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deebris · 5 months ago

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The Mysterious Visitor 3

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Bruce begins to suspect that Damian is hiding something after the two of you finally see each other, and the father-son trust between them is shaken. Tim finally sees your face, and something strange happens. The meeting between siblings was not successful, and to their dismay, Bruce will need to confront Talia face to face once again.

Warnings: The reader is 13 years old and is Damian's twin sister; the tone of the story is somewhat sad; Bruce is intimidating; Hugo Strange mentioned; family discussion; maternal overprotection.

Word count: 3.6k

Note: I'm sincerely sorry if I didn't include someone on the tag list or if I made any mistakes. This part took longer because it's a bit longer.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

"Forgive me for not offering anything sooner, miss," Alfred said, watching you carefully pick up the hot chocolate he had given to you. He found it curious how you ignored the handle of the mug, instead holding it with both hands, making sure wouldn't spill it.

You diverted your eyes from the brown liquid and looked at the old butler, now knowing his name, licking your lips after the sip to clear the excess drink. "It's okay," you responded, unaware of the chocolate mustache that had formed.

Bruce, still in the room, watched the scene from the side while patiently awaiting Damian. He traced circles with his index finger on the rim of the whiskey glass he had poured for himself, trying to keep control of how much he drank. Bruce would never admit it, but he needed to calm down, and perhaps a bit of moderate alcohol might help. He knew it wasn't appropriate to drink in front of someone as young as you, but he couldn't stop himself.

He was caught looking at you with a suspicious gaze that didn't waver. The room was filled with a palpable discomfort, and you, embarrassed, went back to staring at your own drink again, focused on listening to the crackling of the fireplace.

"Here, take this," Alfred said gently, extending a napkin from the tray. You accepted it and wiped around your mouth, finally realizing you'd made a mess.

Your mother would have scolded you for your lack of manners, you thought to yourself. And, for the thousandth time that night, you worried about how she would react to discovering you weren't in your bed. Maybe she had already noticed and was preparing a furious speech along with your punishment.

"What are you thinking about, dear?" Alfred asked, noticing your quietness as you rested the hot chocolate mug in your lap and started staring into nothing.

You snapped out of your stupor upon hearing the question, fiddling with one of the charms on your bracelet, the "T" specifically, Bruce couldn't help but notice. His mind was in turmoil, much like yours, with a thousand different thoughts arising every second. He felt strangely betrayed, questioning how much more his son hadn't told him—important things like the fact that he had a sister.

"I was just thinking that..." you trailed off, swallowing hard as the nervousness grew. Letting out a shaky sigh and with visible tears forming in your eyes, you continued, "My mom's going to be mad at me."

"And are you afraid of your mother?" Alfred insisted, trying to sound gentle upon seeing your distress.

"It's not quite that," you replied, trying to ease the situation so he wouldn't jump to conclusions.

You weren't exactly afraid of her, but you knew that rummaging through your mother's belongings, stealing a letter, and sneaking out in the middle of the night would disappoint her. You worried about her reaction and, above all, about Damian's reaction. If he was still the same, he certainly wouldn't be happy with the circumstances.

You tried to calm yourself, convincing yourself that you had the right to be angry for the first time in your life, not them, even knowing that your family would see you differently. It was as if you were perpetually a five-year-old in their eyes, always needing to hear lectures about every dangerous step you took.

Even though you and your brother were the same age, he was more responsible, smarter, stronger, destined to be a leader. And it annoyed you so much, but no matter what you said, your mother wouldn't change her mind about your upbringing.

When Damian left, Talia had said he would spend some time in a different place to learn new things and improve himself. For the first few weeks, it was even liberating not having him on your neck all the time, but then you realized it was because of him that you could do simple things like take a walk around the neighborhood alone.

Without Damian at home, your mother had no one to contradict her decisions, and her constant protection began to suffocate you. Then came the longing, and what was supposed to be a few months turned into years, and you never saw him again. You never stopped thinking about him. Every day, every birthday, and every Christmas, you would wait near the entrance of your apartment before going to bed, hoping that he would open the door again.

"Where is your mother?" Bruce suddenly interrupted, feeling Alfred's cautious gaze on him. You hesitated to answer, after all, although Mr. Wayne was a very popular man with a good image, you didn't know him. "I don't intend to harm you, but I need to know to take you back home," he justified, looking directly at your face, but Alfred knew this was Bruce's way of telling him that he wasn't interested in Talia, but rather in ensuring your safety.

"I'm not dumb, I know how to get home by myself," you tried to defend yourself. And though the words might sound arrogant, you said it calmly, not wanting to offend him.

"The point is not that. This is Gotham City, you shouldn't have gone out alone in the middle of the night." Bruce tried to reason with you, and it seemed to have worked because you fell silent.

"You need to trust us, miss," Alfred tried to encourage you to respond, but you remained silent. Bruce turned the glass to take a big sip of his drink and both gave up, not wanting to pressure you further.

The following minutes were silent, interrupted only by the sound of you drinking the hot chocolate in a few sips. Unexpectedly, Titus, Damian's German Shepherd, seemed to have taken a liking to you. He entered the room from the kitchen and stopped by your side to smell the new scent in the house. The relatively gentle dog sniffed around you, appreciating the head pats he received while you were enchanted by the furry animal.

Bruce couldn't help but compare you to his son since he began to analyze you. Damian had his mother's cunning personality and an arrogance that Bruce couldn't deny he had too, but it was more pronounced in Talia. He clearly remembered the first meeting with Damian. The first thing the boy did was make a ridiculous joke about his height, and he never seemed shy when meeting Bruce or the other boys. Also, when he arrived at the mansion, he felt comfortable analyzing every tiny detail of the house, unconcerned if his opinions were unpleasant.

You, on the other hand, although in different circumstances, limited yourself to a small space on the couch, responding only when asked and gladly accepting the kindness of Dick and Alfred. Bruce wondered how Talia could have raised a daughter like you. She and her sister, Nyssa, were sharp women, trained to be natural-born assassins, despite having a traditional father like Ra's. It was hard to believe that you, an apparently ordinary and shy girl, could be her daughter.

"Do you like dogs?" Bruce asked, deciding to stop being grumpy.

"I do, but I think I prefer cats." You continued to stroke Titus's cheeks, who began to want to climb onto your lap. Unfortunately, he was too heavy, and you had to push him back to the floor. The animal seemed to interpret that as a game because he kept trying to climb several times. "Mom gave me one for Christmas last year."

"Titus." Bruce's voice caught the dog's attention, patting his right thigh, calling him to sit on his lap. His gesture, although meant to stop the animal from bothering you, made you a little disappointed that you couldn't pet his soft fur anymore.

"What a coincidence. It seems you and Damian share something in common." Alfred was smiling while talking to you, which was rare for him. "Last Christmas, he also brought us two stray cats. The black one lives with us, but unfortunately, I don't know what happened to the other one. Curiously, the cat has my name." The butler tried to make a face at you, pretending to be unhappy. A Cheshire smile spread across your face, followed by the most contagious laugh he had ever heard, and he couldn't help but widen his own smile.

"The cat's name is Alfred?" You asked incredulously, seeing him nod positively. "Mine is an orange cat. He's cute but very troublesome; he even scratched one of my ballet shoes." You commented, much more at ease in Mr. Wayne's presence.

"An orange kitten?" Bruce's eyes widened slightly, just like Alfred's.

An orange and a black cat, both mentioned on the same date. Your seemingly trivial confession revealed to both of them that Damian had indeed kept in touch with you. Perhaps not directly, but it showed that he hadn't forgotten your existence and cared enough to have given the other cat to his sister as a gift. Now, because of you, they both finally knew what had happened to the other furball.

"Your brother also raises a cow here on the property." The butler thought it would be of interest to mention the funny fact, given that Damian was too irritable to raise something like a cow. And it seemed to have worked, as you laughed with genuine surprise in your eyes.

Bruce couldn't help but let out a muffled laugh when reminded of the cow, and unlike how he had been so suspicious of you moments ago, he was now more relaxed. He wondered when was the last time he saw Alfred so cheerful with someone new here at the mansion. The butler was a man full of tenderness for the family, but he was difficult to deal with for outsiders, although he always presented himself in a polite manner.

But the pleasant moment was suddenly interrupted by a series of voices coming from the top of the stairs, making Bruce and Alfred frown. Both stood up to see better what was happening and saw Damian pushing and shouting at his three brothers while struggling to descend the steps without being hindered by them.

Jason saw that Bruce and Alfred had already noticed them, failing to prevent the boy from confronting you three, and let go of his arm. Dick and Tim followed suit, defeated. The events of the night were revealed to him by his brothers, who told him everything from you being here to the fact that you had had some sort of contact with Strange. Damian went berserk at the last part and stormed out of the room in a flash.

Seeing his son in the Robin uniform, Bruce thought of reprimanding him, knowing he had gone on patrol alone again, but decided that was a matter for later.

"Damian," Bruce called out, calming him down a bit from his excitement. "We have a visitor." There was no view of the stairs from the living room, so you couldn't grasp that Bruce was calling Robin by your brother's name.

Damian descended the steps slowly, as if it were a very difficult task for him, and then finally looked at you, then at Bruce, and back at you, completely ignoring anyone else. He took a deep breath, trying to process the situation. Dick had told him that his father didn't know anything about you being his daughter, but he was sure this secret wouldn't last much longer. And honestly, he preferred that both of you knew the truth, even knowing that his mother wouldn't be happy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

You slowly got up from the couch, gripping the hot chocolate mug tightly. The truth was, Damian hadn't realized he was still dressed as Robin, and that's why you didn't recognize him. You stood there, paralyzed, not understanding why he was in Bruce Wayne's house, and why would he talk to you? Or maybe this was some kind of joke, and you still hadn't figured it out.

Damian was silent for a moment, his expression serious. "You were supposed to stay with Mom. It's not safe for you here."

"Master Damian," Alfred spoke, signaling to the mask on his face. Damian quickly tore it off, feeling stupid for forgetting about it.

You almost let the mug slip when you saw him. Your brother had grown a lot since he was ten. His face was thinner, more defined, and his eyes smaller, plus his voice was deeper. That's why you didn't recognize him at first. Before, you would have known who he was just by the sound of his voice, but it wasn't the same anymore.

You were happy and surprised at the same time. That moment was shocking, and the bitterness you felt a while ago was forgotten. Your anger at discovering Damian ignored you for two years for the people in this house didn't cross your mind now, too busy trying to memorize each of his new features. The superhero world wasn't new, after all, but how could your brother be Robin? And if he was Robin, did he know Batman?

"I wanted to see you," you replied, your voice trembling. "I missed you."

Damian sighed, approaching. He wanted to argue but fought against it, knowing the last thing he should do was yell at you after so long. "I missed you too, but you shouldn't be here, S/n. Things are complicated here." He responded tensely, calculating his words and trying to find a way to get you away from Bruce as quickly as possible before something slipped.

Bruce watched your interaction, unsure of what to do. He didn't understand the depth of your relationship, wondering if he should intervene or let you talk alone. It seemed too personal to discuss in front of so many eyes.

In a brief exchange of glances with Dick, in a kind of silent conversation, Bruce signaled for him and the others to leave.

Understanding as always, Dick nodded, indicating they should leave but not before approaching Bruce with something. "Bruce, promise me you'll only read this card when you're in a clearer state of mind," he asked in a whisper, placing a piece of paper in Bruce's hand, careful to put the written part facing his palm. Dick rarely asked for promises, so Bruce reluctantly agreed.

"Can you at least tell me what it is?"

"It's a clue about Hugo Strange," was the simplest response he could give. "But let's leave that for another time," Dick emphasized, looking at you and Damian, who, to their surprise, were watching them.

"Let's go. This is no longer our business," Dick tried to pull Jason and Tim along, but Tim was stubborn:

"Did you give it to him?" Tim said just loud enough for Dick to hear.

"Yes, Tim," he replied, not wanting to give him more room to argue, going up the stairs two steps at a time, followed by Jason who climbed more calmly, holding onto the railing. Tim gave one last look at Bruce, then at Damian, Alfred, and then you, who was now watching the three. You already knew Dick, but the other two figures aroused your curiosity. How many more people live in the mansion?

The boy you didn't know was called Tim started staring at you with an intrigued expression. He hadn't managed to see your face closely before, but now, looking calmly, he couldn't avoid noticing how familiar you seemed. He felt he had seen you somewhere, but where? You examined him with the same perplexity, and for a moment he parted his lips to say something, maybe to ask if he knew you, but Bruce's voice made him jump:

"Tim, you should go to bed, just like your brothers." He asked in a gentle tone.

"Sorry, Bruce." He responded quickly, going up the stairs in same style as Jason.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?" Damian took advantage of the fact that the three had left and angrily threw it in your face, but trying to disguise it at all costs to avoid sounding too harsh. His eyes were frantic, looking at every part of your face.

He wasn't sentimental, and he refused to go through the humiliation of showing any weakness at seeing your grown-up figure, even if it caused him heartache. "Why did you disappear like that? Mom's been worried for hours."

"I already told you. I wanted to see you." Your voice rose a bit, desperately trying to justify yourself. You wanted so much to hug him but felt too embarrassed to do so, finally realizing that the intimacy you had before no longer existed. It was as if he were a stranger.

"Let's go. I'll take you back." He grabbed your wrist, wanting to disappear from his father's sight at all costs, but you pulled away, surprising him.

"Why are you so eager to get rid of me?" You asked indignantly, trying to swallow the sob due to your wounded pride. The warmth in your heart rose to your head, finally feeling that old anger again. "I haven't seen you in years, and the first thing you do is want to keep me away again!" You were distressed, feeling rejected.

"Maybe it's because you only cause problems!" He exploded.

"I had forgotten how irritating you are!" You shouted at the top of your lungs, trying to push him back as you did in childhood arguments. Back then, you two were equal in strength, but now Damian was becoming a man, and he barely moved.

You didn't notice when you dropped the mug on the floor, which luckily didn't break as the impact was cushioned by the rug. But the little liquid left had spilled and stained it, and seeing Alfred pick it up to clean made you feel awful. You should have done it, but he stopped you when you made a move to bend down, saying it was okay. Alfred felt he shouldn't participate in this conversation and used the mug situation as an excuse to go to the kitchen.

"Stop." Bruce intervened between you two, separating both and giving his son a challenging look. He knew this kind of attitude was typical of him, but seeing how loyal and obedient Damian was to Talia, he thought he would at least show some sympathy to his sister. "S/n, why don't you go sleep a bit? It's late, it would be good to rest." He offered as a truce and also as a way to interrupt your meeting, seeing how bad it was going.

"Do you realize the danger she got into? Talking to strangers, no less." Damian spoke again, his voice dangerously calm, ignoring Bruce. "Do you have any idea who that guy was, S/n? Do you have any idea?!" His voice began to rise a few octaves.

A solitary tear rolled down your cheek, recalling the man who had helped you on the street. At that moment, he seemed like a good person, but the way your brother was talking, apparently he wasn't. "How many times do we need to tell you not to talk to strangers? Not to leave the house without telling anyone? It's always been like this since we were kids, you never change!"

You had no reaction. That single tear had turned into two, then into several others, as you shrank into your own shame. You felt ridiculous for coming here because of him.

"Damian, who are you talking about?" Bruce held him by the shoulders to stop him from continuing to spew anger at you. His voice was much deeper than the boy's, and although it didn't intimidate him, it was enough to make him look at him at least.

"Hugo Strange, Dad! Damn Hugo Strange!" Damian lost control of his own mouth, speaking without thinking and not realizing the slip he had just made. "Because she's too stupid to have the slightest notion about anything!"

"Hugo Strange?" Mr. Wayne asked out loud. You knew exactly who Strange was, just as you knew other villains, although you might not recognize them by appearance. But that didn't matter to you now, as you spoke right after:

"Why did you call him Dad?" You looked your brother in the eyes, expecting some kind of explanation, not noticing how his body hairs stood on end.

Suddenly, a realization hit you. This was his new family now, and this man was his father. That venomous jealousy returned once more, and you didn't know if it was because Damian now had someone to call 'Dad' or because it meant how close he had become to these people. Damian swallowed hard, sweating and standing still like a statue.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. I didn't mean to cause trouble." You apologized, deciding to completely ignore Damian from now on.

"No need to apologize." Bruce felt uneasy, and like you, he drew a wrong interpretation from it. He thought Damian hadn't told his sister who his real father was, which was possible considering he also hadn't told her he moved in with him. The fact that you two were twins was also still unknown to Bruce. The most logical idea, though not spoken or thought, was that you were Talia's daughter with another man. "I'll ask Alfred to show you a room."

You looked one last time at Damian before disappearing into some wing of the mansion. It hurt to see him watching you leave without even saying goodbye. A 'good night' would have been hopeful, even though you hated him now.

"Come, miss." You felt Alfred's hands on your back, guiding you. "I'll show you the guest room," he explained, and you looked back, seeing Bruce watching the two of you.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you said, trying to sound as grateful as possible, while wrapping one arm around Alfred's waist affectionately. Bruce gave you a slight smile, uncrossing his arms to wave goodbye, which you returned with your free hand.

"You and I now have a lot to talk about." Bruce's aura had become cold again. The trust he had built with Damian wasn't broken, but it definitely had a crack.

"Mom is coming," he said in a low voice "I called her as soon as Dick started told me everything," he confessed, knowing Bruce would be furious, watching him run a hand through his hair to relieve the tension.

Following his example, Damian also sat in one of the armchairs in the room, analyzing his father's movements. Whenever Talia and Bruce were in the same room, even if they didn't do it openly, they fought for some kind of dominance.

Bruce made a move to take out the card Dick had given him to see its contents and maybe pass the time while the second storm of the night was yet to come. The first had been you, of course. He ran his fingers along one of the edges of the card, without taking it completely out of his pocket, and then remembered his son's words:

'Promise me you'll only read this card when you're in a moment of clarity.'

The last thing Bruce had now was clarity. So he sighed heavily and pushed it back into his pocket, staring at the boy beside him. "Why do I feel like your sister should be a secret, Damian?"

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Credits for the divider: @cafekitsune

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ahqkas · 6 months ago

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BELLA ITALIA ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! in the moment of darkness, he was your light (or when theodore nott noticed a pretty girl struggling to communicate in english and decided to step up) (based off this req.!!)

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, reader is from italy, italian theodore, translation of foreign language

WORD COUNT! 1.7k

NOTES! i’m trying to learn italian on my own and when i hear this man speaking italian i am WHIPPED 😿😿

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

MOVING FROM ONE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER CAN BE AN INCREDIBLY CHALLENGING EXPERIENCE.

The first problem is often the language barrier. Suddenly finding yourself in a place where you don't speak the native language can be isolating and overwhelming. Simple tasks like ordering food or asking for directions become daunting challenges, and the fear of being misunderstood or ridiculed can make even basic interactions fraught with anxiety.

The weather can also play a big role in the adjustment process. Going from a sunny, warm climate to a cold, rainy one (or vice versa) can have a profound impact on one's mood and well-being. It's not just a matter of dressing appropriately — it's about learning to cope with the changes in daylight, temperature, and overall atmosphere. You left the sunny shores filled with ocean breeze and moved to rainy afternoons that seemed rather sad than anything else.

And then, of course, there's the school. Being the new kid in class is never easy, but when you're in a completely foreign environment, it can feel like you're on an entirely different world. Everything from the way classes were conducted to the social dynamics among students was be vastly different from what you were used to, leaving you feeling like a fish out of water.

But perhaps the most challenging aspect of moving to a new country was the sense of displacement, of not quite belonging anywhere. You longed for the familiarity of home while simultaneously yearning to embrace your new surroundings. You missed the way the sun kissed your skin and the way the sea felt against your movements as you swam in the water with your friends.

And you wanted someone to understand you.

Navigating the labyrinthine halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you clutch your time table tightly, eyes darting from one corridor to another in search of the potion dungeons. The castle's vastness is overwhelming, its endless staircases and hidden passages a far cry from the sunny, open streets of your hometown in Italy. You knew your first day here would be hell.

The weather outside matched your mood: overcast and drizzly, the persistent rain casting a melancholic atmosphere over the stone walls. You miss the warmth of the Italian sun, the vibrant colors of your old school. Here, everything feels cold and foreign, a constant reminder of how far you are from home. Everything was gray and dark, the opposite of the vibrant colors you were used to.

You spot a group of students huddled together, chatting animatedly as they stood by a stone wall. Gathering your courage, you approached them, hoping they can point you in the right direction. "Scusa," you begin, your Italian accent heavy, each word carefully pronounced. "Where . . . potion class . . . dungeons?" (Excuse me.)

The students exchange puzzled glances, clearly struggling to understand your accented English because despite your try, it still came out quite wobbly. One of them, a tall boy with a shock of red hair, furrowed his brow and shakes his head slowly. "What?" he says, not unkindly, but with a hint of frustration at this situation.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You try again, your voice wavering slightly. "Potion dungeons," you repeat, gesturing with your hands as if that might bridge the gap between your language and theirs. "Next class . . . I need find."

The red-haired boy shrugs, casting a sideways glance of help at his two friends who stood next to him. They all look at you with the same guilty expression, as if they would really like to help but there was no way. The girl with bushy hair smiled at you with an expression of 'Sorry', and you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. They don't understand, and you're too flustered to find the right words.

"Sorry," the ginger boy said finally, shaking his head again. "I don't know what you're saying."

Disheartened, you nodded and mumbled a quick "grazie" before retreating. You wandered through the corridors, frustration mounting with each wrong turn. The stone walls seemed to close in around you, the ancient tapestries and suits of armor blurring together in your anxious haze. You felt lost, not just in the physical sense but emotionally, adrift in this unfamiliar place where even asking for directions was like a challenge for you.

Your mind was still reeling from the embarrassing encounter as you hurried down the corridor, your thoughts tangled in a web of frustration and self-doubt. How could something as simple as asking for directions feel so impossible? The sting of the students' puzzled looks and guilty smiles lingers, making your cheeks burn with residual embarrassment. Lost in your thoughts, you rounded a corner too quickly and collided with a solid figure. Your bag slipped from your shoulder, and your books spilled across the floor. You gasped at the sight, your heart leaping into your throat. Could you embarrass yourself any more today?

"Scusa, scusa!" you blurted out in Italian, crouching down to gather your scattered belongings. The words tumbled from your lips in a rapid, nervous stream. You didn't even think the person wouldn't understand your sentences. "Non stavo guardando dove andavo. Mi dispiace tanto!" (Excuse me, excuse me! I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm so sorry!)

As you frantically picked up your books, you glanced up to see who you've bumped into. Your eyes widened in surprise and relief when you recognized Theodore Nott, the quiet Slytherin who always seemed to glide through the halls with an air of calm detachment and mysterious aura. You braced yourself for confusion, expecting him to look as puzzled as the others had.

But instead, Theodore's lips curved into a slight smile and a warm glint appeared in his usually cool eyes. "Non ti preoccupare," he replied in perfect Italian, his voice soothing and accent deafening. "È tutto a posto. Lascia che ti aiuti." (Don't worry. It's all right. Let me help you.)

The shock of hearing your native language from his lips momentarily left you speechless. You watched in amazement as he got down on his knees, helping you gather your books with nothing but ease. The knot of anxiety in your chest began to loosen, replaced by a flutter of gratitude and something else — an unexpected connection.

"Grazie," you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. "Non sapevo che parlassi italiano." (Thank you. I didn't know you spoke Italian.)

Theodore's smile widened just a fraction, a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. "Mia madre è italiana," he explained, handing you the last of your textbooks from the floor. "L'ho imparato da lei." (My mother is Italian. I learned it from her.)

You stand up, clutching your books to your chest, and for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Here is someone who understands — not just your words, but the feeling of being caught between two worlds.

"Grazie mille," you repeated, your smile genuine this time. "Mi sentivo così persa." (Thank you very much. I felt so lost.)

Theodore nodded, his expression softening. "Capisco. Hogwarts può essere un posto molto grande e confuso. Vieni, ti mostro io dov'è la classe di pozioni." (I understand. Hogwarts can be a very big and confusing place. Come, I'll show you where the potions class is.)

As you walked beside Theodore through the corridors of Hogwarts, the oppressive weight of the castle's vastness seemed to lift slightly. His calm demeanor and fluent Italian became a comforting anchor in this world full of unfamiliarity.

"Da quanto tempo sei qui?" you asked the boy next to you, trying to make conversation. (How long have you been here?)

"Questa è la mia sesta anno," he replied. "Conosco il castello come le mie tasche ormai." (This is my sixth year. I know the castle like the back of my hand by now.)

"Sei fortunato," you sighed, your hold on your bag tightening. "Mi sento come se fossi in un labirinto." (You're lucky. I feel like I'm in a maze.)

Theo chuckled and the sound was low and warm. He was nice. "Capisco. Anch'io mi sentivo così i primi giorni. Ma vedrai, presto ti abituerai." (I understand. I felt the same way in my first days. But you'll see, you'll get used to it soon.)

As you continued to walk, the conversation flowed more naturally, easing your nerves. "Cosa ti piace di più di Hogwarts?" you asked him, genuinely curious. (What do you like most about Hogwarts?)

"Direi la biblioteca," Theo said after a moment of thought. "È enorme, con così tanti libri rari. E i corridoi segreti. Sono divertenti da esplorare." (I would say the library. It's enormous, with so many rare books. And the secret corridors. They're fun to explore.)

"Sembra affascinante. Mi piacerebbe esplorare di più, ma ho paura di perdermi." (It sounds fascinating. I'd love to explore more, but I'm afraid of getting lost.)

He gave you a reassuring look. "Se vuoi, posso mostrarti alcuni dei posti migliori. Così non ti perderai." (If you want, I can show you some of the best places. That way you won't get lost.)

Theo was the kindest person you've met here in the entire time since the beginning of the school term and your heart warmed at his kindness. "Mi piacerebbe molto, grazie." (I'd love that, thank you.)

Finally, you reached the entrance to the dungeons. "Eccoci," Theo exclaimed, stopping before the heavy wooden door. "La classe di Pozioni è proprio qui dentro." (Here we are. The Potions class is right inside here.)

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. "Grazie, Theo. Sei stato davvero gentile." (Thank you, Theo. You've been really kind.)

He offered you a nod, his smile reassuring. "Prego. Se hai bisogno di altro aiuto, basta chiedere. Buona fortuna con la tua lezione." (You're welcome. If you need any more help, just ask. Good luck with your class.)

With one last grateful look, you pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit classroom. As you took your seat, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps, with friends like Theo, Hogwarts might start to feel a little more like home.

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bindeds · 8 months ago

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[ DON’T BE SORRY. ] : 5.1k words. 𖤐 LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM READER. — you’re dating the big boss of hell himself, but it’s a sticky situation when you’re also good friends with a tech-savvy overlord who believes the cause of your boyfriend’s daughter is absolute bullshit.

#tags. slight hurt/comfort, slight jealousy, nsfw (+18), fluff, smut, vox being a hell of a friend, lucifer being vulnerable as hell,

a/n. fuuuuck i forgot to post this under the request but this was the request that i wrote this for <33 didn''t even remember they wanted fluff which is lucky bc i suck at fluff so i don't write it too often but i ended up writing in fluff anyway bc it felt appropriate for the fic SO

masterlist. request something :>

“Sir, someone is here to see you.”

Vox growled. His office would have been pitch black if it weren’t for the multitude of tv screens that stared right back at him, boring holes into his screen. They buzzed and whined with a cyan glare bright enough to light the entire pentagram. Claw marks left the edges of his head unpolished, his bowtie askew as his teeth grinded so hard he wanted to encounter a system error.

“Tell Val I am not in the mood for sorting out whatever’s got his panties in a twist this time—”

“Someone else, sir.”

“Well don’t just stand there you useless fuck! Who the fuck is it?” Static shocks ruptured from the wires on his head as he jumped out of his chair fuming.

The employee pulled one of the handles of Vox’s grand doors. In pranced a sunlit woman with a grin that stained her cheeks red. On her arms were shopping bags lined all the way down their forearms, marking their weight on her flesh.

You pulled your rose-tinted sunglasses away from your face as you cocked a brow.

“What, are you not happy to see me Vicky?”

“When are you gonna stop calling me that, you absolute slut!” Vox beamed, and as if a new line of code had entered his program, he shedded his jacket off to peel your shopping bags off you as he set them on his couch.

“What brings you back here after all this time, whore? And whose money are you wearing because I know there’s no goddamn way that’s all yours,” Vox laughed through his clearly lighthearted remarks.

“Whatever. Whore is right because you’ll never guess who I’m fucking.”

On the edge of the pride ring resided halls and halls of vintage red wallpaper and intricate gold decor. Knocking frantically at her father’s door just to ask where his partner had gone was never how Charlie would have imagined her morning to go, ever, but here she was, knees wobbling with her hands clasped together as she waited no longer than a second before she had her fist in the air again to—

“Charlie?”

“Dad!”

When Charlie had asked of your whereabouts, Lucifer simply frowned, though a hint of terror struck his shrunken pupils.

