maybe coming out a little quieter, more of a whisper.

"ok lovie, but no drinking please you have an important match tomorrow, have fun but be-"

"-sensible i know mum! bye i love you" were the last words spoken to your mum as you dashed out the room and the front door before alessia even had a chance to blink.

you managed to make it to the party just on time, it happened to only be a few blocks from your house but you as always you underestimate the time it's going to take for you to get ready.

you got to the party, there being a lot more people than you expected. it taking you a little while longer to locate your friends over the booming noise of the music and the amoung of people inside the house.

but luckily you were able to find your friends, your four friends englufing you in a tight squeeze as they fiilled you in with what you had missed since arriving late.

you loved your friends, you would do anything for them and they had been there since pretty much the beginning and the five of you were pretty much inseparble.

there was emilia who was definetly the most outspoken out the four of you, you not too far second in that race, she would say anything and everything on her mind. but like every teenage girl she had two sides to her lovely and like butter wouldnt melt on the outside but deep inside her she was a total bitch.

there was olivia, she was emilia's ride or die, the two of them knowing each other since preschool and one thing about olivia is she would do anything for emilia even if meant she or others would get hurt in the process.

then there was isabella or bella as everyone called her, she was the newest addition to the friend group havign just transfered schools, but she was too nice for her own good meaning she was a little naive to her surroundings and some peoples meaning.

and finally your best friend poppy, the girl you trusted with your entire life - quite literally. the two of you had been joined to the hip since your first day at school, clicking instantly. you considered the girl as a sister. alessia always thinking you and poppy reminded her a lot of her and ella when they were younger.

once you had caught up with your friends the night went on you were just enjoying socialising, you always up for meeting new people although it was a little hard in a dimly lit room and blaring music over the top.

"what you drinking tonight then russo?" emilia asked you with a dopey smile, a red solo cup in her hand as she slouched next to you on the couch. you were most definitely the only one there that was still sober.

"just sprite" you shrugged, holding you cup up as emilia let out a little laugh.

"why you being boring russo, just have a drink let your hair down" emilia giggled as she began to sway slightly from side to side with the music but she definitely wasn't in time with the beat like she thought she was.

you shook your head, "i can't, i have a match in the morning and i promised my mum-"

"oh why are you so bothered about all that stupid football jazz. your never gonna make it pro, you would have already! just face it your never gonna be the big name your mum was!" emilia slurred so casually, the words just rolling off her tongue like she was just repeating words she had rehearsed for days.

emilia was off squealing at some boy as she dragged him to dance with her all before you could even process what she'd said. your body just slumping into its self.

"you okay?" a voice said over the beat of the loud music which felt even louder now, your ears ringing. you looked up, your eyes slightly watered as you nodded. it was just poppy.

"yep” you popped your lip looking at the floor before turning to look at your best friend, “can you get me a drink?" you looked up hopeful, as poppy looked at you with knitted eyebrows, confusion filled her face. you didn’t drink.

"what? another sprite?" she asked as you quickly shook your head, "no, something else, vodka? anything. just make it strong?"

"are you sure your okay?" poppy asked again, it was unusual for you to drink never mind ask for a strong drink. your best friend beginning to be slightly worried about the sudden change in your behaviour as you sighed frustratedly.

"yes! just get me the fucking drink poppy!" you snapped as poppy quickly left her red solo cup next to you, mumbling she would be a few minutes.

and to your luck, she was back a few minutes later a red solo cup in her hand, handing it to you. a clear liquid in the cup as you peered into the cup.

"it's straight vod-"

you didn't bother listening to what poppy had to say, instead chugging the vodka. the feeling of the burning down your throat, the same feeling hitting your stomach as when emilia said those words to you.

but right now you wanted to forget that, forget everything, you wanted your mind to be clear, just like the colour of the liquid your just downed.

you felt your head begin to get lighter with each drink you had, before you were starting to not even be able to walk straight never mind put a sentence together.

the night just flushing into a blur, as for the first time you felt free. like nothing mattered. nobody knew your name or used you for your last name. you were just y/n.

lovie🩷 -> hey alessia, it's poppy, y/n's in quite a state and she was about to start walking home by herself but i don't think that's a good idea so my mum is going to drop her home when she picks me up.

mumma🤍 -> hi poppy, is she okay? did something happen?

lovie🩷 -> she's conscious but i don't think she knows what's going on, she had quite a few drinks. i'm not sure what happened one minute she was smiling the next she had a face like thunder.

mumma🤍 -> not to worry poppy, i'll talk to her in the morning. thank you for looking out for her.

"lovie?" alessia looked in shock horror at the state you were in, slightly embarrassed as she looked up thanking poppy as well as flashing a thankful smile towards her mum who was behind the driving wheel and had so kindly brought you home.

“sorry she’s in such a state, i did try and get her to slow down after the first one but she just ignored me” poppy apologised with a wince as alessia nodded with a sigh, your stubborn side which you definitely didn’t get from the blonde.

“it’s okay, i’m not angry. just a little disappointed but thank you for looking out for y/n, your a good friend to her — even when sometimes she may not deserve it” alessia slightly laughed at the little bit knowing poppy had put up with you since your first day of school and knowing you can be difficult at time especially with the strong head on your shoulder.

alessia said her goodbyes to poppy again waving to her mum as she drove down the street, turning to you with a sigh as you leant against your mum and the doorframe.

“c’mon then lovie” alessia began to move you away from the doorway as you held a dopey smile on your face. rambling out some words that alessia was convinced were not english.

"hey, only my mum calls me that-" you slurred out quietly as your eyes began to shut. a big sigh coming from alessia as she called out to ella who was in the living room.

"woah- where has she been?" ella winced as she took in your form as you were slumped up against your mum, alessia shrugging.

"i need to get her to eat something, and a bottle of water" alessia told ella as she nodded in agreement helping alessia get you into the living room at least.

you were carried to the living room by both your mum and ella, the two placing you down as you sighed contently at the feeling of the soft lounge. your body drifting in and out of sleep as each minute passed.

“i’m just gonna make her a sandwich” alessia whispered as ella nodded, staying sat beside you. “yeah i’ll stay here”

a small giggle came from you out of nowhere as you head drooped to one side of the head rest on the couch, “you sound just like my auntie ella, she has a proper thick manchester accent”

ella just sat and listened as you continued your slurred ramble, a smile creeping in her face as you spoke about ella and your mum. clearly not being with it enough to know that’s currently who you’re in a room with.

“she’s pretty cool, she was an awesome footballer too. just like my mum” a sad lopsided smile crept on your face as tears slightly built in your eyes. an eyebrow rising at your words from the brunette sat beside you as she hummed.

“my mum was an amazing footballer, my dream is always to be even half the player she is-“ a sniffle came from you as if you were about to start crying, ella patting your shoulder.

“i’m sure you’ll carry on her legacy” ella smiled at you, but as you were squinting to see if you could recognise who your were talking to but you couldn’t really make out the facial features. it all just being blurs of colours.

a yelp came from you as you screwed your eyes shut, startling ella a little as she looked at you with panic in her eyes, “oh my god, my mum gonna be so annoyed at me” you covered your face with your hands.

at this point alessia was coming back into the room, a bottle of ice cold water and your favourite type of sandwich made in her hand. the blonde about to open her mouth to say something but ella waved at her not to say anything to allow you the chance to carry on your drunken confession.

“but, the drinks just looked too good and it helped i forgot about what she said” you mumbled as you carried on talking with your hands over your face. ella and alessia looking at each other with blank faces trying to figure out what you were saying.

“i felt free like i was floating on fluffy clouds- oh is this sandwich for me?” you spotted the food on the plate on the coffee table out the corner of you eye.

“yeah eat it lovie, and there’s some water there too” alessia pointed as you hummed tucking into the sandwich still not aware of your surroundings and the fact you were in your living room at home.

alessia tapping ella on the shoulder and letting the brunette know that she was gonna get your bed ready and get you some pjs out so you could change. ella just waved the blonde off letting her do her thing of what she needed to do.

after around an hour later and the two finally got you to bed, after a few little mishaps like you tripping up the stairs and you falling asleep with your toothbrush in your mouth as you brushed your teeth in the bathroom.

but finally the two had gotten you into bed and safely asleep, alessia’s head spinning. why had you gone out and got basically black out drunk, the night before an important match. there had to be a reason. this wasn’t like you.

"oh god" alessia let out a shaky breath as she lent over the kitchen counter her head in her hands. mum guilt washing over her.

"she'll be fine less, she's a teenager. this is what they do. we were once like that too-" ella tried to help comfort her best friend with a light hearted joke towards their past of them being teenagers. it not being too dissimilar.

"yeah but tooney, this isn't the first time this has happened." alessia sighed looking up at the brunette who was stood in the dimly lit kitchen.

"this is becoming every weekend and i thought maybe when she came back late smelling of alcohol the first time, it would be the last but it's happened nearly every single time since" alessia explained as tooney's face turned into a small frown, she didn't realise that wasn't the first time.

"i thought i could trust her, ella" alessia whispered, ella knew the blonde was being serious that's the only time alessia would call her best friend by her proper name. a worried look was etched across the blondes face.

"you can less, tiny is a smart kid" ella nodded pulling the blonde into a side hug as alessia whispered, "i hope your right."

the next morning had rolled around and you woke up with the biggest head ache and no recollection of the events that happened last night, the last thing you remember was your conversation with poppy.

anything else after that, you had no idea. hell you didn't even know how you got home or when-

not even realising you were home until your eyes scanned around the dimly lit room, noticing the framed photos you had from football. some with your teammates, your family, and some with some of the lionesses past and present you'd met.

a tight knot building in your stomach as you looked at it a little longer, the words lingering in your head of what your friend had said to you.

huffing you didn't want to look at the photos any longer, you pushed your covers off you and walking your way down the stairs. the bright light of the sun shining through the windows hurting your eyes as you made you way into the kitchen not even realising your mum was stood waiting for her coffee machine to finish.

"morning- why are you not ready? we have to leave in fifteen minutes?" your mum asked as you turned grabbed a glass from the shelf filling it with ice cold water.

you ignored the question your mum was sending your way instead reaching out for the cupboard in which you knew your mum kept the medicine — rummaging through the box until you found something that would help sootheyour seething headache.

"lovie? i'm asking you a question" you mum pushed but still was talking in a soft voice. you shrugged, "don't wanna go" you mumbled as you took the time to take the medicine before placing your glass in the sink.

your mum was taken back by your response, you never missed football. not matches. not training. hell you'd even beg your mum to let you play even if your leg was hanging off. football is everything to you — or so she thought.

"why?"

"not feeling too well-" you began but were cut off by your mum, "the one thing i asked you not to do was drink and you knew you had this match this morning which you know is important-"

alessia started her rant but you just sighed and walked out the room heading towards your room. your mum realising you weren't in the room any longer, following your tracks towards your room. "y/n, i'm not finished talking-"

"yeah well i am, just leave me be mum! i don't want to go to the stupid football match okay, i quit!" you snapped as you yelled from your bedroom door slamming it shut. alessia stopping in her track, your words hitting her right in the chest, as the slam of the door echoed in the hallway.

stupid football? that wasn't the lovie alessia knew.

the lovie, alessia knew was football crazy and since she could walk had a ball at her feet.

the lovie alessia knew would spend hours in the garden trying to perfect a skill even if it was pouring of rain.

the lovie alessia knew would have to be practically dragged of the pitch and away from the football after training otherwise you would spent all night there.

the lovie alessia knew, loved football and wanted to play for her club and country.

alessia didn't understand what had happened, yeah your behaviour at the minute hadn't exactly been perfect and the blonde would be lying if she said she wasn't loosing a little bit trust in you with each time you came home late.

your actions speaking louder that maybe what you were doing in your spare time wasn’t as innocent as you tried to perceive it as. your show last night was the real eye opener for alessia.

she slumped down on the stairs as she let out a breathe. she didn't know what to do or even say.

the blonde was brought out of her thoughts at the sound of knocks echoing through the hallway. alessia pushed her self up from her seat on the stairs making her way to the door and pulling it open.

"ay we ready! where's our superstar?" ella called out as she walked in not catching the gloomy look on her best friends face at the side of the door as leah walked in behind her just as excited as the two began to recite your chant.

the two were dressed head to two in the colours you wore, ella minus the arsenal jersey. but leah was decked to the nines in gunner merch.

ella and leah made it to nearly every one of your matches, ella of course didn't make it to as many as she lived in manchester but any matches you had close to there or any time ella was in london she made sure to be at your matches with alessia.

leah on the other hand would be lucky if she missed one match a season, she always made sure to be there. leah had a close connection with the academy it being one she spent the first years of her footballing years too.

"oh- what's happened?" ella smile dropping as she looked at the sad look on alessia's face, leahs head turning around as her smile too dropped. the vibe going completely flat.

"it's lovie, she's quit football-" alessia said quitely, so quiet it almost came out as a whisper, as she walked past the two going to sit on the couch in the living room, ella and leah following alessia like lost puppy's as they came to terms which what the blonde had just said.

"what do you mean she's quit?" leah asked sitting down and taking the arsenal scarf from around her neck, it being quite warm in the room. alessia just shrugged she didnt know what the cause of you sudden outburst was, but what she did know is that something had caused it or rather someone.

ella coming and sitting next to the alessia as a sigh came from her, "she can't just quit- tiny is the future of football.."

"well she came down, i asked why she wasn't ready and she said she wasn't feeling well and then i followed her cause she walked away while i was still talking and then bascially yelled in my face that football is stupid" alessia sighed putting her head in her hands, ella running a soothing hand up and down the blonde's back.

"stupid football, that does not sound like tiny at all" leah was in disbelief, the girl she was hearing about was not the tiny that they knew and loved.

"tell me about it"

"have you tried asking her about it" ella suggested, it seeming like a silly thing to ask as she thought that alessia would ahve probably done that first but it was always worth a suggestion.

a shake of the head came from alessia, "no thought i'd give her a chance to cool off first"

"good thinking less, but it's worth a try even though she may not say anything. try and see if you can get something out of her" leah gave a sad smile to alessia who nodded taking the much needed advice on board.

the three sat a little more trying to get to the bottom of why you were acting a little weird and why you suddenly after bascially dedicating your entire life to football wanted to quit.

"but you know tiny too, more than we do, thats she capable of changing her mind more times than the weather" ella jokes as both leah and alessia let out a small chuckle. she wasnt wrong, you were known to be very indecisive.

"well we'll be off, let us know what happens and if you need anything" leah slaps her hands off her knees standing up, ella nodding and agreeing with leahs words.

"i will, i'll keep you both updated" alessia gave a half smile as she held the front door open, for the two to leave as they left still dressed in their football attire. leaving a little less excited then when they arrived.

alessia waving the two goodbye as leah drove away, the blonde shutting her door as she lingered in the hallway glancing up the stairway. planning her next movements.

make you some lunch as you hadn't eaten yet and the blonde knew better than to try and talk to you empty handed.

"just me.." your mum whispered as she lightly knocked on your door, "i brought your favourite- cheese toastie" as she put the plate on your bedside table not a mutter of a word from you as your mum walked through your room.

you just lay still in your bed, blankets wrapped around you as you held your little esme the elephant. yes the same one you'd had since you were little, it all worn with there being a little tear in the ear.

your mum sighed as she sat at the end of your bed, "how you feeling now?" she cooed as you still remained in the same place staring at the wall, the only thing to be heard was your light breathing.

alessia felt as though she'd hit a brick wall. her brain trying to think of things that may get you to talk to her but ultimitately she knew it would be a long shot. you and your stubborness. something you defiently didn't get from the blonde.

"you can't ignore me forever, lovie" alessia joked lightly hoping it may help to lighten the tense atmosphere inside your room, you glancing over at your mum perched on the end of your bed.

"i can try" you mumbled if the room hadn't of been as silent as it was alessia would have most definetly missed what you said.

a hum coming from your mum, "you can try but then who knows that you don't like blueberries cause you don't like the way they feel in your mouth, or that when your anxious about something that you bite the inside of your lip, or that you like having ketchup with almost ever meal-" alessia trailed off as you perked one eyebrow up turning onto your back.

"i'm sure i'd find a way to survive" you mumbled as your mum nodded her head slowly, humming a little at your words.

"what's happened lovie? why do you all of a sudden want to quit football" your mum asked as you moved your head slightly to the side, you knew this was coming. you just didn't think you were ready to admit out loud why you wanted to stop playing.

"just do, 'm not gonna make it anywhere anyway.." you whispered your throat going slightly tight as the words left your lips. alessia felt her heart tighten a little at your confession.

"lovie, you don't seriously believe that do you?" alessia asked a little bit of seriousness in her tone of voice, a part of her thinking maybe these weren't your words, but rather someone elses.

"and what if i do-"

"has someone said something to you lovie?" your mum has this gut feeling in her stomach and her gut was rarely ever wrong, it was if it was her sixth sense. "like did something happen at the party you were at?" your mum continued to push for an answer as you lay still with you eyes facing away from your mum, worried that if you did look at her that the tears would start to fall.

you stayed silent for a moment, contemplating your next move. before slowly moving your eyes to make contact with your mums as you bit your lip. another few seconds passed before you nodded your head to your mum previous question.