“Uh—I thought she was with you? Don’t you guys have that trust building exercise thing on today—”

“Yes! Yes that is precisely why I am panicking—she’s not in her room and she never misses our gatherings! Dad, how do you not know where she is?” Charlie screeched anxiously.

“Relax, Charlie I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for—”

“For her not to tell her own boyfriend where she’s going?” Charlie seethed with dirt kicked into her tone.

“Let me call her, okay?” Lucifer pulled his phone out and speed dialed you.

Something in his room buzzed intermittently.

Charlie peered into her father’s room, only to find another phone rattling on the further bedside table.

Lucifer looked over his shoulder to the same view. His shoulders dropped.

“Ohhh no.”

“Face it baby, I got bigger bucks than daddy could ever conjure up.”

“Vox!” You punched him in the shoulder, unable to hold back laughs that pulled at the bottom of your stomach.

“What? Oh my god, you actually call him that in bed don’t you, you bitch? Holy shit, you really are a slut!” Vox cracked up after you both had left his building. “Where to?”

“A few blocks away I got something to show you in the ma …”

Your lips fell numb when your gaze fell on a certain man with a white overcoat tailing in the wind as he approached your direction with a storm in his steps. He had been looking at his sides—your hand moved to shove Vox even before your body could follow.

“Ow, what—”

“Go.”

“Babe, what’s—”

“Vox go GO! Back in now!” You spun him on his heel and elbowed him back into the glass doors of his building lobby.

“Honey?”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

He called your name, loud and clear as day that even the ruby skies of hell echoed it.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Vox deadpanned.

“Hey!”

Both yours and Vox’s heads turned to the sound, Lucifer just a few strides away from possibly opening a portal down a ring.

“You!” Lucifer barked, gaze locked with Vox’s. “The fuck are you doing calling my girlfriend ‘babe’?”

“Oh, that’s not—”

“Lie to me and I swear to fucking god I’ll make sure they’ll be prying you for parts.”

“Luci.”

“What?” His head snapped in your direction.

A silent gasp escaped you.

His shoes hadn’t nearly been dragged through as much gravel as his voice had been. It was something he’d dug up from the depths of his chest like it was nothing—and it brimmed with the filth of his own disdain.

Lucifer blinked hard as he shook his head. “Honey, I didn’t—”

“We’re just friends.”

“I know that but—”

“It’s an expression.”

Lucifer blinked a few times again, and with each blink he lost more and more tension in his brows, his shoulders—even his lips parted, perhaps to say something, perhaps not.

You and Vox were frozen halfway through the door so Lucifer kicked him in and shut the door quickly to leave you and himself out on the street.

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” Lucifer asked, and it was like he placed a pillow to your head with the way his tone softened. His thumb had somehow ended up stroking soft circles on the back of your palm as he held your hand.

Vox stayed inside but his prying eyes stared through the glass nonetheless. He crossed his arms.

“Don’t look at him, darling,” Lucifer consoled with a lowered voice. He delicately took your chin and pivoted it back to him. “Look at me.”

“Look, can we talk about this back at the hotel?” You asked, but with the tone you used, you were teetering on the edge of pleading. “I’m … I’m sorry.”

“Oh, honey,” Lucifer cooed, tucking away any small pieces of hair that hung over your face. “Of course we can.”

All you could do was give Vox a weary glance before you ducked down into Lucifer’s car and disappeared in the distance.

The ride back had not been short of thick silences that hung in the air. Everytime you looked to him for some sort of emotion, there was nothing for you to read; his complexion was a still pond resting under the moon’s grace. Not even anger bubbled up the surface—and this is solely based on your assumption of what he must have been feeling, because he was a blank page. It’s only reasonable.

Lucifer stopped at the newly built hazbin parking lot but didn’t pull out the key.

He looked at you expectantly, turning even his upper body to face you.

You bit your lip.

“You don’t wanna go inside first?” A squeak of a voice was all you managed.

“I don’t want Charlie to see us upset,” Lucifer reasoned solemnly as he frowned at the floor before he returned his attentive gaze to you. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it out in here.”

“I’m … ashamed, okay,” you exhaled, folding your arms over your chest as you slouched forward. “I’m in hell for a reason. I know it looks bad but I’ve known Vox since he was alive. And I still believe in Charlie’s cause! I’m doing better … you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do, sweetie,” Lucifer blurted immediately, holding your arms like he was the glue to keep you from crumbling apart. “But why did you … did you think I wasn’t going to understand if you had told me?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “Even I wouldn’t have understood if I were in your shoes. I mean, I act like a completely different person around him. And I know what Vox has done, trying to send in Sir Pentious as a spy. It’s horrible. But he wasn’t always like that. Or, maybe he was but—never with me.”

“Honey, I trust you more than just about anyone in this hell. And fuck, that’s difficult in this side of the world, right? I mean—I just … you had me thinking the worst. Well, maybe not the worst but—”

“You thought I was cheating on you, didn’t you?”

“No, never,” Lucifer denied immediately as his eyes widened but his brows furrowed. “I knew it was some kind of mistake. I know you’d never do that to me. But you know … catching up with an overlord like it’s a regular tuesday still raises a few questions if—”

“I know that. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I’m sorry,” you repeated rigidly, curling into yourself so much that your head landed on his shoulder as he still held your arms.

Lucifer pulled back to hold your face by the cheeks, and you didn’t struggle against him as he pressed his forehead on yours, his hat tilting up to accomodate you.

“How about a kiss and we’ll call it even?” He smiled, and you felt his warmth spread to your cheeks.

You grinned back. “Okay.”

You tilted your chin up and gave him a kiss, and both of you had sustained it longer than either of you had expected. Your hand cupped his own over your cheek.

Your lips finally parted, but not much before you both reconnected again, then again, and the third time your mouth was a little more open—and Lucifer’s tongue slithered inside.

Your tongue met his, and they rolled over each other every time you kissed him. A few more kisses, and suddenly you were biting his lip lightly. He chuckled.

“I can see you’re eager to make it up to me, princess,” he said in that voice he knew drove you up the wall.

“I am,” you hummed, a little more innocently than you had intended.

“Well, what are you gonna do?” He asked, genuine curiosity brewing in a higher tone.

You slipped away from his flowerbud grasp and pulled the lever of your seat. The backrest declined all the way backwards, and you laid down comfortably while your thumb slid under your dress and hooked around something that was already mildly damp.

“I’m gonna sit back …”

You chuckled as Lucifer’s eyes followed your every movement like a moth to a lamp; he followed the way your underwear slid down your knees before you folded your legs up to your chest to fully rid yourself from the garment. You tossed your underwear in his face before he could get a good view of what he’s getting himself into.

He shook his head in a jolt, crumpling your panties and stuffing them into his pocket anxiously. But by then you were modest again, with your dress covering your thighs but still riding up dangerously high.

“And let you decide the rest,” you finished in a thin breath.

“Goodness, okay, woo! Okay—” Lucifer sputtered and fanned his overcoat as he averted his gaze. It didn’t last long when his gaze gravitated towards your core that had been concealed but outlined your dress.

You bit your lip. “Well?”

Lucifer’s shoulder emerged from his coat as he shrugged one side of it off, and your gaze magnetized to the view as it slipped down him like a snake traversing down a tree.

He planted his knee on the closer edge of your seat and it didn’t take long for him to shift your legs closer together, allowing space for his knees on either side of your thighs. Though, steadying himself naturally had his chest protruding as he held onto the car ceiling for support. His muscles peeked through the folds of his dress shirt, and the same can be said with his chest under his waistcoat. But that—that was no complaint.

He finally fell to you with only his forearms to keep him up. His eyelids sank, his gaze indecisive between your eyes and your dry lips.

He settled on neither when he ducked below your jaw and planted kisses along it before he strayed downwards.

The spaghetti string of your dress slid down your shoulder the more your squirmed at Lucifer’s nibbles. You knew the moment he caught sight of this because he hesitated for a tenth of a second.

He grinned. He took it between his fingers delicately and slid it down further.

“Whoops,” he grinned.

Glossy silicon mocked him as it peeked out from what had been peeled off you.

“Luci, careful with that, I’ll need to put it back on later—”

Lucifer tore it off you anyway, tossing it to the back with his overcoat. “I’ll give you my coat when we go in, you’ll be fine.”

“Luci!” You laughed as he did the same with the other, your nipples stiffened from the cold air of the car.

Lucifer sat on your pelvis, his hands traveling under your boobs to cradle them.

You both have had sex multiple times together, and yet every time he removes undergarments off you, he enters a dazed trance like it was something new. Something to bask in the wonders of.

He massaged your breasts gently, and it didn’t take long before he ducked down and had his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, one hand twisting and playing with the other.

A noise bubbled in your throat but you held your breath and bit your lip. Watching Lucifer hadn’t been any help; he cocked a brow at you, and a cheeky grin still made its way to the red circles on his cheeks as he quicked his tongue’s flicks against you. You gritted your teeth, a squeak making it past your lips.

His hand abandoned the other nipple, but before you could whine in protest a new sensation rose in your lower stomach as Lucifer shifted his entire body further down.

His fingers had already been deep beneath your folds, your clit sitting pretty between as he pinched it and rubbed it in his grasp.

“Luci … fuck …”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Hell, you hated just how raspy his voice gets when he’s worked up. That by itself had been a leg-opener all on its own. “That’s it. Let me hear you sing.”

Your legs flinched at the jolt of pleasure his fingers brought, and Lucifer took this opportunity to lift the hem of your dress for easier access—and perhaps, a pretty view.

Every so often, he’d bring the threat of pushing his middle finger past your walls, but through the haze of pleasure, it was impossible to read his intentions when he easily could have been using your juices to lubricate his ministrations on your clit.

It had been like the wave of a wand, the way his free hand undid his tie. It dangled loose below his collar that he used to straighten out so diligently; something once so clean soon turned into a crumpled mess in your name.

His wrist pivoted down to the buttons on his waistcoat. The faintest flick of his thumb and suddenly his waistcoat hung dead on his torso before he rubbed faster on your clit, making your squeal.

Cold air brushed past your arousal at the sudden absence of him, and your walls throbbed against each other in response; they bruised and ached and when Lucifer turned down the brightness of the car light, it was all you could feel besides the leather your nails were sinking into.

“Luci, please …”

“Please what, honey?”

“It hurts,” you whined. You didn’t mean to, and in fact a burning sense of shame rose up to your neck and cheeks as sweat tore through the pores on your forehead but all you could do was grab his hand.

“I’m coming, daddy’s coming.”

A slow zipping sound ensued and just as quickly, the head of his erection pressed into your folds and your dripping walls pushed back from the pressure.

You moaned and grabbed Lucifer’s shoulders out of raw instinct, which brought him closer to you.

“You want it all, princess?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” your mouth sagged numb from having to carry your writhing heart in your throat. The vulnerability of his skin on yours, the way his head was just so warm compared to the cold air earlier—your pussy throbbed once more.

“Are you sure?”

“Please please please Luci I can’t—oh! Fuck!”

He pushed his length into you, your neck arching back as you grabbed a fistful of his shirt from where your hands hung around his neck.

Your throat clogged with the embarrassing sounds you knew you would have let out if you had no restraint left. You closed your eyes, knowing well that they were halfway to the back of your head.

Your stomach seemed to make way for his size in you, tossing and spreading the ache to your limbs as your entire body steeled to accommodate him and the space he filled in you.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded, and a hole punctured through your throat as you sighed shakily. “Yes, god—”

“Don’t say his name,” Lucifer breathed, his hand soft on your neck as he looked at your lips then back up at you. “If you have to say someone’s name, let it be mine.”

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing your brain conjured, and the only thing you could utter when all else in there had been undone.

Lucifer kissed your jaw. “Don’t be sorry baby.”

He took your lips in his, his forked tongue brushing past your teeth once more. “Don’t be sorry.”

It was barely considered movement when he pulled out less than half his entire length and pushed in gently, as if you were something fragile he couldn’t afford to drop. You bit your lip and hummed at how smooth he slid into you, how your juices coated him beyond what was needed.

He pulled out quickly but reentered languidly, like a wave finding its way to shore your core clenched at the nerves that tingled in you, the bruises almost sated in what it yearned for as he thrusted again, and your heart spewed.

“Fuck, if you make a sound like that again I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself,” Lucifer panted. “You’re so pretty, it makes me tremble.”

You reached up to give him another kiss, tilting your head along with the circles spinning in it. “Do whatever you want to me. You deserve that much.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to treat you like fucking royalty. Savor every inch if you,” Lucifer hissed through his pleasure. A choked moan left you, causing Lucifer to smile. “Yeah, see? Just like that princess. Fuck, taking me so well …”

With how soft his thrusts were, pressure subsided into more liquid pleasure that sloshed over your nerves. They lit up like christmas lights in your brain as you both moved in tandem to Lucifer’s pace.

A fire had started at your nape from the body heat that had nowhere to go, sweat dripping from your hairline and paving wavy lines of hair that caused your forehead to glisten. Your collarbones warmed up in a different way, Lucifer’s hot breath filling the space between the both of you.

His thrusts grew anxious over time, but his hips never once hit your ass which might have scalded your stomach further; the fact that this man possessed an iron grip over his control in his strokes, he had been careful not to taint you—he only took from places he knew both of you would be enraptured in—and absolutely nothing less.

“Honey, I can’t—” he hissed through gritted teeth as his fingers curled in your hair. His eyes wandered down to how your breasts bobbed to his strokes. He moaned your name, and if the car hadn’t been shaking from Lucifer’s rutting, it shook from the way he proclaimed your name and dropped his head like he was bowing to a god. “Holding me so tight—you worried I’m gonna let go, sweetie?”

“No—ngh! You just feel so good I c-can’t!” You yelped in time with each thrust that followed. “Luci, I—fuck!”

His head perked up, just like the bundle of nerves in that oh-so familiar spot. An old friend.

Lucifer gave a determined grin, sweat trickling down his cheek as he paused to wipe it away.

“Well, hello,” he greeted in a low sultry voice.

He resumed fucking you, but this time he had you screaming his name as his length rubbed up against that spot your body purred to. You shivered and your walls clenched, causing Lucifer to falter.

“F-Fuck, that’s it, good girl,” he grunted in between controlled thrusts that had your gut squeezing. He never once missed.

When your walls fluttered, Lucifer chuffed through his teeth and through the fog of your satisfaction, you indulged in the smell of cotton candy sweat.

“You’re close, princess, so close, I can feel it.”

You gritted your teeth with whatever strength you had left, even your hands had begun to slip from Lucifer’s shoulders.

“You?” Was all you could manage.

“Me? Baby, seeing you like this has me fucked out,” Lucifer huffed. “Shit!”

You squeezed his shoulders before he could pull out.

“In me, Luci!”

He froze, shaking his head to wave away his own daze to focus on you, the things your … request entailed.

“Darling, I don’t have a condom on,” he whispered as the inner corners of his brow quivered.

“You’d make beautiful fucking babies, Luci—I wanna carry them.” Your voice had been obliterated from the sounds Lucifer had fucked out of you. Wispy breaths was what it had become—but the red in your cheeks and your weakened yet felicious state made Lucifer smile.

“You’re not thinking straight,” he said your name and it was nearly enough to get you back down from the clouds. “C’mon, honey …”

“Luci …” you whined. “You’re so goddamn hot when you’re being responsible …”

“Yeah?” He laughed softly, cradling your cheek in his hand.

“Yeah …”

“Let’s finish you up, okay?” He reached up to kiss your forehead but you squeaked from the fact that his length slid deep into you in the process. “Ah, sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” you quoted him from last time, and his surprise melted into a warm smile instead. “Please fuck me.”

“As you wish.”

You screamed brokenly as he continued his ruthless pace from before, and he remembered the exact angle to hit. Your nerves were about ready to jump out from your body as you skyrocketed back into the clouds, your orgasm coming sooner than you could warn him.

“Cumming!” He gritted through his teeth as his horns shot up from his head and you both came together with Lucifer’s cum hitting your dress instead.

Your head hung off the car seat’s headrest. Sweat shimmered on the leather you laid on, and your legs trembled from how long they’d been held at the same position. The only thing you two shared now was open-mouth breaths. You thought of moving, but your muscles were well past its limit to even be lifted.

Lucifer twisted around to grab tissues from the passenger seat compartment. In just a few seconds, he wiped out most of the evidence of himself on your dress. By this time, his horns were long gone and his eyes had returned back to its original form.

“Fuck … I didn’t think this through …” Lucifer grumbled to himself as he hit his temple with his palm. He ran his fingers through his hair before he mustered a weak smile for you. “Wait here, I’ll grab your clothes from your room.”

You exhaled audibly as he vanished with a swirl of sparkling red smoke.

A few breaths of silence by yourself wasn’t ideal, especially when you felt the whine and ache of your limbs in the fact that you were as good as scattered leaves across autumn grass.

Just then, your phone buzzed from the cupholder.

You winced as you bent to take it.

Brat >:)

you better not be fucking him right now i swear to FUCKING GOD [ 13:06 ]

you disappear for years and suddenly you’re back and you’re telling me YOU’RE DISAPPEARING AGAIN?&2$:$$3;: FUCKING [ 13:05 ]

HELLO? THE FUCK [ 12 :57 ]

i’m not gonna let even the king of hell himself keep you from me [ 12:16 ]

because i am not done with you yet [ 12:15 ]

bitch you better show me whatever the fuck you wanted to show me earlier before daddy decided to whisk you away like some fucking fairy tale prince [ 12:15 ]

You chuckled as you swiped the notification.

You [ 13:06 ] : bitch you know the dick is good cmon now

Vox [ 13:06 ] : i mean this in the most platonic and murderous way possible, i will fuck you myself if that’ll get you to ACTUALLY BE A FRIEND AND VISIT ME INSTEAD OF DISAPPEARING FOR YEARS

Vox [ 13:06 ] : i already have to deal with the heartbreak of al

Vox [ 13:06 ] : ykw doesn’t matter THE POINT IS THAT YOU ARE THE SHITTIEST FUCKING FRIEND AND I MISS YOU IS THAT NOT REASON ENOUGH

You [ 13:07 ] : okay, okay, how about this sunday then lmaoo

Vox [ 13:07 ] : you better fucking believe i’ll be blowing a fucking hole through that radio prick’s hotel just to pick you the fuck up asshole

You [ 13:07 ] : if i didn’t know any better vicky i would have assumed you’re actually coming to pick alastor up HAHAHAHAAHAHAH

Vox : ( typing … )

Your phone levitated out of your hands and when you followed where it zipped off to—

“Luci!” You sprung up from the declined backrest in surprise.

Lucifer squinted at your phone as he swiped his thumb down on your screen.

“First of all, I’m honored that you’re telling people how well I pleasure you. Second of all,” Lucifer paused, leaning into you as he used his free arm to hold himself up to you. “Vox is in a world of hurt if he thinks I’m gonna let him lay a finger on you.”

“Yeah?” You copied the way Lucifer says it and watched as his face reddened.

You noticed your spare clothes on his lap and you lifted the dress over your head and discarded it on the floor of the backseat.

You held out your hand for Lucifer to hand you your clothes.

He simply looked at your hand, then back at your naked body, then back at your hand as took it in his own.

You laughed. Hard.

“What—what’s happening why’re you—”

“The clothes, baby!”

“Oh—Oh! Right! Shit!” He finally handed you an oversized shirt, fresh underwear and a pair of shorts you used to at-home wear. “I thought you were asking for another round or something, holy shit—”

“I mean …” you smirked.

“Honey …” Lucifer warned, as if trying to keep a predator from attacking.

“Oh? You don’t wanna? My bad,” you replied innocently. “I was just wondering if Vox was free tonight—”

“I know you’re trying to get a rise out of me but honey …” Lucifer trailed off as he flipped your phone and shoved it into his back pocket.

He crossed over to your seat once more and pinned you back down where you once were, one knee pressed on the side of your seat as his hands ended up on either side of your neck.

“I hate to remind you that I am the fucking devil,” his voice dripped with a poison much worse than what you’ve heard from Alastor’s static. His horns hadn’t sprouted out yet but with his eyes aching red, it wasn’t too far from reappearing. “And if you love me as much as I love you then there is no goddamn way in this realm I am sharing you with anyone else let alone some overlord who thinks Alexander is worth anyone’s fucking time.”

“It’s Alastor and—” you paused, combing through your hair idly. “Luci, Vox is only a friend from the living world—“

“A friend who thinks he can fuck you.”

“He’s in hell for a reason.” You crossed your arms.

Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, the red dissipating from them once they reopened.

“Listen, honey, I—” Lucifer’s gaze lifted away from you for a moment, almost like he’d been overwhelmed with the words clogged in his throat. “You’re someone I can’t afford to … mess up … again. And I know that means simply letting you be. But also, I’ve just—I’ve lost so much, and I only just got Charlie back so I …”

You lifted your arm as your hand fell on his cheek, your thumb softly stroking him back and forth.

He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he placed his hand on yours.

“I know Vox is just a friend. And I know it’s insane to think I’ll lose you to him, but … at the end of the day, this is hell. He still mocks the very thing we’re trying to achieve and I get that you’re not like that and that you’re not easily manipulated but I just …”

“Luci …” you muttered. You sat up and kissed him chastely on the cheek.

“I think about losing you a lot. I think about it to an irrational degree. So it’s not actually something you can fix. It’s something I have to do on my own.”

“Even if that’s true, I can still do my best to be with you and make sure you feel loved everyday. I really was a dick today, I had no idea you were … I’m s—”

“It’s okay. We …” Lucifer chuckled weakly. “We made up, remember?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Luci … you know I love you, right?”

“Like the sun loves the moon,” Lucifer said.

And you knew where it came from, maybe not its exact whereabouts but just how deep it was embedded to him, that statement; he himself had witnessed the creation of the sun and the moon. He knew the tides the two shared, the way their yearning for each other’s pull had been the natural way of things, the only way the people could ever experience day like they do night.

I know you love me because we love like it’s fate.

You and Lucifer walked into the hotel, your back slouched with Lucifer’s overcoat hanging over your shoulders as you folded your arms beneath them.

“Hey Charlie,” Lucifer greeted, and he told her daughter who was already making her way to you that you weren’t feeling well and that you needed rest. Of course, Charlie nodded and resumed her activities with her other friends.

You retired to Lucifer’s room, the left side of the bed while he took the right.

“I love you,” your chest exhausted what it had been used to holding for him, until you saw him.

“I love you, too,” Lucifer hummed back, a sigh escaping him like cherry blossoms in the wind.

“I love you for the soul you are beneath your bones.”

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so-long-soldier-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Our Little Secret

kai parker x reader

summary: you should've known wearing a short little skirt would rile him up. but then again... maybe you did it on purpose. (80s!kai) (step-brother!kai)

tags: teasing, possessiveness, praise kink, degradation, dirty talk, oral sex, blowjobs, vaginal sex

word count: 4.2k

“You look cute,” a male voice comes up behind you, “where are you going?”

You turn abruptly to see Kai, watching you from the other side of the kitchen. His gaze travels up and down your body, but he’s clearly staring at your ass. It almost makes you drop the soapy dish you’re holding.

“Um, thank you.”

“Where are you going?” He repeats, eyes darkening.

“Nowhere.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m serious! I’m not going anywhere, I just felt like looking cute. Trust me, Kai. Do you ever see me leave this house?”

His jaw relaxes, knowing you’re telling the truth. “So you just felt like romping around in a short little skirt? Dad won’t be happy if he sees you in it.”

“Well Dad’s not here right now,” you point out. This is also true. Joshua was out for the weekend on coven duties. He won’t be back until late Monday.

“Mom won’t like it, either.”

“She’s never minded me wearing what I want. As long as it’s appropriate to wear around the kids.”

“She scolded Jo just last week for wearing jeans that were too tight.”

“Well this is a skirt.”

“I can see the bottom of your ass, Y/N.”

“Why are you looking at my ass, Kai?”

“Because you have it on display for me to see.”

“I do not! I’m just doing dishes and minding my own business!”

“You would get so busted for that skirt if Mom saw. Joey would be staring, too. You know he has a crush on you.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Then stop talking about my skirt and just… go away.”

“I came to get a snack.”

“Then get it and go.”

Kai crosses the kitchen towards the fridge, and you finally think he’s dropped it. With his back turned, you bend down to put the plate in the dishwasher, then continue soaping up another. Little do you know that Kai’s watching you through the metal reflection of the fridge door. He licks his lips when your ass is on full display.

“Y’know this is my house,” he suddenly challenges.

You whip around to face him, annoyed. “So?!”

“You can’t boss me around in my own house.”

“Do you pay the bills? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“I was here first. And I’m older than you.”

“Do you want an award?”

He eyes your figure again. “Are you offering?”

“Ugh! Stop it!”

“Oh don’t act like you don’t like the attention. Why else would you wear that pretty little piece in an empty house?”

“I didn’t feel like putting on pants.”

He chuckles. “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

You groan and turn back around, desperate to avoid his gaze any longer.

Kai’s not completely wrong, but you’re not exactly lying, either. Yes, it’s true that you didn’t want to put on pants. Yes… it’s also true that you wanted to gain attention from your step-brother. There, you finally said it. You do like his attention. It’s his fault, though. He’s always flirting with you, regardless if the rest of the family is home or not.

His eyes are always on you, at your back or front, whichever he can get. Countless times you’ve turned suddenly and caught him staring. A handful of those times, his own mother has tried to get his attention but struggled to pull it away from your breasts. His mother, of course, is none the wiser and assumes he’s daydreaming, but you know he’s not. He’ll smirk at you after, if he’s caught, and won’t let her believe anything scandalous was happening instead.

Kai’s also gotten physical with you more times than you can remember. He’ll slide past you in a crowded kitchen, hands in the air as he’s banned from touching anyone, but his groin will brush your ass as he slinks across the room. Twice, you’ve felt the outline of his cock in his jeans when he did it. Both times, your face got so hot you needed to step away from the situation.

He also has a habit of bumping into you. If you’re doing dishes or putting something away, he’ll suddenly appear, suddenly needing to do the same thing. Your shoulders or hips meet from his unexpected presence, and then he apologizes with a voice that does things to you. Either his morning voice, slightly rough, or his soft, midday voice, or the one heard at night, when he’s all talked out and dehydrated. Sometimes he’s close enough you can smell coffee on his breath, or mint, or even gin. Sometimes he lets his hand wander to the small of your back, or further down by your waist. When his family enters the room, he rips himself away from you. The bubbling warmth between you quickly goes cold and leaves you hungry.

“Y/N… Y/N… hello?!”

You blink twice, realizing Kai’s right next to you. A tupperware is in one hand, while the other waves in front of your face. “What?!”

“Jeez! Just asking if you wanted some of this.”

“What is it?”

“Leftover cake from Sarah’s birthday party. It’s chocolate,” he says the last part in a sing-songy voice.

“I know, I was there.”

“Do you want any?”

“No.”

“Awh, come on, Y/N… you know you do.”

“Fine. I’ll have a bite if you’re heating it up.”

His face breaks out into a grin and he mutters a celebratory, “yes!” to himself, then spins around to the microwave.

“Put it all on a plate and gimme the dish. What’s one more dish to wash?”

“Okay. And thanks for doing that.”

“Mhm.”

He leaves you alone while it warms. You turn slightly, wondering why he’s quiet, but see him on the other counter pouring two glasses of milk. You’re quick to face the sink again, not wanting him to see you looking at him.

“So why cake?” You question as the two-minute timer beeps. “Don’t you usually eat pretty healthy?”

Kai shrugs. “Usually. But one dessert was denied, so I was craving something to fill its place.”

“What the fuck was- oh.”

“I mean, I’ll have two if you change your mind.”

You look down, avoiding his stupid smirk.

“Kidding. Have a bite.”

Two minutes is the max time you get to eat in silence. After that, Kai swallows a big bite then looks back at you.

“In all seriousness, you do look really pretty.”

“Thank you,” you say, unsure how to take the compliment.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“What?”

“I’m just asking in case I have to kick someone’s ass! For like, brotherly reasons.”

You roll your eyes. “No, I do not have a boyfriend.”

“Good.” He’s then quick to follow with, “I mean, like, cause Dad would kick his ass, too. That, or turn him straight to dust. Poof! Did you know that Josette’s boyfriend had to go through three weeks of questioning just to take her on one date?”

“Yes, Kai, I was there. I’ve been living here for three years.”

“Right.”

“Did you see the time my brother got his ass beat for bugging me when I tried to eat?” You counter, challenging him.

“Joey?”

“No, dumbass, you.”

“Oh. Wait-” he puts his fork down as he realizes. “Sorry.”

You meant it as a joke, but his frown tells you he didn’t catch that.

“Hey, I’m gonna go back upstairs. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Wait, Kai!” He doesn’t stop. “Kai!” You try again, reaching out to grab his arm.

He freezes, not used to such direct contact.

“I was joking, Kai,” you look in his eyes to say. “I promise. I really do like your company.”

“No you don’t, I bother you as much as I bother Jo.”

Your grip tightens. “No, you don’t. Kai, I’m serious. And I’m sorry. It went too far.”

Finally, he turns to you. “Honest?”

“Honest.”

“Pinky swear?”

You snort, then realize he’s serious. “Pinky swear.”