"oh lovie" your mum pouted as she crumbled moving from her seat at the end of the bed to quickly engulf you in a much needed hug as the tears began to fall. your mum comforting you as you cried in her arms letting it all out as you began to relay the events of what happened at the party, what emilia said to you and then how you just began to drink to get rid of the pain.

alessia's heart breaking for you, being told such harsh words from someone you considered to be a very close friend. it wasn't fair and the world was a cruel place. your mum wishing she could wrap you up in bubble wrap and protect you from anything you came in front of.

"she doesn't deserve to have you as a friend and you don't need people like that in your life lovie. thats not what a true friend does-" your mum comforted you as a few stray sniffles came from you as you knew what your mum was telling you was right. emilia didn't deserve to call you her friend.

"and anyways she won't be saying that when your on the big stage, playing for your club and country!" your mum smiled softly as your furrowed your eyebrows. "you really think that'll happen-"

"of course! you could play rings around some players you come against" you stayed in your mums arms a little more as she continued to comfort you as she continued to build your confidence and ego back up that clearly had took some serious damage.

"you'll always be my favourite player, y/n russo." your mum smiled sweetly at you as she placed a kiss to your forehead. you knew the topic of your recent behaviour and how you spent your spare time would come up and alessia definitely knew she needed to have a chat with you about that but right now you needed love and comfort which is exactly what you got as you sunk into her warm and loving arms further.

[winterscaptain]

like a family.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it's soooo late but i will blame the brain damage (lmao). i am SO excited to share this one with you all and throw us back into the mean it era for a while!! we'll be living here for the next few weeks and i am working on a lot of revisions!! to orient us: this is the first case back from suspension!

maybe we get two fics this week as a treat?? i'll throw up a poll.

words: 13.1k content advisories: canon-typical violence, case discussion (acid attacks), language, emotional confrontation, mentions of PTSD and grief

summary: “love implies anger. the man who is angered by nothing cares about nothing.” – edward abbey. october 19th, 2011

Hat, blazer, shoes, phone, wallet, keys…

“You have everything?” Aaron asks. 

You hesitate, patting your pockets, feeling around in your work bag. “Trying to…figure that out.” Your speech is halting, distracted, as if you can’t quite remember the rhythm of this.

It’s been a long time since we’ve had to do this. Four weeks? Five weeks?

You glance at him. “We’re definitely looking at a case this week, right?”

Aaron nods. “Pretty bad, looks like. I've been monitoring a few, but we’ll see where Garcia sends us. My guess is Oklahoma.” 

You pull a face. “Okay.” 

You take a breath and walk over to him, pressing your full weight to his chest. He huffs a little laugh, warm and familiar, and kisses your forehead. 

“We have to go,” he murmurs, hands settling on your shoulders. Gently, he unglues you, holds you at arms length. His thumbs brush little circles over your coat, like a tether. 

“You love your job. We love our jobs. Right?” 

A beat.

“Right.” 

+++

You share a little smile before getting into your respective cars, lingering in the moment just a beat longer than necessary.

It’s been a blissful (and, at times, excruciating) few weeks without work. Stepping back into reality won’t be easy.

Aaron’s face is unreadable at first—calm, collected. But then, just before he reaches for the door, his jaw shifts. Just slightly. A reflex, like he’s forcing something back into place.

You’re not sure if having this much uninterrupted time together has been good for you, or for whatever this relationship is becoming—but at this point, there’s very little that could fuck you up further.

The separation, the boundaries, will be good. Structure. Distance. Something that’s just yours.

He exhales through his nose, his fingers flexing once at his side before closing around the car handle.

You pull your door open, mirroring him. Baby steps.

+++

“Look, master of all things Italian, I am having a Fellini festival at my house this weekend and I must serve the beautiful food of his country.” You turn as Penelope and Dave walk in, no doubt discussing the pancetta disaster in her little green tupperware. 

Dave makes a face. “Maybe you should show a Disney film and stick with burgers.”

“You know, Rossi,” Derek says, “you could always give Penelope a cooking lesson.”

“Oh, my gosh, that would be amazing. That would be like-- that would be like the Iron Chef meets the BAU.” She pauses, her voice creeping higher. “And we could do it at your house.”

“I don't have a house, I have a mansion.” 

You roll your eyes. When you look at Spencer to share the moment, he avoids you. There’s a little flash of hurt in your chest and you do your best to smother it. Everyone is clearly handling things differently and you’re trying not to take things personally. 

It’s not about you. 

A folder lands in front of you, and you feel Aaron pass behind you.

"Alright, let’s get started."

The sound of his voice—low, steady, too steady—sends a little shock up your spine. 

The impact he has on your heart rate isn’t reasonable or fair—you see him all the time, heard those words hundreds of times, but the added clandestine knowledge makes it so much worse.

It’s the undeniable weight of him in the room, the heat of his presence, the way he exists in your periphery like a living problem. Your heart takes off at a gallop. 

And it’s not just knowing him, now. It’s knowing how his hands feel, how he breathes and the sounds he makes when he’s close, how his pulse jumps when you kiss the scar on his jaw.

Plus, I know what’s hiding under those suits…

Stop!! Focus!

It’s knowing too much—and having to act like it means nothing.

You fight to keep your breathing steady. You can feel the heat creep up your neck. 

The best outcome you can hope for is that nobody’s paying attention to you. 

Aaron smirks out of the corner of your eye. He knows.

Well. Somebody is paying attention to you. 

Bastard. 

You ignore him. Well. As best you can. Eventually, he schools his expression—a fraction of a second too late. Like he almost forgot himself, just for a moment. But then the mask comes back, smoothing over the smirk, the glances, the heat. He takes a small, almost imperceptible pause before opening his folder, treating it almost like a little milestone. He’s focused, now, centered. 

You flip through as Penelope starts, noting the freshness of the paper. There’s new information on this case since this morning.

“You are jetting to Durant, Oklahoma, because in the last three days, two women have been found dead after being sexually tortured and then blinded with a sulfuric acid solution.” 

Yikes. He was right. 

Your body is still reacting to Aaron. Your brain is already spiraling into the horrors of the case. And in that moment, you hate how both things can exist at once.

“Abby Elcott is our first victim.” A photo of a young woman appears on the monitor. “A nineteen-year-old art student. She was headed to campus for an advanced drawing class. She'd been missing for two days.” Garcia clicks again and a few more photos appear. “Same goes for our second victim, Beth Westerly, seventeen. She had just finished her coffee shop shift and was on her way to a barre method class.”

“Low risk,” you note. “Hard targets.”

Aaron exhales through his nose, slow and measured, before adjusting the way his hands rest on the table.

Derek agrees. “And physically similar.” He looks at Penelope. “How close are the two abduction sites?”

“Five miles apart at bus stops. Abby’s cell was found near one, Beth’s scarf near the other.” 

“Where are the dump sites?” Spencer asks. 

“One in an alley, the other in a field.”

JJ’s brow crinkles, her finger supporting her temple as she works through the details. “So he stapled their eyes open, then he blinded them.”

“It's about power and control,” Derek suggests. “Maybe he didn't want them to watch while he hurt them.”

“Or it could be about shame,” Spencer replies. “Perhaps the unsub is disfigured himself. Blinding the victims leaves them helpless, lost, totally dependent. It may be a manifestation of how he sees himself in this world.” 

There’s something loaded, a hidden meaning in his words, and a strange look passes over JJ’s face. You glance at Aaron without moving your head, trying to be subtle. His tongue passes over his lower lip and he swallows. It’s an acknowledgement. 

Later.

Emily tips her head. “It is a form of enucleation, just without the scalpel.”

“His face is the last they see before darkness,” Dave says grimly. 

Damn. That’s dark, Dave.

Aaron compiles the papers in front of him, closing the folder. He clears his throat once before speaking again—unusual, for him. “Garcia, come up with a list of jobs that would give the unsub access to sulfuric acid.” He looks up, meeting everyone’s eyes around the table. “The rest of us, wheels up in thirty minutes.”

You hang back, letting Aaron leave before you start packing your things. 

“You good?” Derek asks. His eyes are creased, concerned. 

You nod quickly, too quickly. “Yep. Just nice to be back. Happy to be back into the swing of things, you know?” 

“Uh huh,” he says, skeptical, but not pushing. He doesn’t completely buy it.  His gaze flicks over you, assessing, before he adds, “Anything else going on? Seems like you ran a mile before coming in this morning or something.”

Your breath hitches—not much, just a fraction—but enough that you have to actively steady it before responding.

"Not sure. Feeling a little jittery, but that’s normal after some time away, right?"”

He shrugs, still watching you, but lets it go. You’re left with Emily and JJ, who are looking at something on JJ’s phone, heads bent close together. 

You smile a little. It’s good to have her back. 

You grab a few random papers—something, anything—and cross the bridge, stopping outside Aaron’s office.

You don’t need to speak. You don’t really even pause. Just a meaningful glance—a beat too long, a breath too deep.

He clocks it immediately. His eyes track yours, and something in his expression flickers. Acknowledgement. Understanding.

You keep walking.

You get down to your desk. Folders in, loose papers out. You don’t really care what they are, but you make a show of it, slow and methodical. Just in case anyone’s watching.

You take them to the copy room.

Sixty seconds later, Aaron joins you. The door clicks shut behind him.

You barely wait a breath. Your body moves before your brain does—a step forward, then another, and then you’re pressing yourself into his chest, arms winding tight around his waist.

He exhales as he catches you, his hands finding their place, firm and sure. One at the small of your back, the other settling between your shoulder blades. He doesn’t say anything—just holds you close, steady, solid.

“Are you okay?” 

You nod. “Just a hard transition.” 

“Yeah.” 

You’re quiet for a minute, content to melt into his arms, let all your stress drop out of you through your toes. “I miss you.” 

He hums. It’s almost an amused sound. “I miss you too.” 

“It’s silly, because you’re right here, but -” 

“No, I get it. Not the same as being at home.” 

You sigh into him. "No, it’s not."

He holds you just a little tighter for a moment—just long enough to tell you he means it.

Then, a breath. A return to center..

"Alright," he murmurs, softer now. "Fake copy that file, and I’ll meet you at the jet."

+++

There’s a thin layer of tension coating the inside of the jet, but it’s easy enough to ignore if you try hard enough. 

Spencer shoulder-checks JJ on his way to put his bag away and you watch, stunned, as he does absolutely nothing to help her as she stumbles, nearly falling into you in the bank of seats by the table. You catch her and let her grab your hand to steady herself. 

“Thanks,” she says. It almost sounds sad. 

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it.”

She offers you a thin smile and you realize her jaw is tight, her smile only reaches her eyes by the barest amounts. You flip your hand, catching her wrist as she pulls away, and meet her eyes. 

The guilt is eating her up, and Spencer isn’t helping. 

It’s okay. 

She shakes her head, but smiles as if to reassure you, wrapping her fingers around yours and squeezing once. You hold her gaze. 

I gotchu. 

You know she knows. She softens and leans against Emily’s chair, studiously ignoring Spencer as he sits just about as far away as he can get without completely excluding himself from the group. You shift as the rest of the team joins you, taking a place on the arm of the sofa between Aaron and Spencer. 

“Victimology is very similar,” Aaron says, almost to himself. “Blond-haired, blue-eyed teenage girls.”

“Local PD believes they were abducted close to nearby public transit stops,” JJ adds. You look through the maps, noting the routes of the buses common to both stops. There’s only one, and you file it for later.

Emily holds up a picture of one of the victims. “When was this photo taken?”

“Beth was caught on a bank surveillance camera three hours before she disappeared,” he gestures to the other photo in her hand. “That’s a recent photo of Abby.”

“So, she wasn’t found in the same clothes she was abducted in?” Emily asks. 

You lean forward. “Maybe the ones she was wearing were burned by the acid?” 

“It’s possible,” Spencer says. “Sulfuric acid can turn human flesh into soap.” 

Gross. 

Aaron turns to Penelope on the monitor, “Garcia, any recent similar cases in the surrounding area?”

“Actually, yes. Two months ago a prostitute and a runaway were both found raped and killed and they had stab wounds to their eyes.”

“Could this be an escalation?” You ask. 

JJ’s brow furrows. “Maybe he practiced on high-risk victims first.”

Derek finishes her thought, “And then advanced to chemical enucleation.”

“Isn’t that a rare paraphilia?” JJ’s question is one you also had. 

You almost expect Spencer to answer, being the expert on all things odd or weird or otherwise rare, but Emily answers instead. “Well. the chemical part is. It would exacerbate the pain.”

Dave makes a comment about Ed Kemper and surrogates, but it’s nothing new. Surrogate murder is almost cliche at this point among serial killers with a specific victim profile. 

Aaron makes assignments and you land with JJ and Spencer, headed to the abduction sites when you land. You watch as JJ attempts to connect with Spencer like you had this morning, but he pointedly looks away from her, studying the file in his lap with a tight set of his mouth. 

This is going to be a long day.  

+++

“So, Beth got off the bus here and headed northwest toward class,” you recap, using the map and tracing your finger along the path. You look down the sidewalk as the three of you walk her last route, seeing an average amount of foot traffic and plenty of witness opportunities. 

JJ seems to read your mind. “It’s amazing no one witnessed her abduction.”

“I was think-” 

Spencer cuts you off. “Emily was buried six feet under and wound up in Paris, so I guess anything is possible, right?”

Yeah. His attitude this morning? Definitely not about you.

“So, that’s what this is about,” JJ says flatly.

Spencer carries on as if she hasn’t said anything at all. “Maybe our unsub's a little bit like Bundy. He feigns injury in order to get her to help him.”

JJ tries again and you feel more and more like an unwanted witness by the moment. JJ cuts him off with her body, stepping in front of him. “Look, Spence, if you want to talk about this -”

He continues to talk over her, “Maybe he tried other tactics, like, ‘Wow, you're really pretty. You should be a model. I can take your photo.’” 

She looks at you with a mixture of hurt and incredulity.  You take a big breath and shake your head. 

It’s not worth it right now. He’s not ready.

Regardless, she persists. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Either one would disarm her,” Spencer says. 

You step halfway between them, hoping to create a subtle buffer. “Charm is quite the killer.”

“So are tears.” He carries on, hardly taking a breath between thoughts. “Whatever his ruse was, the unsub mostly likely used it to get her into his vehicle.”

“Well,” you answer. “If Abby was last seen at a bus stop a few miles away, then he definitely has a means of transportation.”

“Hopefully the disposal site will tell us more.” Spencer’s already walking away before he finished his thought, leaving you and JJ looking dumbly after him. 

After a second, you remember your purpose and follow, JJ on your heels.

+++

You meet Derek and Emily at one thrift store Aaron sent you to and you split up to cover more ground. You share a significant, loaded look with Derek, who then comes up with some way to rearrange Aaron’s assignments. He keeps JJ and Reid together, swapping you for Emily. 

You’re thankful, and your mission is successful. You and Derek find Abby’s clothes, hawked or traded for the items she was wearing when her body was found. The clerk identifies them, confirming that they were genuine 80s vintage sold at his store. 

Helpful, indeed.

On the way back to the station, Derek surprises you with an unrelated question. “So you’re pissed at him, right?” 

You look over at him, driving (to this point) in silence. “Hm?”

“Hotch. You’re pissed at him, too, right?”

You weigh your options. You could exaggerate how upset you are, citing and harkening back to Aaron’s return (leaving out the sex part), or you could be honest. You split the difference. 

“Well, I screamed at him a bunch when he got back. I’m less mad now than I was then, but that’s not a high bar.” You shrug. “I’m more upset about Pakistan than Emily though, if I’m honest.”

Derek nods. “I get that.”

“I know that wouldn’t be the case for you,” you continue, “since you were there when she, you know.” 

“Yeah.” 

You sit in silence for a minute. “So, how pissed are you?”

“I’m not happy, I can tell you that much.”

You resist the urge to parrot him. I get that. “Right.”

“Do I think it was a stupid and hurtful choice? Yeah.” He sighs. “Do I get it on some level? Also yeah. I mean -“ He huffs. “I can also understand the position they were in, you know? I mean, I wasn’t unit chief for long but there’s a lot you can’t -“ He cuts himself off. “I get it. I do. I’m still mad.”

You nod. “That’s fair. And I think I feel the same way. I get it, but that doesn’t help me be less-pissed, you know?”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “I’m worried about Reid.”

Your mouth twists. “Me too. There’s a lot of anger there and it’s leaking like a shitty faucet.”

Derek shakes his head. “He’s not like us, you know? He’s not good at stuffing his feelings -“

“Not that that’s an admirable quality, or anything,” you add wryly. 

Derek laughs lightly, deflecting. “No, but it can help with stuff like this.”

“Right.”

The two of you sit in silence after that. 

+++

Aaron looks over his shoulder from the board when you and Derek walk in, a little crinkle in his brow. “Where’re Reid and JJ?”

“With Emily,” you answer. When you get closer you murmur, “I’ll tell you later.” 