He grins at this, then slowly returns to the side opposite you, where he had been only seconds ago.

“As a matter of fact,” you continue, “you don’t bug me at all.”

He chuckles and looks at the floor. “I’m sure I bug you a little.”

“No, you really don’t.”

“What about earlier? That wasn’t annoying?”

Now or never to confess. You pick the former.

“Oh, no. I certainly do enjoy your attention. Even when it's on my ass.”

“Oh, do you now?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you bring your chocolatey fork up to your lips, licking the whole length, and sticking your tongue out to him. You keep eye contact with him, watching his cheeks flush bright red.

“Y/N…”

“What? We’re all alone… I’d be lying if I said I didn’t partially wear this little skirt for you.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

“Awh, what happened to the bold Kai I know that will rub his morning wood against my back in the middle of a crowded kitchen? Is he shy?” You tease.

“Y/N, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into…”

“Oh, I think I do. Come on… I bet an afternoon hard is just as satisfying. Oh, but maybe we should wait a couple hours, for when I can literally taste the gin off your breath. Aw, nah, because then the window of opportunity will close. Jo will be home, and all those kids, and you’ll have to see your little brother blush at me without the pride of having owned me earlier in the day.”

“Y/N,” his voice is raspy. His hand ghosts over his pants, and when you follow the movement with your eyes, you see he’s rock hard.

“Come on, Kai… You want to be a good stepbrother and beat up my nonexistent boyfriend? Well be a better one and fuck me right now.”

He only hesitates for a second more before rushing forward, pressing your back up against the sink, and kissing you roughly. He grips the countertop with one hand, your waist with the other. The plate of chocolate crumbs clatters into the sink, piercing your ears, but neither of you care. Your hands find his cheeks to get a grip. You hold them gently, but they’re burning in your hands. He’s a good kisser, despite having no experience. Before you know it, you’re both out of breath.

“Kai,” you try to say his name, but it comes out in more of a moan. The two of you are separated, panting, and staring at the other.

“You okay?”

“Perfect.”

He smiles, then starts to trail kisses down your neck. Your hands find his hair and pull at the roots.

“Jump up,” he mutters. You do, and he catches your hips. He carries you to the other side of the counter, then sits you up on it. With gentle movements, he leans your back against the cabinet door. Had he sat you up by the sink, you would’ve had no support for your back. You give him a sloppy kiss as a thank you.

Kai smiles at you, but then instead of going back to your neck, he crouches just a little on his knees. As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you let out an involuntary whine. Your hands bunch up your skirt and he smirks.

“Smart girl.” He wastes no time pulling down your thong, then stuffing it in his back pocket. The cold air only hits your core for a second before his fingers find your clit, rubbing gently.

“Ohh, Kai,” you whine.

“That’s it, princess. Keep whining for me.”

You let out another, this time, between sealed lips.

Kai puts a finger in you without warning. “Louder, baby.”

“Kai, I can’t.”

“Oh, yes you can. No one else is here.” He puts in another.

You can feel the soft pads of his fingers on your walls. “More,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he praises.

You squeeze your eyes shut as wetness gushes from your body. You’ve always had a praise kink, and he’s about to find out.

“You like that?”

You nod quickly.

“Well keep it up. Keep making those sweet little sounds for me.”

You nod again, eyes still closed. With your eyes shut, though, you have no warning when his nose is suddenly grazing your clit. As soon as it touches, though, you let out a loud moan, almost pornographic.

“Good girl,” he says again, hot breath up against your core. Then, it’s his tongue making contact with your clit. He teases the nub with the tip, then slides it between your folds.

Your hands dig in his hair and moans fly out of your mouth. “Kai!”

He doesn’t answer this time. All his focus is on you. Two fingers still explore inside, while his tongue laps up your wetness. Obscene slurping sounds fill the room, mixed with your own cries. Kai can’t even catch all of it with his tongue - some drips to the title floor with a loud splat, and you can feel the curvature of his lips against your skin.

The boy is an expert, despite probably being a virgin. He knows just how to flick his tongue; just how to curl his fingers.

“Kai, I’m coming,” you cry out, gripping the countertops. Your hands are sweaty and you almost slip. In an instant, his hands catch you, even the one that had been inside your heat. “No, don’t stop what you’re doing,” you mutter, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Sorry, princess,” he replies, putting them back. He then finds the pace he had before, and works to bring you back to the edge.

Moments later, your orgasm is the most powerful you’ve ever had. No other man, nor your own fingers have ever done justice to what he could do with his tongue. He sucks and finger-fucks you throughout your orgasm, paying no mind to the way you squeeze your legs around his head, nor the way you begin to ride his face as you come. Kai doesn’t let up until your legs are shaking, and your heavy moans become little whimpers. Only then, does he stand back up and smile at you.

“You okay?”

“Fuck, Kai.”

“Too much?”

“No. Never.”

“Too much for round two?”

“What?” You mutter, out of breath.

“We can stop if you’re tired.”

You fight to catch your breath, and in that time, happen to glance down. Your eyes go wide as you notice he’s pulled out his cock. Stiff as a board, red, and oozing with pre-cum, it rests in his hand.

“No, no stopping. Just… give me a minute.”

“We don’t have to, princess.”

“No, I want it. I want you.”

You then make an attempt to jump down from the countertop, but your arms are still shaky. He catches you in an instant, an eyebrow raised.

“Where are you going, little peach?”

A tired whimper escapes the back of your throat as you open your mouth to speak. Despite the grip he still has on both your arms, you manage to sink down to your knees. Halfway down, Kai realizes what’s happening and lets go.

“Aw, does my little bunny want to suck her stepbrother’s cock?” Kai takes himself in his hands and levels with your face. “You’re a good girl, you know that?”

You blush, and fight the urge to turn your face away.

“Eyes on me,” he says, seemingly knowing your thoughts.

You obey him, eyes bouncing between his face and his length. Your heart speeds up at the prospect of taking it. Of feeling it heavy in your mouth; feeling it hit the back of your throat.

“Can I?”

“Go ahead, princess.”

Your hands join his. Your eyes roll back in your head at how good it feels. When you look up to him, he nods, and you dart your tongue out to taste the pre-cum leaking from the tip. It’s thick, and salty, and if that’s just your first taste, you know you need to start working for more. You lick the head, swirling your tongue in circles. Your lips suck the first few inches.

“No more teasing.” He tries to be stern, but it comes out in a moan.

You then put a hand on his thigh for a better grip. The jeans underneath your skin are uncomfortable.

“Off,” you mutter, hands flying to his belt.

“Hm? Oh.”

But you’re faster than Kai. Before he can give you any help, you’re unbuckling the metal and peeling his pants down his legs. You’re sure to be careful at his cock, though, pulling it back through the zipper hole, then letting it free.

Kai steps out from the pool of his pants. “Better for you now?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, lips pressed on his length. The action sends vibrations all over and he can’t help but moan again.

Your hand on his thigh squeezes his skin enough that it’ll bruise under your fingernails. Kai only has a second to concentrate on this, though, because in the next second, you’re licking a stripe from his balls to his head. Your tongue is dense against a prominent vein, earning another sound from him. Kai’s hands dig into your hair. He fights the urge to buck his hips into your mouth.

“Y/N,” he warns. If you don’t stop teasing now, he’ll do just that.

Luckily, you catch onto his need. Your lips curl around his head, tongue flat, and you begin to move up and down on his length. You start slow, but as he gets wetter, your lips glide better. The hand holding him no longer has a use, the first time you take him all the way. It slips further back to tug on his balls, while his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly.

Kai keeps his hands on you, buried in your hair, scratching your scalp. Profanities tumble from his lips; words that if his dad were to hear, he’d be beat for days. You smirk against his cock, knowing he can feel your lips curving.

“You’re a naughty little thing, peach. You like that?”

You respond by not losing pace, not slowing down for a second.

“Mhm,” he confirms, “what a good little slut you are. Taking her brother’s cock so well. Tell me, princess, is this something you think about at night? How many times have you touched yourself to the thought of this happening?”

Again, you don’t answer.

“One? Two? Three? More?”

Your hand on his balls travels up to squeeze his ass. The skin is soft between your fingers, and you quickly put your other hand on his other cheek.

“I’ll take that as more than three times,” he chuckles.

You pinch his cheek unexpectedly, making him jolt. His reaction makes you giggle. When you look up to see his reaction, there’s a smile on his face, too.

“You look beautiful on your knees for me,” he praises. But then his hands find your face and he slowly eases you off his cock. “So, so beautiful. But I’m getting close and I need to be inside you.”

You nod, wanting the same.

Kai then grabs you from under your armpits, helping you to your feet. When you’re stable, he hoists you back onto the countertop. Not a moment later, he’s kissing your lips, sore, and red from sucking. Then, at the same time that he hitches your skirt back up your thighs, he presses kisses all around your face. You giggle, his lips tingling your skin, and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Are you ready?” You shake your head ‘yes’. “Need a minute?” You shake it ‘no’. “Okay. Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Okay.”

Kai holds your back steady. His cock is in his other, glistening with your spit; teased, and in need of release. He pushes into you slowly, letting you adjust. He keeps an eye on your face, watching for signs; hoping for pleasure, prepared for pain. Your eyes flutter as he passes your folds. Your mouth hangs open, spit dribbles from your bottom lip. The pair of you moan at once, both relishing in the feeling of his cock inside you. He smiles at the simultaneous sound of pleasure.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Words, please, princess.”

“Yes, Kai,” you manage.

“There you go. Good girl.”

“Go faster.”

“Already? Alright. Gotta give my good little slut what she wants.”

You duck your head in embarrassment. The way he switches between praise and degradation does something to you that you can’t explain. Your core is so sopping wet that he slides in and out painlessly. He pulls out nearly all the way, then slams back into you hurriedly.

“Ah, ah, eyes on me. I want to look into your pretty little eyes while I ruin you.”

You whine at his words and tighten your arms around his neck.

“Perfect. Keep making those sounds, Y/N. You know the drill by now.”

Kai finds a pace that suits you both. Sweat drips from his forehead and his mouth hangs open, out of breath, but he isn’t slowing down. You’re grateful that he’s holding your back, otherwise you would’ve fallen by now.

“Kai!” You cry, hooking your legs around his waist to bring him even closer. He groans, and you decide to feed into that dirty talk he seems to like. “You fuck me so well. You’re a perfect fit for my tight cunt - oh!”

As expected, he loves it. “You bet I am, princess. Have you ever had anyone else fuck you this well?”

“No! You know just what I need.”

“Not even that boy you went to prom with last year? I heard you telling Jo about your little after-party with him.”

“I just imagined he was you, Kai,” you admit. “And any hookup since, I just pretend it’s you fucking me into oblivion.”

Fire burns in his eyes. A possessiveness that tells you all you need to know - he owns you now. You’re his girl. There will be no more pretending, because he’ll be the only one fucking you.

Kai continues to pound into you, but he’s getting sloppier by the second. He’s close, and you are, too.

“I’m gonna come, Kai,” you pant, running a hand through his hair. It’s wet with his own sweat, and when you push it up, some of the strands stay.

“Do it. Come for me. I’m close behind you.”

Permission granted, you orgasm a second time. Your body shakes and moans tumble from your lips. His name is mixed in with them; you chant it over and over like a prayer.

“I don’t want to come in you, baby,” he manages to say. “Where should I-?”

You lift your shirt up over your head before he can finish his sentence. Kai’s eyes immediately go to your breasts, confined within your bra, but pushed up from the underwire. In the same moment he pulls out, you unclasp the hook on your back. Your tits bounce out from their cage just to be pelted with cum a moment later. You moan again, pleasured by the warmth of his seed on your body.

Kai’s hands fall to the countertop as he tries to keep himself upright. The sounds falling from his lips are obscene, and beautiful, and you love every one of them. His eyes roll before looking into yours. Both of you take a minute to recover.

“Your tits,” he finally says, still catching his breath, “are beautiful. Should’ve taken that bra off a long time ago.”

“There’s always a next time,” you suggest, hoping to see that glint in his eye.

The words take a moment to register in his brain. When he looks back up at you, though, you see it. The possessiveness; the mischievousness. You’ll never belong to another man again.

“Definitely a next time,” he repeats.

Satisfied with the answer, you feel a small tension in your jaw relax. You look down at your breasts, sticky with drying cum, and swipe a bit of the load on your finger. Kai watches you suck it off, then go back for more. Once your chest is clear, you smack your lips.

“You’re crazy, Y/N,” he leans forward and nips one of your tits. You giggle, then cover your front with your hands. Kai quickly grabs your hands, then sucks on the other tit. “That’s why I like you. Part of it, at least.” He drops your hands and looks you in the eye, completely serious.

“I like you, too, Kai.”

He helps you off the counter in his next stride. You’re smoothing out your skirt, and he pulls up his pants, when he suddenly asks, “was what you said true?”

“When?”

“About the prom. And the hookups. Do you really imagine me?”

“It’s the only way I can get off.”

His face breaks out in a stupidly happy grin. “Does Jo know?”

You snort. “I wish. But of course not. It’s my little secret.”

“Well now this is our little secret,” he points a finger between the two of you.

“That it is. And I just happen to be amazing at keeping secrets.” You throw him a wink, and then the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon talking, with the occasional break for a make-out session.

#kai parker x reader #malachai parker x reader #kai parker #tvd fanfiction #kai parker smut #80s!kai #step-brother!kai

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lunarduty · 10 months ago

Text

𝙒𝙄𝙎𝙃 𝙄 𝘿𝙄𝘿𝙉'𝙏 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙀

☾ how the cod men act when they're jealous. 141 + ALEJANDRO + RUDY + GRAVES + FRANK X F!READER TAGS | female reader. WC | 1,449

☾ JOHN PRICE has always felt very secure in himself, his work, and the relationships with those he cares about - that extends to you tenfold. he’s not one to get into a relationship if he doesn’t feel like you won’t or can’t be faithful 100%. and that’s why he never truly gets jealous - because he knows you and he knows you love him and wouldn’t try to mess around. if some muppet tries hitting on you at the pub, he’ll only get involved because he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.

but john isn’t completely immune from jealousy. while he never worries about some other bloke sweeping you off your feet, his jealousy comes through when he feels as if someone else is outshining him. john has a tendency to be distant, and even when he’s beginning to feel that distance, work can pull him even further away. so if he sees you getting your laughs or comfort from someone else, it kinda tugs at his heart. makes him wish he was doing it instead.

☾ GAZ never truly lets things get under his skin if he doesn’t deem them important enough to, and jealousy is one of those things. of course, he likes having all of your attention. but it’s hard to really feel threatened when he’s the one who brought you to the pub, arm over your shoulders, showing you off and giving lots of kisses and doesn’t really give a fuck who sees. cheeky as he is, kyle might even revel in the onlookers who start to feel jealous of him.

and if there’s anything to be jealous about, it’s the bottle that you hold so tightly in your hands and bring to those gorgeous lips. it’s toward the music itself for making you move so slowly and sexily. it’s at the liquor that plasters a grin on your face when gaz can usually do it himself. he does later, rest assured - makes dumb jokes to make you laugh while he runs your hands all over his body for you. and there’s nothing left to be jealous over.

☾ SOAP is a man who’s pretty in touch with his feelings. he knows when he starts feeling jealous, when it starts making him act up, and he always feels bad about it. there’s few people in the world soap trusts more than you - yet, he gets that hot, tight knot in his gut whenever he hears your laughter and he’s not the cause of it. when someone else seems to gain your attention more easily than he can. soap will push it down, try to act nonchalant, like it doesn’t bother him. but it does. other people pick up on it and that just makes it worse.

later on, when he finally gets you to himself, soap is talkative - more than usual. like if he keeps rambling about random topics, it’ll make up for lost time. at least in his mind. you eventually have to slow him down with a kiss, ask if everything is alright. you know soap better than he knows himself - of course you picked up on the shift in his mood. that simple fact helps soothe away the last lickings of jealousy. he still feels stupid about letting himself get like that.

☾ GHOST wouldn’t even realize he was jealous until someone else points it out. he’s usually gruff and stoic and glaring at people so his signs of jealous takes the form of not talking at all. and lots of staring. scowling is probably a better word for it - if looks can kill and all that. he internalizes his own behavior as simple concern over you, or something about the situation just not feeling right. he still memorizes the face of the guy who’s been chatting you up. sticks him all the way to the top of his shit list.

ghost doesn’t really interfere, not unless he feels like he has to (though, he’ll move around the goalposts of when the appropriate time is.) until then, he kinda just sulks by himself. not even soap can muster more than a couple words from him. and you can really feel his jealousy once he’s got you by his side again and he’s barely talking to you and glaring because he’s in a general shit mood. you ask him what’s wrong, and he says it’s nothing. it’s not until later, in private, when he reflects and feels like a total ass.

☾ ALEJANDRO is quite known for his hot temper, but when it comes to jealousy, he becomes more of an opportunist. instead of embarrassing you and himself by acting out on his jealousy, he’ll take the burning feeling and turn it into something useful. this means coming up to you, pulling you against his side, looking directly at the guy who’d been chatting you up, and really laying it on thick. kisses you, touches you, makes sly little comments. might kick it up a notch by saying some lowkey insults at the guy, knowing he wouldn’t do anything but alejandro kinda wishes he would.

he’ll act all innocent if you confront him about it. tell you he just likes showing you off because you’re too fucking cute and he loves you too much. but that act doesn’t hold up for very long because alejandro isn’t great at subtly. he ends up just insulting the guy even more to you by saying he was an idiot and didn’t deserve you and he kinda smelled anyway so why would you ever give him the time of day?

☾ RUDOLFO gets a bit of a Kicked Puppy Vibe whenever he’s jealous. he can be a sensitive person and feels the loss of your presence in his very soul. he really does try to ignore that ugly, twisted feeling inside him whenever the jealous gets especially potent. he wants to enjoy the night with the rest of los vaqueros, but rudy always seems to find you in the crowd. always frowns a little when he finds you enjoying the company of someone else a little too much. always stops himself from going and stealing your attention for himself.

but later on, his affection gets amped up to the max. rudy usually shines under your attention, and tonight is only worse. honestly gets a little clingy for the rest of the night, and seems to feel a little better when you blame it on the alcohol. of course, rudy knows himself well enough to know what he’s doing. feels a little embarrassed by it, so maybe some of his many kisses are his way of subtly apologizing for it.

☾ PHILLIP GRAVES does not get jealous at all. not at all. why should he care if some loser is making you laugh so hard at jokes that aren’t even funny? he only steps in because this guy is so wildly unfunny, and also kinda creepy, that graves is afraid you might just die of boredom. and as you know, phillip’s a heroic guy. as your boyfriend and commander, it’s his job to keep you safe from any and all threats big, or in this guy’s case, very small.

graves couldn’t hide his jealousy to save his own life. he likes to believe he’s smart and cunning and doesn’t let dumb shit get to him - and that’s true for a lot of things. but as soon as you gets you all to himself. he’s got this primal need to pull you close and remind you just who the fuck you belong to. he doesn’t think of it as proving himself, but the marks on your neck say otherwise…

☾ FRANK WOODS gets jealous more often than he’ll admit it. it’s going to be loud and it’s going to be obvious. and he’ll deny it - insist he isn’t the jealous type and he’s got more self-respect than all that. but he’s not nearly as subtle as he tries to be. it’s so easy to catch his gaze from across the room when someone happens to get a little too friendly. he’ll say over and over how he isn’t jealous, and in the same breath, stand between you and the dick talking to you and start throwing out insults.

even if you call him out on it later, frank doesn’t seem to care. in fact, he’ll look damn proud of himself. he’s always had this instinct to protect what’s his. always had this tendency for possessiveness. if he’s in a good mood, he’ll crack a dumb joke about the guy and move on. if not, he might think you were trying to make him jealous. but of course, that would mean admitting he was jealous in the first place.

#call of duty x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #captain price x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #phillip graves x reader #rudolfo parra x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #frank woods x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 10 months ago

Text

Jungkook

𝓛𝓪𝓬𝓻𝔂𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪 𝓞𝓵𝓸𝓻 [Final]

It's time.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Size difference, sci-fi, Romance, strangers to lovers, fluff, suggestive, smut, unprotected because this is alien fantasy, kinda creampie idk

Length: 5.5k words

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A/N: I hate how it turned out but you all always beg me to finish my shit so here you go.

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Jungkook watches fondly from the large windows of his main office at the castle how you feed the still unsteady animal out in the large gardens where it's home is placed, while Hoseok, one of his closest guards and advisors, watches you from close by.

The man has been tasked to basically watch over you when the king himself can't, and he takes his job very seriously, visibly- much to Jungkook’s approval.

"I heard that she was crying last night." Namjoon says, walking up behind the king who nods.

"Bitterly so." He admits, remembering the incident from hours prior when you'd sat close to the being as it passed, Jungkook offering you silent comfort. He wasn't sure why you were so upset- and why you even demanded to stay even though the situation had caused you so much distress. "She cared a lot for a being she used to be afraid of." He says.

Last night, Ikkan rebirthed. You had given the Is'oi a name after asking Namjoon for help to choose an appropriate one- settling for one that means 'deep blue' in native language. You had just gone out to 'say goodnight' to the being you'd played around with the entire day, just to call out Jungkook's name in clear distress, causing the King to instantly rush to you, fearing something might've happened. But instead, he found you, on your knees in front of the being you used to be so wary of- it's body clearly stiffening now in it's laying position, head barely moving anymore as it's eyes watched you with fondness. The glow had dimmed significantly, as the first scales fell from it's body, rotting like a flower that wilts away as it reached it's end.

He'd told you, reminded you that the being will be reborn tonight as well- but you still did not stop crying as you ran your hand over their head, offering comfort for what usually is left to the quiet of night. But Jungkook could not bring himself to tell you to leave, couldn't take that moment from you- going against his own culture to instead stay that night, watching the whole process for the first time as well.

And he could've sworn, he heard the large being purr, leaning against you as they rested their head in your lap, falling asleep one last time before Ikkan's chest no longer moved. And then, with no life left, they began to wilt away, body falling apart as they dissipated into nothing but ashes it looked like.

Until something moved.

Your eyes were wide as you watched the small, still somewhat blind being cry out into the night- but this time, their cries were being answered by a kind hand reaching out, softly brushing away the remnants of their last life. And Jungkook had felt a certain sense of pain in his heart he could not describe as you showed just how nurturing you are to things not even remotely resembling your own kind.

How would you be as a mother?

"She's a kind one." Namjoon agrees, pulling him out of his thoughts and memories. "Maybe a bit too kind." The advisor and doctor worries a bit.

"That won't be an issue." Jungkook shakes his head. "She's got me at her side." He exclaims, gaze softening quite a bit as you hold the bottle of nutrient feed up for the young rebirthed being to drink from. He's almost a bit jealous- you're spending a lot of time outside now, far away from him. He'll walk down to you soon though, wondering how you can not be cold with just your regular gowns on your body.

You're fragile. You get sick so easily.

"And yet there is no true claim on her yet." His friend teases, making Jungkook turn his head to glare at him. "You cannot be mad at me for pointing it out. It's painfully obvious to everyone- in fact, there's rumours already spreading." He says, and that catches Jungkook's full attention now. He doesn't like people talking negatively about you. You don't deserve to be spoken down to, especially not as a future queen, once he brings you officially into that job.

"And what, pray tell, are those rumours about?" He asks, eyes sharpening.

"That she is incapable of.. providing you." Namjoon teases, and Jungkook sighs, shaking his head as he crosses his arms, watching you in the gardens again instead. "How come? You had been very quick to connect with Hana." He asks, and Jungkook's gaze hardens.

"Because she practically demanded it." He growls. "It was necessary for her.. happiness, or at least that's what I believed, back then." He lowly says.

"And she does not want it?" Namjoon wonders. "Curious. Even though humans are such intimate creatures." he hums, standing next to Jungkook again.

"Oh she does. It's very clear in her behaviour." Jungkook almost smirks. "Her body is calling out to me almost every night." He admits.

"So?" His friend asks. "Why not take her then?" He questions, before he notices the deep thought in Jungkook's face. "You're worried."

"I am." The king admits.

"About what?" Namjoon wonders.

"I believe it is clear what I could possibly worry about, Namjoon." He says, looking at his friend. "You as a man with medical knowledge should know that more than anyone. Or are you not familiar with human anatomy compared to ours?" He almost teases, making Namjoon laugh.

"Oh I am aware!" He laughs. "Which is why I can tell you, that she will be just fine." He reassures.

"I was too much for even Hana." He reminds his friend. "Which is most likely why she searched for.. satisfaction somewhere else." He mumbles lowly to himself, averting his gaze.

"So you'll give up before even trying?" Namjoon clicks his tongue. "Ah well. I may be able to ask Jimin if he's up for the job then. Considering how humans connect love with intercourse-" He starts, making Jungkook instantly move to grab his arm, twisting it around as he backs Namjoon into a wall.

"You will not even think about such a thing." He growls.

"Then what?" Namjoon challenges. "You'll just leaver her lonely? Put your new love on the line just because you're a coward?" He asks, making Jungkook clench his jaw, eyes glowing for a second while his veins darken underneath his skin.

But he behaves himself, forces control, and lets go of Namjoon.

"You're right." He settles himself. "I should not.. think of her so lowly." He sighs, swallowing down his bubbling rage.

"Talk to her." Namjoon says gently. "I'm sure she'll understand where you're coming from if you just explain it to her."

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"Breathtaking." Jungkook comments, as you turn your heads while the maids bow at him, who leans against the doorframe, watching them help you dress and connect the chains over your body with decorative pliers. The chains hold jewels that sound like a windchime almost, a sound you've come to enjoy a lot.

As soon as the maids are done, they walk out, looking very much caught off guard and even quite shy at the soft 'thank you' Jungkook offers them as they pass him, something that's not common in his culture. As soon as the door closes, he walks towards you with a gentle smile, his own clothes looking expensive, and official. "You look just like the queen you are." He muses, and you laugh.

"About to be." You correct him, leaning into the hand on your cheek. "I'm a bit nervous." You admit, and he smirks.

"You are very nervous, my dear. Not just 'a bit'." He corrects as well, and your shoulders slump down as you admit defeat. "Do not worry. I'm there, and the people are already very fond of you and the changes you brought." He admits.

"Changes?" You wonder. "But I've done nothing." You ask him, confused.

"You did." He nods. "You changed me. And with that, you changed the way I rule this kingdom." He explains, as he adjusts your dress for you, fingers tracing the delicate jewelry decorating your body.

"What if they think you're weak now?" You worry instantly, and he shakes his head, smile never leaving his lips.

"They do not." He shakes his head. "A King is strongest with his people's trust placed in him. You'll see what I mean later." He offers, before he makes sure to adjust the soft pelt around your shoulders now to keep you warm.

As you both make your way through the halls, you wonder. You've never actually been in the town surrounding the castle grounds, only ever saw some of the outskirts and farmlands from afar. But today, you'll make your way into town- to show yourself to the people, your first official 'showing', as Jungkook had explained. It's a first- even with Hana, he's never shown her publicly like this. But with you, he wants to make that step.

He's serious about you, and your future. He's proving that today.

And the first glimpses of the town makes you realize what Jungkook had been talking about- because as soon as he's visibly to the people, they smile, wave, children run to him with opened palms as if to wait to receive something. And Jungkook does give something- his own hand brushing over their palms, a gesture that makes them smile and laugh in excitement. "It's a blessing." Hoseok mumbles from your other side, the man keeping his hand on his sword at his belt. "So that their work will always be fruitful." He explains, and you listen to it at full attention, when Jungkook laughs next to you, making you look at him- his eyes looking down at something.

Two children, young boys looking at you with dark red eyes and cat-like pupils similar to Jungkook's, hands opened towards you. You're a bit lost now, unsure what to do- so the king next to you takes your hand in his, and offers you guidance in how to do it- your fingers running over the warm palms of the two kids, who grin and laugh happily, before running back to their parents in the crowd gathered on the sides.

You repeat this action time after time, growing more comfortable and mostly confident in yourself the more you walk around in town, letting Jungkook explain to you where he grew up, showing you taverns and other places he remembers visiting often. It makes you remember that at some point, Jungkook was not considered royalty at all- just a regular young man, a boy, a child at some point, nothing out of the ordinary. And now, he's done what he said he would- he challenged the king, took the throne, and changed the ways that used to be the norm. Not just by taking you as his partner- but also in other ways.

As you sit in one of the bigger taverns, you can't help but watch with a constant smile how the people celebrate Jungkook almost, dancing around and drinking, though the King seems to stay away from the alcohol, for a reason you're not sure of. "Can she drink?" A young man asks, setting down another pitcher with water onto your table you sit at. "I apologize, I don't know much about humans." He apologizes.

"She can, but she shall not tonight." Jungkook answers for you. "I'd hate for her to too intoxicated to survive the way home." He chuckles, making everyone laugh, including you. You already know that you can't handle any of the liquor on this planet- something you realized way before you even met Jungkook in the first place.

"Oh, then I won't offer any!" The man says, bowing politely before he leaves you be. Jungkook keeps his arm around you, always makes sure that you're comfortable, noticing how the trip is taking a toll on you. For him, this isn't stressful at all- but you have a lot less energy than him to spend. So he's not surprised when he notices you trying to hide your yawns multiple times as soon as it gets dark outside, eyes growing heavy as you listen to the music played.