He nods and turns back to the board, writing labels in his blocky handwriting. “I’ve asked the chief to assemble his shift change officers for a profile delivery,” he says, only loud enough for you to hear. “Do you think we have enough?” 

“When Dave and the others get back from the dumpsite, I think we will. Three victims, we have the pattern and can deliver our conclusions from there.” You look over at him, studying the board with your arms crossed, and you know your face softens when your eyes meet. 

It’s so cheesy. So lame. But damn it, he makes you so happy. 

Disgusting. 

The eye closest to the board pinches in a lightning fast wink and you smother a bigger smile as Derek joins you, putting his notes under the photos of Abby and Beth. 

“We getting ready for profile delivery?” He asks. 

“Mhm,” you answer. You mark the latest dump site on the map. “Just waiting on the others to get back.” 

+++

Before the profile delivery, the team holes up in one of the conference rooms to comb through the findings so far. It’s…rough. To say the least. 

Spencer makes another little snide comment. You inhale deeply through your nose, jaw tightening. He’s been like this for days, snapping at JJ, sniping at Aaron. You’ve ignored it. Over and over.

Your fingers tighten around your pen. The back of your neck prickles. 

Breathe in. Hold. Out.

JJ speaks, her voice light but thoughtful. “Could there be something he’s not getting from the women in his life? Something he’s missing?”

“Wonder what that’s like,” Spencer mutters under his breath, but the sharp edge in his tone makes it clear he doesn’t mean the unsub.

Your pen slams onto the desk with a crack. “Goddamn it, Spencer. That’s enough.”

“What?!” He says, his voice crawling up a couple octaves. “What did I say?” He has the gall to look offended that you called him out.

“What haven’t you said?” You throw your hands and sit back in your chair. Hot, ugly anger flares in your sternum and you simply don’t care that the rest of the team is staring at you in various states of shock and concern. “You’re being mean. You’re being mean and pretending like you aren’t and I’ve fucking had it.” 

He has the nerve to look indignant. “Wh-”

“Don’t you think I’ve heard - that we’ve all heard - the innumerable little chirps and passive aggressive bullshit you’ve said to JJ and Hotch since we got back?” 

“They aren’t innumerable,” he snarks. 

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh. So we’re acknowledging them now? And counting them? That’s nice.” You can hear your last name leave Aaron’s mouth as a word of warning. You ignore him. There’s silence for a moment. You cross your arms. “Are you going to say anything else, or are you done? I’m sure either of them would be happy to discuss it with you—if you acted like a grown-up.”  

“Bullshit!” Spencer spits. “They -” he points at JJ and Aaron, whose faces are hard and hurt. “- weren’t acting like grown ups when they lied to our faces.”

“They were, actually.” You sound petulant, but you can’t really bring yourself to feel bad about it. 

“Oh, really?” It’s not a real question, but you’re happy to provide him with an answer. 

“Yes, really. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do.” Your voice is louder than you want, and you’ve straightened in your chair, jabbing your finger into the table.  

Spencer’s eyes harden. “So, you’re not mad at them at all, right? Academy hotshot, child prodigy that you are, right? Who defends every fucking thing that comes out of Hotch’s mouth, right?” 

Ouch. 

You get quiet. In your peripheral vision, you see JJ cover her mouth to cover her jaw dropping to the floor. Derek plants his hands on the table, moving to stand, and you wave him off. This is not worth Derek being on Spencer’s shit list too, especially not on your behalf. There’s thunder behind Aaron’s carefully controlled expression, and you know he’s holding back his worser instincts. Emily looks down at the conference room table and it only adds to your anger that she looks ashamed. 

She has nothing to feel bad about. 

Beyond that, the jab about Hotch isn’t worth mentioning. Plus, it really hurts. “I’m pissed, Spencer, but I am not -” and regrettably, your volume increases with every word, “- shortsighted and selfish enough to think that my feelings are more important than things that matter, like-“ You gesture vaguely, “I don’t know. Emily’s life and safety and international security.” You stand, pushing yourself out of your chair. “Grow up.”

Silence. A charged, suffocating silence.

No one speaks. No one moves. Aaron’s mouth is a firm, thin line. JJ looks stunned, almost hurt. Derek's hands flex against the table, like he’s deciding whether to step in. Emily won’t look up at all.

You turn on your heel and walk out, letting the door shut behind you. Hard.

Outside, the air is sharp in your lungs, but it doesn’t cool the anger burning under your skin. You take in a deep breath, then another, but your pulse still hammers in your throat.

The fresh air outside does nothing to cool you off, but you do gulp down several breaths before you hear the door open and shut behind you again. You know who it is. Though, given Spencer’s comment, you kind of hoped it was Derek. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Aaron says. 

“I wasn’t kidding. I’m fucking sick of it.” You can’t look at him. You’re already embarrassed. You’ve never yelled at Spencer like that, let alone in the middle of a conference room that may or may not be soundproof. At best, it’s unprofessional. At worst… “You should write me up now and save yourself some time when we get home.” 

Aaron steps up beside you, leaning against the railing, his shoulder brushing yours. “I’m not going to write you up.” 

You sniff. 

“I’m not going to write Reid up, either.” 

Your mouth twists. “We’re all mad. I get it. Some of us are just professional enough to shut the fuck up about it.” 

“Right,” Aaron says. You can hear a laugh in it, though his face doesn’t change. “Like we’re professionals.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

He sobers. “I do. I tried talking to him about it but I’ll try again. It’s not fair, to JJ in particular. He’s lashing out at her - it’s targeted and I’ve about had enough of it myself.” He pauses for a moment. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. It’s been a while since you’ve lost it like that.” 

Hot tears prick at your eyes. “I’ve never lost it on Spencer like that. Any of them, really.” 

“Just me, huh?” 

Your eyes flash to him for a moment, the side of your mouth tipping up. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not. But it does tell me you care.” 

You take a big breath and the burning behind your eyes melts away to a simple headache. The heels of your hands scrub into your eye sockets until you see color behind your lids. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be back in to apologize.” 

“Take your time. You don’t have to apologize now, or ever, honestly.” He adds the last bit under his breath before continuing. “I’ll separate the two of you for the day and see where we land.” He taps the railing twice and shifts his weight to leave. 

“Aaron?” 

He turns back, looking at you, half-turned toward the door “Hmm?” 

You look at him, your lower lip disappearing into your mouth, hoping he understands. With the smallest of smiles, he reaches out and briefly (briefly) squeezes your bicep and turns, disappearing into the station. 

+++

The conference room is silent when you come back. You sit down and pick up your pen, forcing yourself to twirl it casually between your fingers. Aaron already planted himself in the chair beside yours, his breathing even as he marks up a copy of one of the reports, his right hand splayed over the paper. 

Spencer spins in his chair, a folder in his lap. Emily tapes the latest photos to the whiteboard mechanically, her eyes following her hands just a second too late. 

Dave sits in the corner, his ankle propped on his knee, his hand supporting his face. He looks at you, his eyes the only thing moving. His eyebrow twitches. 

You shake your head. It’s fine. 

Derek stands and taps your shoulder. “I’m going for a drive and I could use your eyes on this before we go for profile with the shift change.” 

You nod and stand, grabbing your coat, recognizing the effort for what it is. At least Derek’s attempting to be subtle about it. 

The door doesn’t quite slam when you get into the car, but it comes close. You cringe a little and settle as Derek rounds the back bumper, checks the trunk, and hops in. 

There’s silence as he pulls out of the station parking lot and gets onto the four-lane out of town. 

“So, where are we going?” You ask. You hope you don’t sound too cross, but you’re not even sure how you’re feeling right now, if you’re completely honest with yourself. 

Derek turns onto the highway. “Out. Figured it would be nice to get out of there for a minute.” 

You pull a face. “Was it that bad after I left?”

“No,” Derek says. He sounds convincing but you’re not sure he’s that good. “But I think everyone could use a little space.”

“From me, you mean.” 

“Including you,” he says, glancing over briefly. “There’s a lot of bad blood in there. Thought you might need a break.”

You’re quiet for a minute. “Was I too far out of line?” You do your best not to sound like you’re begging for affirmation or whining too much, but it may be a lost cause. “I know I’ve never really lost it like that on any of you except - well.” You cut yourself off. “I just want to make sure I wasn’t too ridiculous or overblown or anything.” 

Derek shakes his head. “Reid was out of line, and I’m not surprised you called him on it. You didn’t say anything untrue or hurtful.”

“Favor wasn’t returned, obviously.”

“Yeah… that was…” Derek lets out a breath. “I’m sorry.” 

“You didn’t say it.” 

A moment of silence passes. 

“I don’t defend Hotch that much do I?” You ask, your voice small. It’s not sudden, but Spencer’s comment unlocked some not-so-hidden insecurity that everyone can see through you, that you play favorites and Hotch is the recipient of most of your affection in the field. It doesn’t feel true, but you’re not sure if your perception is warped.

Derek reaches over and clasps your shoulder fondly. “No. We can always count on you to have his back, but it’s not like it’s a punchline or anything.” He pauses. “Why? You worried about what he said?”

“I dunno,” you say, shrugging. “It just struck a nerve and I wanted to check.” 

“It struck a nerve because Reid meant to lash out.” Derek’s eyes stay on the road, but his voice is calm. Too calm. “It was meant to hurt your feelings.”

Your throat tightens. “How do you know?”

He shrugs, easy and confident. “Because it’s not true. You push Hotch just as much as you back him up.” He glances at you, a knowing glint in his eye. “You do it because you love him.”

Your stomach drops. The words hit you with the force of a sucker punch, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Am I that obvious?

Derek continues on blithely, as if he’s said nothing of consequence. “It would be like if someone threw Garcia in my face. I’d jump in front of a moving train for her, so what?” He shrugs and you try to relax. “It’s fine to be close to people, to go out of your way to support them.” He glances over. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, too quickly. “I’m fine.” 

A smile curves at the edge of Derek’s mouth. “Your secret’s safe with me, kid. Though I’m not sure how much of a secret it is anymore.”

This is not helping your adrenaline situation. You turn on the seat warmer and shove your hands under your thighs to hide their shaking. 

“What secret?”

Derek throws you a sardonic look. “C’mon. We all know there’s something going on there.” 

You shake your head and you just know it’s not convincing. You weren’t prepared for this. “Nothing more so than usual. Hotch and I have always been -”

“If you say ‘close,’ I’m gonna pull this damn car over.” 

You just frown at him, hoping it plays at confusion. To your chagrin, Derek sighs and takes the exit, getting back on the highway in the other direction before speaking again. 

“One of these days,” he starts, “you’re going to have to figure out what to do about that. Just -” He huffs. “- just be brave, okay?”

You're quiet. Any attempt to protest would just be damning, and any attempt to explain what you have, in fact, already done about that would nullify your attempt to have something (for once) that’s just for you and Aaron.

And, of course, you can’t mention that what you have ‘done about that’ includes, but is not limited to, Aaron himself. 

Sigh…

Derek surprises you, reaching over again to make contact. You hold his offered hand in two of your own. Maybe some tremors are warranted, now.

The police station is in sight when Derek speaks again. “Is Hotch going to write you up?”

You shake your head. “He’s not writing Reid up either.”

“Good,” Derek replies, releasing your hand so he can park, “best to keep this in-house.” 

You hum your assent and move to unbuckle your seatbelt, but Derek stops you, demanding your eyes with his hand over yours. You look up at him. 

“Remember what I said, okay?” 

You must look lost, because he clarifies.

“Be brave. It’ll be okay. You were brave with Spencer today and -”

You scoff and he grabs your hand. 

“I’m serious. You stood up for yourself and for JJ and Hotch. You did the right thing.”

“Really?” 

“Look - I don’t completely disagree with Reid and I am plenty mad at them, but there’s a way to go about it and that’s not it.” He pauses, making sure you understand. “I’m proud of you.”

+++

When you and Derek return, the rest of the team is ready to deliver the profile. 

Aaron addresses the assembled officers, introducing the team and giving a brief primer on the case and its scope for those who haven’t been on shift since you arrived. “We’re here to help your department and assist in narrowing your subject pool.” He pauses, briefing them on how the profile delivery works and how to apply it. 

With a jolt, you realize it’s been several weeks since you’ve seen him perform this standard task. The last time you saw him deliver a profile, it was before Pakistan, before… everything. 

It’s surreal. 

You don’t know it, but Emily catches you watching him, an unfathomably deep affection in your eyes and a soft smile on your face. She takes a note and tries to see what you see, but instead catches him catching you, meeting your eyes with a dubious kind of teasing in his own. You startle and drop your eyes. He looks back at the officers, a smile threatening at the corner of his mouth. 

…Interesting.

“We believe the unsub or unknown subject that we're looking for is a white male in his 40s,” Aaron says, kicking you all off. “This is someone who's reacting to rejection by a woman when he was teenager in the 1980s. He's punishing his victims for their reactions to him by taking away their senses with sulfuric acid.”

Dave adds on. “We believe our unsub could possibly work part-time as a janitor or a mechanic, which would give him access to this chemical.”

“And after studying the disposal sites, we think it's likely that he is homeless,” Derek says. “Now, how do we typically react toward the homeless? We judge them by their looks and smells. It's that same negative reaction we believe that a woman had toward the unsub at some point in the eighties.”

“The unsub's fixation on this woman is now all-consuming,” you add, gesturing easily and casually to your audience. These presentations have become easier over the years and feel second-nature now. “It caused him to develop Obsessive Love Disorder, characterized by compulsive and dysfunctional behavior focused on the object of the unsub’s fixation. He most likely has tunnel vision and believes that she holds the key to his happiness.”

“He will stalk her in an attempt to win her back,” Emily adds.

JJ jumps in next. “He will do whatever it takes to be near his love interest. But her rejection will spiral him into a depression.”

“Which would lead to rape and murder of the surrogates who represent her.” Reid cuts straight to the point, driving it home. “And it's only a matter of time before this rage and anger causes the unsub to go after her directly.”

Aaron thanks the assembled when everyone’s done presenting their findings, and makes himself available for questions. 

+++

You rest your temple on your finger as you look over Emily’s notes, combing through anything you may have missed. The rest of the team is out at the board. You’ve decided to place yourself in exile at this point, not trusting yourself to behave well enough for mixed company. 

“Spence, we have to talk about this,” JJ says, following Reid into your conference room at a decent clip as he blusters into the room, haphazardly collecting and gathering folders to his chest.

Oh, shit. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

JJ persists. “I get it, okay? You're disappointed with the way we handled Emily.”

“Listen, I have a lot going on, all right?” Spencer says, still avoiding her.

“You know what I think it is?” She asks. “You're mad that Hotch and I controlled our micro-expressions at the hospital and you weren't able to detect our deception.”

And that’s my cue to… get the fuck out of here.

You gather the notes and slip out of the conference room, taking refuge at Aaron’s side. You can’t hear JJ or Spencer clearly anymore and it feels better that way. Sure, you’re all privy to way more than normal colleagues, but this feels uniquely private. It would be intrusive for you to stay, especially after your little display only an hour or so ago. 

You’d almost feel bad for Spencer if he weren’t piling it all on himself. 

“Spence!” JJ calls after him as he backs out of the conference room. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late, alright?” He turns and tries to leave, passing you all at the board.

Emily’s fingers worry the corner of the report she’s holding. “Reid…?”

Everyone’s eyes follow Spencer as he takes your worn path out of the station. When the door closes behind him, the rest of you turn back to JJ, whose lashes are wet. She looks devastated. She takes a breath and turns, hiding from everyone’s eyes. 

You swallow and look at Aaron, feeling useless and helpless. He’s still watching JJ, his face hard. 

+++

“It would have had to have been a woman very close to the unsub to make him react this way,” Aaron says.

He stands at the corner of the table, Dave and JJ seated on either side of him. You stand over Emily’s shoulder, occasionally watching the door. 

Spencer’s been gone for hours now. All of you have texted him, but he’s only responded to Hotch to confirm he is, in fact, alive. 

“Then why go after surrogates?” You ask. “Surely with someone so close, he wouldn’t have to sublimate his rage?”

Aaron tips his head and takes a breath to answer, but Reid’s reappearance stops him short. 

“I don't think we're dealing with a typical homeless person. He's good with chemicals, owns a car.” He walks to the head of the table, by the board, and addresses all of you. “I think the only mistake in our profile was assuming there was something wrong with his physical composition, reducing him to some sort of stereotype.”

Welcome back? 

JJ blinks a few times and casts her eyes downward, studying the wood grain. There’s shame and sadness leaching from her every pore. Your eyes bounce from her to Aaron, whose eyes are on Spencer. Careful. Watchful.

“You think it's only his mental state?” Dave asks.

“I think this guy might be smart enough to use his disability to his advantage so he comes across as harmless.”

Derek nods, considering it. “Then when he's alone and the victim rejects him, he goes off.”

“What if he doesn't live on the street?” JJ asks, her tone flat. “What if he's in a halfway house?”

Aaron already has Penelope on the line. “Garcia, I need a list of halfway houses and mental health centers in the unsub's comfort zone.”