"You are so bewitching, you know that?" Jungkook teases, causing you to force yourself more awake again, looking at him in question. "I can sense the... nature of the gazes on you." He offers, a hand moving some of your hair out of your face.

"How fortunate for you that I'm not going home with any of them, then." You say, making him laugh openly.

"You're very right on that." He agrees. "And I believe we should head back now." Jungkook says, making you shake your head though.

"No, just a little longer." You complain, causing the king to chuckle.

"You are literally on the very edge of sleep, darling." He teases. "And I do not feel comfortable with having you in such a vulnerable state outside the castle walls, in front of people who should not see you that way." He gently says, nodding towards Hoseok to gather all the guards and knights to prepare for the journey back home. And god, does the way home drag.

You're barely able to somewhat make it back into the entrance hall of the large castle structure when Jungkook finally offers his help, carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom he shares with you. "You are so very fragile, my love." He teases you with a smile, helping you out of your jewelry and dress while you're almost falling asleep. "Did you enjoy it?"

"I did." You smile. "It was.. really fun. Even though I didn't really know what to do most of the time.." You mumble while Jungkook unravels your dress to help you out of it.

"You did great nonetheless." He reassures you, placing a kiss to your cheek. "You deserve to rest now."

And rest you do- falling asleep before he can even come to bed himself.

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The next day when you wake up and stretch your limbs, it's already way past the morning hours. A window is opened, letting in fresh air, familiar sharp crow sounds of the large predatory birds outside by now no longer a cause of fear for you. It's as if they've become familiar with you now- no longer trying to feast on you, instead only sometimes curiously poking their heads inside the room to observe you.

"You slept for ages." Jungkook chuckles next to you, making you turn in surprise. Usually, the king is gone before you wake up- it's unusual to have him beside you like this, eyes still wary from his own rest.

"It was a pretty eventful day yesterday." You defend yourself, and he nods, moving forward to kiss your lips. It's a gentle gesture, oddly slow, as if he's putting a lot of thought into it. "How come you're still in bed?" You ask, and he watches you for a moment, before he answers.

"I've been thinking." He admits, head leaning on his palm, elbow pushed into the bed below. His upper body is bare as usual in bed- but it's still a rather rare sight for you considering you typically don't spend moments like these together often. "About us. And our.. differences." He hums, while your eyes notice the scars he has- one of them right on top of his shoulder.

"Oh." You nod, unsure what he means.

"These past few days.. even longer than that.. there's been tension, hasn't it?" He asks, reaching out to move some hair from your face. "Sexual in nature, that is." He explains further, and you nod, eyes no longer able to stand his gaze now as you become a bit shy. Of course he’s able to speak about it a lot more open and boldly than you ever would be able to.

"I uhm.. yeah." You nod, remembering that moment you almost went that far- but he's never done anything further than playing around with you. "Is there.. a problem?" You ask, and he waits for a moment to answer.

"I'm not sure." He admits. "I have spoken to Namjoon about our obvious differences. And if we could make it work." He tells you. "But I'm worried nonetheless. I don't want to hurt you- but I am also aware of your growing frustration with me." He offers.

"I- its not like that!" You defend yourself immediately. "If you don't want to, you know, have sex with me, that's fine. I don't need it to be happy with you." You reassure him, and he smiles kindly.

"I know." He nods. "But do trust me that my lust for you is very real, and unbearable these days." He admits. "Even right now."

At that, you move, boldly so, seemingly catching even him off guard as he holds your waist, while you sit on his thighs. His gaze is heated, red in his eyes clearly telling you how much his control is challenged in this moment, as you place your hands on his abdomen. "Then what if you just trust me instead?" You wonder, while he watches you. "Give up control for once?" You ask.

"And you believe you can control a king?" He asks, challenges almost, as he very obviously stirs to live inside his underwear. "Very bold words." He smiles, though his worry does not leave his eyes at all as it returns full force, face becoming serious again.

"What's the problem?" You ask, feeling his hands run over your skin to your legs. "What are you so scared of?" You press, and he sighs.

"Hurting you." He reveals. "Losing you."

"Why would you lose me?" You ask, unsure.

"Because humans connect love with physical intimacy." He says. "And so does my kind. It's an important part of a partnership, and if I fail at providing you with the appropriate attention you deserve, I fear that I'm not valuable enough as a lover to you." He admits.

"Even if we can't have sex, I'll still stay with you." You shake your head, moving to sit next to him now, hand reaching out to hold his. "Love is more than just that to me. And I love you." You argue. "No matter your strength, or your status, or your worth. You've got worth to me no matter what." You confess.

And at that confession, he breaks.

The moment he sits up to lean closer to you to be able to kiss you with a hand on your cheek, you know that he won't stop this time. "You're so dangerous." He growls, hands uncaring of the fabric covering you as he pulls the gown over your head, revealing your almost entirely bare body to him.

It's time, and he knows it.

You've become much more to him than just a partner- you've become a lifeline, a reason to think over his challenges and dangers he faces in the choices he makes, just so he can stay alive and at your side. He would burn down the world for you, if it meant that it would keep you safe from all harm.

His kisses are heated, desperate, quite literally stealing your breath as he moves to mouth and bite at the skin of your neck and shoulder. He's noticeably not a gentle lover- he wants to make sure that his love is visible on your skin, needs to see the remnants of his lust for days to come. And with his control finally snapping, he will not hold back- he will test your strength for a final time, and devour you whole.

He wants to watch you bloom- wants to see your petals open to reveal the most beautiful flower created by simple chance on a planet so far away from his own. And yet, this flower was meant for him- to be kept forever, to have it plant it's roots into his heart so it can feed off his love until he dies and cannot provide any longer.

Only then he will set you free again. Only then will he accept defeat.

Your back arches into him as his hands adjust your position, laying you down once more beneath him, pulling off your underwear to reveal everything, soiled fabric thrown carelessly away. He's played around with you before, that's how far you've come at this point- but never quite past that. Something always kept him from giving you what you were yearning for- but this time, he's granting you your wish.

When he met you, truly face to face, it had been nothing but pure curiosity. He wanted to see what's so special about the human kind that others have such drastically varying opinions on them. Why one seems to fear them, while the other hates them.

He does neither.

You're not a being he has to fear, neither physically nor emotionally.

When you say you love him you mean it. When you're close to him you simply crave his company. When you ask him how he feels you're genuinely interested in his emotions. You've always been nothing but open and honest with him, had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. And yet even when given full freedom to do as you please and leave him if you wanted to, you stayed. Because you wanted to.

No words are exchanged as he sheds his clothes as well, leaving both of you bare beneath the silk covers of the bed you two share. "Are you cold, darling?" He asks, whispers almost with how close he is, in a way that gives away his amusement over your squirming body underneath his hands. You shake your head. He grins. "No?" He asks for you to confirm, and you do. "And yet your body is trembling. I wonder why.." He hums over your skin.

"Because you're torturing me!" You whine in complaint, turning to the side- something he does not approve of, as he grabs your hips to instead turn you over entirely, a strange tenderness in his rather rough manner of handling you into a new position. Like a predator warning, growling down your neck, but never slipping in his control, never actually making the kill. "You know, usually, this is how I'd take you.." He explains, and you push back into him at that, impatient, or maybe even quietly begging. You really don't care how he does it. Just that he does it. "..but I cannot. Not with you." He tells you, kissing the line of your spine from your neck down, before he lets you turn over once move to face him.

"Why not?" You ask, and he simply smiles, hands running down your sides until they meet your hips.

"Because I cannot see your face." He simply answers, before he leans over you to kiss you again. By now, it's evident that without even touching you, you're more than ready to take him on, body inviting him in every way it can- and this time, he can't hold back even if he wanted to.

You've waited long enough.

"And I want to savour this experience, and all that you'll offer me." He hums against your skin. "...as I claim you as mine for now and forever."

You're not used to.. sex being this big of a deal. But it's obvious to you that Jungkook sees this as more than just an act of simple lust and satisfaction, if the way he kisses down your chest to your belly button is anything to go by. He didn't lie when he said he'd savour it- he's going terribly slow.

"Jungkook please... I want you.. " you beg, and he smirks like the predator he is, faking innocence.

"Oh but you have me right here, my love?" He says, leaning his head on the bare skin of your hip for a second. "I'm not going anywhere." He teases.

Well- that's the problem.

"I want you to focus just on yourself." He suddenly says rather seriously. "No matter what." He adds, and you nod, unsure what he means by this. Satisfied by your answer however he moves back up, hovering over you while his hand feels you up between your legs. You're more than ready by now, inner thighs slick with your arousal, and it makes his already leaking length move a little at the feel of it all. Could you handle him if he really was to let go and chase his own pleasure?

Will you handle him in any way at all?

You're not her, and he reminds himself of that as he pushes himself inside your body, core warm and welcoming towards him despite the obvious stretch you have to go through to accommodate him. He's worried you might not be able to transform enough- but you surprise him, as you always do.

Inch by inch he slowly claims your body, waiting for the sign to stop- but you seem rather eager to take him in, never showing signs of discomfort at all. In fact, you look rather pleased- eyes closed, head laid back into the soft pillows below, hands holding his. He can see the slight bulge forming on your lower stomach, showing faintly where he is, and it makes him lust for you in ways that make him worry he might be going feral.

He's pressing himself against you now, wet sound escaping your cunt as he realizes there's nothing left of him to give you, your eyes hooded just like his as he slowly retracts himself, just to enter you again much faster than before.

The gasp that leaves him can't be controlled. Neither do you hide your own reaction, mouth opening silently in pleasure as you arch your back.

He wants to see it again, so he moves his hips once more, once more, steady pace, causing your body to rock along, chest swaying as if to hypnotize the king. There's no need for foul play like that however- he's already under your spell, no need for any kind of assistance.

"Your body was truly made for me.." he whispers into your neck as he continues his pace, holding himself back from snapping, keeping your well-being in mind.

"Please-" you whine breathlessly, and he eagerly leans in to kiss your neck, bite at it, mark you up for days to come.

"What is it you want?" He asks just as faintly, never losing track of his pace.

"Don't hold back." You say, eyes meeting his own. "Take me, my King."

"I'm yours."

He can't help the way his patience snaps, thrusts now deeper than ever as he pushes himself as far as he can with every move of his hips, kisses heated, burning, forever imprinting his love on you as he presses his hands into the bed below you, pace quickening. "I'll make the entire kingdom know." He growls against your lips as his hips snap against yours I'm a ruthless manner. "I'll have them all hear you come undone under my hand, just so they know-" He presses out between clenched teeth. "That you're mine, and that I'm yours."

Your legs move to wrap around his body as best as you can manage, your hands on his back as they accidentally scratch his skin faintly, his own hands grabbing roughly at your flesh to keep you still as he ruts into you, for the first time actually chasing his own release.

He need to fill you up, have his seed forever mark you up with his scent until it spills out of you. He's desperate at the prospect of finally gaining fulfillment in a way he's not managed to achieve before- a kind of high currently blurring up his thoughts as he feels himself getting lost in the scent and taste and feeling of your body.

You're a drug, and he's happily willingly getting addicted.

Your legs suddenly quiver as you find your own peak way sooner than he does, and he doesn't mind one bit seeing you come undone beneath him like this. A goddess in his eyes, gracing him with a heavenly touch, as he slows down, and slips out to see your core gaping from the stretch, clenching around nothing.

But you're not done with him, as he gets a taste of what you're capable of in the eyes of lust.

Your hands pull his face back towards you, your kiss a siren song clouding his mind once more as he falls into your spell, chasing his own high like a man starving.

And he is. He has been for way too long.

The moment he actually reaches his end you move your hand between the both of you to help yourself to another high as well, clenching core making him groan out in pure pleasure as he spills his seed into you, much of it already leaking out your core as you lazily move to milk him for all he's got.

His eyes have never looked so vibrant in color as he looks at you, visibly stunned.

And as you smile, no trace of any sort of doubt or anything other than pure and passionate love, he realizes you've finally bloomed.

Your bond falling into place, silently, as he kisses you once more.

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"Come here, love." Jungkook says one day, as you walk into the throne room, nodding politely to Min Yoongi- who you know by now from the scar over his eye and rather withdrawn attitude. You're not sure why he's here- but if the King feels comfortable with his presence, you trust that he is no threat to you or him at all in this situation. Jungkook has got his back turned towards you for a good while, before he turns, something held in his arms covered by cloth and golden jewels. "It is a gift from him to you." He says, as you move the delicate cloth of whatever he's holding in his arms, satin with finely woven golden patterns.

The small being opens its eyes slowly, before it raises its head- dog like creature visibly studying your face as Min Yoongi speaks.

"It is a gift sent with the most well wishes from my betrothed." He clarifies, as the white dog like being moves his head to inspect your hand held out to him, it’s fur so short that it feels more like velvet than anything else. You’re mesmerized by the puppy, before Yoongi looks almost annoyed. "...and it has also been.. Sent from me as well." he mumbles, as if he's forced to admit that part. "His name shall be for you to choose."

Jungkook laughs to himself as he sets the small being down, the white and lanky body shaking before it sniffs at your legs, tail wagging wildly. The young puppy is obviously still rather unsteady on his long legs, but he appears to figure out quickly that you're his main person from now on.

"Thank you." You tell the rather grumpy looking King with a smile, and you could swear he even returns it-

somewhat.

"He'll grow into a proper guard if well trained." Yoongi explains with his gaze set on Jungkook, who nods. "...That is not just a statement." He mumbles, and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

"I am aware." He bites back, and you can't help but smile at their brotherly bantering, long having gotten used to their more rough way of speaking to one another. Just like you've grown used to a lot of things on this planet-

after all, you consider this home by now.

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"Etka!" You call, as the dog like being runs on fast legs towards you, broad collar decorated with gems as he finds his place next to you, eagerly accepting your praise and affection.

He's grown a lot these past few months- almost to full height, according to Jungkook. The haatra has his place in front of your shared quarters where he sleeps every night, guarding you both at your most vulnerable states.

"Min Yoongi has invited us to the showing ceremony of his to-be queen." Jungkook says as you enter the bedroom after saying goodnight to your newest guardian outside the bedroom door.

"I'm happy for him." You say, joining him to sit on his lap at the table near the window. "He sounded very happy last time we spoke."

"He did not sound any different than usual to me, love." He shakes his head a little, before he leans in to kiss you. "But enough about him.. I have a different thing I'd like to indulge in than chatter about my brother." He offers you, who teasingly leans away from him, eyes falling to his lips.

"Oh? I wonder what that might be.." you mumble, as he adjusts your position a bit, hands shamelessly traveling beneath your gown to feel the warmth of your skin.

"Something that has no need for talking at all.." he hums against your lips, eyes hungry as he lusts for you with clear intentions.

"And yet you surely won't be quiet."

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nart-is-a-monster · 3 months ago

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The Dark Kingdom has had their descendants for a long time, his cousin Horace was the one who was supposed to be the holder of the moonstone and he left him alone, just like his mother and father did in this cold and boring kingdom, he was forced to learn how to fight, how to manage to react appropriately to royal situations, but the worst one out all of them was the moonstone.

He never asked to be the only last descendent of the royal blood.

He never wanted to have anything to do with the moonstone!

But his "family" would never listen

"this is the best for you Varian"

"You shouldn't be greedy"

"Accept this destiny that has been sealed since you were born Varian"

"G i v e u p V a r i a n"

"...I never asked for this"

"you asked for it when you were born, now just walk, the moonstone waits for you"

I'm finally happy and satisfied (maybe) with how they look bc i was trying to upload them before with only some colors and... it didn't felt right, and also a part of me wanted to leave them without color but a part of me is a bitch that is messy and loves to paint stuff :3

I did some of this for studies basically, bc I found an artist called (gtsleep1200) and auuuoooouuughhhh they inspired me a lot.

So yeah, that and moonstone Varian or moon Varian or whatever!

Also! Zoé is such a good group that you should totally go and listen :3

Cute comments on the tags save me cut comments on the tags save me pls

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mokulule · 1 year ago

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Take Out for Dummies - Part 2

Ship: Dead on Main Previous | Masterpost Note: So I was planning on sitting on this until I was about done with part 3, but then @yeetyeetedyote, who tumblr doesn't allow me to tag, did a meme for part 1 and I couldn't help but post it. So hope you enjoy. Jason did not know what to wear. It was Red Hood who had a date, but going in his full uniform seemed very excessive somehow. But there was also no way he was going unarmed. He pondered his closet with a frown. What clothing did he even own that were suitable for a date? He’d never had to ponder this before. What level of formality was expected? Probably not formal, considering there would be no dinner. Also he was Red Hood, there was no way he’d do formal, he had an aesthetic.

He finally settled on jeans, a red henley and the brown leather jacket he used as Red Hood. He held up the jacket and inspected it critically for blood spatters, that at least he felt certain wasn’t appropriate.

One hour later saw Red Hood rolling up to the curb in front of the building. Only one person was leaning against the brick wall there, absorbed in their phone; it had to be Danny. The rest of the people there were just walking past. It was Crime Alley, Red Hood barely got a glance of interest. Gotta love Gothamites.

Jason had not been able to really get good visual on Danny in the dark, aside from the fact that he was rather short and had dark hair, the night vision in his helmet could only do so much. He had not been prepared for how he looked up and the wide blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. Nor the way the button down shirt and the jeans hugged close to broad shoulders and slim waist in a way the hoodie he’d worn previously had clearly not.

Somehow in all his musings about how this would go Jason had never considered the possibility that Danny would be hot.

“Hi,” Danny said still smiling as he came up to him. He raised his arms out from his sides a bit helplessly before letting them fall back. “So how do you want me?”

Jason’s brain screeched to a halt as those words brought a decidedly not appropriate image to his head. He was so glad he was wearing his helmet right now. Jason must have stiffened or given away his embarrassment some other way, because Danny’s cheeks flushed as he too realized how his question could have been understood.

“I meant on your bike.”Jason hunched over, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. Because that was not helping at all.

Wordlessly Jason held out the extra helmet. Danny took it gratefully and stuffed it over his red face.

“Front.” Jason said over the radio connection between the helmets.

Jason had to give Danny a hand to get him situated in front. He had to hold on near the center of handlebars and he didn’t really have good place to place his feet and had to hold them curled up.

It was neither safe nor legal, but Jason was not about to have a potential assassin at his back and besides who was gonna arrest Red Hood for traffic violations? The small hitched gasp when Jason curled around Danny’s back to reach the handlebars had his lips quirking up, and he might have pressed him just a bit further forward just for that.

“Where to?”

“Sommerset.”Jason raised an eyebrow at that as he kicked off the curb. Carefully, as he got a feeling for the different weight distribution, he drove them in the direction of the Trigate Bridge.

“If a tour of Old Arkham is your idea of a date, I think I’m gonna have to shoot you.”

Danny scoffed.

“I promised you fun, didn’t I?”

At Jason’s lack of response, he slumped further.

“There’s a traveling carnival on the fair grounds at the edge of town.”

“Huh.” Jason was trying to think of a time he’d actually visited a carnival as a visitor and not a vigilante to stop some villain plot. He was coming up short. There was a feeling in his chest he had a hard time identifying, an uncertain thing, but it wasn’t bad. If nothing else he was gonna have an experience? Oo o oO

They parked the bike in the attached gravel parking lot near the fair grounds. Jason had to step off the bike first and then promptly had to catch Danny as his legs refused to carry him when he stepped off the bike.

“Oh wow, my legs fell asleep there.” He laughed and stepped away on wobbly legs as he pulled the helmet off. He handed it to Jason who put it into its compartment.

He took another wobbly step forward and Jason couldn’t help the way he reached for him to steady him. Instead Danny grabbed his hand firmly. Jason was baffled at the action looking from Danny to their hands, uncertain how to react, but Danny just smiled and changed his hold so their fingers were twined together.

He looked mightily satisfied about it too as he tugged Jason forward toward the fair grounds. A fair bit of the rides were visible because of their heights and Jason could easily imagine how the place would light up with multicolored lights once evening came.

Once they entered the fair grounds they drew quite a lot of attention. Lots of people stopped and pointed at Red Hood and his companion. Phones were pointed in their direction and Jason found himself tensing.

Danny leaned closer and spoke lowly, “Don’t worry, nobody will believe them. Regular digital cameras are odd around me, so they won’t get usable footage.”

Jason’s mind raced, what did that mean? Did he have some sort of jammer? Was it a meta ability? Was it related to his ability to sneak up on vigilantes on Gotham rooftops?

“And,” Danny continued, “if anyone asks, we can always say you’re a cosplayer.”

Jason grimaced. Danny slapped his chest as if he could see right through the mask.

“Hey! Cosplay is a great creative hobby.”

“That’s not- I’m a former crime lord. I don’t understand why anyone would dress up as me.”

“Pffft, don’t sell yourself short. Also you have a cool recognizable thing going on with the helmet. It will be especially funny if someone critiques it for not being accurate.”

Jason couldn’t help his chuckle at how gleeful Danny looked at the prospect.

“This is the real reason you want me to claim I’m cosplaying?”

“It would be so funny, admit it!”

Jason huffed. It would be pretty funny.

“Ha! I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, time to show off some of those shooting skills and win me a plushie.” With that statement Danny pointed towards a game booth with truly ridiculously large unicorn plushies hanging from it and tugged Jason forward. It was only at that moment he remembered they were still holding hands. It was…

It was nice.

Danny glanced back at him and he was smiling, warm and excited. Jason didn’t remember the last time someone had smiled that much at him. Jason found himself smiling back, and he was suddenly grateful he couldn’t be seen behind the helmet.

The shooting booth operator eyed Red Hood warily until Danny broke the tension in a voice that carried, “my friend’s cosplay is pretty awesome right?”

The operator’s shoulders fell and he chuckled, “pretty brave of him to wear that this close to Gotham proper.”

“Sure is! But not to worry if there’s any trouble I will protect him,” Danny said seriously, with a glance and a wink at Jason.

The man took in Danny’s skinny and less than imposing appearance and burst out laughing, and just like that any remaining tension was gone.

The operator explained the game. There were different tiers with bottles lined up on shelves and flat rings of different widths balancing on top. You got points if you knocked the ring down over the bottle neck. The slimmer rings offered more points.

It was a pretty simple game.

Danny put down cash for the game and looked at Jason expectantly. “Show us some of that Red Hood skill.”

The operator chuckled. Jason rolled his eyes and stepped up.

Immediately, as he picked up the air gun it felt clunky in his hand. It was sharp-edged where it should be smooth and was weighted all wrong especially with the pressure cable attached to it, but that was not going to stop him. He loaded it with one of the five cork stoppers the operator handed him. He seemed to be enjoying Danny’s teasing as much as Danny himself.

Out the corner of his vision he saw Danny lean forward expectantly as he took aim.

He pulled the trigger.

The cork stopper was ejected with a loud pop and promptly hit the edge of a shelf bouncing backwards to land on the floor where it rolled around three times before stopping.

Danny looked at him wide eyed before bursting out in helpless snickers. Jason shoved him in revenge, but he couldn’t help smiling. There was just something refreshing about how despite knowing he was the real Red Hood he was so completely unafraid of him. Not even his family was that relaxed around him.

He didn’t want to bring his mood down contemplating that, so he reloaded the clunky gun and took aim again. He considered the points on the rings and the available prize tiers. Four shots left, with a bit of luck he could still do decently.

Aiming higher and slightly more to the right of how he would aim a real gun he shot the first maximum point ring down around the bottle neck. Three more fell in rapid succession.

Danny cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

“That’s four hundred points, that gives you the choice of a large prize,” the operator said impressed.

He pointed at a large unicorn plush, it wasn’t quite the extra large ones that hung on the outside of the stall, those required cumulative points from at least two games, but it was still a very decent size.

Danny was the very opposite of disappointed when Jason handed it over. He squished it in his arms and absolutely beamed up at Jason. Jason looked away, embarrassed for feeling so satisfied and warm just for winning a silly game.

The operator snorted giving them a knowing look. “Have a nice evening boys.”

“You too,” Danny replied, sidling up close and entwining their fingers again as he pulled them away and off towards the various rides.

Jason eyed their once more joined hands in bemusement, not really sure what to think, but he’d already allowed it once. It sold the appearance of a date, made it all the more likely to the bystanders that Jason was just some cosplayer with a death wish, so it was smart to keep holding hands. And Jason found himself reluctant to give it up.

It was an easy illusion to give into.

He squeezed Danny’s hands and he turned his head to look at him, smiling like this was a real date and not one of his odd jobs. Jason nodded towards the bumper cars and Danny’s grin turned into feral delight as he dragged him in the new direction. It was so easy to pretend Jason was just here to have fun with a friend who was maybe just a bit more.

That was something he could have had maybe. If he hadn’t been Robin. If he hadn’t died and come back wrong. If he wasn’t a former crime lord just trying to find his footing with a family he wasn’t sure wanted him and not just the dead boy he’d been.

But for just a little while he could pretend.

Until Danny turned out to actually know he was supposed to kill him, until everything crashed and burned like usual, he could allow himself a little fun.

Like ignoring every sign saying the bumper cars were not meant for driving into each other. The bored teen operator certainly didn’t care to uphold that rule. The bumper car ride was a war zone, a giant free for all and yet Jason managed to have only eyes for Danny. He was a tricky driver to catch. Jason had no idea how he managed to maneuver the car like that, it was verging on supernatural.

They were both laughing when they exited their cars after Jason had finally managed to bump into him proper instead of the earlier glancing blows.

“Remind me to call you if I ever need a getaway driver.”

Danny snorted knocking their shoulders together. “Only if I get part of the cut.”

I’ll give you more than a cut, Jason was about to say, but thankfully didn’t. Because what did that even mean? Instead he knocked his shoulder back.

They continued on towards another ride, a small rollercoaster, and as they queued Danny started telling him about how his dad’s driving was so infamous in his hometown that the local news included a segment to warn for it when he was on the roads. Because of that nobody had wanted to give Danny driving lessons and that’s why technically he didn’t have a license, but he’d once landed a space shuttle, so that should count for something. The story verged on so impossible it had to be true, but Jason was sure if a civilian had actually landed a space shuttle it would have been all over the news or at least known among superheroes - it was entertaining nonetheless.

Jason wasn’t sure when they’d started holding hands again only noted the absence when Danny left him by a bench several rides later with stern instructions to protect the princess with his life, aka the unicorn plushie.

The lights had flickered on a while ago and bathed the darkening grounds in multicolored lights. Jason leaned back relaxing against the bench. Taking in the lights and the happy atmosphere as people passed him by. There were a few people who pointed and snickered as they walked by, but clearly the unicorn plushie was just as good as Danny to convince people he was just a guy in a costume.

“It’s a pretty good costume.”

Jason turned his head to find a man with a superman shirt had stopped. He stayed silent waiting for him to elaborate. He obviously wanted to, there was something in his drawl.

“The casual look is pretty well put together while remaining recognizably Red Hood.”

“But-“ somehow there was a but- “if you were actually from Gotham you’d know that the real helmet is matte and the brow section is more slanted giving it an angrier expression.”

Jason stared incredulously at the man in the Superman shirt accusing him of not being a Gothamite. Never mind the helmet thing, that was just ridiculous but accusing him of not being a Gothamite, now that was an insult he wouldn’t be taking. Jason stood up to his full six feet and saw the way the man shrunk as he realized he might have made a mistake.

“There you are, babe,” Danny inserted himself smoothly into the situation snaking an arm around his waist and pressing close. It was distracting. “Come on let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Jason snorted as he let Danny move them forward. He didn’t need the intervention, he wouldn’t have attacked the man or anything.

He couldn’t help but pull them to a stop however as they passed him.

“Your information is outdated, this is the current helmet.” He spoke lowly and ominously only made more ominous by the voice modulation.

The man eep’ed and scrambled to get away.

They watched him go with no small bit of amusement.

“I thought we agreed to keep it on the down low.”

Jason shrugged, “he asked for it, besides you said it yourself, nobody will believe him.”

“Alright then.” Danny left the place beneath Jason’s arm, he had only a moment to feel bereft however until his hand was grabbed again and pulled in the direction of the parking lot. “Speaking of proof, do you mind me taking a selfie of us so I can prove I took you out?”

Jason frowned. “I thought you said cameras didn’t work around you.” “They don’t, I’ve had to modify it to be able to take any pictures.”

“You gonna tell me what kind of meta ability you have?”

Danny chuckled. He pulled their joined hands up and pressed a kiss to Jason’s scarred knuckles. Jason was so distracted by the action he almost didn’t hear the, “I like you Hood, but that isn’t a first date conversation.”

There was a pause in their conversation as Jason contemplated the absurd idea of there ever being a second date, the fact that this one was nearly over and how he’d actually had a lot of fun.

“So, selfie?”

“Uh sure.”

Danny juggled the white plastic bag that Jason only noticed now onehanded as he pulled out his phone. It was a broad phone with actual buttons and Jason would believe it was modified alright. Danny smiled and leaned close as he raised his hand, a small flash went off and Danny looked the picture over in satisfaction.

“What’s with the bag?”

“Huh, oh this is food. Our next stop, if you’re still willing, is the ice rink, but I figured we could take a break on the roof and eat back to back or something, what with the whole-” he indicated the helmet by waving a hand in front of his face.

So it wasn’t over yet. Not if Jason wanted to continue. It was an easy out, Jason could just chose to drive Danny to wherever he wanted to be dropped off and he could go home and still make it easily in time for patrol - or he could prolong the evening.

Jason popped open the compartment under the seat of his bike and took the warm bag of food from Danny to put in as he considered. Danny had already put on the extra helmet.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Jason could practically hear the smile in his voice even if he couldn’t see it through the opaque helmet.

“Okay,” he confirmed.

The small fist pump was kinda adorable. So first part of the date, it was getting a bit long so I cut it in two, but hey that's the only reason I could even upload it. Jason is in trouble, he's just not quite realizing it yet XD I enjoy hearing your thoughts on the story, so please continue to share <3

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#take out for dummies #dead on main #dp x dc

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beiasluv · 11 months ago

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f1 tropes that I daydream about

a/n: yes, i have d.l.s (dilf lover syndrome)

— dilf!jenson crushing on a younger reader. keeping things appropriate when he’s ripping his skin off inside. reader being this cheeky gal, playing innocent just to push his buttons. (wink) jokes aside, I just know that the tension is pregnant in the air. imagining wearing a dress he loves to a house party, he just needs to whip you out to a bathroom.

— princess treatment everyday from mr. button himself. hands on your waist, rubbing it in circles, keeping your skirt from rolling too high (in public) ‘darling’ just feels to wrong yet so right.

— teenage dirtbag!jenson going to frat parties and ended up crashing at your place. trying to be civilized and give him a proper treatment. while unbuttoning his shirt, he got it the wrong way (very much to your liking- and y’know what happens next 😉)

— dilf jenson, finding his pregnant reader and his dogs cuddling together. (I hate pregnancy trope but gah daium)

— rbr!sebastian being this meanie he always is, treating everyone like a fucking dick except reader. (or it could go another way that he treats reader like a fucking dick until tension explodes and they found themself in a compromising 😉 situation at a party, drunk and intoxicated. room screaming of sex.) long run is, reader felt like a fucking piece of meat, seb running after her to prove her wrong. princess treatment, darling, spoiling, you name it.

— your favorite german brat, being all slutty and flirty to his grid boyfriend (button/jenson) and you get jealous, pulling him for a heated kiss in the cool down room. seb just grinning to the kiss, tugging your hair harder.

— rbr!seb being all obsessed with his younger assistant/manager, can’t take her seriously for fuck’s sake. smiling like a fucking idiot even when she’s mad at him, so she just kiss him stupid to get him into his senses.

— sugardaddy!mark 😔🤭 he’s just your dumb himbo/dilf paying for your attention/happiness (fuck you to who ever say money can’t buy happiness) you got him wrapped around your fingers, girlbossing him all you want. (and he’s happy with it) until you fiddled too much with his patience (in a good way) he finally thinks he has to teach you some lessons and proves who actually wears the pants. 😉

— dilf!webber visiting your family’s house for a bbq. being the aussie he is, got assigned to take care of the grill, while you walk around in your promiscuous little dress. killing him in every way known to man.

— carlos sainz and innocent kink is my favorite McCombo. being a simp for you with his big brown eyes, what ever you say pretty boy. but just so you know that he can corrupt you whenever he wants.

feel free to use them, write them, daydream- tag me if you made something 🤭🤭

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kiwriteswords · 14 days ago

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I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you

Part V in the Wicked Game Universe (Can be read on its own, though!)

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: This story can be read solo or as a companion piece in this universe! I am continuing to plan future installments of this story and some possible ‘flashback’ one-shots–all of which could be read individually. Would love to chat with anyone open about future installments!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 15k

Tags/Warnings: soft smut, sexual themes, suggestive dialogue, mentions of trauma, canon-typical themes, canon-typical violence, fluff, romance, confession of love, angst, comedy, team bonding, mentions of sexual harassment. Part of a series but can be read as a standalone.

Sypnosis: Returning to the BAU after years as a professor, you’re back on familiar ground—but nothing’s quite as it was, especially with Aaron Hotchner. As his former partner, you were known for your bold, flirtatious banter and your knack for pushing his buttons, and it turns out that some things never change. Now, with a relationship between you finally taking shape, the two of you find yourselves not only dodging dangerous criminals but also a mandatory sexual harassment seminar for “workplace conduct.”

When a high-stakes case hits too close to home, Hotch’s patience and your guarded heart are put to the test. As you grow closer to his son, Jack, and face new fears of letting someone in, Hotch is there, helping you break down your walls. Amid the chaos of both the field and your feelings, you both begin to realize that sometimes, true trust is the most dangerous—and the most rewarding—risk of all.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stormed up to Hotch’s office, your shoes tapping against the floor in rapid irritation. Clutching the printed email in your hand, you didn’t bother knocking before entering, tossing the paper dramatically onto Hotch’s desk.

“Seriously, a sexual harassment seminar?” you said, “Do they think I need a reminder on what’s appropriate in the workplace?”

Hotch barely glanced up from his computer, his fingers still tapping away at the keyboard. “It’s routine,” he said dismissively. “They send these out all the time.”

You folded your arms, leaning against the edge of his desk, trying to catch his eye. “Routine? Please. Why me? I haven’t done anything.”

“Everyone gets them,” Hotch muttered, still focused on whatever he was reading on his screen. “It’s standard protocol.”

You rolled your eyes, but your irritation didn’t subside. “Oh, come on, Hotch. You don’t think there’s something a little suspicious about this?”

Still not looking up, Hotch clicked open his inbox, scanning a few emails. “No. You’re overthinking it.”

You huffed, watching him work in silence for a moment, but when you saw the slight furrow of his brow as he read something on the screen, you felt a shift.

He paused, fingers hovering over the keys, and then slowly, his expression changed. Hotch clicked open an email, and you saw his jaw tighten just slightly.

“What?” you asked, sensing the tension. “You got it too, didn’t you?”

Hotch leaned back in his chair, eyes still on the screen, now clearly giving the situation more thought than before. “Yes,” he said slowly. “It seems I’m required to attend as well.”

You grinned, leaning in a little closer. “See? We’re both being targeted. I told you—there’s something more going on here.”

Hotch’s expression remained neutral, but you could see the gears turning in his mind. “It’s probably because we filed paperwork with Strauss recently,” he said, still processing the situation. “The relationship disclosure. These seminars could be mandatory when... certain dynamics change.”

You tilted your head, eyes gleaming with playful defiance. “Certain dynamics, huh? You mean the fact that I flirt with you all the time?”

He finally looked up at you, his face unreadable but his eyes slightly narrowed. “It’s possible they want to ensure there are no... misunderstandings.”

You laughed, stepping closer, your voice dropping into that familiar, teasing tone. “Hotch, you and I both know exactly why they’re sending us. I mean, I can’t help it if I make things a little more... fun around here.”

Hotch's gaze met yours, and for a brief second, you could see the internal struggle. He was too composed to let you rattle him, but it was clear that the situation had taken on a different weight now. The flirtation, the tension—it all felt a little more significant in this moment.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You might need to tone it down,” he said quietly, his tone serious but not harsh.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. “Tone it down? What, no more keeping you on your toes?”

“Not at work,” Hotch replied, his voice firm but still calm. “Strauss is watching everything right now. We need to be careful.”

You raised an eyebrow, your grin never fading. “So, what, you’re saying I’m distracting you?”

Hotch gave you a long, measured look, his eyes betraying just a hint of amusement. “You’re pushing the limits,” he said evenly, but there was an unmistakable edge of affection in his tone.

You smirked, leaning back from his desk with a shrug. “Fine, fine. I’ll try to be good. For now.”

He nodded, his expression softening just a little. “That would be appreciated.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t resist a final, cheeky wink. “Well, if you’re going to be there, guess the seminar won’t be as boring as I thought.”

Hotch shook his head, finally allowing himself the faintest smile. “Let’s hope not.”

Just as you were about to head back to your desk, you heard the unmistakable sound of heels clicking against the floor outside the office. You paused, and before you could make your exit, Erin Strauss appeared in the doorway.

“Agent Y/L/N,” Strauss said smoothly, her eyes sharp as ever. “Would you mind following me to Agent Hotchner’s office?”

Your stomach dropped, and for a split second, panic surged through you. The ink was barely dry on the employee relationship paperwork you and Hotch had filed, and while you’d been together for months, it had only just become public knowledge—first to the team, and then, more recently, to Strauss herself.

You shot a quick glance at Hotch, who, despite his usual calm demeanor, seemed a bit more alert. His eyes flicked between you and Strauss, but he gave a subtle nod.

Strauss didn’t wait for your response as she strode past you into Hotch’s office, the sharp click of her heels marking every step. You turned back inside, your heart beating faster, though outwardly, you maintained your usual cool composure. Hotch stood up, giving Strauss a polite but wary look as she closed the door behind you, sealing the three of you inside.

The atmosphere shifted immediately. Strauss didn’t waste time as she sat down, looking directly at you and Hotch with a pointed expression.

“As you’re both aware, personal relationships between agents—particularly those in leadership roles—are taken very seriously by the bureau.”

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral. Hotch remained silent, his posture straight and professional as always.

“Given your... relationship,” Strauss continued, her gaze settling on you for a moment before shifting back to Hotch, “it’s important that we discuss the potential implications of this situation. Especially if, Agent Y/L/N, you ever intended to move up the chain of command or pursue a more... senior role within the bureau.”

You blinked but quickly covered your reaction. You hadn’t expected this line of questioning, though you could sense Hotch’s surprise as well, even if he wasn’t showing it outwardly.

Strauss’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Personal relationships like this can create complications. It’s important that you understand the professional ramifications, particularly if you have ambitions beyond your current position.”

You tilted your head, giving Strauss a small, knowing smile. “With all due respect, Erin, I’ve had my time to move up the ranks. I did the professor thing; I wrote the books, and I moved up within the bureau and outside of it. But I’m back here at the BAU for a reason. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Hotch’s eyes shifted toward you, clearly processing this new information. You could feel the weight of his gaze, but you kept your focus on Strauss, who raised an eyebrow at your response.

Strauss didn’t seem phased, though. “So, you’re saying you’re content in your current role? You have no intention of seeking advancement?”

You shrugged lightly, the tension starting to ease as you leaned back slightly in your chair. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m not here for the next big promotion or to climb the ladder. I’m here because this is where I do my best work. And I’m not interested in getting tangled up in the politics of it all.”

Hotch, though usually unreadable, seemed quietly surprised. He had always known you were brilliant and capable, but hearing you say it so plainly, with no desire to rise further up the chain, caught him off guard. He remained silent, but you could feel the shift in the room.

Strauss nodded slowly, her eyes studying you for a moment before turning back to Hotch. “And you, Agent Hotchner? Do you understand what this relationship means for your position as unit chief?”

Hotch’s voice was steady as ever, but there was a hint of protectiveness in his tone. “I’m fully aware of the implications, ma’am. And we’ve been careful to maintain professional boundaries where it matters.”

Strauss gave a tight-lipped smile. “I’m sure you have. But I must remind you that this relationship will be closely monitored. Any sign of favoritism or conflicts of interest--it could affect both of your positions. That’s non-negotiable.”

You raised an eyebrow, your witty side itching to make an appearance. “Well, I’m glad we filed the paperwork, then. Wouldn’t want to make things too interesting.”

Strauss’s gaze hardened slightly, but she didn’t take the bait. “This isn’t a joke, Agent Y/L/N. The bureau takes these matters seriously.”

You straightened up, meeting her stare without flinching. “I’m well aware of that. And so is Hotch. We both know what we’re doing.”

Strauss paused for a moment, her eyes flicking between the two of you before she stood up, smoothing down her jacket. “Good. Because I will be watching.”

She turned to Hotch, her voice crisp. “Agent Hotchner, I trust you’ll ensure this situation doesn’t interfere with the team’s work. Or your leadership.”

Hotch nodded. “Of course.”

Strauss nodded once more, glancing at you again before heading to the door. “I’ll see you both at the seminar.”

Once the door closed behind her, you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Hotch remained standing, his eyes still on you, though softer now.

“Well,” you said with a small smile, “that could’ve gone worse.”

Hotch gave you a look, his tone dry but fond. “You didn’t make it any easier.”

You shrugged, standing up from your chair. “Hey, I’ve known Strauss for years. I’m not afraid of her.”

Hotch’s lips quirked in the faintest smile, but his eyes were serious. “You really don’t want to move up the chain?”

You gave him a soft, reassuring look. “No, Hotch. I’m right where I want to be.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, but the understanding between you was clear. You had made your choice, and there was no going back. And that choice included him.

The door clicked shut behind Strauss, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. You could still feel the tension in the room, but now that it was just you and Hotch, it felt more manageable. You leaned back against his desk, crossing your arms with a sly smile playing on your lips.

“Well,” you began, teasingly, “I guess I’ll have to stick around here. Hard to pass up having a boss who’s great to look at. And that hot ass doesn’t hurt either.”

Hotch gave you a flat look, though the faintest glimmer of amusement flickered in his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

You shrugged, letting the flirtation hang in the air for a moment before your expression softened. “But seriously, Aaron. I don’t want to be the one making decisions, the one everyone’s looking to. I’ve been there, done that. I’ve had my face plastered on the front of books, been the name on university advertisements. Right now... I just want to be here.”

Hotch let out a quiet sigh, sitting down behind his desk and folding his hands. He looked at you for a long moment, as though weighing what he was about to say.

“Are you sure that’s what you want? The bureau would be lucky to have you move up the ranks. You’ve already proven yourself more than capable.”

You appreciated his concern, but you could also see that familiar intensity in his eyes—the one that always wanted to make sure everything was right, that everything was in order. It was why he was so good at what he did.

You gave him a soft smile. “Aaron, half of the rookie agents that come through the bureau were my students. I’ve already shaped the future of the academy. I don’t need to climb any more ladders or chase any more titles. I’m done with that part of my life.”

He leaned back slightly, processing what you were saying, the weight of it settling in. Hotch’s jaw tightened for a moment, but not out of frustration. He was thinking it over carefully, as he always did.

“You’re sure?” he asked quietly, his voice gentler now.

“I’m sure,” you replied without hesitation. “This... this is where I belong. Doing the work, being part of this team. Not leading it, not sitting in some office making decisions. Just being here. With you.”

For a moment, the room fell quiet, the gravity of your words sinking in. Hotch’s expression softened, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered your choice. He’d always seen you as someone who could easily rise through the ranks, who could do anything you set your mind to. And while it surprised him to hear that you were content staying in your current role, he couldn’t help but respect it.

“You’ve done more for this place than most agents ever will,” Hotch finally said, his voice low but sincere. “If you’re sure about this... then I understand. I just didn’t want you to feel like you were giving up on something.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “I’m not giving up anything, Aaron. I’ve already made my mark. Now, I just want to be part of the team. I want to be... well, your pain in the ass.”

Hotch chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Of course you do.”

He glanced down at his desk for a moment, his hands resting on top of a pile of paperwork. His thoughts seemed to drift, and for a moment, you saw something else pass across his face—a mixture of exhaustion and quiet acceptance.

“I couldn’t see myself anywhere else either,” he admitted quietly. “I know it’s not perfect—chasing down criminals, missing out on time with Jack, losing years off my life from stress... But I don’t think I could do anything else.”

You tilted your head, watching him closely. There was a vulnerability in his voice that he rarely let show, and it made your heart ache a little.

“You’re not a bad father,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You’re doing what you need to do. And Jack knows that.”

Hotch looked up at you, his gaze steady but grateful. “I hope so. But sometimes it feels like I’m stretched so thin... between work, the team, Jack. And now with Strauss breathing down my neck—” He stopped, shaking his head. “It’s hard not to feel like I’m failing somewhere.”

You leaned down, resting your hand gently on his shoulder. “You’re not failing. You’re holding it all together. And trust me, you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me. You’ve got the team. And Jack? He knows you’re doing this for him.”

Hotch’s eyes softened as he looked at you, the weight of everything he carried easing just a little in your presence. He reached up, placing his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know how I did this for so long without you,” he said quietly.

You smiled, leaning in slightly. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, a quiet understanding passing between you. No words needed to be said. You both knew where you stood—with each other, with the team, with everything that mattered.

And in the end, that was all that really counted.

Later, as the evening grew quieter, that same sense of comfort lingered in the air. After your conversation, Hotch returned to his work, but the warmth between you both remained steady, unspoken but present.

Jack, who had always been a light in his father’s life, was the perfect bridge between the seriousness of your roles at the BAU and the softer, more personal moments like this one. The apartment was filled with a kind of peaceful routine, a rhythm that you had seamlessly become a part of.

The low hum of Hotch’s fingers tapping against his laptop filled the quiet of the apartment. He was seated at the kitchen table, finishing up some paperwork for a case, while you and Jack played a game on the living room floor. You had always been good with Jack—playful, patient, and light-hearted. You could make him laugh, something that always seemed to light up the room, and Hotch, though focused on his work, would occasionally glance over, a small, contented smile playing on his lips.

Jack giggled as you helped him arrange some action figures for a mini battle scene on the floor. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“You’re good at this,” Jack said, smiling up at you.

You grinned. “Well, I’ve had a lot of practice fighting bad guys with your dad.”

Jack’s face grew thoughtful for a moment, and you noticed the shift. His next words caught you completely off guard.

“I’m really happy you’re here,” Jack said earnestly, his small voice sounding far too mature for his age. “It’s nice having you around. It makes me feel like... like we’re a family again.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. The weight of Jack’s words hit you like a ton of bricks. You weren’t expecting that—not at all. Panic flickered in your chest, your heart racing as you tried to process what he’d just said.

Family. The word hung in the air, heavy with implications. You glanced quickly over at Hotch, but he was still focused on his laptop, or so you thought.

Unbeknownst to you, Hotch had heard Jack’s words too, and though his expression remained neutral, his attention was now fully on you and Jack.

You smiled tightly, but your mind was racing. Family. You never wanted to overstep, never wanted to take the place of Jack’s mother. The thought of being too much, of Jack growing attached to you only to feel let down later—it scared you. And worse, what if, in trying to be part of their lives, you messed it up? What if they resented you for it?

Without responding to Jack, you quickly stood up, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’ll be right back, Jack,” you said softly, your voice wavering slightly. You needed space, needed to breathe and process what he’d said.

You headed toward the bathroom, desperate for a moment to collect yourself. You didn’t want Jack to see how flustered you were, and more importantly, you didn’t want him to feel like you didn’t care. But right now, the panic was winning.

Just as you reached the door, you felt a hand gently catch your arm. You turned to see Hotch standing there, his expression calm but filled with understanding.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice gentle but firm. “Don’t run.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in Hotch’s eyes stopped you. He had heard everything. Your heart sank a little, the familiar weight of uncertainty creeping in, though you kept your voice steady.

“Aaron, I... I don’t want to hurt him,” you began quietly, choosing your words carefully. “I’m not trying to replace Haley, and I know he’s been through so much. I just... I don’t want to overstep.”

Hotch’s grip on your arm remained gentle but grounding. “You’re not overstepping,” he said calmly. “Jack likes having you here. I like having you here.“

You paused, exhaling slowly as you collected your thoughts. You weren’t panicking, but the gravity of what Jack had said still lingered.

“He said I make it feel like a family again,” you said softly, not quite able to meet Hotch’s gaze. “That’s... a lot to take in. I care about him; I really do. But I’m just... I’m afraid I won’t be enough. Not for that.”

“You don’t have to be more than you are. Jack feels safe with you. That’s all that matters.” Hotch’s eyes softened, and he let out a small sigh, his hands gently resting on your arms now. “Jack feels safe with you. He trusts you. And that’s not something I take lightly.”

You felt the lump in your throat grow as he continued, his voice steady and reassuring.

“He’s talked about you before, you know. How much he likes having you around. He’s never said it outright, but I can see how much it means to him to have someone who cares about him like you do.”

You swallowed hard, trying to fight back the overwhelming surge of emotions. You hadn’t realized how much Jack had talked about you, how much he truly cared. It was one thing to spend time with him, to make him laugh, but hearing that you were becoming part of his sense of family... it was terrifying and comforting all at once.

“I didn’t realize how much this mattered to him,” you admitted, your tone thoughtful. “I just don’t want to let either of you down,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just want to do right by him. And by you.”

Hotch’s hands moved to gently cup your face, his touch warm and grounding. His eyes, full of understanding, met yours. “You won’t let him down,” he said firmly. “You’re not letting him down. You’re giving him something he hasn’t had in a long time—stability and fun. He’s a kid, and he’s already lost so much. Having you in his life is a good thing for both of us.”

You blinked, your breath shaky as you tried to absorb his words. But the fear still gnawed at you, your insecurities creeping back. “What if... what if it’s too much for him? What if something happens? I don’t want him to feel like I’m replacing Haley.”

Hotch’s gaze softened even more, and he lowered his voice, speaking with that calm, measured tone that always made you feel safe. “You’re not replacing her. No one could. But Jack’s allowed to love people beyond his mom. He’s allowed to have people in his life who care about him. And right now, that’s you.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as you met his gaze, feeling the weight of the conversation. You hadn’t realized how much this mattered to him, how much it mattered to both of them. And Hotch, always steady and thoughtful, knew exactly what to say to calm your fears.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hotch nodded, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. “I know. But you don’t need to be. You’re doing everything right.”

His words hit you like a soft, comforting wave. The weight of your fears, your doubts, all seemed to ease with every word he spoke. You were more to them than just a visitor in their lives. You were becoming part of something—something real, something important.

You leaned into his touch, letting out a shaky breath. “I just... I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect him to say that.”

Hotch gave a small smile, his voice filled with warmth. “He’s a smart kid. He knows what he feels, and he’s not afraid to say it.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling the tension in your chest start to unravel. “Well, he’s braver than me, that’s for sure.”

Hotch’s hands slipped from your face to your waist, pulling you gently into a warm embrace. “You’re brave, too,” he murmured against your hair.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into the comfort of his arms, the steady beat of his heart calming your own. You weren’t alone in this. Hotch was here, Jack was here, and you were part of this family—whether you had planned it or not.

Hotch pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a soft smile. “And for the record,” he added quietly, “Jack’s right. It does feel like family when you’re here.”

Your breath hitched again, but this time it wasn’t from fear—it was from the warmth spreading through your chest. The panic had faded, replaced by something stronger, something that felt like home.

You smiled up at him, your voice softer now. “Guess I’m not going anywhere, then.”

Hotch chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because we don’t want you to.”

With that, he took your hand and led you back toward the living room, where Jack was still engrossed in his game. Hotch squeezed your hand before releasing it, nodding for you to sit back down with Jack.

As you settled next to him again, Jack looked up at you, his innocent smile still bright. “You okay?” he asked.

You smiled, your heart lighter than it had been all night. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you said, ruffling his hair gently. “I’m really happy to be here with you.”

And as Jack returned to his game, the weight of his earlier words still lingering in the air, you felt Hotch’s eyes on you—silent, steady, and filled with gratitude. You weren’t alone in this anymore. You were exactly where you needed to be.

The evening settled into a comfortable rhythm. After some time spent playing games, it was clear Jack was starting to get tired. Hotch closed his laptop and glanced over at the two of you on the floor, where Jack was now resting his head against your leg, his eyelids growing heavy. The sight stirred something deep inside Hotch—something warm, something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

Jack had always been slow to open up to people, especially after Haley’s death, but with you, things had been different. He had taken to you almost immediately, and as the months passed, Hotch watched with quiet amazement as Jack’s bond with you grew. The way you made Jack laugh, the way you seemed to know how to comfort him without overstepping—it was as if you knew exactly what both of them needed.

Hotch wasn’t surprised that Jack had come to care for you so deeply, but he hadn’t expected how much it would affect him, watching the two of you together. It was more than just gratitude or affection. It was something else, something that stirred in him every time he saw you with Jack. A sense of wholeness.

"Alright, Jack," Hotch said softly, standing up and stretching as he walked over to where you were sitting. "Time for bed, buddy."

Jack yawned and nodded sleepily, clearly too tired to argue. He gave you a sleepy smile before Hotch helped him up and led him to his room. As Hotch tucked him in, Jack’s small voice broke through the quiet.

“Dad,” Jack murmured, his eyes half-closed. “Y/N... she’s staying, right?”

Hotch paused, his heart skipping slightly at the question. He looked down at Jack, brushing a hand over his son’s hair. “Yeah, she’s staying,” he said gently. “For as long as she wants.”

Jack smiled, his eyes fluttering shut. “Good.”

Hotch stayed there for a moment, watching Jack drift off to sleep, feeling that familiar sense of peace settle in. When he walked back out into the living room, he found you already tidying up the game you and Jack had been playing.

You glanced up and smiled softly. “Is he out?”

Hotch nodded, leaning against the doorframe, watching you. “Yeah. He was out before I finished tucking him in.”

You chuckled softly, standing up and walking over to him. “He’s a good kid.”

“He is,” Hotch agreed, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. He hesitated for a moment, then added, “He really likes having you here, you know.”

You smiled, leaning slightly against him, your tone teasing. “Oh, does he now? Is he looking for a roommate?”

Hotch chuckled softly, his arm slipping around your waist. “He’d have you move in tomorrow if he could.”

You laughed, and the sound was light and comfortable. But Hotch’s expression softened, and you caught the more serious look in his eyes. “You’ve made a difference for him,” he said quietly. “For both of us.”

For a moment, you just looked at each other, the weight of his words hanging in the air, unspoken but deeply felt. You knew how much this meant to him, and in return, it meant just as much to you.

You were going to suppress the thoughts and feelings that came up with the idea of living here--making this your everyday norm. That was a thought for later.

“Well,” you said softly, trying to lighten the mood as you glanced at the clock. “We should probably get some rest, too. Big day tomorrow.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “You mean the sexual harassment seminar?”

You grinned, your eyes twinkling mischievously. “Oh, come on, you’re not even a little curious about it? Think they’ll call us out?”

Hotch shook his head, but there was a faint smirk on his lips. “I’m pretty sure the seminar will be as routine as they come.”

“Right,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “Because us flirting shamelessly in front of Strauss didn’t put us on her radar at all.”

Hotch let out a low, quiet laugh, his arm still comfortably around your waist. “Us? I’d like to think I keep it pretty professional on my side,” He smirked, “And I don’t think Strauss has a sense of humor, so I’d be careful with the jokes tomorrow.”

You leaned into him, your smile widening. “I can behave. But you have to admit, it’s kind of funny. I mean, look at us—we’ve been in the field longer than most of the team combined, and now we’re going to a sexual harassment seminar.”

“Yes. Hilarious.” Hotch raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to something between amused and incredulous. “In all my years at the bureau, I’ve never had to attend one of these.”

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right? Think of it as an opportunity for personal growth.”

Hotch let out a quiet, dry chuckle. “Yes, because we clearly need that.”

You grinned up at him, enjoying the rare sight of his relaxed smile. “You should try and loosen up tomorrow. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Hotch shook his head, though his smirk remained. “I think you’re the one who needs to learn something about professionalism.”

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” you said playfully, stepping back with a teasing look. “You know you secretly love it when I push your buttons.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression composed, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “You’re lucky we’re not in the office right now.”

You grinned, stepping closer again, your tone dropping to a whisper. “What would you do if we were?”

Hotch’s lips twitched in the faintest smile as he looked down at you. “That’s exactly why we’re going to that seminar.”

You laughed, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before stepping back. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

Hotch shook his head, watching you with that small, affectionate smile that always seemed to sneak through when you were around. “I’ll hold you to that.”

But you raised an eyebrow, your grin turning mischievous. “We’re not in the office right now, Aaron. Maybe we don’t have to behave. Who says we can’t break a few rules while we’re off the clock?”

Hotch’s smile deepened, though his expression remained composed like he was weighing the idea. “You think that’s a good idea, considering what seminar we’re attending tomorrow?”

You stepped closer, your voice dropping into a playful whisper. “Maybe. But the night’s still young, and we’re definitely not in the office.”

Hotch chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your teasing. “You make a compelling case,” he said dryly, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “But don’t think I’m going to let you use this as an excuse tomorrow.”

You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, that faint smirk still playing on his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The tension between you both shifted—still playful, but undeniably charged now.

“You’re dangerously close to proving why we need that seminar,” Hotch said, his voice low, though there was no mistaking the heat behind his words.

You tilted your head, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “Maybe you just need a little reminder of how fun breaking the rules can be.”

Hotch’s gaze darkened slightly, his hands slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You’re trouble,” he murmured, his voice a mix of amusement and desire. “You know that, right?”

You grinned, leaning in closer, your lips just barely brushing against his. “You like trouble, though.”

He didn’t respond with words, but the way his grip tightened on your waist told you everything you needed to know. You could feel his restraint slipping, the tension building as the space between you vanished.

In a swift motion, Hotch pulled you into a deep kiss, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your head, the other still holding you firmly against him. The kiss was slow at first, controlled, but it quickly turned heated as the weight of the day faded, replaced by something more urgent.