She provides five, and Aaron narrows it further to two with parameters related to the 80s. 

He sends Derek and Emily to the first, and assigns you and Dave with him for the second. 

That leaves Reid and JJ alone. Here. In the station. 

“What about us?” JJ must have the same thought, because she sounds a little worried.

“Stay here and check ViCAP for similar M.O.s and signatures.” Aaron pauses as she leaves her chair, taking the long way around the table. “Reid,” he says in a tone that brokers no room for argument. “If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me.”

“I can't. I didn't come to your house crying for weeks.”

Reid’s voice is brittle, laced with something harsher than hurt, and it lands like a slap as he glares at you. The accusation is clear—you aren’t as devastated as him, as wrecked, as broken. Maybe you don’t care as much. Maybe you’re weaker for forgiving so quickly, for understanding.

And then, before you can even take a full breath, he’s gone—fast, too fast, like he couldn’t get away from you quickly enough.

Aaron hasn’t moved, except for his eyes—still locked on the door, his jaw tight, unreadable.

You take a breath, roll your shoulders back. “For what it’s worth, I did come to your house crying for weeks.”

Your voice is lighter than you feel, edged with something that isn’t quite humor, but isn’t bitterness either. You’re not sure what it is, really—only that it sits deep in your ribs, thick and unmoving. It’s the thing keeping you from committing fully, probably. 

Aaron finally looks at you. Really looks at you. His eyes soften.

“And I’m not that mad at you.”

“I know.” He pauses. “Thank you for being so… understanding.” You know he wants to say more, but there are eyes and ears everywhere. 

One side of your mouth tips up as you stand. “Anytime.”

+++

You’re back before Derek and Emily. Their spot was further and you’re sure Aaron sent them to that one on purpose. The extent of his awareness when it comes to interpersonal strategy can only be chalked up to his background in law. You’re just glad he’s using his powers for good now. 

He gets a call from Derek, who must report back on his findings. He shares yours as well. “We got eleven from the one we visited.” 

Eleven possible suspects, in addition to however many Derek and Emily found. You check your watch. It’s been the longest day of your life so far, you’re pretty sure. 

“Send your names to Garcia. Have her cross-check them against jobs that use sulfuric acid.”

Aaron hangs up and you continue walking down the hall, posting up on the other side of Dave.

“How’s Reid?” Dave asks. 

“He's angry and frustrated. I'm surprised everybody isn't.” He looks meaningfully at you. You shrug. 

Dave also offers a shrug. “Some of us had an inkling.” 

You look incredulously at Dave, your eyebrows furrowed. “There’s no way.” 

“What?” He asks. “I'm good at what I do.” After a pause, you’ve corrected your face and he turns more directly to Aaron. The three of you form a little triangle. “So, are you gonna get psychological counseling for the team or handle it internally?”

You can see the wheels turning before Dave even finishes his thought, noting the dangerous glint of amusement in Aaron’s eyes. “No, I think that if we all just got together, maybe a cooking lesson at the home of one of one of our founders -”

“Oh no,” Dave says, cutting him off. “Not you, too.” 

“It could boost morale,” you add, unhelpful in the extreme. 

Aaron nods. “I think it’s almost a guarantee.”

“Is this an order?” Dave asks, seeming to accept defeat.

“No, it's just a - it's a very tempered suggestion.” There’s humor in his entire demeanor, and you find yourself grinning. 

Dave repeats him sardonically before walking away. “Tempered suggestion.”

You rejoin JJ and Spencer, who appear to be working in tense silence over the ViCAP reports. Aaron assigns you and Dave to call families and get a sense of your eleven possible unsubs. It’s tedious work and half of them don’t pick up. 

Dave looks over at you, tipping his head toward Spencer. “Sure you’re not sick of us?”

You let out a short, breathy laugh, flicking your gaze toward him before returning to your work. “Never.”

Rossi hums, rolling a toothpick between his fingers. He leans in slightly, dropping his voice just enough for the words to slip in under your radar.

“Not everyone would’ve turned that down, you know.”

You don’t ask what he means. You don’t need to.

You don’t look up, your tone dismissive. “Didn’t want it.”

That should be the end of it. And maybe it is—for you.

But Rossi’s eyes flicker past you, toward the figure standing a few feet behind you. Hotch had approached, unnoticed, in the middle of the exchange. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t interrupt.

Just… stands there.

Watching.

And for a split second, Rossi catches something flicker across his face.

“So we interviewed the 19 people released from the group home,” Derek says, returning with Emily. “None of them fit the profile.”

You sit back, dropping your phone on the table. “We’re trying to reach families but it’s slow going.” 

One of the local detectives comes in with a new file. “Tammy Bradstone's parents just filed a report. Their daughter didn't return from homecoming.”

“Her face is similar to our three vics,” Emily says.

JJ’s face is sober, still a little watery from her rough afternoon with Spencer. “She's about the same age.”

“Well, the after party where she was last seen was smack in the comfort zone,” the detective says.

+++

The interviews with Tammy’s friends stretch long into the night, exhaustion creeping into every syllable, every note scribbled too hastily. It was already late before you started—now, it’s edging into cruel.

After Tammy’s boyfriend, you drop your head onto the table, exhaling in a slow, deliberate breath, fighting the yawn clawing at your throat. The words on your notepad blur.

A chair rolls back. Aaron leans forward, his voice even but softer than usual. “Alright. That’s enough for now.” He rubs his temple briefly before straightening. “Morgan and Prentiss, you take the parents’ house in the morning. We’ll keep going with interviews here.”

"Leave your phones on," he adds, already moving toward the door. “But get some rest.”

You drive with Aaron and Emily back to the hotel, taking the backseat to avoid any unnecessary temptation for your taxed and tired brain. 

“Goodnight,” Emily says. She steps out of the car and opens her arms. You step into her embrace and lay your head on her shoulder, holding her tight. You close your eyes and breathe her in, letting the peace of her presence settle you. 

Aaron walks ahead to give you and Emily some time, turning back to wait for the both of you. 

You pull back from her, holding onto her arms with affectionate hands. “Goodnight, Em.”

“Calling the boyfriend tonight?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Emily stops, tilting her head at you, skepticism written all over her face. She lets the silence stretch just long enough for you to feel it. Then—

"Right." A single nod. Her eyes flick to Hotch, standing a polite distance away, and then back to you.

"Not your boyfriend." She pauses, her voice suddenly laced with amusement. “Is that for your benefit, or so that Hotch won’t fly into a jealous rage?”

“Like he’s capable of that. Or would have any reason to.” You roll your eyes and firmly, but with humor, repeat yourself. “Goodnight, Em.”

She idly wonders if you’re terrible at lying, or terrible at being in denial. 

+++

To your shock and awe, you get a text from Aaron before bed. 

11:13pm Check outside your door. 

You make a face. 

11:13pm Why?

Your fingers hesitate on the door handle, your phone still in your other hand.

The response is almost immediate. 

11:13pm Don’t you trust me?

"Jesus." You roll your eyes but open the door anyway.

Aaron is already stepping inside before you can react. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing you in together. He doesn’t speak—just reaches, slow and deliberate, pulling you in. His hand runs up your back, warm and grounding, before he exhales into your skin. 

The shift in the air is palpable—he’s here. He’s yours. He’s… close. So close.

Your head tilts, your cheek finding his chest, and you close your eyes.

“This is risky business, Mr. Hotchner,” you murmur, a smile in your voice. 

He leans back just enough to take you in. “I missed you.”

“We’ve been spoiled,” you remind him softly. “We just need to get used to it.”

He sighs. “Yeah. I just…I wanted to say goodnight.”

“Did you, now?” You ask, leaning into him. Your tilt your head up, teasing him a little. 

His arms tighten around you and he smiles a warm, gentle smile. “Yeah. I did.” He pauses, swallows, and wets his lips. “I also wanted to kiss you a little.”

“Just a little? - mmph!”

His mouth is already on yours. Your hands find his chest, wind over his shoulders, your wrists crossing as you settle against him, your bodies flush. 

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of kissing him, of being in his arms. You can feel him smile against your mouth, his touch slow and indulgent. One hand finds your waist, slipping under your shirt, his thumb stroking your skin. The other pulls you against him, spread over your lower back, the curve in your spine. 

For a split second, you consider ruining the moment—reminding him that somewhere out there, a teenage girl is still missing. But if that were the bar, you’d never have a good day again.

And you’ve learned this much: there will always be something, always someone having the worst day of their life.

It doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to have really good days, too.

He pulls away just enough to plant a chaste peck on the center of your mouth before resting his forehead against yours. You breathe him in—the warmth of him, the spice. His hair has been ungelled all week, and you love the way it flops over his forehead.

“I love you,” he says. 

That’s another thing you’ll never get tired of. 

“I love you.” you whisper. “So much.” 

He hums and nuzzles into you, his nose brushing yours. “I think I’ll have to sneak out of here, but I would like to stay.”

“I know,” you whisper, your arms slipping, your hands coming to rest on either side of his jaw. “We’ll be home soon.”

+++

You’re in the middle of an interview when Hotch pulls you. You join him in the hallway with Dave and Spencer. 

“They have a lead on Ben Bradstone, Tammy’s uncle. Morgan and Prentiss are with the parents and we’re trying to get a message to him.”

“What do we need to do?” You ask, mirroring him and crossing your arms. 

He checks his phone. “I just sent you and Dave the addresses to the mechanic shops where Mr. Bradstone picks up shifts. Reid, you go with Rossi.”

+++

You pull up behind Dave and Spencer at the Bradstone house, getting out of the car and jogging up the drive following your field trip. Derek opens the door. 

“Any luck?”

You answer. “He hasn’t been to either of the shops in the past two months -”

Spencer cuts you off. “But the one on Fourth said a bunch of car batteries had gone missing.”

You and Emily share a grim look as the house phone rings. 

“Wait,” Emily says, her hand up to stop Mrs. Bradstone from answering. 

Derek’s phone starts ringing scant seconds after the house phone. You’re almost certain it’s Penelope. He pauses, listening, then confirms, “It’s him.”

Emily gestures toward the phone, her tone gentle. “Okay, go ahead. Just like we talked about.”

Lyla picks up the phone with shaking hands. “Hello?..” Her breath catches in a sob and you know it’s not entirely fake. “Matt got arrested…They think that he hurt Tammy.” She pauses, shuddering and steeling herself. “Oh, God, Cy. I need you…I just--I--I need you to, uh, come over here and-” Emily reaches over, a note in her hand. Lyla reads it and nods, her voice turning almost mechanical. “I need you to talk. I need you to… hold me… Yes, I - Hurry. I have no one else to turn to.” She hangs up and bolts to her bedroom, trying to recover. “He’s coming.”

“You and Prentiss stay with them,” Dave says, gesturing to you and Spencer. “Morgan and I will get the front.” 

You watch from the living room as Lyla meets Cy on the flagstones in the front yard, watches her shake as he embraces her. She doesn’t wrap her arms around him, stiff and uncomfortable. 

“Cy Bradstone! FBI!” Derek appears from the side of the house. “Put your hands where I can see them! Let me see your hands!”

Dave gets closer. “On your knees, now!”

You get Hotch on the phone. 

“Hotchner,” he says. 

“Aaron? We’re coming in with Cy. I think you’ll need your A-game for this one.”

+++

You stand with Emily and Derek in observation, your arms crossed. 

“We need to know where Tammy is, Cy,” Aaron says. He’s in there with Dave, who stands in the corner. 

“We've looked in your car. There's no sign of her.” Dave is half in shadow, lurking on the side of the interrogation room without any lights.

“We know this isn't about Tammy,” Aaron says. “This is about your love for Lyla.”

“Lyla?” Cy asks. “Lie-la!” 

Dave starts the mid-game, prompting Cy to share information he wouldn’t otherwise. Aaron backs him up, prompting him along. Dave gets closer as you watch, affirming Cy’s worldview and redirecting his anger toward Lyla. 

Eventually, he agrees to tell you where she is. On one condition. 

You make eye contact with Aaron as he escorts Tammy’s father into interrogation. You sure?

His expression is sober, serious. We’ll be right there.

Your skepticism may have been well-placed. Aaron and Dave both have a hand on Mr. Bradstone’s shoulders as he lunges across the table at his brother, who laughs maniacally at his brother’s anger, hurt, and fear. 

Good God.

You and Derek head toward the cars, pending an address. You buckle in, your vest already on. 

“Ready?” Derek asks. “It could get bad in there.”

“I’ll be okay as long as we find her alive,” you assure him. “And even if we don’t, I’ll handle it.” 

You’re a little more explicit than you normally would be, but Spencer’s shoddy communication has brought that out of you in the last couple of days. The address appears on your phone, Derek broadcasts it on the radio, and you're off. A follow up text appears, moments later.

2:47pm Be safe.

You reply before stuffing your phone in your pocket. 

2:47pm Always.

When you get to the house, Tammy is alive, but unconscious. Holstering your gun, Emily calls for medics and you look at the shelves full of tapes, pulling box after box with Derek. 

You don’t envy the PD or the prosecutor in this case.

+++

You don’t realize how forlornly you’re staring out the window until Emily sits beside you. You’ve been so focused on not looking at Aaron too much or sitting too near to Aaron or touching Aaron too much or laughing too hard at what he says--

“You alright?” 

It’s exhausting. 

You snap out of your reverie. “Yeah. Just thinking.” 

She almost laughs. “It’s funny to see you so eager to get home. He must really be something, huh?” 

You don’t reply right away, but a little smile pulls at the corner of your lips. “I guess.” 

Emily scoffs and you catch Aaron’s smirk behind his tablet. “You guess?” 

“What do you want me to say, Em? Is it a crime to like the person you’re seeing?” There’s no heat in it at all and you grin at her.

Aaron’s expression morphs into something damn-near theatrical for him, looking mock-critical before he shakes his head as if seriously answering your question. 

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking, keeping your face as neutral and serene as you can manage. He managed to conduct that entirely within your peripheral vision, sitting a couple rows away, just over Emily’s shoulder. 

“Well, it’s kind of a big deal, right? Like, when do any of us date?“

That’s a fair point. “Okay, true. But just because we don’t have lives doesn’t mean you get to harass me, though.” You raise your eyebrows, challenging her. 

“Oh,” she says through a sardonic laugh. “I totally think it does.”

+++

Eventually, you retire to the (shockingly unoccupied, except for Aaron) couch. You stretch, laying down, your travel pillow under your head. Aaron shifts, making a move to get up, and you wave him off. 

“Don’t bother,” you tell him, closing your eyes. “There’s plenty of space.”

He murmurs his thanks and you’re chuffed by your “normal” act. He sounds very casual, as if he doesn’t care either way. You’re impressed. You both know your lines. The blocking, however, could use some work. 

With that in mind, you make sure there’s respectable distance between you and Aaron. You have to, at least, give the impression that you tried. 

You shift in your seat, curling deeper into the couch cushions. Your slipper socks slide against the leather. Absentmindedly, in what could only be coincidence, your leg extends just enough—just barely—to brush against the outside of Aaron’s thigh.

You feel the shift in his breathing before anything else.

Predictably, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t shift away. Doesn’t even acknowledge it. But the weight of the contact lingers, warm and solid, grounding you more than the couch cushions ever could.

Derek, Dave, and JJ have settled, snoozing peacefully at the table. Spencer has exiled himself to the little bank of seats furthest away from you. 

You hear someone - presumably Emily, pass you and sit by Spencer. She’s making the rounds, apparently. 

Aaron murmurs to you once she’s out of earshot. “Are you asleep?”

You shake your head, burrowing deeper into the couch cushions. He sighs and rises, rummaging around in one of the storage areas. Moments later, you’re covered with a blanket, your feet tucked in. He takes his seat next to you once again and settles, his arm up on the back of the couch. 

“Get some sleep,” you murmur. You’re not sure how audible you are. 

A hand pats your calf, and you know he’s ignoring you. 

After a while, you really do fall asleep, the security of his presence beside you lulling you into the dark. 

+++

You finish getting ready, walking into the bedroom where Aaron is slipping his belt through the buckle, tightening it with a practiced tug. The worn, gray knit polo stretches across his shoulders as he moves, soft enough to touch, fitted enough to remind you just how unfairly broad he is. The silver watch on his wrist glints under the lamplight as he pulls on the leather.

"Ready?" His voice is low, steady—far too casual for the way his eyes flick over you. “We could drive separately, but I think they’ll buy that I gave you a ride if you don’t feel like taking two cars.”

You step closer, your fingers skimming along the leather of his belt, slipping the excess into the first loop. His muscles tense, just slightly, under your touch. His breath stays even, but his eyes drop—watching your hands, sharp and focused. Not quite surprised. Just… aware.

Your smile widens. "As opposed to what?”

He looks up, masking amusement with mock consideration. “That we’re keeping this grand secret from them that will surely confirm their sincerely held belief that we’ve been sleeping together for ages?”

You hum, tapping the belt at his hips once before letting go. “I think a ride is a much easier pill to swallow.”

You lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, just the barest brush of your lips against the warmth of his skin. When you move past him, he follows—like he always does, like he always has.

Then, with infuriating ease, his palm finds your backside. A light swat—just enough to get your attention.

You spin fast, forcing him to stop short—his chin retracting, his hands raised in a wordless show of surrender. But his smirk gives him away.

"You keep that up," you warn, tilting your head, “and we’re gonna be late.”

His smirk deepens. Slow. Knowing. "Promise?"

Your stomach flips. You roll your eyes and turn back around, grabbing your coat off the back of the couch. “You drive me nuts,” you tell him, poorly covering your body’s response to him.

Aaron passes you on his way to the door, close enough that the warmth of him lingers. His voice is silk and smirk, low enough for just you to hear.

"As long as I’m driving, baby.” 

You aim a glare at his back. He only chuckles, opening the door for you like the gentleman he pretends to be. But just as you pass, his hand catches you—just a single finger hooked at your shoulder. The warmth of his touch is barely there, but it pins you in place.

You glance up, a question forming on your lips—but you never get the chance to ask.

Aaron tilts his head down, catching your mouth in a kiss that is sweet, slow, and utterly consuming. His palm slides to your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, as if he’s memorizing the shape of you before stepping into the role of Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief (Even on the Weekends), again.

You exhale softly, a pleased little sound slipping from your throat as your free hand spreads over his chest—broad and steady beneath your touch.

He doesn’t pull away quickly. No, he lingers. Like he’s the one trying to make this last. Like he’s just as reluctant to leave the warmth of home behind.

When he does finally pull back, his lips barely leave yours, his forehead brushing against you as he murmurs, “That should hold us over for a few hours, yes?”

You inhale, eyes still closed, willing your heart to slow. Then, with a smirk you don’t really feel, you shrug and throw on your jacket. "If you say so.”

Aaron huffs, rolling his eyes like he’s unaffected—but you can see it in the tight set of his jaw, in the flicker of his fingers like he’s fighting the urge to pull you back. He locks the door behind you, ushering you into the car. He’s a real gentleman about certain things - ensuring you never touch a door handle again seems to be one of them. 

Aaron’s hand finds yours the second he’s settled in the driver’s seat. Palm up. Waiting. Like it belongs there. You don’t squeeze, don’t fidget. Just let the heat settle between your fingers, a quiet tether in the space between you as the houses blur past the windows.

When you pull up to Dave’s, you release him without a word.

By the time you step onto the driveway, you’ve put enough space between you to avoid any hint of suggestion.

You reach the door first, knocking and letting yourself in. “Hello!” 

“In here!” You hear JJ and Penelope chirp in unison and you toe your shoes off, heading toward the kitchen. 

Dave has several stations set up, and to your untrained eye it looks like you’re making carbonara. He has a demo colander of pasta on the counter, pancetta and eggs out, and three bottles of (very) nice wine on the island near the barstools. You take a seat next to Penelope and Aaron leans on the one beside you, standing behind it. He reaches for a wine glass, setting it in front of you and uncorking the bottle. 

As he pours (generously), you give Penelope a hug and clasp JJ’s hand around Aaron’s back. 

“Thank you,” she says, meeting your eyes. “I know this week wasn’t easy and I really appr-”

“JJ, if you tell me you appreciate that I did the right thing, I’m going to spit in your wine.” 

She snorts. “Alright, fine. But seriously.” 

You take your wine glass by the stem and swirl it a bit, offering it to Penelope for a toast. After you clink glasses, you’re immediately chastised. 

“Wine goes with the pasta! No drunk cooking.” Dave appears out of nowhere, a slotted spoon in his hand. 

You pull a yikes face and place your glass back on the counter, folding your hands in your lap. Aaron clears his throat, hiding a laugh. 

“Thank you both for being on time,” Dave says, looking at you and Aaron. “It’s nice that some people are punctual.”

You share a look with Aaron and he smiles, shrugging. Almost weren’t, but that’s fine.

“Hey!” Penelope says. “JJ and I were punctual!”

“No,” Dave replies. “You were early, which is also rude.” 

Penelope rolls her eyes as you hide a laugh behind your hand. Emily arrives, looking very elegant in her black shawl, and takes a place at the end of the bar, leaning on the counter. JJ pours her a glass of wine and warns her in advance that she’s not allowed to drink it. 

Derek arrives moments later, swinging his keys. “We getting this thing started, or what? “It’s freezing out there.” He comes up behind you, resting both hands on your shoulders. “I dunno,” he says, dragging it out. “You check the weather in LA today? Might’ve been nice—surf, sun, fancy coffee—”

“Are we waiting for Reid?” You ask, pointedly ignoring him. Derek presses a quick kiss to your temple, then Penelope’s in turn, before finding a place to be on the other side of Aaron.

Emily’s mouth twists. “He said he wasn’t sure if he could make it.”

Aaron almost turns his head to look at you, a small crease between his brows as the conversation flows around you. 

“Well,” Dave says, “We can always catch him up if we need to.” 

He takes his place on the other side of the kitchen island, rolling his sleeves and washing his hands. You offer Aaron a little smile and stand, leaning on your chair and mirroring him. When Dave’s done with his little pre-show, he starts. 

"Cooking," Dave announces, dramatically tossing a towel over his shoulder, "is the most sensual art form."

You instinctively reach for your wine glass. Hotch coughs into his fist—probably to hide a laugh and remind you to keep your wine right where it is. You pull your hand back with a little grimace. 

Dave spreads his arms, gesturing to the neatly arranged ingredients. "And these—" he flicks his wrist with the air of a seasoned maestro, "—are my paints."

Penelope, to her credit, tries to keep up. "So, your hands must be brushes."

Dave points at her. "Don’t interrupt."

You bury your laugh in your hand. Emily’s shoulders shake.

Your lips disappear into your mouth as JJ and Emily snort little giggles. Penelope ducks her head and you bump her shoulder. She bumps you back. 

“In a pot of boiling water we cook our spaghetti until it's al dente, firm to the tooth.” He passes out the pasta and you take some, splitting your share with Aaron. He taps his pasta with yours in a little toast, sending you a subtle wink. 

“Here you go”, Dave continues, passing more to JJ and Emily. “Everybody pass it around.” When everyone has some, you take a little bite. “See? Feel the texture.”

“Now…” He turns, headed to the stove. “In a large pan, we fry up our pancetta,” He shows you his work, the pancetta and onions sizzling in the pan. “Keeping a sharp eye that the edges are crisp.”

“But careful not to burn the onions,” Aaron says, a little pasta still in his mouth. 

“Bravo, Aaron!” 

He lights up at the praise, sharing a smile with JJ.

“We saute until translucence,” Dave continues, poking the pancetta with his wooden spatula. 

The doorbell rings and your head whips around with Emily’s.

“Uh-” Derek holds up a hand to stop both Dave and you from moving toward the door as Dave brings the finished pancetta and onions to the pasta. “I got it.” Derek stands and heads to the door. Rossi thanks him in Italian and immediately makes a vaguely Italian noise in JJ’s direction as she attempts to sip her wine on autopilot.

She freezes, her eyes widening as she guiltily replaces her wine glass on the island. Both you and Penelope smother laughter. You snort, and Aaron’s smile widens. 

“Now, we mix in the eggs…” He demonstrates with each mentioned step. “The parmesan… The spaghett… And parsley.” He presents you with the finished dish, tossing it with the tongs. “You see, it's all about timing and rhythm. And if you don't feel yourself doing it properly, please, order a pizza.”

“Sorry I'm late,” Spencer says. To your surprise, he takes the spot next to JJ’s offering her a small, warm smile. Something feels cozy in your chest. 

“Yeah,” Dave says, making a play at exasperated. “And this is why I cook alone.”

Emily raises a tentative hand. “So, uh, when do we get to drink the wine?”

“Almost there,” Dave replies. “Okay. We start at the beginning. You eat what you cook, I'll supervise, but we're gonna do this all together, just like a family.”

“Okay now?” JJ asks, her eyebrows raised.

Dave tips his head and grabs his wine glass. “Now. Salud!”

The entire team takes turns tapping glasses, and ‘Saluds!’ abound. You clink Emily’s, bringing your wine to your lips just as you shift backward—

Right into Aaron.

You feel it instantly, the solid warmth of him against your back, his chest barely brushing your shoulder blade. His hand finds your belt loop, an almost imperceptible tug, guiding you just enough to ease you forward—not pushing, just placing. The motion is so smooth, so practiced, that to an outsider, it looks like nothing at all. But inside, the shift leaves a ghost of heat where he touched you.

You force your body to stay loose, taking another sip of your wine as if you didn’t just feel the deliberate pressure of his fingers hooking into denim.

Meanwhile, Derek is already herding you and Aaron right back together, nudging you toward the station for the pancetta and onions.

“Alright, dream team,” he says, a little too casually. “Make yourselves useful.”

Aaron barely reacts, stepping into place beside you, reaching for a mixing bowl as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

You follow suit, grabbing an unlit match from the cabinet and holding it between your teeth as you start on the onion.

“Does that actually work?” JJ asks.

You nod, talking around the matchstick. “As long as you ‘reathe through your ‘outh, it works.”

“Cool!” Penelope says. “How?”

“S’encer!” You call, needing all of your focus to not slice your fingers or breathe through your nose. The onion’s bite still sneaks in at the edges of your vision, making your eyes prickle.

Spencer, ever helpful, jumps in. “The end of a match is very absorbent to both odors and other airborne chemicals. When you breathe through your mouth, the tear-jerking enzymes in the onion fumes are absorbed into the end of the match. Therefore, it creates a filter of sorts between you and the onion.” He pauses. “You may need more than one match, though. They stop working in a few minutes.”

You reach blindly for the matchbox, but before your fingers can graze it, Aaron beats you to it, setting it beside your cutting board without a word.

You turn your head just slightly—just enough to see the corner of his mouth twitching.

“‘Ank you,” you mumble through the matchstick.

“Mmhm,” he replies, already moving to his own cutting board, dicing pancetta into thin, even pieces.

He’s too close—not inappropriate, just… unavoidable. The excuse of limited counter space is a weak one, but you both commit to it. His left arm brushes your right with every pass of his knife, his rhythm perfectly matching yours, neither of you needing to adjust.

He finishes first—because of course he does. You shove aside a thought inappropriate for mixed company.

Scooping his diced ham into a bowl, he reaches toward you—his fingers just barely brushing your lips as he pulls the matchstick from between your teeth and replaces it with a fresh one. You get right back to work, rolling your knife over the diced pieces, dicing them nice and small.

“That should be sufficient,” he says, like it was purely transactional.

For a moment, he lingers, watching you clamp it between your teeth with absolute seriousness, your brow furrowed in concentration. Something about it—your stubborn commitment to such a tiny, ridiculous trick—makes the corner of his mouth twitch. It’s painfully endearing, in a way he’d never admit aloud.

But if he let himself, he might’ve smiled.

Your lips twitch, fighting a smirk. Careful.

He takes your diced onions next, dropping them into the bowl with the pancetta, neatly sealing them into a baggie before tucking it into the fridge.

It’s seamless, effortless, the way you move around each other, like you’ve been cooking together for years.

Luckily, Dave’s kitchen is big enough for the six of you to move freely, taking sips of your wine as you cook. When the prep work is done, Aaron steps just behind you, just past you, his hand briefly finding your lower back as you dump the pancetta and onions into the pan. 

You both pretend you don’t notice.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? For two people who aren’t supposed to be interested in each other, your reactions to each other have never been proportional. 

Across the kitchen, Dave catches it all.

He’s been watching—casually, of course, a sip of wine here, a flick of the spoon there—but he sees the way Aaron’s fingers hesitate just a beat too long, the way your eyes stay on his as the new matchstick slides between your teeth. He sees the small tell in Aaron’s posture, how he angles toward you like it’s second nature.

Derek chops absentmindedly, lost in conversation. He glances up to check in with the rest of the team, paired off on their own individual tasks. 

Derek pauses mid-chop, watching as Aaron’s hand ghosts along your lower back in a casual, absentminded gesture. His touch is feather-light, almost not a touch at all, guiding you to the side as he reaches for the olive oil.

Emily looks up, following his gaze, catching just the tail-end of the moment. The way your movements align just a little too naturally. The way neither of you react. Her brow furrows, her grip tightening slightly on the knife handle.

Nothing overt. Nothing damning. But there’s something…

Different.

"Do you see—" Emily starts, voice low.

"Yep," Derek mutters, still watching.

For years, the tension between you and Aaron had been palpable, practically another living thing on the team, as obvious as a flashing neon sign to everyone but the two of you. Your colleagues had watched you hover in each other’s orbit, lingering glances, excuses to be near each other, the charged silence of things unsaid and left unacknowledged.

The unspoken yearning, the infuriating, barely restrained pining—gone. Excuses to be near each other have turned into excuses to be as far as reasonably possible. No more loaded eye contact or restrained body language; no more carefully measured inches of distance that still somehow felt too close. 

Emily and Derek exchange a look.

"Huh," Emily murmurs.

"Yeah." Derek shakes his head slightly, glancing back down at the parsley.

Penelope’s head turns, oblivious in the extreme “What?” She says, too loudly. Derek and Emily shush her, but you look over anyway. 

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Derek and Emily say in unison, finding a little tupperware for their parsley. They place it next to the other parsley dish, standing back for now. Penelope looks confused, but you just shake your head. 

Nosy.

Aaron removes the pancetta from the heat, bringing it over to the trivet. “Pancetta’s ready for pasta!” He says, stepping back. 

“Almost done!” JJ calls over her shoulder. She’s testing some of the spaghetti, letting it dangle off her finger to cool it off before she takes a bite. 

You bring over the eggs and invite the others to help you separate, laughing as the egg whites get all over your hands as you let the egg yolk sit in your palm, the whites running through your fingers and into the sink. Derek offers a bowl and you plop the egg yolk in, letting Penelope have a turn. 

Looking over your shoulder, you shoot a smile at Aaron and idly threaten him with your eggy hands. He holds his hands up, blindly reaching behind him for a towel and throwing it at you. With another laugh, you catch it and get the egg white off, your hands soon returning to their clean, dry state. You throw the towel back at him and he whips it over his left shoulder with a wide smile.

When the eggs are all separated, the pasta is finished. Spencer dumps the hot water and pasta through the waiting colander in the sink. Emily grabs some pasta with the tongs, dropping it in the pan with the pancetta and onions. Penelope and JJ grab the eggs, mixing it while Spencer adds the parsley. You grab a healthy amount of parmesan and sprinkle it over the top, looking to Dave for approval. 

“Bravo, bambini!” He says. “Grab a plate, serve yourselves. Good work.” 

The mood is jovial and playful as you all get settled at the table, reaching over each other and pouring more wine. JJ asks for some bread and you pass it over, pouring olive oil and balsamic vinegar in one of the little dishes and passing it over as well. 

Aaron spots you, taking the oil bottle from you and filling the dish nearest him. Despite your best efforts, he landed next to you. 

Your shoulder brushes his as you reach for the salad. He leans back automatically, giving you space, but there’s the briefest of moments where neither of you move. You recover quickly, picking up the bowl and passing it to Penelope. 

“Sorry for the reach, Hotch,” you say, as nonchalantly as possible. 

(You fail.)

“No problem.”

(He does too.)

"Hey—" You smack Derek’s hand as he nabs a bite of your pasta. "You have your own!"

"You let Hotch take some," he fires back, pointing. 

"I did no—" You turn—just in time to catch Aaron swiping a crispy little piece of pancetta off your plate and popping it into his mouth.

Your jaw drops. "Oh my god!"

Aaron, chewing, raises an eyebrow like he has no idea what you’re talking about.

"Aaron Benjamin Hotchner," you declare, scandalized. "You keep your hands to yourself."

Something lights up in his eyes and you level him with a glare. 

Penelope “oohs” at him. “You just got middle-named, sir.”

Aaron lets out a laugh and shakes his head, taking a sip of his wine. You feel wholly undignified and thoroughly attacked. Even then, your lack of dignity came at a fair price. Spencer is smiling, and better yet, smiling at you and JJ and Aaron in turn. 

Worth it. 

+++

tagging: @chronicallybubbly @derekluvbot @jhiddles03 @soupyamanda @percysley @duchesschameleon @ssaic-jareau @viennasolace @youngcowisland @beyscape @reidfile @littlemisskavities @acidicbloody @sochalant @lessonincanvases @froggiefruitcake @realtrashcan

[cutielando]

mad m4x | max verstappen

synopsis: in which he bags it in Vegas

a/n: based on this request! i know it's probably kind of shit, but i genuinely had no idea how to make it better than this :((

pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

my masterlist

Vegas.

The place where all of your dreams can come true.

At least, that's what it felt in those moments for both you and Max.

You hadn't had high hopes coming into the weekend, especially due to the fact that the car hasn't been performing well enough to fight for both championships.

"How are you feeling about today?" you had asked him as you watched him get ready in his driver's room.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I don't even know what to say. I hope I can outscore Lando finally close this chapter, but I don't think I have the car under me to do it" he admitted, and you could hear the frustration in his voice.

You nodded, pursing your lips in sympathy.

"I know it's hard, but I believe in you. You're so much more than the car, babe, if anyone is able to do it, it's you" you said, rubbing soothing circles on his back and resting your chin against his shoulder.

He sighed and nodded, taking your hand into his.

"I'll fight for it until the last moment" he promised.

You nodded, kissing his cheek a couple of times.

You knew he had it in him, and that he was going to deliver.

He always did.

♡♡♡♡♡

He did it.

True to his word, he crossed the finish line, even if it was not in the position he had hoped for, but he still won the championship.

He brought it home.

The walk, or sprint rather, towards the end of the pitlane where he was getting out of the car allowed time for the tears that had build up in your eyes to freely flow down your cheeks, making you a walking mess.

"MAX!" you called out once you were within earshot of him, just as he took off his helmet and balaclava.

He smiled once he saw you coming and extended his arms, bracing for the impact of your body colliding with his.

"I did it, I did it" he chanted in your ear, his arms holding tightly onto your waist as he spun you around.

You laughed, nodding as you rested your head into the crook of his neck, your arms holding tightly onto his neck.

"I'm so fucking proud of you" you said.

He slowly set you down on the ground, but his arms didn't let up for a second. He buried his head into your shoulders, inhaling your sweet scent like he needed it to breathe.

Letting out a big sigh, his whole body slacked, every ounce of tension and stress gone from his muscles.

He had fought so hard, so hard to stay on the top even when his car and mechanics failed him, after everyone had turned against him, he was finally free of everything. Because he had proven, once again, why he was among the best.

You pulled away slightly, his arms still tightly holding onto your waist. You took his face into your hands and brought him down to your level, pressing your lips against his.

The kiss was fast-paced, rushed and maybe sloppy, but it was also filled with nothing but the immense love and pride you carried in your heart for him.

Hundreds of camera clicks went off all around you, but none of them mattered. It was just you and Max, in your own little bubble, away from everyone else.

"I love you" he whispered against your lips, making you erupt into a wide smile.

"I love you too. Now go, your team is waiting for you" you said, pecking his lips one more time before pulling away and shoving him towards his team.

He smiled at you one more time before he threw himself at them, laughing and smiling his heart out.

♡♡♡♡♡

It was several hours later, long after the Red Bull dinner Max had hosted finished, that the two of you found yourselves tangled in bed, naked together under the covers.

You had indulged yourselves in some celebratory sex after getting back, letting go of every worry and just enjoying each other.

You were laying with your head on Max's chest, tracing imaginary drawings with the tip of your index fingers across his abdomen.

His hands were tangled in your hair, his other hand resting next to his body.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, your voice soft and quiet as to not disturb the peaceful atmosphere around you.

He fell silent for a little while, trying to gather his thoughts and trying to put into words everything he was feeling in those moments.

"Strangely, I feel very at peace" he said, making your eyebrows shoot up.

That was, by far, the last thing that you had expected him to say.

"I wasn't expecting that answer, to be honest" you said, chuckling a little.

He chuckled as well, tightening the hold he had on you.

"I feel happy that the whole WDC debate is over and I don't have to worry about it anymore. I'm happy that I managed to achieve everything I've wanted. I'm happy that I'm here with you. What more could a man want?" he explained, making you hum.

He had a point, of course.

Max has always been focused on family above racing. Ever since the two of you started dating, he had made it his life's mission to prioritize you and your family above everything else.

Which is why his confession made you feel that much better about his win. The fact that, despite the grand meaning behind his achievement, he still valued just being with you.

"You've just won your 4th World Championship title and you're happy you're here with me? I'm always going to be here, you're not going to be winning championships forever, babe" you said, sitting up from his chest and resting your head on your hand.

He smiled, gazing up into your eyes lovingly.

"I don't care about the championships, the titles, the wins. The only thing I really care about is you and our family" he said, his hand coming to rest on your cheek.

"You're to sweet for your own good. I'm proud of you, do you know that?" you smiled, biting your lip as you stared at the man who had hung your moon and stars.

"I know, babe" he whispered, leaning up to peck your lips.

And so, tangled up in the comfort of your hotel room, you celebrated his title in the simplest of ways, just by spending time with each other.

Because that's what you loved the most.

Just being with each other.

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[lizthewriter]

i think there's been a glitch / theodore nott

PAIRING  Theodore Nott x studious!shy!Reader

SUMMARY  Theodore Nott was well known for the sort of happenstances that occurred in his dorm. However, the new transfer student seems to catch his eye in particular - that transfer student is you. His friends think that, at first, he has his eyes set on you for more sinful reasons, but he soon proves that his intentions are more romantic than anyone ever thought.

TAGS  Theodore Nott x Reader, angst, if you squint, idiots in love, cursing, kissing, study buddies, friends to wtf is this to friends with benefits but also wtf is this to lovers, theo is a simp, reader is not slytherin, can be any other house, reader has social anxiety, references to sex, underage drinking, headmaster's list = dean's list, gender neutral reader

"We were supposed be just friends, / you don't live in my part of town, but maybe I'll see you out some weekend, / depending on what type of mood and situationship I'm in, / and what's in my system," - Glitch by Taylor Swift

WORD COUNT  3.2K

WRITTEN  27.08.2023

A/N This came as a burst of inspiration during calc class when I realized I was really the only person answering my professor's questions in my classes, lmaoo 😭😭 so this is purely self-induglent. i hope you guys enjoy <333

When you had transferred to Hogwarts, you hadn't made very many friends. All right, you hadn't made any friends. Because you had transferred to Hogwarts so late in your academic career, everyone had already formed their own friend groups. No one had any real interest in you - that was, they were interested in why you transferred, but not in assimilating you into their social circles. Your professors, however, had grown quite fond of you, most likely due to your dedication to your studies. And eventually, around midway through the fall semester, you were called into the Headmaster's office. It had kept you on your toes all day - had you done something wrong? Gotten in trouble? Your mind had come up with most elaborate and unlikely scenarios that might have cause you to get called into the Headmaster's office.

You were awarded the honor of being added to the Headmaster's list. Only two others in your year were granted the same honor - Hermione Granger and Theodore Nott. All three of you were maintaining straight O's. You and Hermione had never gotten the opportunity to grow close - it might have been the fact that she was much more close-mindrd than you, or the fact that she didn't have the time to spare to make new friends between her studies and all the "Chosen One" stuff going on. You wanted to at least make one friend, instead of an academic rival, which you made the mistake of creating at your previous school.

So, you approached Theo after the meeting, your hands clamy and shaking while you stuttered out your request to study together. Theo simply watched you with those dead eyes of his before nodding. It had unnerved you but you pushed yourself to confirm a date and time with him. And so began your little friendship.

You were never meant to be more than study partners. Weekly study sessions in the library grew into bi-weekly gatherings, which then grew into daily meetings. And then you were meeting each other after class, making inside jokes, hanging out just because. Slowly, but surely, you and Theo grew close. You weren't sure you had ever been this close with anyone before. It was like he just knew you, not only like the back of his hand, but like every square inch of his body.

And Theo? Theo had never saw you coming. He didn't know that he wanted to be friends with you until you were friends, and then he couldn't stop coming back. You were like a drug. He needed another hit each and every time he saw you. Soon enough, he was aching to spend every waking moment with you. It had started as nothing more than a mutually beneficial partnership, but it grew to be much more than that.

It took him a while to realize he loved you. Cared for you. He was well reputed for sleeping around and having a general devil-may-care attitude. He knew that he loved you when he began to grow tired of the constant flings and one-night stands. When he called off the on-and-off relationship he'd had with a particularly vivacious Slytherin girl. He hated the way girls threw themselves at him, vying for his attention like wildcats fighting over a piece of meat. You weren't like that. You were perfect.

He knew he wanted to ask you out. His friends scoffed at the idea, thinking he was joking. They were shocked when they realized he was serious. Mattheo had even knocked on his head, asking if Theo was really in there. It had to be perfect, so he went to the only people he knew who had ever been in serious relationships. Mostly everyone had told him the same thing - find out what you liked. Woo you. It was rather simple. "For someone who is so smart, you're rather stupid, you know," Blaise had told him. He secretly agreed.

First, he had bought a collection of muggle novels for you at a book store on a forgotten. It had beautifully decorated covers, guilded with golden etchings. When you had sat down to study one day, Theodore had dropped it on the table in front of you while he pulled out his books.

"What's this?" You had asked in confusion.

"It reminded me of you," he said simply, pulling out his spellbook and flipping through it to find where he had last left off.

You furrowed your brows as you pulled the box towards you, unclasping the front of it and pushing it open. You let out the small gasp at the gorgeous hardcovers resting inside, hands trailing along the sturdy spines. Five Muggle Classics, the interior of the box cover said. "Theo . . . " Your voice trailed off at the thoughtfullness of the gift - you were left utterly speechless. "I can't take this. I can't imagine how expensive how this was." You slid the case of books back to Theo. He stopped it, pushing it back towards you.

"Take it. I can't return it. Besides, I got it for you. I would hate to see these go to waste."

You bit your bottom lip before pulling the box back towards you, a smile spreading across your face as you pulled out one of your favorite muggle classics. You flipped through the pages, allowing that paticular new-book smell to wash over you like the waves on a shore. "Thank you," you mumbled softly.

-

You never came to parties. Mostly because you hated all the drinking and crowds and the mixture of stroking lights and booming music that made you dizzy. But you had started to develop feelings for a particular friend of yours. He was tall, devilishly handsome, and more intelligent that anyone you'd ever met. He smelled of evergreen trees, cigarettes, and lilac. You felt for him in a way that you had never felt for anyone else. You were always so laser-focused on you studies, but you realized that your attention had been straying towards a paticular someone as of recently.

You knew he hung around these sort of parties, finding pretty girls to have a fun night with. You wore the most insanely inappropriate dress you could find, hoping to catch his attention. You weren't exactly sure what your goal for that night was, but you were certain you wanted it to end with you and Theo, alone.

Of course, Theo was shocked to see you there. Even more shocked to see you out of the jeans and sweaters you usually wore, standing in a tight little number that had him practically frothing at the mouth. Not that you weren't always stunning, but you were stunning stunning. He wouldn't have approached you normally, but with the alcohol currently coursing through his system, he had a boost of courage and stupidity.

Five seconds later, he was standing right behind you, calling your name. You turned around to face him with a grin. "Hey, there you are."

"What are you doing here?" It sounded much more like a statement than a question - he was seemingly distracted by something else about you.

"I came to see you, silly. And to see what all the rage is about."

"And?"

"I've come to the conclusion that parties suck."

Theo laughed, something hearty that rumbled through his chest. "Want to go somewhere else?"

"Please," you responded with a role of your eyes. "I'm starting to get a headache." You had stupidly accepted a drink and chugged down the bitter alcohol earlier - that didn't bode well for your head when you were already bothered by loud music sober.

Theo's eyes searched the room for somehwere that might be a little quieter - his eyes landed on the staircase to his dorm. Well, where else was there to go? He lead you up the steps, the two of you laughing as he kept you from stumbling down the stairs, and guided you to his dorm. He sat you down on the bed, grabbing a glass on his bedside table, and filled it up with the spell Aguamenti.

"Thanks," you said sweetly, taking it from his hand and taking a long sip. You took a good look at the room, easily able to tell whose area of the roo. was whose. Mattheo's was messy - clothes strewn across the bed and floor. Draco's was neat and filled with a variety of potions book, his bedside table cluttered with potions of a variety of colors, lined up in orderly rows. Blaise had a poster of his favorite Quidditch team plastered on the wall, as well as a family photo filled with all his siblings. Theo's, however, was minimal and tidy aside from the piles of books. His bed was neatly made, the corners of the covers tucked under the mattress.

You finally met Theo's eyes and finally saw some sort of emotion - it took you a moment to identify it as hunger. You glanced down at the outfit you were wearing and flushed, your eyes staying firmly on the ground.

"You look very pretty."

You felt your heart stop in your chest. Had Theo called you . . . pretty? You were in shock - sure, you had come to the party with more than friendly intent, but you had never expected that he would actually notice you the way he had noticed other girls.

"Y-you - you look very handsome."

Theo watched you for a moment - he was standing only a foot away with arm wrapped around the four-poster, hanging off from it slightly. There was an odd sort of tension in the room - you both knew what you wanted and you both knew you wanted it now. Both of your inhibitions were lowered because of the alcohol, so it was that one split desicion that changed everything. Soon enough, his lips were planted into yours, one hand cupping your cheek and the other trailing along the side of your body. Everything had happened so fast - it went from the hand on your hips guiding you down onto the mattress to clothes strewn on the floor to sleeping heavily within each other's arms. It was hours before you woke again, and you were grateful that none of his friends had come up from the party yet. He helped you get dressed, a look of almost disbelief settled into his features as you left, sending him an awkward smile before you closed the door. What had he done?

-

The next day you had studied together like nothing happened. You cracked a joke. He laughed. You helped him with Transfiguration, he helped you with Ancient Runes. Another day passed. And another. And another. Theo was going beyond mad - what were you two now? Were you still friends? Were you dating? He felt like he wanted to yank all his hair out of his head.

That was, until about a week later. Late at night, the two of you were studying in the library. He was huddled next to you, embarrassingly distracted by your beauty while you were trying to help him with a homework problem he got stuck on. He finally snapped back to attention as you pointed to something on his parchment, leaning downwards to see exactly what you were pointing at. At the same time, you had turned your head to see what had him so distracted. The resultant situation: your noses bumped together and he could feel your heavy, hot breath on his lips.

Flashbacks to the night you shared soared through both of your minds. And it was you, this time, who had made the stupid desicion. You lunged for his lips with desperation, fingers snaking through his hair, a hand planted on his chest. He had tensed in surprise before returning the kiss with equal fervor. It wasn't long before you were quickly packing your things and Theo was dragging you to some abandoned room, your lips entangled as he pressed you up against the wall. The moonlight seeped in through the red glass-stained windows, dancing deliciously on your skin. Forever engraved in his memory was the picture of you, the only word on your lips being his name, grasping his shoulders with need.

-

Neither of you knew what kind of relationship you had descended into. It involved rather intimate gatherings from time to time, but for the most part, you were just friends. It was an almost seamless friendship between you two - except for the nagging thoughts at the back of both of your minds that kept you wondering if the other really felt the same way.

Theo buried his face into his hands, surrounded by a group of friends who had utterly no idea what to do. Their eyes watched him with trepidation and worry. It was oddly concerning how much he was stressing over this. Theo never seemed to stress about anything. But here he was, hands fisted in his hair, staring down at the ground in utter disillusionment.

"I've ruined everything. All cause I couldn't keep it in my fucking pants."

"That can't be it, mate," Mattheo tried reassuring him. "Look, you said they're different, yeah? All the other girls you've slept with found someone else after you. But they keep coming back for more. That has to mean something, right?"

"Yeah, you've just got to romance them," Blaise said. Theo groaned.

"Please never open your mouth again."

"I'm serious. Take her to Hogsmeade, that'll show them."

Theo leaned his face upwards, staring at Blaise. He was right - taking someone to Hogsmeade virtually meant asking them out on a date. You had to know the innuendo by now, being at Hogwarts as long as you have. "Blaise, you're brilliant." He clapped his friend on the back, rushing out of the dorm to find you.

-

You scanned the bookshelves for books with more information on Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. The idea fascinated you - how come you could conjure any sort of non-edible object from nothing, but with food you couldn't? At the root of it, everything was made of subatomic particles, then atoms, then particles, and so on. So, theoretically, anything could be created from nothing, correct?

You were so enraptured by your own thoughts that you had no conception of your surroundings and bumped right into someone walking straight towards you. The books in your arms tumbled onto the floor and you flushed a bright red, bending down to pick them up.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, hastily collecting the books from the ground. The boy, who you hadn't really looked at yet, bent down to help you collect them as well. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm really -"

As you stood up, you finally got to look at his face - and it turned out to be Theo. His face was just barely flushed, and the emotion in his eyes held a deep meaning that you couldn't quite decrypt. You didn't have a chance to ask him what he was doing, because he beat you to it.

"Go to Hogsmeade with me."

"I'm sorry?"

"Hogsmeade. You and I. Interested?" His tone was strained, and you realized what emotion finally lay beyond those dead eyes. Fear.

You knew what he was insinuating. Was he - asking you out on a date? Did that mean he really did like you? More than just as someone he could have a little fun with time and again, someone who was just a friend. You stared up at him for quite a while, not realising how silent you were as you sunk into the rabbit hole of your own thoughts.

"I - erm - all right, then." You were still quite in a bit of shock. "Will you -"

"Yeah, I'll wait for you outside your common room." The fear in his eyes seemed to dissipate, his shoulders sagging in relief.

"Right. Yeah, sounds good. Great."

-

You had bundled up for the cold weather, a thick scarf wrapped around your neck and a hat with your house emblem on your head. You tried to dress in something nice underneath the layers of warmth - it had taken you a long time to decide what exactly you wanted to wear, but you had eventually come to a conclusion.