You responded eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair as you pressed yourself against him. The usually composed and controlled Aaron Hotchner was giving in, and it sent a thrill down your spine. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your pulse race, and you could feel the heat rising between you both.

Breaking the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, you smirked, your voice breathless. “And here I thought you were the rule-follower.”

Hotch chuckled, but his eyes were dark with desire as he lowered his head to brush his lips along your jawline, trailing kisses down your neck. “Not tonight,” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and sending shivers down your spine.

Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch as his lips continued their path. He pressed you gently back against the wall, his body leaning into yours, and for a moment, the only thing that existed was the heat between you both.

The usual careful restraint Hotch always carried was gone, replaced by a hunger that matched your own. His hands slid up your sides, his touch firm but teasing as his lips returned to yours, capturing them in another searing kiss.

You responded eagerly, letting yourself melt into the moment, every touch, every kiss fanning the flames between you. There was no room for second-guessing, no holding back. Not tonight.

Hotch’s hands slid under your shirt, his touch setting your skin on fire as he deepened the kiss. You moaned softly against his lips, your body arching into his, wanting more, needing more. And from the way his grip tightened, and the heat in his kiss intensified, you knew he felt the same.

His lips broke away from yours, his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you momentarily breathless. “I don’t think I can stop,” he admitted, his voice husky.

You smiled, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “Then don’t.”

Hotch’s eyes darkened at your words, the invitation in your voice sending a shiver through him. He didn’t need any more encouragement. In one swift motion, his hands slid down to your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

The heat between you both was palpable as Hotch’s lips crashed into yours again, more intense now, as he carried you toward his bedroom. Every step felt heavy with anticipation, the air around you charged with electricity. You could feel the firm strength of his body beneath yours, and the way his grip tightened on you made your pulse race even faster.

He pushed open the door to his bedroom without breaking the kiss, his focus entirely on you. As he moved inside, he pressed you against the nearest wall, your back meeting the cool surface as his body pressed into yours, the heat between you growing hotter by the second.

His lips broke from yours for just a moment, trailing heated kisses down your neck, making you gasp softly. “You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured against your skin, his breath sending chills down your spine.

You grinned, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as you whispered teasingly, “Good.”

Hotch pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of desire and intensity. He didn’t waste another second. With one fluid motion, he carried you over to the bed, laying you down gently, though there was nothing gentle about the fire in his gaze.

He hovered over you for a moment, his hands moving to your shirt, slowly sliding it up your torso. The brush of his fingers against your skin made your breath hitch, and as you lifted your arms to help him, he pulled the fabric off and tossed it aside.

His hands roamed over your skin, the intensity of his touch making your body arch beneath him. His lips followed the trail his fingers made, kissing every inch of exposed skin as he made his way back up to your mouth.

You tugged at his shirt in return, your need for him growing with every passing second. Hotch quickly obliged, pulling his shirt off and discarding it, revealing the toned muscles you had felt beneath your hands so many times before. You didn’t waste time running your fingers over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin under your touch.

Hotch’s mouth found yours again, the kiss deeper and more urgent this time, as though all the months of pent-up tension between you both were finally being released. His hands moved lower, sliding over your waist, and you could feel the restraint he was barely holding onto slipping away.

You tugged him closer, your lips parting to catch your breath. “No more holding back,” you whispered breathlessly, your hands slipping down his back, feeling every inch of him.

Hotch’s eyes met yours, his voice low and husky. “I wasn’t planning to.”

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in another heated kiss as his hands moved to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with a sense of urgency. Every touch, every kiss was sending fire through your veins, and as he pressed his body against yours, you felt the last of your restraint melt away completely.

As the night deepened, Hotch’s kisses grew more insistent, the two of you lost in each other, in the heat, in the undeniable connection that had been simmering beneath the surface for months. Every moment between you was filled with the passion and intensity you had both been holding back for so long.

In that quiet, intimate space, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in the heat of the moment, fully embracing everything that had been building between you.

The room felt electric, every movement charged with the intensity that had been building between you and Hotch for so long. As your clothes disappeared, piece by piece, the heat between you deepened, filling the space with an almost palpable tension. Hotch’s hands traced every curve of your body with a sense of urgency, his lips never straying far from yours, as if afraid to break the connection for even a moment.

His body pressed against yours as he hovered above you, his breath hot against your skin. You could feel the tension in him—the desire he was barely holding back—and it sent a thrill through you, knowing that this man, who was always so composed and in control, was unraveling with you.

Your hands roamed over his back, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him against you. Hotch’s mouth trailed down your neck, his kisses leaving a heated path along your skin. You gasped softly, your head tilting back as you gave in to the sensation, your heart racing in your chest.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough, his control slipping with every second that passed.

A teasing smile played on your lips as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him back to you for another heated kiss. “I look forward to finding out.”

Hotch’s response was a deep, throaty chuckle, but it quickly faded into a groan as you pressed your hips against him, the contact sending a jolt through both of you. He captured your mouth again, the kiss hot and desperate, his hands sliding down your body with a need that matched your own.

There was nothing tentative or slow about the way he touched you now—every movement was fueled by the months of built-up tension, the simmering attraction that neither of you had fully acted on until tonight. It was as if all the barriers had come down, and now there was nothing stopping the flood of emotions and desire that had been kept at bay for so long.

Your hands explored his body, reveling in the feel of his muscles tensing beneath your touch, in the way his breath hitched every time you touched a sensitive spot. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, dark and filled with want, and it made your heart race even faster.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, but you could hear the strain in his voice—he was already lost in you.

You smiled up at him, your voice breathless but confident. “It’s never too much.”

That was all the permission Hotch needed. He pulled you closer, his lips finding yours again as he gave in to the heat between you, the two of you losing yourselves in each other. The tension that had once hung between you like a taut wire finally snapped, and the flood of desire overtook everything else.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the feel of Hotch’s hands on your body, and the heat that seemed to wrap around both of you, pulling you deeper into the moment. It was overwhelming, intense, and exactly what you both needed.

As the night wore on, the connection between you only grew stronger, each kiss, each touch, bringing you closer until there was no more space between you—physically or emotionally. Hotch’s control, usually so ironclad, had completely slipped, and now, here with you, he wasn’t Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. He was simply Aaron, and he was completely yours.

When you finally collapsed together, both of you breathless and spent, Hotch’s arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you close to his chest. The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, and you rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, content to just exist in the quiet, intimate space you had created together. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, his breath warm against your hair as you lay there in the afterglow, your bodies tangled together under the sheets.

Eventually, Hotch broke the silence, his voice soft and low. “You know, we’re probably going to need to be extra professional at that seminar tomorrow.”

You chuckled, your head still resting against him. “Oh, definitely. But I’m not making any promises.”

He smiled against your hair, his arms tightening around you just a little. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, a playful glint in your eyes. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get sent to a second seminar just for being this unprofessional.”

Hotch chuckled, shaking his head. “If anyone’s getting us sent to another seminar, it’ll be you.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Hey, I like to keep things interesting.”

He sighed contentedly, his hand brushing over your hair. “You definitely do.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling the warmth of his chest beneath your cheek, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a peaceful state. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, and for a while, neither of you felt the need to fill the silence.

Eventually, you glanced up at him again, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “You know, I’m kind of curious how you’ll handle yourself tomorrow, Hotchner. All that professionalism in the face of temptation.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking slightly. “Temptation?”

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing the edge of his jaw as you whispered teasingly, “Me.”

Hotch chuckled again, but this time, there was a deeper tone to his laugh. “I’ve handled worse.”

You scoffed, pulling back just enough to look at him fully, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Worse? So I’m not the worst distraction you’ve had?”

He smirked, his hand sliding up to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Oh, you’re definitely the most dangerous distraction I’ve ever had.”

You grinned, pleased with that answer, and leaned in to kiss him softly. The kiss lingered for a moment before you pulled away, resting your head back against his chest with a contented sigh.

“You know,” you began, your voice playful but softer now, “I don’t mind being your distraction... as long as you don’t mind breaking a few rules every now and then.”

Hotch’s hand continued to move slowly through your hair, his tone affectionate yet teasing. “Breaking rules with you seems to be a habit.”

You smiled against his chest, closing your eyes. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Just don’t get us into too much trouble.”

You grinned sleepily, your voice fading into a content whisper. “No promises, Hotch.”

With that, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence again, the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your ear lulling you into a peaceful rest. And for now, in this quiet moment, the rest of the world could wait.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows as you and Hotch moved through your usual morning routine, but the looming seminar was clearly on both of your minds. As you finished getting ready, you leaned against the doorframe, watching Hotch button up his shirt with far too much composure.

“You know,” you said with a playful smirk, “for someone who’s about to sit through a sexual harassment seminar, you seem awfully calm.”

Hotch glanced up at you, his expression dry. “It’s a routine seminar. Nothing to be nervous about.”

You raised an eyebrow, walking over to him slowly, your fingers lightly trailing over his shirt as you helped straighten the collar. “Routine for me maybe, but you? This is uncharted territory, Aaron.”

Hotch shot you a look, clearly unimpressed. “You’re going to behave, right?”

You shrugged, giving him a teasing grin. “We’ll see. I mean, we’re not in the office yet, so technically, this is my free time.”

He sighed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he finished buttoning up. “Just try not to get us kicked out.”

You stepped closer, standing on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek, your voice a playful whisper. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Hotch shook his head, but you could see the slight twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. “You’re going to be trouble.”

You grinned, leaning back. “Good. Keeps things interesting.”

You both made your way downstairs to find Jack already seated at the kitchen table, finishing his breakfast. He looked up at you with a bright smile. “Are you going to the office with Dad today?”

You chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Sort of. I have to go to a... special meeting.”

Hotch gave you a pointed look as he grabbed his keys. “It’s more of a seminar.”

Jack shrugged, seemingly uninterested in the details. “Okay, but I bet your meeting won’t be as fun as school.”

You and Hotch exchanged a glance, and you had to bite back a laugh. “I think you’re probably right, Jack.”

A few minutes later, you and Hotch piled into the car, Jack in tow, as you made your way to his school. The ride was filled with light conversation; Jack was excited about the day ahead. When you dropped him off, you waved him goodbye with a warm smile, but as soon as the car door closed, your playful demeanor returned.

“So,” you began, looking over at Hotch, “any last-minute nerves about our big seminar? I’m sure they’re going to love hearing all about our professional relationship.”

Hotch shot you a sideways glance. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

You grinned, leaning back in your seat. “Come on, admit it. You think it’s kind of funny that we have to attend this seminar.”

He sighed, keeping his eyes on the road. “I think it’s going to be a long day if you keep this up.”

“Oh, Aaron,” you teased, your voice lilting with fake innocence. “What’s the fun in behaving when we’re not even at the office yet?”

Hotch’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw clenching slightly. “I’m not sure what I’m more worried about—the seminar or your behavior in it.”

You smirked, thoroughly enjoying yourself. “You should be worried about both.”

By the time you arrived at the building, Hotch was clearly bracing himself for whatever you had planned. But as soon as you stepped into the lobby, you spotted Morgan and Garcia waiting for you both, and from the look on Morgan’s face, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass without getting his jabs in.

“Well, well, well,” Morgan said, his grin wide and far too pleased. “Look who finally showed up. Hotch, man, I thought you were the last person who’d end up here.”

Hotch sighed deeply, but you could see the slight twitch of a smile. “Not a word, Morgan.”

Morgan ignored Hotch entirely, his eyes flashing with amusement as he crossed his arms. “Nah, this is too good to pass up. We all knew she needed the seminar,” he said, nodding toward you. “But you, Hotch? After all the years of watching her give you hell at work, I never thought Strauss would finally put you on the list.”

Garcia leaned in with a gleeful smile. “Oh, we’ve all seen the sexual tension you two bring into every room, but I never thought Strauss would step in like this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, nudging Hotch playfully. “See? It’s not just me. They’ve noticed.”

Morgan shook his head, grinning even wider. “Man, Strauss must’ve been waiting for this opportunity. After all the paperwork you two filed, she probably couldn’t resist. She finally had a reason to call you out.”

Hotch shot Morgan a pointed look, though you could see the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s just get through this without commentary.”

But you leaned closer, your voice teasing as you shot him a mischievous grin. “Oh, come on, Aaron. Don’t be so serious. You might actually learn something today.”

Morgan chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Oh, I don’t know, Hotch. If anyone’s going to get us kicked out of this thing, it’s definitely going to be her.”

You grinned, clearly reveling in the teasing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m the picture of professionalism.”

Garcia giggled, shaking her head. “Please. If you two make it through this seminar without being personally called out, I’ll be shocked.”

Hotch sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m already regretting this.”

Morgan clapped a hand on Hotch’s shoulder, still grinning. “Hey, man, you signed up for this the second you started dating her. No turning back now.”

You leaned in closer, lowering your voice just enough for Hotch to hear, a smirk playing on your lips. “I’m not planning on turning back. But I am planning on having some fun.”

Before Hotch could respond, Garcia chimed in with a grin. “Let’s be real, if anyone’s getting us sent to a second seminar, it’s definitely going to be you.”

You laughed, leaning into Hotch. “She’s not wrong.”

Hotch let out a resigned sigh, though the faint smile on his lips gave him away. “We’re definitely going to need another seminar after this if you keep this up.”

Morgan grinned, clearly loving the whole thing. “Good luck, Hotch. You’re definitely going to need it.”

Hotch shot Morgan a dry look. “I seem to remember you and Penelope getting called out in one of these seminars before.”

Garcia’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “Us? Never.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his voice calm but pointed. “Right. Because ‘baby girl’ and ‘chocolate thunder’ are completely professional.”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head, unfazed. “Hey, man, those nicknames have stood the test of time.”

Garcia giggled, nudging Morgan. “It’s called having a dynamic work relationship, thank you very much.”

Hotch simply exhaled through his nose, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. “If you two survived a seminar with those nicknames, we should be just fine.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning closer to Hotch and whispering, “Maybe we’ll break the record for most inappropriate comments in a single seminar.”

Hotch’s eyes flicked to you, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Let’s not make that a goal.”

The playful banter continued as you all made your way into the seminar room. Despite the teasing, you could sense that Hotch was secretly enjoying the camaraderie, even if he tried to keep a stoic front. As the team settled in, Hotch’s subtle smiles, shared only with you, made the otherwise mundane day feel a little more fun.

Just as the seminar was about to start, Hotch’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at it, his face instantly growing serious. Without a word, he stood up, and the rest of the team followed suit, knowing something had shifted. You exchanged a glance with Garcia and Morgan, who were mid-laugh, but the lightheartedness evaporated as Hotch led the way out of the room.

Strauss was waiting just outside the seminar hall, her expression grim. “You’ve got an emergency. It’s bad. I’m giving you permission to leave the seminar for now, but don’t think you’re off the hook entirely. The paperwork will still be waiting.”

Hotch gave a short nod to Strauss, his posture immediately shifting as the gravity of the situation set in. “Understood.”

“Local kidnappings turned into murders,” Strauss shared, “They’re targeting government base daycares,” Strauss swallowed; even with her years of experience, this was hard to tolerate. “Agent Jareau and the rest of the team are waiting for you all with the case files,” Strauss dismissed.

Without another word, Hotch motioned for you and the rest of the team to follow him. As you hurried back to the BAU, the usual teasing and banter between you and Hotch dissolved instantly, the playful edge that had filled the air just moments ago vanishing into thin air.

Penelope, who had been chuckling along with Morgan earlier, now glanced over at him, her voice low with concern. “Did you see that? It’s like they flipped a switch.”

Morgan nodded, his own playful demeanor replaced with a grim seriousness. “That’s how they work. They can go from flirting to full-on power couple mode in the blink of an eye. When it’s time to get down to business, they don’t mess around.”

He wasn’t wrong. The moment Strauss had given the team the green light, Hotch’s usual light touches on your arm and stolen glances were gone. Now, his strides were long and purposeful, his focus sharp as he barked orders into his phone, arranging for the team’s immediate mobilization. You were walking beside him, the easy banter and flirty comments replaced by an air of determination and control, your face set in a mask of calm.

Even as you moved quickly through the hallways, the energy between you and Hotch shifted. It wasn’t about playful teasing anymore; it was about synergy—an unspoken understanding of what needed to happen next. As if a silent agreement had passed between the two of you, you fell into step, moving with a precision that only came from years of working together.

As the team gathered for the briefing, it was even more obvious to the others. Where there had been light laughter just an hour ago, now there was only quiet efficiency.

“Look at them,” Penelope whispered to Morgan, her voice hushed. “They’re completely in sync.”

Morgan nodded, crossing his arms as he leaned in. “That’s the thing. They’re always in sync—whether they’re at each other’s throats in a fun way or whether they’re running point on a case. It’s seamless.” Morgan looked at Penelope, “And this one--I don’t know, it seems bad.”

Hotch issued his final instructions to the team, his voice clipped and firm. “We need to move fast. This unsub is escalating, and we’re running out of time.”

You stood beside him, nodding as he spoke, already moving into action. The teasing glances and flirtatious remarks had vanished, but the energy between the two of you was stronger than ever, charged with the urgency of the case. Your hand hovered over your gun holster, ready to go as soon as he gave the word.

Hotch stood at the head of the table, directing everyone with precision. “JJ, Reid—go through the victimology again. Prentiss and Rossi, you’re with me. We’ll take the south side of the search grid.” He glanced at you, and something flickered in his eyes, something unreadable. “Y/N, I need you to go with Morgan to the crime scene.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait—why? I should be with you. It makes more sense—”

In the past, when you were paired together, you had the advantage of working off each other’s strengths—your quick thinking and Hotch’s methodical strategy, a blend that made the two of you nearly unstoppable in the field.

Besides, the urgency of the case only solidified your argument in your mind. This unsub was escalating quickly, and the stakes were higher than usual. You needed to cover as much ground as possible, but splitting up didn’t feel like the most strategic move.

Hotch cut you off, his voice tight. “No, it doesn’t. I need you with Morgan.”

Your brow furrowed. “Hotch, logistically, I’m better off with you. You know that.”

Before you could press further, Rossi, who had been quietly observing, gave a subtle nod to the others. Without a word, Morgan, Garcia, and JJ began to step away, respecting the moment.

Rossi lingered for a second, catching Hotch’s eye as if to say, Take a moment. Hotch’s jaw clenched, but he gave a short nod back, appreciating the silent gesture.

As the others drifted away to give you some privacy, the air between you and Hotch felt heavier. The urgency of the case pressed down on you both, but so did something deeper. You weren’t used to him shutting you out like this.

The pressure of the case was bearing down on both of you, and you could see the cracks starting to form in Hotch’s usually calm demeanor. He was good at compartmentalizing, but something about this was different. You pressed again. “Why are you sending me with Morgan?”

He clenched his jaw, the tension in his shoulders visible as he glanced away for a moment, his composure slipping just slightly. “Because... I can’t concentrate when you’re there.”

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as the words hung between you.

Hotch finally met your eyes, his voice quiet but raw with emotion. “If you’re with me, I’m going to be worried about you—worried about your life more than mine, more than anyone else’s.” He paused, his gaze softening for just a moment. “I can’t afford that right now. I need you to go with Morgan because he’s the closest thing to myself that I trust with your life.”

The weight of his words hit you hard, and for once, you found yourself speechless. You had known Hotch for years, had seen him in every kind of crisis imaginable, but you had never seen him so vulnerable, so honest in the heat of the moment.

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “Please. Do this for me.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening at the intensity of his words. For a moment, you considered pushing back, but the look in his eyes stopped you. Quietly, for the first time in a long time, you nodded. “Okay.”

Hotch exhaled, relief flickering across his face. But just as he turned to leave, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours as if he wanted to say more.

“I—” Hotch hesitated, the words hanging in the air between you. He looked at you with an intensity that took your breath away, and you could see the unspoken weight of his emotions pressing down on him. His voice was rough, betraying the carefully controlled demeanor he usually wore like armor. “I need you to be safe. That’s all that matters.”

But it wasn’t all he wanted to say. You could see it in his eyes—the way they softened, the way his gaze lingered on you as if he was grappling with more than just the fear of losing you in the field. He wanted to tell you more. You could feel it. He wanted to say something bigger, something heavier. And even though the words hadn’t left his mouth, you knew exactly what he was about to say.

He wants to tell me he loves me.

The realization hit you like a shock to the system, and in that moment, it wasn’t the case or the danger that filled you with dread—it was this. His love. His feelings. The very thing you had been avoiding for weeks, maybe longer.

You had known how deeply Hotch felt for you, and you felt it too, but saying it out loud? Admitting it in the middle of a crisis? It made everything feel too real, too immediate. You weren’t ready for that. Not now. Not when the stakes were already so high, not when the panic of both the case and the depth of your emotions were bearing down on you.

The thought of it—its vulnerability—was almost too much to bear. Your heart started racing, and it wasn’t because of the case. It was because you couldn’t handle the weight of that admission. You had spent years building walls, protecting yourself from getting too close, from being hurt. Intimacy, the idea of being that close to someone—it terrified you. If Hotch said it now, in the midst of this chaos, how could you even begin to process it?

Before he could say anything more, you shook your head, your voice coming out shakier than you intended. “Don’t. Not now. Not like this.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flash of hurt in his eyes, but he nodded. He understood. He always did. He didn’t push, even though you could feel the words lingering on the tip of his tongue. He was never one to force things, especially not with you. But that didn’t stop the pain of his unsaid confession from hanging between you, heavy and unresolved.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the intensity of the moment swirling around you. The case loomed over you both, the danger imminent, but there was something even more frightening between you—this unspoken love, this connection that you both felt but couldn’t quite articulate. Not now. Not like this.

You could feel the gravity of everything that had been left unsaid pulling at you, but you couldn’t face it, not with the weight of the mission ahead. Not with the stakes so high.

And yet, even as the panic over your feelings surged, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Hotch. You knew that, for him, saying those words now wasn’t about timing. It was about fear. Fear of losing you. Fear of what could happen in this case. And the fear of not saying it in time. That’s what weighed on him—what he was trying to protect you from.

But for you, it was different. It wasn’t just the danger of the case that scared you; it was the danger of being loved. The fear of opening yourself up to someone so completely that it could all crumble if something went wrong. And deep down, you feared you weren’t capable of giving him what he deserved—because of everything that had happened before, because of the walls you had spent years building to keep yourself safe.

The silence between you stretched thick and heavy with everything that hadn’t been said. But there wasn’t time to dwell on it now.

You straightened, forcing yourself to push past the lump in your throat. “We need to move,” you said, your voice steadier than before, but only just.

Hotch nodded, the look in his eyes saying everything he wasn’t speaking. He was letting it go for now. But you knew—this wasn’t the end of it.

You joined Morgan, who gave you a knowing look but didn’t say a word. The tension between you and Hotch hadn’t gone unnoticed, but in the middle of a crisis, there was no room for personal questions.

As the team geared up and headed out, the stakes couldn’t have been higher. But despite everything, you knew you had to push your emotions aside, focus on the job, and trust that when this was over, you and Hotch would find a way to finish the conversation you’d both left hanging.

You and Morgan arrived at the base’s daycare, the atmosphere thick with grief and confusion. Officers and military personnel were bustling around, securing the perimeter and trying to make sense of the chaos. The scene was grim—lives lost in an instant, a father and his young son gunned down during what should have been a simple drop-off.

As you stepped out of the car, your eyes landed on a woman just beyond the police tape. She was in complete hysterics, pacing and sobbing uncontrollably. Her face was twisted in anguish, hands trembling as she clutched at her coat. You immediately knew who she was—the wife of the father, the mother of the son. The victims.

Morgan glanced at her, then back at you, his voice low. “She shouldn’t be here. It’s a crime scene.”

You nodded, your throat tightening at the sight of her. “She’s not in any state to understand that right now.”

Morgan sighed, glancing back at the crime scene with hardened eyes. “You talk to her. I’ll go check out the scene.”

You nodded, already walking toward the grieving mother, your heart pounding in your chest. As you approached, her sobs grew louder, her breaths ragged as she struggled to keep herself upright. She had lost so much.

“Ma’am?” you said gently, your voice soft but steady. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Can we step away from the scene for a moment?”

The woman looked at you through tear-filled eyes, barely registering your words, but after a moment, she nodded shakily. You led her a few feet away, just far enough to give her some space from the horror that had unfolded.

For a few moments, you just stood there, letting her cry, comforting her the best you could--but what could you say to make this better?

The silence between you felt heavy, but you knew she needed to speak when she was ready. And soon enough, she did.

“He was just dropping him off,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “They were running late, and I—God, I didn’t even get to say goodbye properly. I was rushing them out the door.”

You stayed quiet, listening to her as she began to unravel the details of her morning. Her voice was shaky, but she continued, her words pouring out faster than she could control. You heard her speak of her son--her baby. She kept calling him her baby and your hear, oh, how it broke.

You’d never experienced the love of a child, but you were beginning to think you had each time she spoke of her young son. The way the tears were flowing so heavily. You thought of Jack and how much he had become a part of your world. How much and what you would give to protect him from the world you knew to be so cruel and unkind.

In some ways, it was easier to love Jack and admit that you loved him, verus admitting you loved Hotch. WIth Jack, the love was a pure, unconditional love that doesn't come with the same intensity or pressure as loving Hotch. With Jack, your bond doesn’t hinge on the kind of emotional vulnerability or fear of rejection that you deeply associate with romantic relationships. Loving Jack may feel safer--easier to digest, because it doesn’t threaten your independence or expose you to the same potential for heartache.

You were taken out of your own thoughts and honestly, self profiling, by the woman beginning to tell you about her husband she just lost too. Both of them, you thought.

“He always makes sure we have coffee ready in the morning,” she began, her voice trembling as she tried to hold back tears. “Even if he has an early shift, he sets the coffee machine the night before, so I wake up to the smell of it. He’ll leave little notes by the pot just to tell me to have a good day. It’s such a small thing, but it means the world to me.” The woman shuttered, “I don’t even think he realizes how much it means to me…I never say it enough.”

Your heart tightened at her words. Hotch did the same—leaving your favorite tea or coffee ready, even if he was rushing out the door himself. And those little notes? He’d never leave without some small gesture, something just for you.

“He’s always so patient,” the woman continued, wiping her eyes. “God, I can be so stubborn. I nag him about leaving the socks on the floor or tease him when he forgot something, and he just smiles and lets it roll off his back. He never gets mad, never pushes back. He just lets me be… me.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, a familiar pang in your chest. You’d been pushing Hotch’s buttons since the day you rejoined the team, hell, even back when you both worked together years before—teasing him, testing his limits, seeing how far you could push before he’d break. But he never did.

Even in moments where you were sure you’d crossed the line, he’d respond with that small, amused smile or an exasperated shake of his head. He’d put up with you in a way that no one else ever had, never once trying to change you.

“He could snap at me a hundred times, but he never does,” she continued, her voice growing softer. “He just laughs or says something under his breath that would make me laugh, and I stop. He loves me for exactly who I am—even when I am difficult.” The woman

You felt your chest tighten even more. Hotch had done the same for you, taking your sass, your defiance, your flirting in stride. Where others might have been irritated, he seemed to welcome it. He never once asked you to be different, never once complained about the teasing or the occasional inappropriate remark. Instead, he’d matched you with that dry wit of his, his subtle humor that always seemed to catch you off guard. He’d let you poke at him, push him, and in some ways, you knew it had become part of your dynamic—an unspoken game that you both enjoyed.

“He never got mad,” the woman added, her voice cracking again. “He’d just let me do my thing, and when I’d get worked up over something silly, he’d be the calm one. He kept me grounded, even when I didn’t want to be.”

You could feel a lump forming in your throat. That calm presence, that unwavering patience—it was Hotch through and through. No matter how much you pushed, how much you tested him, he’d always been there, steady and calm, letting you be you. He never pushed back when you teased him in front of the team or poked at him when you both needed a break from the tension of a case. If anything, it was like he enjoyed it. Like he loved that part of you—the part that didn’t know when to quit.

“And when I’d apologize, thinking I’d pushed too far,” the woman said, her voice barely above a whisper, “he’d just smile and say, ‘I wouldn’t have you any other way.’”

The words shattered something inside you. The way Hotch had always looked at you when you’d teased him too much or flirted a little too brazenly—he’d never gotten mad. He’d never once made you feel like you were too much or too difficult to deal with. He always just took it in stride, that small smile on his face, the one that said, I wouldn’t change a thing.

You suddenly realized how deeply he cared for you. Not just despite your personality but because of it. He loved the parts of you that others might have found difficult, the parts you were afraid to show anyone else. And now, as you stood there listening to this woman mourn her husband, you realized that Hotch had been showing you the same love all along.

“And now…” the woman choked out, her tears spilling over, “I didn’t even get to say I love you before he left this morning. I forgot to say it. I always told myself never to forget, but this morning… I didn’t.”

Her words struck you like a punch to the gut. I didn’t say it either, you thought. You’d been so scared, so afraid of admitting your feelings to Hotch. Afraid of what it would mean, of how it would change things between you. But standing here now, hearing this woman talk about all the small, meaningful things her husband had done for her—things that mirrored everything Hotch had done for you—it was like the walls you’d built around your heart were crumbling.