When you exited the dormitory, you found Theo bundled up with an equal amount of layers, yet he looked just as attractive as he always did. In his hands, he held a single rose. You flushed a bright red, especially as a group of first year girls giggled as they exited the dorm behind you.

"Hello," Theo said simply, handing you the rose.

"Hello," you responded shyly, taking it gratefully and holding it in your hands. You smiled nervously, rocking back and forth on your feet. "So."

"So. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Theo grabbed your hand, holding it gently. You hid your face from his view, not wanting him to know the kind of affect he had on you as he lead you through the castle. "What do you want to do first?"

You had weaved your hand through his arm, resting your head on the edge of his shoulder. "Hm. I need some more quills. But we should definitely stop at the bookshop first. I want to see if they've gotten anything new."

"Okay."

Theo had never been a talkative person - and you had never really minded it, not until now. You wish that maybe he might just tell you he had feelings for you, more than feelings that only arose every once in a while. It would make this so much easier on you. But you were nervous and shy and had a hard time talking to people, even one's you've been friends with. So you remained silent on the walk there.

Theo could tell it was an uncomfortable silence. Not only did being the quiet one meant he could read a room easily, he had also been around you long enough to know when you felt uncomfortable. He stopped the two of you from walking - you were already walking the path to Hogsmeade, snow lightly covered both of your heads.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing."

"You don't have to lie to me."

You bit the interior of your cheek nervously. Did you really want to destroy what you had with him? You were content with keeping your relationship the way it was. At least, that's what you convinced yourself.

You felt your gaze being drawn back to Theo, his fingers resting under your chin. "Don't hide from me, love, tell me what's on your mind."

"Love." You felt your heart melt into a puddle of hope and embarrassment. "Theo . . . what are we?"

Theo grabbed your hand and held it up, intertwining your fingers together. He looked at them, with something akin to fascination, and muttered, "What do you want us to be?"

You paused. "I want us to be together," you whispered, looking up at him with eyes of despair. Theo felt his heart wrench at the sight of it. He raised his other hand, brushing it lightly against your cheek.

"Then let's be together," he whispered back. He leaned downwards, meeting your lips in a soft kiss. It wasn't like any of the kisses before that - no, those were passionate, desperate, lust-filled kisses. This was loving, caring, blossoming. He dropped your hand to cup both of your cheeks in his hand, his nose biting into your cheek. "You and I. I like the sound of that."

tags: @plants-are-pretty-cool @annaisabookworm @maricardigan

Thank you all for reading! Be sure to like, reblog, and comment! I really appreciate it ^^. If you have any requests, by inbox is open but make sure to check the list of characters I write for here. If you want to be tagged in any upcoming fics/headcanons of mine, let me know. If you want to see more from me, go ahead and check out my masterlist here!

[sandwitchstories]

Gratitude and Gratfication

Alexa: play some Marvin Gaye 'Sexual Healing'

I am back on my back for Kyojuro Rengoku! (and my knees, and my fours...) Oops! I mean, I am back to writing my filthy smut about my dearly beloved Kyojuro Rengoku! This one definitely got away from me and became my single longest (word count) smutty one shot to date. It's a long one, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you prefer to read on AO3 please click here! Summary: Kyojuro has been working extra hard lately. Working late, doing extra help sessions with students, rewriting his test umpteen times... You decide your hard working husband deserves a reward, and you know the perfect way to show your appreciation.

WC: 6300+

CW: MDNI, Fem reader, established relationship, PURE SMUT, rough sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, some dom/sub, couple of ass smacks, light choking, creampie - for the full list of CW please check the AO3 link.

Divider by: @strangergraphics

People think of Kyojuro Rengoku as being almost innocent. Your husband is a gentleman through and through. He is gorgeous, gentle, strong, loving, funny, smart, positive, protective, passionate, selfless and he is just… everything to you. You love all of him and everything about him, even the clothes that never make it all the way into the laundry basket. Even the long hours he puts in at work, determined to be the best teacher he can be.

But nothing compares to who and how he is in your moments alone. The second you initiate or respond to his advances, it is game over. Hell, if you make it to the bedroom (if you are not already there) it is a miracle. 

Take right now for example.

You knew what you were getting into but you just couldn't help yourself. He has been wound up so tight as finals draw near. He has put in so many hours doing extra study hours for struggling students and he has rewritten that damn history test at least 8,942 times, determined every question will make sense to every student no matter how their thought process works. He deserves a reward and you are happy to give it to him.

Kyojuro looks so fucking good as he stands there taking off his watch. His tie is undone and hanging around his neck, still tucked under his collar. Sleeves are still rolled back showing his strong forearms. That white shirt, even with the top two buttons undone, sure is putting in overtime to keep buttoned over those pecs of his. He's got his belt undone but pants still clasped. 

He turns away still talking to you but all you can focus on is the way his pants hug his ass. You never knew men could have asses like that before him, just perfect peaches you want to sink your teeth into. You smiled as a thought crossed your mind– if your history teacher had looked this good you probably would have had a better grade in that class. Then again his ass was awfully distracting so maybe not so much… 

“My love, did you hear me?” He asks, setting his watch down on the armoire. 

“I sure did not!” You give him a cheesy grin as he startles you from your thoughts.

He turns and arches his eyebrow at you, “I asked if you were hungry. Since it is Friday I was suggesting let's be lazy and order take away.”

“That works! I am a little hungry but not, like, starving.” 

“Same. Another long day but we do need sustenance. I'll put in an order in a little while,” he says, turning back to getting undressed.

You changed your mind. You are hungry. Starving in fact but it's not for tempura or yakitori. Time to feast.

You crawl across the bed, in your tank top and panties, glad you had removed your bra and pants long ago. They were laying somewhere in the living room, removed and tossed aside the minute you were through the door, abandoned in celebration of the weekend finally arriving. 

You climb off the bed and saddle up behind him, molding your body to his and sliding your hands over his hips to rest on his chest and stomach, laying a kiss on his still clothed back. 

“Hmm?” He asks looking over his shoulder and down into your upturned face.

“Hi,” you grin up at him.

“Well hello there,” He greets back with a chuckle at your silliness.

“I decided I am starving, baby.”

“Is that so?” He asks, still holding your gaze. Your husband is no fool. You see the fire starting to kindle in his eyes already.

“Very much so.” Your fingers start working the buttons on his shirt, opening it and sliding your hands over his toned, tan muscles. Your hands trail lower, fingertips tracing down his happy trail to the top of his pants, pausing.

“Keep going. I didn't say to stop,” he says, his voice already taking on the tone it does when he is turned on.

Your hands undo his pants, sliding down the zipper. Fingers trail teasingly over the light v cut in his hips before sliding a finger under the waistband of his boxer further towards your goal. Fingertips raking through his neatly trimmed hair as your hand dips fully into his briefs. One hand moves to rest in the middle of his chest as your other hand cups his hardening cock, giving it a light squeeze with your palm, groaning and pressing your lips to his back through his shirt.

“Getting so hard already, baby. All for me?” You tease as his hands brace on the chest of drawers in front of him as you continue stroking his cock. 

“Of Course it is all for you, my love,” he says as his hips rock forward slowly into your hand.

Your thumb swipes across the tip of his cock, gathering the pearls forming. Kyojuro groans and bites his lip. The hand you have splayed on his chest digs your nails in slightly as you let out a small moan against his back. 

By this point you are so turned on you are tempted to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the ache. But this isn't about you. This is about giving something back to the man who gives constantly to everyone. 

“Turn around, baby,” you say, removing your hands slowly so he can do as you ask. 

You cup his face, leaning against him, trapping his hard cock between you. He kisses you without hesitation, his hands immediately on your hips, pulling you closer and grinding against you. You help him shed his shirt the rest of the way, and let him pull your tank top off, freeing your breasts to his hungry touch. His hands are immediately cupping them and running his thumbs back and forth over your nipples. You kiss him again before you pull back and kiss an open mouth trail down his body as you lower to your knees. 

You can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of his hard on. It takes every bit of restraint you currently possess to finish ridding him of his pants and boxers. You scrape your nails down his delicious thick thighs before you look up at him and run the flat of your tongue up and down the underside of his cock, enjoying the grunt he lets out.

You cup his cock and give it several strokes before you lick across the head, tonguing the very tip. You wrap your lips around his cock and start slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth and then throat, working up to being able to nuzzle your nose against the dark hair at the base of his cock, eyes flicking up to lock gazes with him. 

His pupils are blown wide. His eyes are firmly focused on your face, on your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock so perfectly. His mouth is slightly ajar, and his cheeks are tinted just the slightest bit pink. 

One large hand moves forward from where it rested on the armoire he is now leaning against to bury in your hair, grip tight and nudging forward with his hips, encouraging you to keep going. You flex your throat around his cock, a moan slips out as his hips jerk forward.

“Is this what you want, my love?” Kyojuro asks, his fingers now fisted in your hair and guiding your head back, fully off his cock so you can answer.

“Mmmhmmm,” you say enthusiastically, smiling up at him, eyes glazed with desire. “But this isn’t about me, my love. Is this what you want?”

He answers by guiding your mouth back onto him and slowly pushing you down all the way. You try to smile up at him around his cock. You are sure it must look silly but the only thing you see in his eyes is desire. His free hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your cheek, he gives you a fond smile. 

And then the gentleman is gone. All bets are off. After all this time, Kyojuro knows your turn ons and your limits even better than you know them yourself. He knows what he has your permission for and where your hard lines are drawn. He will always respect those boundaries and that is a huge part of why it is so easy to give him complete control. 

Both of his sexy hands are now fisted in your hair, pulling you almost all the way off his cock, and then shoving you all the way back down his thick length. You slack your jaw and close your eyes, moaning in pleasure at the feel of him fucking your face. You feel the drool starting to form around your lips, but make no attempts to stop him or slow him so you can wipe it off. Afterall, Kyojuro loves a messy blow job.

“You are doing so well. Taking my cock so well for me, my love,” he says as he watches you. He notices your eyes are closed and that simply won’t do. He wants to see the look in your eyes as he uses your mouth and throat. “Eyes on me, you know the rules.”

Your eyes snap open, gazing up at him unfocused. Your hands slide back to grip his ass, pushing him even deeper into your throat, almost gagging yourself for the first time in a long time. You roll your tongue where it rests on the underside of his shaft. The surprised grunt he makes goes straight to your core. 

“You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth,” he says just before he starts using the hands fisted in your hair to move your mouth up and down his cock at a faster speed so he can fuck your face just the way he knows you like. The way that gets you damn near drunk on his cock and gods does he love seeing that look in your eyes. “My love, you are so good with that pretty, filthy, little mouth of yours. So good, sweet thing, your mouth feels so good.”

You hum happily at his praise and start sucking harder, hollowing your cheeks more. You want more of his praise. You want more of his cock. You want his cum. One of your hands moves from his thick thighs to his balls, cupping and squeezing them while you work his cock. 

“That’s it, gorgeous! That’s it! I’m going to cum,” he warns you before he fucks into your mouth until his orgasm slams into him, one of his large hands now cupping the back of your head, pressing you down as far down as you can go. 

He is moaning and his cock is twitching in your mouth as you swallow his load. His breathing is heavy when he pulls you off his cock and releases his grip on your hair. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, showing that not a single drop went to waste. He groans, running a thumb across your swollen, spit covered lips. “You did so well.”

“That’s just the start,” you say with a grin, voice a little hoarse from the pounding your throat just took.

“Is that so?” he asks, intrigued as he helps you off the floor. 

“Mmmhmm,” you smirk, leaning into him, pressing your breasts against his hard hot flesh. His arms instantly wrap around your waist. “You’ve been working so hard lately, baby. You deserve a reward.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” he asks, hands slide down to cup your ass and pull you closer. You can feel his cock already starting to stir again as it twitches against you. The stamina of this man was the thing of legends.

“It most certainly is,” you say with a grin.

“And just what is my reward?” he asks, kissing you gently several times, nipping at your bottom lip playfully. 

“Anything you want, Kyojuro,” you lean into him, wanting more kisses. 

Kyojuro may have had a long and excruciating day at work, but he can no longer find a single complaint in his mind. How could he when he has you, in just that tiny little scrap of fabric you call panties, in his arms, pressed against him and nipping at his lips? Finals, difficult coworkers, the speeding ticket he got on the way home that he was not looking forward to telling you about - none of it matters right now. The only thing he gives a damn about right now is you, and the dirty, dirty things he spends his free time thinking about doing to you. 

“Well, sweet thing you are quite the reward,” he grins, fingers hooking on the straps of your panties arching over your hips. He snaps them playfully, a devious little smirk on his face. “These. Off.”

Never breaking eye contact, you shimmy them off. Dinner is no longer what he wants to eat. Kagiake is no longer the taste he is imagining on his tongue. The answer to both is now you. It is now just a question of how he wants to have you. 

Does he want you to bend over the bed, arching your back and spreading your legs in the sluttiest of ways? Does he want you to ride his face while he looks up at you and his tongue explores your warm, wet depths? Decisions, decisions. In the meantime…

“Sit down on the bed and spread those legs for me, gorgeous,” he says, licking his lips as his glossy eyes unabashedly devour every inch of your flesh. 

You do as he asks, sitting down on the end of the bed and scooting back enough you can plant your feet on the bed, bending your knees and opening your legs wide for his hungry gaze. The lamp light glistens off your folds that are already shiny with your desire. Knowing you want him as badly as he wants you sends a rush to his head.

You are divine in his eyes. Your cunt is the altar at which he worships. Your pleasure is the wine he drinks. Your name is the prayer on his lips. 

And he cannot wait to absolutely ruin you. You babbling as you cum all over his cock and he fills you up to the brim sounds like a damn good reward. But first…

“Show me,” he says, moving to kneel at the end of the bed, putting him face to face with your pretty little pussy.

The tip of his tongue wets his suddenly dry lips as he watches you move one hand to slide it between your legs, using two fingers to spread your lips apart, revealing your dripping hole and slick folds fully. He gestures with his head for you to keep going. You know what to do. You know what he wants.

He stares intently, sunset gaze fixed on the sight as you slide two fingers into your slick cunt. He watches you thrust them in and out of your center several times before you remove them, holding out your hand to show him your coated fingers. He leans forward and sucks them, his tongue sliding over the digits and between them, making sure not a drop is waste. 

His large hands slide under your thighs to grab you hips and yank you down to the end of the bed, your feet now resting on his shoulders. His arms wrap around your legs so that his warm hands can hold your thighs wide open for him. He leans forward and uses the flat of his tongue to lick a line up your cunt, from hole to clit, moaning against you. 

He presses a kiss to your cunt while those gold and vermillion eyes stay locked on yours. He gives you a little smirk. Before his sinful tongue slides back between your folds he says a single word. Reverently. “Ambrosia.”

Kyojoruo is feasting and he is not leaving a single damn crumb. That is for damn sure. Your toes feel almost stiff from how tightly you have them curled. Your eyes are fluttering, struggling not to close and roll back in your head. He’s just so damn good with his mouth. 

His hand moves to join his mouth, fingers sink into your tight hole, making you cry out in pleasure. Your fingers pull the tie from his hair, letting his blaze colored locks fall freely, allowing you to fully bury your hands in his hair. You whimper and move your hips against him, lost in the pleasure he has coursing through your every vein, filling every cell of your being. 

“Feels so good, baby,” you pant, biting your lip. The sight of him savoring your cunt is almost too much to take. He has told you before that you are his favorite meal. His head is between your thighs and he is gluttonously lapping and sucking at your pussy, proving his words to be true. 

“Close, baby, so close!” you whine, fingers tightening their hold in his hair. 

“You can do it, sweet thing. You know what I want,” he coos up at you, kissing your thigh and watching the way your head lolls back in pleasure when he adds a third finger to your molten core. 

You whimper, muscles tightening and burning as your orgasm nears, tears prickling at your eyes. And then his fingers find that special spot, your loud cry telling him he hit his mark. He abuses it, thrusting his fingers in and out of you as he sucks and flicks at your clit. You throw your head back and cry out his name as your orgasm overtakes all of your sense.

Your pussy is clenching, fluttering, throbbing as your cream coats his fingers. Your tingles are spreading through your veins and your head is cleared of thoughts as fireworks explode behind your eyes. Your legs are trembling and your gasping for air between your cries of pleasure. 

“That’s it, my love. You’re doing good, sweet thing. Always giving me what I want. So good to me,” he says laying kisses on your inner thigh as he watches in wonder as you come down, fingers now moving slowly, working you through your orgasm, rubbing that tender spot inside to prolong it as long as he can. 

His thumb brushes against your clit, making your hand shoot down to grab his, an almost pleading look in your eyes. You are so oversensitized you fear you may die if he keeps going. He smirks, moving those wicked fingers to your lips, and groaning as you suck them clean, giving him a show as your tongue circles each finger, cleaning each finger, one at a time. 

He gets to his feet, leaning over you to kiss you and press you back onto the bed. He plants his hands by your head, kissing you passionately. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only turns you on more. Your legs wrap around his hips, trying to pull him closer. He adjusts so his cock can slide between your slick and sensitive folds, coating him with your juices. 

“Are you ready for me, my love?” he asks, grinding against you and eliciting a lewd sound to fall from your lips.

“Please, baby, please.” You are shameless as you damn near beg for his big fat cock. 

“Please what, my love?” he asks, a dark but teasing look in his eyes as he shifts his hips, the crown of his cock catching on your eager hole. He slips in just the very tip, rocking a little.

“Fuck me. I need to feel you inside me, baby,” you bite your lips and move your hands to cup his handsome face. “Need you to take the rest of your reward.”

He kisses you, messy and hard. He pulls back just the slightest bit with a little smirk and then he snaps his hips forward, impaling you with the full length of his cock all at once until his balls are resting against your ass. You cry out in ecstasy, your legs locking tighter around him and your fingers now digging crescents into the skin of his shoulders.

He does it again and again, pausing between the punishing thrusts, though not enough for you to wind down. It doesn’t take long for him to tire of that. His hands find yours and pin them above your head, locking fingers together as he begins to move faster, leaning over you and fucking into your wet hole at a steady rhythm though not nearly as hard as before. 

“Like that, my love?” he asks, kissing you and resting your foreheads together. 

“Like it,” you nod, tilting your head to kiss him again. This does feel good, but you want something more and you know he does too. “Your cock feels so good inside of me… but please fuck me harder, Kyo. Stop holding back.”

“Stop holding back?” he says, arching his prominent eyebrows. 

You grin up at him, leaning up to nip his bottom lip, catching it between your teeth and giving it a little tug. You know exactly how to get him to let go and give into his baser urges. “Yes. Stop holding back. This is your reward, remember? So fuck me like you know we both want you to. Like we both need you to.” To give him the final push you add with a little lip bite up at him, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“You’ll be good, huh?” His voice has taken on a slightly deeper tone that slides over your skin like silk.

You see his dominant side come out fully in his eyes and features. You could swear your cunt gets wetter at just the sight. At just the thoughts of what he’s like in this space. He captures your lips in a passionate kiss before he pulls out of you, making you almost whine at the empty feeling you are left with. 

“Fours. Now.”

You roll over and move to the middle of the bed, doing as he said and getting on your fours. You arch your back and spread your legs, giving him a good view of your juicy cunt. Your heart pounds as he moves to kneel behind you. 

He leans over and grabs his pillows, putting them underneath you for support. He is obviously not counting on your arm strength holding up for long. Your cunt clenches around nothing in anticipation of the fucking you are about to get.

Kyojuro’s large hands slide up your legs from your knees to your hips before gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them apart. His thumbs trace the edges of your pussy lips before spreading them apart, making you bite your lip at the feeling of being so open, so exposed. You clench as he spits on your pussy and starts rubbing the swollen tip up and down your folds before sliding into you, inch by inch. 

He leans over you, hands currently groping and squeezing your breasts, pulling on your sensitive nipples. He kisses your shoulder gently. “Are you ready to get what you asked for, sweet thing?”

You nod, enthusiastically, clenching around him and letting out a small whimper, his fat cock just fills you so fucking perfectly.

“Words.” He says in a firm tone.

“Yes, please,” you answer, giving nudge back with your hips in an attempt to get him moving.

“Good girl,” he kisses your shoulder one more time before he straightens up behind you.

Kyojuro has been given the green flag and the accelerator is flat to the floor. His hips go from zero to 60 in an instant and his fingers are digging into your hips as he starts fucking into your pretty little hole. He wastes no time, his pace hard and fast from the start. 

He groans as he watches your greedy cunt sucking him in again and again. He loves to watch himself fuck you. Your pretty lips are spread around his thick length, your creamy essence coating him and gathering already in a ring around the base of his cock.

“So wet and we only just started, sweet thing. You say this is my reward, but that was just an excuse to get me to fuck this sweet little cunt wasn’t it?” He grins as he feels you clench on his cock at his filthy words. His vocabulary is too refined for swearing often, but when it comes to bedroom dirty talk, his mouth is unashamedly, absolutely vulgar. He loves the way the words so blatantly turn you on.

“No… I wanted… wanted… to do something for you…” Your fingers are knotted in the sheets for purchase as he slams his fat cock into your tight hole again and again. 

“I’m sure that was part of it. But I think you just can’t keep your hands to yourself. Naughty, naughty, girl,” he says playfully before giving your ass a firm swat, admiring the way the fat of your ass jiggles and recoils, smirking at the surprised gasp that leaves your lips. 

He’s not the biggest fan of spanking you. But sometimes he just cannot resist giving you a swat on that perfect ass of yours. He is only a man after all. He is weak to the endless temptations dangled in front of him when you are on your knees like this, taking his cock so well. 

“It was… supposed to be a reward…. But no, I can’t… I can’t… keep my hands to myself,” you agree with a breathy laugh struggling with words as he keeps pistoning his cock in and out of you. You give him a playful look over your shoulder. You look cock drunk already. It is always such a stunning look on you. And then your playfulness turns back to pure desire. You horny little devil you, you bite your lip and almost purr at him, “How could I… when I am married to a… gorgeous man… who.. ahh… fucks my pussy this good?”

He lets out a growl and leans over you. He fists a hand in your hair, pulling your head up and back, resting against his collar bone, His other hand closes over your throat, squeezing gently on the sides, feeling your cunt clenching down on your cock as he does. He continues to move his hips hard and fast.

“Be a good girl and let me hear you. Let me hear those slutty sounds you make when I’m fucking you so good,” he says mouthing your ear and nipping the lobe. 

He needs to hear you singing that sweet siren song. He needs to hear the desperate, broken, sounds you make as his cock splits you open over and over again. He needs to hear you babbling. He needs to fuck you to the point where his thighs and balls are covered in your pleasure and his name is the only damn word on your lips. He shifts his angle just slightly and grins at the absolutely vulgar moan you let escape. 

“Oh, fuck! Kyo! There! So deep! Shit!”

Found it. The hand on your throat moves down your body to bury between your folds, finding the hard pearl he seeks easily. His fingers start with circles and rubs, teasing back your hood and making the hard nub swell. And then his fingers are moving in a rough fanning motion over the bead, pressing down, stimulating you and smearing your slick on your lips. 

You start to pant and your body is stiffening, your cunt getting tighter and tighter around him. He can tell you’re getting close. The hand in your hair moves to your opposite shoulder, his thick, muscular forearm now against your throat pressing back carefully. He just wants you to get a head rush, not pass out. He still has more plans for you tonight. 

You have let the feral beast out of its enclosure, and he will not be sated easily. You told him to fuck you like he needed. You asked for this. You begged for this. Now you needed to be a good girl like you promised, and take it. 

“Cum for me, sweet thing, milk my cock with that tight little cunt,” he says, mouthing your shoulder before sinking his teeth in.

“Oh gods, Kyo! I’m cumming, fuck, baby! I’m cumming… I’m cumming so hard!” You wail beautifully as you cum while he fucks into you as hard as he can. The hand between your legs continues assaulting your clit. You feel so good when you cum. He wants to keep you spasming, fluttering, creaming on his cock for as long as he can.  

You let out a higher pitched whine and lift one of your hands to rest on the wrist of the hand between your legs. He knows what it means. You’re too oversensitized.

He slows his thrusts, the arm around your throat is now rubbing lovingly up and down your back, the hand formerly between your legs now gripping your hip, his thumb rubbing circles. He works you through your orgasm now at a much slower pace, letting your twitching form come down from the high. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he says against your ear, his heavy breaths fanning against your sweat slicked skin. He kisses your shoulder gently several times before checking in. “Are you doing alright, my love?”

You start to nod, but you know better so you answer in a hoarse voice, “I’m good. I’m good. I promise. Just… just needed a moment.”

He stills his hips. “Give me a color.”

“Green.”

You answered in words. That’s the rules. He leans over you, hands now both on your breasts. He grins at the little mewls you are making as his fingers tug at your nipples. His hips are grinding his cock inside you, balls resting against your folds. 

“Time to ride my cock, sweet thing. I want to watch you fuck yourself on me.”

You rearrange positions, surprised your limbs have any strength left in them after the mind blowing, almost black out good, orgasm you just had. Kyojuro helps you line his cock up with your dripping hole. You lower down onto it with your hands braced on his chest. 

You moan together as you sink down, taking him inch by inch until his cock is fully sheathed inside you. “So deep, baby. Feel so good inside me.”

“It feels so good to be inside you,” he praises. His hands roam up and down your body in utter reverence before cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples.

You start to move, starting with a slow grind, shivering as the thatch of hair at his base stimulates your clit. You begin to move faster, rocking and grinding. His fingers are digging into your hips and his glossy gaze is fixed on you. 

You move your hands down to his stomach and back until they brace on his thighs, making you lean back and giving him a better view of the way his cock is being taken again and again by your pussy. You start to lift your hips, moving up and down, getting more confident in your movements as you go. 

“Hands on my chest.” You do as he asks, hips slowing to a grind as you wait for his next command. He grips your chin firmly in one hand, the other moves to clap down on your ass cheek, smirking as you involuntarily clench on his cock. “Ride my cock. Be a good girl and show me how much you love it.”

You begin to raise and drop your hips. Your jaw is hanging slightly ajar, your gaze is unfocused. His cock is just so damn addictive. It feels so good inside you. He stretches you and fills you so well. You can feel every inch of his meaty cock on every thrust. You move up and down on his cock, taking him as deep and fast as you can. 

“That’s it, keep going, sweet thing. Keep showing me how much you love this cock,” he sucks on his bottom lip and his fingers are digging into your hips.

You moan as you ride his cock, listening to the grunts and growls coming out of your beloved’s mouth as your hot core moves up and down, up and down. Sweat is glistening on both of you. A single bead rolls down between your breasts and Kyojuro leans forward to lick it up. 

“I’ll take over from here, sweet thing,” he says as he pulls your head down to kiss you passionately. 

You nod, limbs exhausted and weak but nowhere near done being ruined by the man you love. Your hands rest on his collarbone as he moves his legs so they are spread and his feet are planted on the bed, spreading you wide open and taking control of the situation. 

His hands are now on your ass, squeezing and keeping you wide open. He starts thrusting up into you. You moan and throw your head back, the angle he is at feels incredible. The bulbous head of his cock is dragging over that special spot in your gummy walls on every thrust. Its fucking perfect.

“So good, Kyo! So good!” you moan, leaning forward to kiss him, rocking your hips to meet his as best you can as he fucks up into you. 

His lips move from yours to kiss across your chin and mouth at your neck. He groans against your skin, sucking a dark mark into your skin, marking his territory. Your hands bury in his hair, holding him close.

“Be a good girl and just keep taking this cock, just a little longer,” he says against the skin of your neck. “Doin’ so good… Bein’ so good…”

“Don’t stop, Kyo. Don’t stop until you cum!”

“Yeah?” he asks, his hips starting to pick up speed.

“Need you to cum! Need to feel you cum inside me! Please! Feels so good! So big, stretch me so good! Don’t stop!”

There it is!! There is the mindless babbling he was looking for. His arms move to wrap around you, his large hands rest on your back as he holds you close and his hips start slamming into you at a brutal pace. You are moaning over and over again in his arms, babbling as tears of pleasure are leaking from your eyes. 

You grab his face and kiss him, lost in the moment, lost in him. All that exists in Kyojuro and this moment right here. This is what you wanted. This is what you needed. And it’s obviously what he did as well. 

He presses his head back into the bed, watching your face as his orgasm reaches its breaking point. His hands are suddenly on your hips again, fingers digging in for control and bringing you down to meet his every thrust. There is no rhythm to his fucking. He is stunning beneath you,  completely gone to the moment, completely lost in the pursuit of emptying his balls into you. 

It’s rough. It’s feral. And it feels so fucking good.

“Oh fuck, sweet thing! I’m cumming, my love! Here it comes! Be a good girl and take it, take… every…fucking…drop!”

You moan as he slams your cunt down on him for the last time. His hands hold you hostage as he grinds against you and fills you to the brim with his thick hot seed. He lowers his head to the bed and his arms return to being wrapped around you. His strong hands roaming up and down your back as you both come back down to reality. 

You rest with your head on his shoulder, like him working to catch your breath. You glances at his face, the relaxed smile he gives you makes you let out a happy little laugh. “So?”

“So what?” he asks, head laying back on the bed. He looks so fucking hot with his hair a mess and a fucked out expression on his face you are sure matches your own.

“Was I good?” you tease.

He grins and pulls your head closer to his, and kisses your lips gently several times. “You were perfect, as always.”

“Was that a good reward?” you ask, fingers drawing circles on his chest.

He nods and kisses your forehead, “Very much so. Thank you.”

“Anytime. Like seriously, my love, anytime,” you say, smiling at his answering grin. “But we still have one problem to address.”

“We do?” he asks, confused.

“Yeah… we still need dinner,” you answer with a little smirk.

“Ah, yes that. I have an idea!”

“Say more!” you cock your head to the side.

One of his hands on your back holds you where you are and the other reaches out to grab his phone off the end table. He grins up at you and you feel his cock twitch within your cunt.

“Again?” you ask, eyes wide.

“Again,” he grins. “You stay right where you are, I’ll place an order at the Chinese place you love.”

You hum in approval, sitting up on his lap, listening to him begin to speak. But you are a devious little thing and you start just slightly rocking your hips against him. You may be tired, your muscles may be burning, but that doesn't matter. 

You grin like a cat that has caught the canary. The look he gives you as you move on his hardening cock while he is trying to place the order promises payback. In the time it takes for him to place the order between clenched teeth, you have his cock fully hard and throbbing inside of you again. 

Kyojuro ends the call telling them to take their time and tosses his phone onto the night stand. Strong hands grip onto you and quickly roll you over onto your back. He grabs your wrists and pins you down into the mattress. His hips begin to move with purpose and he smirks. “Again.”

[thegoldencontracts]

Prefect

Azul is your boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend, as in, person you're in intimate and romantic relations with. So why, just why is he still calling you Prefect?

Notes: credit to @/cephalo-punk for the idea... Im sorry for my sins, reader is the Prefect, GN reader as usual

You and Azul had a wonderful relationship, really. Wonderful, and romantic, and everything. It was safe to say you two were closing, dating, even. Yes, you two were dating. For months now.

And what did people usually call their partners whom they were dating? Their first name, maybe a petname. They usually dropped the titles.

But not Azul. No, Azul could never drop the title you held. Why? Who knew?

"Prefect!" Azul's voice pulled you out of your frying pan of rage only to plummet you into its fire. Ah, yes, that 'nickname'. That damned nickname. "Would you like to dine together this weekend? My treat, of course. I secured a reservation to that restaurant you kept ogling on our trips together. I know, I truly am a benevolent soul."

And yet, immediately your rage was quelled. Azul was asking to take you out on a date. And especially this week - Finals' must've left him completely swamped, no? But he did. And he even got a reservation to that one place that you somehow forgot the name of! Sure, you didn't remember the name, but you did remember that those reservations were super hard to get.

So, did the Prefect thing really matter that much?

"I'll gladly go on a date with you, Azul!" You said. Azul's lips jutted out ever so slightly.

"A 'date' is one way to call it, I suppose," he said. "Really, Prefect-"

Nevermind. In an instant, your mood was dampened by that stupid term of address. He loved you enough to go through all this trouble, and you really appreciated that, honest! You just wanted him to use your goddamn name!

Wait. You had an idea.

"Fine, fine, I'll stop teasing you," you said. "Housewarden Ashengrotto."

Azul looked at you in confusion.

"Housewarden Ashengrotto?"

"That's you, silly!" You said, like you didn't know the real reason behind his question.

Azul's face puckered up in displeasure, like he'd just eaten a sour lemon. He stayed silent for a while before speaking up again.

"Have I done something to offend you, Prefect?" He asked.

"Nope!" You said. "Why, Housewarden Ashengrotto?"

Azul's eye twitched.

"You've decided not to call me by my name all of a sudden," he said.

You smirked.

"Well, since you don't call me by mine, I thought we'd be on even footing!"

The realization hit Azul like a truck. His eyes widened, only to narrow as his cheeks flushed in an indignated pout.

"W-Well- that's different, er-" Azul sighed. "Does it truly upset you that greatly?"

You couldn't help but soften up a bit at that. He really didn't mean you any harm, even if you did still think it was uncharacteristically stupid of him.

"How does it feel when I call you Housewarden?" You asked. His face darkened.

"Point taken."

"Good," you said. "So, why don't you try calling me by my name?"

Azul's eyes widened.

"E-Eh?"

"You heard me. We should be on even footing, right, Housewarden Ashengrotto?"

Azul gulped. If he wanted you to call him by his name again, he'd have to do this, and obviously he was going to, since it was clearly important to you, but...

It was hard.

"O-Of course," he said. "E-Er, Pre- ah-"

And then he said your name. Without "-san" added as an honorific. Nothing of the sort, just your name.

You smiled.

"Yes, Azul?"

And just hearing his name again made Azul beam.

"Why don't we go to your place? It's getting rather late."

"I would love that."