You loved him. You loved Hotch. And you loved Jack too.

And you couldn’t keep holding back. You couldn’t keep letting fear stop you from saying the things that mattered most.

After calming the woman down and leading her to where support staff could help, you found yourself standing alone just outside the perimeter of the crime scene. The chaos of the base was still swirling around you, but you were miles away in your mind—reeling from everything that had just hit you.

I love him. The thought kept playing over and over, rattling you more than anything else today.

You had never felt this shaken before, not even in the worst of cases. You were usually so together, so in control. But right now, all you could think about was Hotch—about how much he meant to you, about Jack, and about how you’d been so afraid to say it out loud.

A voice broke through your thoughts, and you glanced up to see Morgan walking toward you, his brow furrowed in concern. “Hey, you okay?”

You forced a smile, but it was shaky at best. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Morgan didn’t buy it for a second. He stopped in front of you, studying your face. “You don’t look fine. You look... rattled. I’ve never seen you like this.”

You opened your mouth to brush it off, to say something sarcastic or deflect with a joke, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, your gaze dropped to the ground, your stomach still in knots.

“Hey,” Morgan said more gently, his voice softening. “What’s going on?”

Before you could answer, Morgan’s phone rang, and he held up a finger, pulling it out of his pocket. “Yeah, Hotch? What’s going on?”

His face instantly tensed, and you could see it in his posture—the situation had escalated. He turned his back slightly, listening intently to Hotch’s voice on the other end. You could hear the urgency in his tone, the clipped words giving you a pit in your stomach.

Morgan’s eyes darted back to you as he spoke into the phone. “Wait—what do you mean he went rogue?”

Your breath caught at that. You stepped closer to Morgan, trying to make out Hotch’s voice through the phone, but all you could hear were snippets of words. The situation was clearly bad—worse than any of you had anticipated.

Morgan turned his head, holding the phone tighter as he listened. “Okay, we’ll head over now. Just don’t—”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out and grabbed the phone from Morgan’s hand. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t stop you. “Y/N, what—?”

Ignoring him, you pressed the phone to your ear, heart racing. “Hotch?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Hotch’s voice came through, sounding as calm as ever, but you could hear the edge of tension beneath it. “Y/N? What are you—?”

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid, Hotch,” you blurted out, your voice cracking with a mix of panic and frustration. “I swear to God, if you do something reckless, I’ll—”

You stopped yourself, realizing that your voice was shaking more than you intended. Hotch went silent for a moment, clearly caught off guard.

Morgan was staring at you, eyes wide in disbelief. You didn’t care.

Taking a deep breath, you continued, this time softer but more vulnerable than you’d ever allowed yourself to be. “I love you, Aaron. Okay? I love you, and I can’t lose you, so don’t do anything reckless out there.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you. But then, his voice came through, softer now, full of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Y/N…” His voice was low, steady, but there was a warmth there that made your heart skip. “I heard you.”

A breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding escaped from your chest, and for the first time since this nightmare of a case started, you felt a tiny bit of relief. But it was short-lived.

“I need you to focus right now,” Hotch continued, his tone shifting back to his usual commanding self. “I’m fine, but we’re still in pursuit. Stay with Morgan, and we’ll regroup soon.”

“I’m serious, Hotchner,” you pressed, a little breathless but determined to make your point. “Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t—don’t make me regret saying that.”

You heard a soft exhale from the other end, almost like a small chuckle. “I won’t.”

“Promise me.”

There was another pause, and then his voice came through, firmer now. “I promise.”

You handed the phone back to Morgan, who was still looking at you like you’d grown a second head. He blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Wow. You really just said that, huh?”

You shot him a look, still feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. “I couldn’t help it.”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief but with a soft grin on his face. “Well, about damn time. You two were driving us crazy with the tension.”

You rolled your eyes, the corners of your lips tugging into a reluctant smile. But the truth was, a huge weight had been lifted off your chest. The fear was still there, but now that you had said the words out loud, it felt less overwhelming. You had finally let go of the thing you’d been holding back for so long, and though the timing wasn’t perfect, it was real.

Morgan put his hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll get him, Y/N. And Hotch is too smart to do anything stupid.”

You nodded, trying to calm your racing heart. “I know.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t help but hold onto the fear, the worry that something could still go wrong. And that, for the first time, you had everything to lose.

The case had been grueling. Every second had felt like an eternity, and though you and Morgan had done everything by the book, the weight of it all—the danger, the stakes, and the emotions swirling inside you—had pressed down hard. But now, as you watched the unsub being taken into custody, you finally allowed yourself a moment to breathe.

It wasn’t without stress—there had been close calls, tense moments, and the constant gnawing worry about Hotch’s safety. But you had done it. The team had done it. And everyone was still standing.

As you glanced across the scene, through the chaos of agents wrapping up, paramedics tending to civilians, and the last of the forensic teams collecting evidence, your eyes found Hotch. He was standing by one of the patrol cars, his arms crossed over his chest, talking to Rossi and JJ. His face was stern, as always, focused on wrapping up the details of the case. But then, as if he could sense you looking at him, his eyes lifted to meet yours.

For a moment, everything else fell away.

Hotch’s expression softened, and a small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It was a look that said so much without a single word—relief, affection, understanding. He knew. He knew what you had said, knew what it had meant for you to say it. And now, in this quiet moment, he was telling you that he felt it too.

You felt your breath catch as you returned the smile, your heart swelling in your chest. There was no need for words, no need for anything more than the silent exchange between you. The case was over, and everything that had been left unsaid was now clear. He was okay. You were okay. And for once, everything felt right.

As they drove back to Quantico, Rossi noticed the rare quiet on Hotch’s end. Normally, he’d expect a post-case debrief, some observation or plan for the next steps, but instead, Hotch seemed lost in thought, his gaze steady on the road.

After a few minutes, Rossi broke the silence with his usual casual tone. “Alright, Aaron. You’ve had that look on your face for the last half-hour. Care to share?”

“Just thinking,” Hotch’s lips pressed into a faint line, as though he was debating whether to answer. “Nothing urgent,” he replied, still a bit too focused on the road.

JJ leaned forward from the back seat, her eyes sharp. “Nothing urgent? Come on, Hotch. I’ve never seen you this distracted after a case.”

Hotch gave a slight nod but stayed quiet. Sensing they wouldn’t let it go, he finally spoke, keeping his tone even. “Let’s just say… things took an unexpected turn today.”

Rossi’s eyebrows raised, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Unexpected, huh? Would this turn have anything to do with a certain teammate of ours?”

Hotch let out a slow exhale, a rare, almost self-conscious smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “She… said something. Something I wasn’t expecting.” Hotch’s jaw clenched then relaxed, weighing on the option of telling them exactly what you had told him, “Told me she loves me.”

JJ’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across her face. “Really? That’s amazing!”

Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. “Didn’t think she’d be the one to go first, huh?”

Hotch shrugged, his face thoughtful. “If anything, I figured I’d be the one sharing it with her first. She’s usually pretty guarded when it comes to… well, this.”

Rossi shot him a sideways glance. “So, it threw you off. And I take it this wasn’t exactly over a candle-lit dinner?”

Hotch’s lips twitched with amusement. “No. She picked Morgan’s phone, mid-take down of the unsub.”

JJ laughed, shaking her head. “Now that sounds about right. We may not have heard what she said, but we sure saw the look on your face.”

Hotch allowed himself a quiet chuckle. “It wasn’t exactly the timing I’d have chosen, but… she got her point across.”

Rossi grinned, crossing his arms. “It’s a big deal, Hotch. Doesn’t matter how she said it.”

Hotch nodded, his face softening a little, though he tried to keep his tone neutral. “I just… don’t want her to regret it. She’s been hesitant, and I don’t want her to feel cornered.”

JJ tilted her head, giving him a reassuring smile. “Hotch, let’s remember who we’re talking about here,” JJ raised an eyebrow, “if she said it, she meant it. She’s not the type to do something unless she’s ready for it.”

Rossi nodded in agreement. “Besides, you’re not exactly Mr. Risk-Taker when it comes to relationships. She’s lucky to have someone willing to take it slow. The two of you have always been good for each other.”

JJ glanced over from the back seat, her curiosity not quite satisfied. “So… did you say it back?”

Hotch’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly, his gaze still steady on the road. “No,” he said, his voice low. “It wasn’t the right time.”

Rossi’s eyebrow lifted, intrigued. “Not the right time?”

Hotch nodded, his tone thoughtful. “She said it in the middle of a take down. And I… I’ve known how I feel for a while now, but that wasn’t the moment to throw it back at her. I want to be able to tell her face-to-face, to make sure she knows I mean it. It’s not just about saying it—I need to be there, see how she reacts.”

JJ’s face softened, and she gave him a knowing look. “You want her to know it’s real.”

Hotch nodded, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to meet JJ’s gaze. “Exactly. I don’t want her to feel like she just blurted something out and I felt obligated to respond. She’s… not easy to read sometimes, and I want her to know she doesn’t need to run.”

Rossi grinned, chuckling to himself. “You’ve got it bad, Aaron.”

Hotch huffed softly, shaking his head. “Maybe. But it’s not something I’m taking lightly.”

JJ smiled, her tone warm. “Well, knowing you, I’m sure she’ll get the message loud and clear.”

They drove the rest of the way with a comfortable quiet, the rare moments of light banter between them settling into an understanding silence.

As they neared Quantico, Rossi glanced over, an amused look on his face. “She’s always given you a run for your money, hasn’t she?”

Hotch allowed a rare, faint smile. “Constantly. And she’s not planning on stopping anytime soon.”

Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. “Somehow, I don’t think you’d have it any other way.”

Hotch’s gaze softened as he thought of you, and he nodded, the hint of a smirk lingering as he replied, “Not for a second.”

And as they neared Quantico, Hotch’s mind was still on you, on finding the right words when the moment was finally his to speak.

The team slowly began to split up, heading back to the office to file their reports and wrap up the case. You gathered your things, prepared to head to your desk, when you felt a gentle hand on your arm. You turned to see Hotch standing beside you, his expression softer than usual, his eyes filled with something unspoken.

“Come to my office when you’re done,” he said quietly, his voice low, almost a whisper. “I want to talk.”

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat. “Okay.”

The rest of the team headed back to start the endless pile of paperwork, but your mind was already elsewhere, thinking about the conversation you were about to have with Hotch. There was a nervous energy in your chest, but it wasn’t fear. It was something closer to anticipation, a feeling that had been building for a long time.

Once the reports were finished, you made your way up to Hotch’s office. The door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly before stepping inside. Hotch was sitting behind his desk, but the moment he saw you, he stood, his expression warm and inviting.

“Close the door,” he said gently.

You did as he asked, and when you turned back to face him, he had already moved around the desk, standing just a few feet away. When you faced him, there was a softness in his eyes now, something tender that you weren’t used to seeing from him in the office.

“Y/N…” He started, then paused, gathering his thoughts. His hand reached out, gently taking yours, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, letting the weight of the moment settle between you. “I heard you,” he said softly, his voice laced with meaning. “Back on the phone. And I just want you to know—you never have to say anything you’re not ready to. I just want you to feel comfortable with… everything.”

You nodded, your heart settling as you felt the warmth in his words. “I was just… I guess I’ve been trying to keep myself at a distance for so long that I didn’t realize it’d been right there. I love you. And Jack.” You exhaled, almost laughing at yourself. “I just couldn’t pretend I didn’t anymore.”

Hotch’s gaze softened, his free hand gently cradling the side of your face. “Well, I’ve known I love you for a while now,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I didn’t want to rush anything, especially with you. I’m not going anywhere. You mean a lot to me, and knowing how you feel…that means a lot to me too.”

You leaned into his touch, allowing the relief and warmth of the moment to wash over you. There it was—simple, clear, and honest. He loved you, and he wasn’t planning on letting go.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice just above a whisper. “And as scary as that is…it is even scarier if I never got the chance to tell you.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in that quiet, shared space, letting the reality settle in. No words were needed beyond that—the comfort, the certainty, and the unspoken promise were all there.

Then Hotch leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as his hand gently tangled in your hair. “You’ve made me happier than I ever could have expected,” he said softly, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, lingering kiss.

When you finally pulled back, he met your gaze, that small, unmistakable smile playing at his lips.

You grinned up at him, your eyes sparkling. “Guess that means you’re officially stuck with me now, Hotchner.”

Hotch’s mouth curved into that rare, understated smile you loved. “Is that so?”

You leaned in, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Oh, yeah. And just think—you get all of this attitude on a daily basis.”

Hotch chuckled, shaking his head with a look of amused surrender. “Something tells me I’ll be managing just fine.”

You arched a brow, challenging. “Good, because I don’t do refunds.”

Hotch laughed, pulling you even closer. “I never wanted one.”

With that, he brought his lips to yours in another heated kiss that said everything words couldn’t, sealing the promise between you in a way only the two of you could.

As you both caught your breath, you grinned up at him. “Think we’ll get another invite to that seminar we missed?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his voice dry. “I think Strauss is preparing our seats as we speak.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Well, we’ll just have to make sure it’s worth it.”

With a smirk, Hotch leaned in again, his voice a low murmur against your lips. “Challenge accepted.”

And with that, you let yourselves savor the moment, knowing a little rule-breaking had always been part of what made you… you.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #kiwriteswords #wicked game

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misc-obeyme · 1 year ago

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So uh... I couldn't stop thinking about this post because apparently many of us would like to be scolded by Barbatos. But a special thank you to @vinsmouke for adding a tag about him taking off his gloves slowly because my Barbatos obsession took hold of my silly little brain and refused to let go.

I don't know what this even is, I'm sorry, it seems I'm just very thirsty today and there is something about this scenario that inspired this. Listen, I don't question inspiration, I just let it take me where it will.

Barbatos x GN!MC - NSFW MDNI

Note: MC's genitals are not described, I tried to keep it gender neutral. I consider this to be an established relationship situation where consent has already been given.

Warnings: fingering, MC's wrists are restrained, Barbatos in demon form, I feel like there probably needs to be more here please let me know if I should add something

You sat on your chair and tried not to squirm. Barbatos was standing before you, a deceptive smile on his face. You knew what that smile meant. You had bratted too close to the sun.

You had been enjoying some tea and pastries at the Demon Lord's Castle one minute and found yourself in this tense situation the next. You couldn't deny that it was your own fault.

“Do you believe your behavior is appropriate, MC?” Barbatos asked, smile still in place.

"I-" you started to protest but he interrupted you.

“Please do not attempt to excuse it,” he said. You sat back in your chair, watching as he began to slowly pull his fingers out of his glove, one by one. “We have spoken about your bad behavior before. I decided on leniency then, but it is clear to me that I made an error in judgment. If you cannot conduct yourself properly…”

You swallowed as you watched him. He wasn’t looking at you, his attention fully on the methodical and deliberate way he was removing his gloves. You couldn’t look away, your hands fidgeting in your lap as you considered what may be coming next.

“…it is my responsibility to correct you,” Barbatos said, his eyes finally meeting yours as he placed his gloves on the table.

He was still smiling but the look in his eyes made you wiggle slightly in your seat. He circled around to stand behind you, letting the anticipation build up for several long moments while you waited.

And then you felt his fingers against your lips and you opened your mouth obediently. He didn’t need to tell you what to do - you closed your mouth around them and sucked.

His other hand loosened the waistband of your RAD uniform before sliding past it, his fingertips teasing along the heat between your legs. You sighed around the fingers in your mouth as he coated the tips of the other fingers in your slick.

Barbatos tutted gently in your ear. “Aroused so easily by being scolded? I may begin to think you get into trouble on purpose.”

It was a good thing you couldn’t talk, since you were sure he would see right through any lie you tried to tell about how you would never do such a thing.

You had been trying to stay still, keeping your hands beside you. But as Barbatos’s fingers began to stimulate you, you found it more and more difficult. You reached out to grasp both of his wrists desperately, moaning at the feeling of his touch.

It wasn’t long before your hands were pulled away from him, your grip broken as they were tugged behind the back of your chair. You could tell from the cool sensation now around your wrists that they were being held back by his tail.

You knew Barbatos was in demon form behind you, restraining you while he edged you, his fingers in your mouth. It caused a thrill to spike through your body, even though you couldn't see him.

It was an effort not to bite down on him and he knew it, pushing you as far as he could, waiting to see if you would lose control. His fingers moved expertly between your legs, teasing you before increasing the sensation, bringing you so close to your climax and then retreating again, but never fully letting up.

The longer this went on, the more you started to squirm until you were writhing on your chair. You strained against the tail that held your wrists, gasping against the fingers in your mouth.

Barbatos took his fingers out of your mouth abruptly and you couldn’t stop yourself from begging.

“Barbatos, please…!” you cried, body arching back against the chair.

Barbatos’s other hand went still beneath your clothes. “MC. Must I remind you this is a punishment?”

You let your head fall back on top of the chair and suddenly you could see his face. The teasing gleam in his eyes, the black of his horns nestled among the green of his hair, the longer bright teal edges tickling your cheek as he leaned forward just a little.

"Please…" you said again, knowing you were flushed with heat, that your desperation was plain on your face.

Barbatos was smiling still, but it was an amused smile rather than a dangerous one. "Your begging is sweet, my love, but it will do you no favors now. Be good and I will reward you later."

You whined as he pulled away from you. His tail released your wrists as he shifted out of demon form. You watched as he used a napkin to clean himself of you before putting his gloves back on.

Although you found yourself feeling slightly frustrated, you also knew that Barbatos was always true to his word. You could tell just from looking at his face that he fully intended to reward you later. The promise of it was enough to give you the strength to wait just a little longer.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos smut #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #barbatos smut #misc naughty times #misc writes

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lorei-writes · 25 days ago

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Do you love OCs? Well, we do too, and we'd like to meet them! OC Teahouse: OPEN NOW!

What is OC Teahouse?

OC Teahouse is a Tumblr community dedicated to Ikemen Fandom OCs. Come there to share & browse OC works, brainstorm ideas & roleplay with others!

Let's all share a cup of tea! >:) Can our OCs become friends?

How do I join?

Click this link [link] or reach out to @lorei-writes or @noirsariel for an invitation.

Copy of community guidelines below the cut.

Boosting would be appreciated!

Community Guidelines

Be respectful.

We do not condone exclusive shipping. While in the Teahouse, we assume a multiverse-type situation, meaning that multiple versions of a single suitor exist independently at the same time.

Encouragement is welcome.

You may share works featuring your OC. Use #fic, #art, #moodboard to label your work appropriately. Any crafts (paper crafts, amigurumi, felted objects, etc.) go under #art.

In posts about your OC, use #[short for your OC's game of origin -- IkeSen, IkePri, IkeVamp, etc.] & # [short for your OC's game of origin] [your OC's name]

Any NSFW posts must be tagged as #nsfw and come with an appropriate Tumblr content label.

#ikepri oc #ikesen oc #ikevamp oc #ikevil oc #ikevam oc #ikemen prince oc #ikemen sengoku oc #ikemen vampire oc #ikemen villains oc

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 26 days ago

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Rat Bastard - Part 10

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M (Mature Smut)

Word Count: 12,000

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Idiots to Lovers, Mature Sexual Situations.

Tag: @ilovemyapopbaby

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

If someone told you last week that today you’d find yourself staring into the eyes of Doh Kyungsoo — but really, really staring into the depths of them, and all around them, squinting and scrutinizing so up-close that you could even see that itty bitty mole in the lashline of his right — left — one of his eyes, and you could probably even count the lashes he had on his bottom eyelid with the way you leaned in to get the shape right, to get a good view of the shading, to get the minutest of details of this man’s eyes — if someone had told you that you’d be doing this right now with him, you’d recommend that they seek professional help asap.

It didn't help you at all the way his brown irises followed you around, that little dance of his eyebrows and the slow blinking and the little pop up of his cheekbones just below his eyes that vanished as quickly as it had appeared; the beginnings of a smile; some stifled reaction to you when your focus grew to levels too intense and he obviously felt some sort of way about it.

“Stop moving,” you complained when he scratched the tip of his nose with barely there fingernails and you moved to the other big eyeball on his face. The eyes were always the hardest. It was all hard but the eyes were really make-or-break, and once you’d scribbled in your best attempt, this thing might be broken. You were doing your best, but really, your best wasn’t so great.

“This isn’t going to be good, so just put that out of your head right now.”

His eyes flitted around your face again and he inhaled a quick breath through his nose as if he had something to say right now, right now when he’d already been holding the exact same face and exact same position for 25 minutes now and was seriously about to fuck it up with talking, “Shhhh, shut up,” you said preemptively pressing your pencil over his pursed lips.

That primed and ready breath of his was very carefully exhaled through his nose. Thankfully his lips stayed closed.

Your focus on his face was already hanging by a thread. There was just something about seeing him this close up that had you all messed up. You had to remember the task at hand lest you stumble and fall into those pretty lips of his. You did notice the clench of his jaw muscles and slight furrow in his eyebrows but you weren't drawing his mouth yet and you’d long ago scratched in some full eyebrows over his eyes that looked more like two poisonous fuzzy caterpillars than something you’d see on such an attractive face. It didn’t at all help that you were feeling so nervous today.

Today, Day 1 of you and him. For some reason you hesitated to count yesterday as Day 1. Despite the date; despite the dramatic weepy declarations of love; despite the sex. The day had just been so long and fraught with conflict, it felt appropriate to start things off today. Today, the day after you’d accidentally fallen asleep right here in this kitchen on this mattress and the man had simply tucked himself in right beside you and let you sleep and snore and drool or whatever the hell it was you might have done in your sleep; he just slept too. He must have been just as exhausted as you’d been. He didn’t touch you, he didn’t pull you in for a spoon or sleepy morning sex and when you’d woken up he had already been up for who knows how long. You found him cleaned, teeth-brushed, dressed in something fresh, having a cup of coffee as he sat on this mattress you slept on and he just — watched you sleep. Then watched you wake up slowly by the smell of the coffee and the creepy sensation of being watched and he smiled innocently at you as you crawled yourself up from the indignity of sleep and he didn’t even look away as you pretended as if you’d intended for this sort of thing to happen all along.

Whatever protests to your shushing him just now had quit and you moved your focus down to his lips. You were leaning and doing your best to resist the physical pull you felt to him, your resolve was strong today. You had been keeping a distance today. You scribbled some more onto your sketchpad that you held up to your chest to hide all of the awful things you were doing to his pretty face with your clumsy fingers. It was so bad. You didn’t usually draw, but somehow you’d come into this with false confidence. You’d really thought you’d do better than this. But this didn’t look like him at all. You dragged the pencil led down from the top of his forehead, pulling strands of black hair down again and again, hoping that by simply adding more hair you might be able to cover up some of your many offenses.

You’d made no grand claims to being an artist. Perhaps the most disappointing part of this was that you actually were trying.

His lips were soft and plump. Moisturized and full and in the middle of one of the humps sat yet another mole. You’d been counting them with a little hum from the back of your throat with each little dot you counted on the face of your polka dot man, when you looked up again, the corners of his lips were pulled into a tiny smile, clashing with the shape his mouth that you’d already sketched down somewhere below his nose and definitely too close to his chin for accuracy. You hadn’t drawn him with a smile. He needed to stop that.

You lifted your pencil, “Stop smiling. You’re ruining everything.” Your lack of talent wasn’t his fault, but somehow you felt better blaming this monstrosity on him. His eyes widened and he lifted a hand to his chest, lifting both of his fuzzy caterpillars in protest, in indignation, and you made a quick shushing sound with hiss and a tisk from the back of your throat and he somehow resisted the urge to say anything out loud.

The rules to this ridiculous game were clear and you’d both agreed to the terms ahead of time.

You each got 30 minutes to draw each other with the art supplies you’d found in the box. The subject of the portrait was not allowed to speak or move and the artist with the closer likeness would be the winner. If neither of you could agree on a winner, you’d enlist an outside judge. You looked down at the image you’d captured and seemed so bad he’d have to go out of his way to lose to you.

The prize was the last pack of ramen. Something, it seemed, that Kyungsoo might be ready to kill for. You weren’t too invested in the noodles, but you sure enjoyed seeing him work so hard for them. The loser had to wash the mountain of dishes that mocked you from the kitchen counter.

You knew when to quit. You’d shaded your last bits around his eyes, attempting somehow to make shadows but really ending up with some sort of leatherback sea turtle effect on this terrible portrait that might have looked a little bit like him if he was turning into some sort of half man, half moss covered forest creature caught mid transformation. The timer on his phone was ringing and Kyungsoo was exhaling a long breath, shaking his head and pulling his face into dramatic stretches. You placed your monstrosity face-down on the mattress you both sat on in the middle of this kitchen and you did your best to keep your poker-face in place. You wouldn’t let him know that he’d already won the game. He had to work for it a little bit first.

“Okay my turn,” he declared and he actually cracked his knuckles before grabbing his own sketchpad and reaching forward to grab ahold of the pile of assorted color pencils you’d been working through. Maybe that’s where you’d gone wrong, trying to match his skin tone and rosy lips and darker skin colored shadows which without any actual skill behind the application just made him look kind of abused. You should have gone with just black and white. Maybe the result wouldn’t have been so bad.

Kyungsoo was seated on his butt with his legs crossed and he scooted closer to where you sat waiting for him to position you into the pose he wanted you in so he could begin. His close proximity to you had his inner thighs flush up against your knees and you idly wondered about the necessity of such closeness. You’d done his portrait with just a little bit of leaning whenever you needed to get closer to see better.

But here he was.

You squared your shoulders and clasped both hands in your lap looking into his up-close face and you waited, giving the smallest bounce of your eyebrows the second he looked up from his sketchbook and his brown eyes slipped up the length of your face and bounced all around your features, somehow never quite sinking down deep into your eyes. He was looking up at your forehead and he lifted his rounded fingers, lightly trailing the pads of his fingertips over the skin of your forehead down over your eyebrow, you could feel the stray strands of hair he brushed aside. The touch was so light and yet it quickly followed with the silent slip of his eyes down into yours where they lingered for half a second; for long enough for you to inhale through your nose and have to hold it; for long enough for your own eyes to widen and and for you to feel the microscopic bounce of your eyebrows.

Those eyes had you for such a brief moment and yet you felt so captured. Maybe it was the way he was observing you. He had a job to do here though, and he let you go. You exhaled slowly through your nose, careful not to make it known that you had stopped breathing while he looked at you.

You could hear the scratching of his pencil on his notepad in his lap. He kept it just angled enough to keep you from being able to see what he drew and when the temptation grew too irresistible you lowered your chin just a hair, dropping your eyes with your churning curiosity.

Would you also look like a troll or did he have some actual talent? So far he’d proven to be annoyingly talented at so many things.

You felt his fingertips land just below your chin and he lifted your face up with the slightest of pressure with warm fingertips that did not leave your skin right away. He was looking into your eyes again and you forced your eyes to remain up. It took some effort and with him looking at you again this way you felt the same captivation as before. His fingertips under your chin, no longer needing to direct you, yet remaining nonetheless. His fingers left your face and his eyes looked back down at his sketchpad and you exhaled the held breath just as carefully with a controlled and undetectable exhale. You rolled your eyes around inside your head, to moisten them, to make a promise to yourself -- you would make an effort to get the upper hand over your flimsy self control. You would not cheat. You would stay still and you’d follow the rules and then you’d wash the dishes when he was done and you’d probably even wash his still warm ramen bowl after he ate all of the noodles by himself.

If you weren’t allowed to see his progress you’d just have to settle with reading the reflections of moisture in his eyes. You’d just have to settle for catching every glance and glimpse of his pretty eyes that examined your face so closely you swear to god you could make out the shape of you reflected back in his black pupils.

Kyungsoo lifted his pencil to your face, placing the eraser end of his pencil flush against your skin in a few spots that you wondered if he’d ever let you win against him at least once in your life together. He held it once against your forehead, marking a spot on the pencil with his thumb and adjusting something on his masterpiece.

He was back with the pencil and he leaned in and squinted as he looked quite closely at your mouth. The scrutiny had you feeling a certain way and you pursed your lips just a little bit, puckering your chin and giving your face the smallest shake and you cleared your throat.

Your movement caught his attention and he was holding a tiny grin somewhere trapped inside of his mouth. You could see the evidence of it in his eyes.

After not too much of a fight and while he was looking down at his work you saw his mouth pull into a wider grin. He was laughing. Maybe at you.

You knew you shouldn’t speak so you dipped your face ever so slightly and lifted your eyebrows with the tiniest questioning whine escaping from the back of your throat.

His smile widened and you saw teeth, and his eyes bounced up to touch into yours, hearing your unspoken question and clearly understanding.

“Nothing,” he said with the smile still on his face and a quick shake of his head back and forth, refusing to tell you. His response made you furrow your brows and your head ticked backward with a pout forming on your lips from him denying you an explanation. What exactly was funny enough for him to be wearing that silly smile. Was it something about your face maybe? Was it a flaw, perhaps? Something you’d spot in the magnified mirror and obsess over for a week? Did he see something too?

He was still focusing on his work, but you felt the tiny scowl in your lips and when he looked up again you pulled your eyes away from his, looking straight ahead at the empty kitchen behind his head.

You could feel him looking at you. The kitchen cabinets were old and had big sections of chipped away and flaked paint and you wondered how many years ago this place was painted. His face bounced around in front of yours, eyes seeking to touch yours again and you kept your focus on the big loose flakes of paint that might come off easily if you wanted something fun to occupy your evening tonight, you could pick off that old paint all alone and get lead poisoning from it without the man who wouldn’t tell you what he found so damn funny about your face.

“Hey,” you heard him say and you inhaled a very slow, very steady, and very calm breath; exhaling that used-up air with just as slow, steady, and calm of an exit. He called you. You ignored him and stared at your chipped paint.

“Princess?” Warm fingers touched over the back of your hand and his face moved just in front of your line of sight, those brown eyes moved in, uninvited and you felt it again. He had you again, so easily, his sweet tone and that sweet nickname and you gave in. You tightened your fists between your thighs and his eyes roamed around your face again, slipping down into your eyes. You hadn’t heard any scribbling on his paper in a while and you wondered if this multi-talented man was already finished beating you at something else. Your eyelids bounced as you fought against your desires and he was so close to you now you wondered if he had moved even closer while you had your own silent little big-baby fit about absolutely nothing a few minutes ago.

You heard his inhale and your lips parted when you felt the warmth of his hand land over your cheek. You moved nearly unconsciously, pulling your chin up so your lips were in line with his. You could still feel it inside of your chest, that very minor fit, that very slight upset at the very idea that he was laughing at you about something he refused to tell you. You knew you were being silly. This knowledge did not help you any.

“I think I’m done drawing,” he said with a whisper and you inhaled to speak the moment he called it. If he was done you didn’t need to be still and quiet anymore.

“What was so funny before?” You could hear the petulance in your voice as you said it, but you just couldn’t help it. You had some insecurities that loved to make an appearance at inconvenient times, no matter how lovely of a time you’d been having with him. Your question pulled his attention back up and he lifted a single eyebrow with a little tick of his head.

“Oh,” he said with his mouth pulling into another smile with such a softness inside his eyes as he caved to it. He was shaking his head and he broke eye contact.

“It’s,” he inhaled again and you could make out just a little bit of a rosy shade that covered over his neck. If he had that color during your portrait you would have used all of the crimson colors you had in your pile and made him look like some sort of red-necked woodpecker, “it’s silly, but I drew your lips without actually looking at them first. And when I did look, I got them right,” he gave a little head shake and he wrinkled his nose, inhaled, and his focus was back on your face and you felt his hand slip off of your cheek now that he had you back from the silly fit that was really nothing at all; as you knew deep down all along it would be. Your sweet boyfriend would never make fun of your face.

You shook your head lightly, getting his point but feeling a desire for him to say more. Maybe he could describe just how many days, hours, weeks, months he’d daydreamed about kissing your lips. The smile on his lips sank slowly and his eyelids sagged halfway down before he inhaled again, “I‘ve had your face in my mind for so long, I hardly even had to look at you.”

Oh, yes, of course.

Of course it wasn’t something bad that he had noticed. You felt your own lips purse and your bottom lip pushed forward, feeling rather ridiculous for the negative thoughts that had filled your head earlier, before you even gave him, or yourself any credit at all, even though deep down inside you knew it, you knew it.

“I still wanted to. To look at you.” He was smiling while looking down at the sketchbook in his hands, “you have a very nice face. I feel everything when I look at you.”

He blinked slowly and his eyes were back. “I can't even remember anymore -- it was so recent, but I’m struggling to remember any of those old feelings from before. Before I loved you.” He laughed to himself once, “But even this — kind of feels like a dream. I get these flashes of fear that I might still wake up.”

He leaned into you then, moving in close so quickly your eyes went crossed and he blurred in front of you and you gasped in surprise when his lips parted just over your pouting bottom lip and he kissed you quick. You hardly had time to register him coming in, let alone kiss him back.

“You’re still real.” He said with the softest giggle. You felt a tightness inside of your throat. How could he be this beautiful? You felt such warmth in your cheeks. It was the suddenness of it. After yesterday, even after the love you and he had shared together, even with the small touches and longing looks, it was still all so brand new to you both that you almost felt too nervous to touch him as freely as you really wanted to. Maybe he really had been the more conservative type of man. What if you scared him off with how much you wanted from him and how badly you craved him? He seemed to pick up on your nerves and memories of him just sleeping beside you last night not touching you and you too nervous to touch him; well of course this odd distance from him only made you even more anxious for every little potential touch from him. The kiss just now nearly sent you back in time.

You felt the burst of butterflies that filled your chest and you felt absolutely accosted by the overwhelming surge of giddiness that instantly followed.

You had to cover your face. Both of your hands flew up to touch over the burning heat you felt in your cheeks and you closed out the view of him. You had to hold it in, but my God this rush was unparalleled and the built up energy had to go somewhere. It came out of you as giggles; you were too worked up again. You were giggling like a mad-woman hiding under your own hands and when you peaked through your fingers that breathtaking smile on Kyungsoo’s face never even came close to satisfying it; the deep need you felt inside of you to look at him, to laugh with him, to be silly with him and play with him. The best you could do was the little squeal; lean forward with both of your hands on his shoulders and the smallest push against him. How dare he be this perfect, this attractive, this absolutely loveable and how dare he do it with a face that gorgeous?

With the push came some more laughter from somewhere inside of him, you’d jostled it free with the attack and your eyes caught the flutter of a sketchbook that fell down onto the mattress beside his thigh. Your eyes couldn’t resist looking, you really did not try to look and you hadn’t even seen all of it but what you did see was a black and white pencil sketch of a nearly perfect representation of your mouth. There was expert level shading, there was absolutely no mistaking the raw talent this man had for drawing even though at the beginning of this game, he’d promised, swore to you up and down that he had no formal training in art, hadn’t even taken a single art class or watched an art centric youtube video. His fingers grabbed his book the moment it had fallen and since it had all happened so quickly, you’d given nothing away to betray the fact that you had seen it.

Your mind was slipping down to the memory of what you’d managed. That awful monstrosity that sat face down on the mattress beside you and you could feel a dark and dirty cloud; the used motor oil-like, dirty mop water-esque, three times used bath water sense of absolute shame covering over you from your head to your toes. He was just so very special and seeing yourself compared to him just made you feel unworthy. Unworthy of his time, his company, his touches and kisses and love. You felt an urge to hide from this feeling.

You reached a hand out and gripped your sketchpad tightly, shoving it far under your thighs so that you sat on the thing and you opened your mouth to begin hostage negotiations both to save your pride and to save his feelings for having to see such a terrible gross misrepresentation of that absolute beautiful face of his.

His giggles had long since calmed down and you closed your eyes and inhaled a steadying breath; your recent giggles now a long distance memory and in no way competition to beat back the apprehension you felt coursing through your mind.

He couldn’t see this. You’d just give up now and you’d take this thing to the grave with you. He could have the ramen. You’d wash the dishes. You’d rip the page out, tear it into a million pieces and you’d eat every single bit if you had to, but he couldn’t see this.

“Umm,” you said softly, your eyes unable to meet his very suddenly — suspiciously so — and finding your mouth had gone too dry for your words to come out freely, you had to lick your lips, look at the cupboards with the chipping paint flecks behind his head and shake your head to loosen up your tongue.

“I -- uhh,” You exhaled, knowing that it was ridiculous for you to be suddenly nervous about this but you knew the kind of person he was, you needed to find a way to get out of this without raising too much suspicion so he would let it go and just take the win.

“I don’t think we should do this.” The second the words were out of your mouth, you looked into his face and you noticed the immediacy with which you’d grabbed his attention. This game had been a bad idea and you needed to convince him that it was in his best interest not to complete it.

But something was changing on his face; that beautiful smile was sinking quite slowly and he pulled his chin back, giving his head the smallest head shake of non-understanding.

“I just don’t think — it’s the best idea —” your brain wasn’t working right. His eyes had changed and it had happened so suddenly, the dramatic darkening inside of his eyes swallowed up your words and took your confidence.

“What are you talking about?” His whispered question felt so small and unsure and you absolutely hated the look that had manifested in his eyes. Oh no. You’d used the wrong words for this. You’d captured a look of fear in his eyes; the very last thing you meant to do.

You very quickly reached a finger out to lightly grip the sketchbook he’d abandoned on the mattress beside him. You were shaking your head, stoutly denying the awful conclusions he’d had jumped too.

“Let’s just say you won, okay?” There was a whining, pleading tone in your next words to him and that flash of darkness in his eyes shifted when he looked down at the sketchbook that you were still pulling into your lap, while shoving your own farther under your butt. The smile on your face was to really sell it. He won, you lost. Neither of you needed to check the drawings.

You heard a sound come from his chest. A rough exhaled puff of pure air straight from deep inside of lungs. He was lifting his hands and rubbing roughly over this face.

“Why would you say it like that? I thought you meant us.” He said from under his hands and when he pulled his hands down you could see a distinct pinkness in his cheeks, his ears were bright red kind of like the bright red ears on a Tasmanian devil. Maybe the portrait needed more color.

The man had been flustered by your choice of words. Your hands were up and you waved away the very thought of that. Your own insecurities be damned, you loved him and you weren’t about to give him up so easily.

You quickly spoke, to clarify. “No, no. You can have the ramen. I’ll wash the dishes. We should stop this game.”

You smiled wider, meaning it. Nodding your head with how much you meant it. Searching inside of his eyes for signs that he was accepting your graceful terms of defeat.

Kyungsoo shook his head back and forth and closed his eyes lightly through the denial. He had no convincing smile on his face to maintain. He had no scams to run to get out of showing his portrait.

“But you won,” you said with your teeth bared, the wide smile getting more difficult to maintain. “I lost. We don’t need to check. You’re superior. I’m inferior. You’re the best. I’m the worst.”

His face was blank now and he was watching as you rambled, simply letting you dish out as many nervous words as you could at a rate at least twice as fast as a normal loser might declare their loserdom.

“Winner.” You motioned a hand toward him and that blank look in his eyes turned into a suspicious squint. You were over selling it. Something that had been impossible to sell to begin with. Perhaps you’d never have been able to convince him that he didn’t have to look at your picture.

“Loser.” You whispered with your hand on your chest.

“What did you do? Did you draw me with devil horns or something?”

“Not on purpose,” you answered in a shameful whisper. “I really did my best, but, please — it’s just so, so bad.” Your hands were clenched down very tightly both of the sketchbooks. Your right palm dug quite hard against the metal rings that bound the pages together.

“Let me see,” he said in a very calm voice. You wished your own voice could sound so calm.

You shook your head.

“We agreed. Let me see.” You let go of his own sketchbook but doubled down on your own, grabbing tightly with your left hand to the mattress when you noticed the shift in his balance. He would have to drag you out of this room to get this sketchbook from your hands. The silliness of your overdramatics we’re having an effect on him. You could see that the smile was back on his lips. You did your best to fight your own smile but you could already feel just how ridiculous you must seem.

“We can share the ramen and we can wash the dishes together.”

Oh, he was offering now. He was negotiating with his precious ramen and his precious free time after lunch and you had been a fool to think you’d ever get away from this without playing the entire game you’d agreed to play with him.

You closed your eyes and you exhaled through your mouth, opening your eyes again to find that his face had changed again.

“Please, let me see it.” This expression felt much more dangerous. His lips had pulled into a pout, a powerful one. His pretty bottom lip pushed out and his brown eyes begged well before his whining words eked out.

“What did you do to me?” The question felt oddly pointed. Did he still mean the drawing? His voice had dipped with his chin that puckered, his eyebrows and his eyes pleaded.

Your mouth fell open. You hadn’t seen him act this way before and you felt blindsided by how easily you began to entertain the idea of giving in. He leaned in closer to where you stubbornly sat gripping the mattress with just a little less force now and loosening your tight and aching hold around those metal rings of the book.

He leaned in closer to you, that same disarming pout growing even deeper on his face but he was moving so close the polka dots, woodpecker neck, and Tasmanian devil ears all blurred together; you could hardly even see his mouth but you could feel the body heat radiating off his skin.

He could have it.

He could have anything he asked you for as long as he asked for it in this way.

“Baby,” he whined softly, right into your ear. “Please let me see it.”

You felt that whispered word, all that it represented, the very first time he’d called you that, it sunk straight down inside of your chest and you could have let go of everything. That word, that name for you, for how he felt about you, said with that low voice of his, directed at you with about enough sweet syrup dripping off of his tongue to soften every single nervous gasp, every tremble of your hands that grasped so feebly at your old habits and insecurities and every uncertainty you had inside of your body.

His warm palms, as hot as they were debilitating, slipped around your waist and both of his arms slinked tightly around you and you gasped out loud when he pulled you into him, and where he sat, onto his lap; moving you so easily within his strong arms. His lips bounced against your earlobe and you felt too stunned to move. Your skin was ablaze. He was touching you. He was so close to you and he was calling you Baby and you were actually floating away; no longer glued to this mattress with that terrible book under your butt; he had you on his lap and in his arms and his lips had just touched your neck and you were putty. A pitiful, weak-boned loser.

“It’s really bad. Like actually awful. You’ll die,” you whispered, feeling like some sort of puppet under his direct control. You’d felt so desperate for him to actually touch you all morning that honestly, he could get whatever he wanted from you. You were a damned idiot if you thought you stood a chance in any kind of fight against this man.

You felt the inhale he took from within your hair and heard the small stutter of a grunt in his throat. The moment he’d gotten his warm hands around you, you’d already felt too affected by him, by his closeness and now with the way he breathed in his oxygen from so close to you, exhaling again slowly with the ghost of a groan echoing through the chambers of your heart, you were pretty certain his mind was beginning to drift away from the actual discussion you both had been having about the portraits.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He was wrapped all around you but he suddenly felt tense and whatever coaxing movements had quite suddenly paused with his apology. “I’ve been trying to behave -- I know I should hold back and I shouldn’t do things like this, but you have certain--” his head pulled back enough for you to be able to see his face, see his eyes and the movement of his lips as he spoke. His hand was waving now, indicating with his motions what he meant, “--certain parts of you that make me lose my mind.”

“I don't want you to think that I only want one thing from you.”

The tightness with which he’d held you had gone slack and you felt him shift under your ass and you were slid, very carefully down the curve of his hips until you were no longer sitting on him.

It felt like such a loss. You could have wept.

You were shaking your head back and forth. He had been holding back. He had been sparing with his touches and before you had a chance to respond to him, to tell him exactly how much you did not want him to hold back with you at all, he was reaching with his fingertips and grabbing both notebooks and suddenly the crisis was no longer happening inside of your pants but right here on this mattress with him flipping both of the books around at the exact same time so that they were both face up in all of their holy hell, putrid and horrifying, and lovely and absolutely fucking incredible glories.

You ran your fingertips over his drawing of your face and you melted. It was very obviously your face. it was you. It felt like love when you looked at it. Your chest felt tight. You noticed he’d added small details that you were positive you’d been the only one to notice about yourself. A tiny mark here mirroring something that had happened to you long before you were able to form lasting memories. The look he’d somehow managed to capture in your eyes had a depth that you didn’t think was possible to create with just a pencil and paper and yet the focus he portrayed looked far away, deep in thought perhaps, and somehow, inexplicably beautiful.

Beside it sat your portrait.

To your surprise, Kyungsoo did not laugh right away. You did hear the sharp intake of breath he took as he looked at what you had spent the entire 30 minutes to produce. This … shit. He lifted his hand to cover over his mouth and God dammit, he’d held out for so long. Longer than anyone in their right mind could have done.

A testament to how much he loved you; how desperately good the sex had been but how much he didn’t want you to think he was only after one thing was spelled out right there in the stifled silence before he broke.

Right before that palm clasped over his parted lips, you could see the pinkness in his cheeks, the stuttered exhaled breath that came out in rhythmic huffs from both is nose and his mouth and he was holding himself together at the seams now, that hand covering over his mouth and his eyes feasting on the rotten truth before him. It was so bad.

“Oh nooo,” he whispered through a trembling voice, and you closed your eyes up, bit down on your bottom lip hard and risked another quick glance at his face. “Oh my God -- what is wrong with me?” He was staring down at it, picking it up and, holding it up to his face, even looking closer at it and then his hand was back on his mouth, this time he pinched his nostrils closed hard and the suction of his desperate inhale pulled them tight. He was shaking now, on the inside. You felt the trembles through the mattress. You could hear the silent laughter stuttering deep down inside of him, even though his hand plugged his nose and his mouth as tightly as he could manage to dampen the sounds of his laughter but it only made it more frantic.

It was impossible not to laugh. You knew this would happen. It was so awful and dreadful it actually might have looped back around to some obscenely hilarious thing that definitely shouldn't exist; this cursed object.

“L-Look, why c-colors” he couldn't even talk. Your chest was shaking with your own laughter but when his rounded fingertips pointed to the eyebrows, you lost the fight against it. You had to cover your mouth to keep from actually spitting on him.

“Help -- my, my eyebrows,” he was lifting that same hand that touched the portrait and he rubbed his fingertips over his own eyebrows on his face, probably checking to see if a family of big black creepy crawly caterpillars had moved in when he hadn’t been paying attention.

You reached a hand forward and laid it over the drawing, covering as much as you could but both of you were laughing too much to get many words out. Your out of breath squeaks did their best to convey the ‘No. Stop. Don’t look anymore,’ messages. He was pulling your fingers down to uncover more bits to try and ask you questions about. You heard something to the effect of ‘w-why m-my nose’ but he fell over onto his side; rolling onto his back with his eyes closed up tight and his laughter taking the rest of his words and making them come out in rough nonsensical guffaws.

The laughter was too deep. His hands were holding his belly and you reached up a swift palm to smack several times on his butt in some attempt to get him to stop the maniacal laughter and breathe before he died.

“Stop. Stop! I told you, you’d die.”

He was gasping through it, wiping wetness from his eyes and your abdominal muscles were beginning to ache from it all.

“It’s so funny and so amazing,” he managed to sit back up but he was wobbly and very pink and even a little bit damp. “I can’t believe this.”

“It’s so awful! Stop, stop.” You’d reached for the book, pullin hard and the second he’d registered that you were grabbing it he doubled down, holding it so tight you might both rip it in half before either of you gave it up.

“No, no, no, it’s mine,” he was really fighting you for it. You lost your flimsy hold on it amid the giggles. His eyes were wide and his voice was agitated and overly dramatic sounding. “You cannot take this from me. I’ll never ever forgive you. It is mine.”

“I’m pretty sure this is going to be a core memory.” He’d scooted himself several times back and away from you with his precious disaster and he held it up right beside his face, “Look at us, we’re twins.”

You collapsed in laughter again to see them side by side. Your stomach genuinely ached and you were actually begging him now, “Kyungsoo, please. No more. I’m going to puke.”

You had to put a stop to it. He was insane. He could have it. You give up. You could only escape. You pushed yourself up and off of this mattress in the middle of the floor, took a step over the projector that was still playing some long forgotten movie on mute and you made your way toward the kitchen sink for your punishment.

You weren’t working alone for long. Kyungsoo was quick to slink up beside you, flipping on his radio and slipping his hands into the same soapy water you had your hands inside.

It wasn’t exactly a practical way to wash dishes. His hands kept grabbing for the same things you were already washing and after the little tug-of-war over a coffee mug that resulted in a tidal wave of soapy water that soaked your t-shirt to near transparent levels you had to actually shove the man with your hips away from your sink of dishes. He was unshovable. While he did move a tiny bit, he was back in an instant with a rough plop of his hands right back into your water and a chest full of manic giggles. You were feeling just a little bit exasperated by his silliness. It was adorable and it was, it was taking at least twice as long as it needed to and you were actually getting very wet. Your shirt stuck to your skin.

You inhaled to voice out a quick complaint, not even looking at him as you nagged. “Dammit, Baby, let me wash them. The soapy part is not a two person job. Why don't you just rinse them or dry them or put them away? Get out of my bubbles.”

You’d expected him to move. You’d expected him to take his hands out of the water, rinse them off under the tap and move to some other more helpful spot in the kitchen so you both could get this boring chore out of the way and maybe play another game, or take an explorative walk outside to survey the damage from the storm. He hadn’t moved though and after a few moments of his very noticeable stillness you turned to look at him.

Kyungoo was looking at you, an odd expression on his face, almost confusion, almost disbelief. Did he not usually do boring kitchen chores? He was watching your face for a long while and you watched the very slow manifestation of a smile that built on his lips. His eyebrows rose up above his eyes and that same smile stuttered halfway through. His cheeks seemed just a shade rosier and you genuinely could not figure out what could possibly be going through his head.

“What?” you had to ask. He was suddenly acting stranger than normal. He was, ultimately, a weirdo deep down inside, but this was an odd reaction even for him.

He leaned in then, his warm and soft lips landed over your mouth and this time he kissed you much slower than that quick stolen kiss during the game. You had a few moments to respond, you had a few moments to close your eyes and enjoy the unbelievable softness of his lips, the taste of his tongue. The sopping wet, soapy hand prints that added to the wetness on your shirt was an afterthought to the warm breath that you pulled into your lungs from his mouth, the slow and gentle way he pulled away from you before coming in again and when at least he inhaled to speak he didn’t bother to move his lips away from yours with the whisper.

“You called me, Baby“ he said with his teeth bumping lightly against your top lip, “Am I your Baby? How can I resist? What should I do when you call me that?”

Did you really call him that? You knew you’d been nagging him. He got you all wet with his stubborn attempts to help.

“Did I?” You whispered with a little raise of your eyebrows. His eyes were on you when he gave you the smallest nod of his head and you remembered something about the odd words he’d been saying and the pointed way he’d held back with you all day. Small touches here and there but that unbelievably sexy man who had not only fucked you last night, but did so without hesitation or even protection was now trying to behave himself.

Was he standoffish because the two of you had rushed into things so quickly? Was he out of his depth now and trying to retreat and rewind? Was this someone being done out of misguided respect for you or was he somehow reacting to your own anxious energy you’d been emitting all morning? You admit you had been rather nervous around him today but that wasn’t because you had any reservations or regrets; it was just so very new to you and the last thing you wanted to do was fuck things up so early in the game when the two of you were still getting to know each other by essentially living together in a strange place right off the bat.

Your lifted your still dripping hands, trailing a wet path over his shirt from his abdomen up his firm chest and your eyes followed your fingertips over his shoulder bring your fingers to touch lightly over the back of his neck. His hands were still around your waist and his eyes had drifted a little with you touching him.

You’d been so nervous today that you hadn’t touched him much, maybe even not at all. Maybe it had been your doing. The unwelcome weirdness.

“Baby,” you called out and you pulled your eyes up from the view of his parted lips that inhaled a sharp breath, looking up into his deep brown eyes that searched your face with the sweet name again slipping off of your tongue, “Why are you holding back? If it’s for my sake, I don’t want that.”

“You seemed,” he pulled his head back to look into your eyes and whispered, “a little different today. I thought —”

You leaned in and you kissed him, capturing whatever words he had to say about whatever weird nervous mixed signals you’d accidentally sent him with your lips.

His eyes watched closely for whatever meanings you’d hidden inside of that kiss when you pulled away.

“I’m just — you make me nervous and a lot has changed.” His mouth hung open and he watched you speak. “I must like you too much.”

“But I am serious about you, Kyungsoo, and I definitely don’t want you to hold back with me,” you added quickly and the look in his eyes changed as the corners of his lips twitched hinting at the smallest smile. He licked his lips and bit down before anything obvious could manifest.

“You’re nervous?” You heard a hint of amusement in his question and finally, your eyes caught the smallest slip of a smile on his pretty face.

“What do we do? We can’t both be nervous. I called dibs on nervous already, so you have to be something else.”

His reassurances brought a smile to your face and you’d both stood here for too long already. The fabric on his chest had begun to lose the wet hand prints. The dish water was in danger of going cold.

He moved first, with a quick dip of his hands inside of the bubbles he was grabbing dishes, your dishes, your punishment for destroying something as breathtakingly beautiful as his face and he was washing them. You were shaking your head as soon as you noticed what he was doing.

“You stop washing them right now.”

“My woman shouldn’t have to suffer alone,” he mumbled and you opened your mouth to protest.

“No, Kyungsoo, I turned you into a sea monster. Let me do it.”

You should not have said anything. He inhaled a sudden gasp and his eyes closed up tight as he started to laugh all over again, bringing his wet and soapy hand up to cover over his belly in pain as he laughed. The contagiousness of his giggles had you laughing entirely against your will. His laughter didn’t even sound enjoyable anymore, he simply couldn’t help it. He breathed in and out again, forcefully deep, trying to control it; holding a hand up and pressing fingers into his arching cheeks.

“Sea monster! I was trying to figure out the animal. It was definitely something aquatic. Why did you put so many spots on me?”

“Those were your moles, Kyungsoo, you are covered in them.”

“Jesus. I am? Really?” he whined out his question in a playful voice and you smiled widely and nodded your head up and down in earnest. He really was quite spotted and the more you looked at him the more you saw. They were quickly becoming one of your favorite things about his face.

His balance was off and it was easy to pull his hands up by the forearms and plop him down into the other side of the sink, getting him the hell out of your bubbles once and for all. You had no idea he could be so silly and so happy so deep down on the inside that it bubbled up from inside of him and spilled out all over like this. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this kind of joy before and to feel this while scrubbing the burned on bottom of an old soup pot that was probably older than you were was unreal.

The stray giggles had long gone quiet and you’d both worked in a comfortable silence for quite some time before he inhaled and whispered out a casual sounding question.

“Do you want to finish watching that movie after this?”

You looked behind you at that mattress and the movie you’d hardly been paying any attention to and looked back at him. At some point, he must have paused it. You searched your recent memory and you could have sworn that he wasn’t really paying much attention to it either, but maybe he had seen it before.

You watched his profile for a few seconds, noticing how he’d quite calmly asked this question, made no other suggestions for other movies, or even suggested restarting it so you could catch up on the plot and after a few moments his tongue darted out and he moistened his bottom lip, swallowed the moisture in his mouth and he just quietly cleared his throat in a very certain sort of way; all the while not looking up from the pot that had rinsed and re-rinsed at least five times now.

This was something.

You weren’t born yesterday. There was something happening here with this innocent, but only on the surface question that he’d clearly worked up the nerve to ask only after confirming how very receptive you were to the idea of him not holding himself back when it came to the physical aspects of your brand new relationship. Doh Kyungsoo was testing the waters.

You asked an equally innocent question.

“Any updates from the hospital?”

He must have known what you were asking. Would the two of you continue to be alone for a significant amount of time? Enough time for whatever might take place under that blanket on that comfy mattress if you just so happened to agree to slipping into that bed with him under the guise of watching an easy to ignore movie that neither of you were invested in.

“Still waiting. They’ll be a while longer,” he said into his sixth rinse, all of his attention and focus down on that flowing water. You didn’t even give his response an acceptable amount of time to stew before you shrugged out a quick response.

“Sure,” you answered his first question with as much nonchalance as you could convince your tongue to portray, “let’s watch the rest of the movie.”

You were still looking at him when he finally pulled his eyes up to look at your face with your nonplussed ‘Sure.’ Your lift of a single eyebrow as you accepted his suggestion to watch the movie had his big eyes watching your face for a long while and somewhere hidden deep inside of those dark pupils, you caught the slithering tail-end of enough thick desire to flood your stomach with heat. The bounce of his own eyebrows and that slipping focus of his eyes that slid down your face; sinking down to your lips and sitting right there until you felt the itching need to twitch, to lick your lips, to bite down on them to do anything you could manage to do to satisfy those dark eyes of his and get him to finally look away from you.

The dishes were washed, dried, and put away.

No movie snacks were prepared.

There were no attempts to catch you up on what you missed on the movie; you doubted he himself knew. You didn’t even know the name of this movie and when you’d made your way to the mattress you found him sitting on his butt, his legs bent up in front of him at the knees, and with a quick button pressed on his phone, that movie began to play again.

You took your space beside him and adopted a similar position, wrapping both arms around your knees and you stared ahead at the wall where the movie scene played, feeling an overwhelming nervousness about the unpredictability of this. This movie had something to do with magic. You’d seen bits of flashes of lights and smoke. Someone had said a spell. You could feel him moving beside you, shifting his body into a more comfortable position with the piles of pillows propped up behind his back. He adopted a more casual half laying down position, his knee caps facing in your direction and his chin propped on his hand bent at the elbow. You could not even tell if his eyes were on the movie. You felt much too self aware to face him right now. You didn’t look directly at him but kept an eye on him in your peripheral vision.

You forced your eyes forward but your every focus remained on the position, the slight movements, the little adjustments of the man who laid down beside you. The movie was playing and yet you could hardly absorb a single cinematic detail and you were still sitting up on your butt with your arms wrapped tightly around your bent knees, beginning to feel the urge to just give into this and lay down beside him under this ridiculous guise of watching a movie. You knew what this was. Your body was already responding with the flush of heat you felt all over, because of him, because of this man who had so easily burrowed himself a permanent home right under your skin.

Your legs were beginning to feel tingly. You had to move. You had to shift. You couldn’t really see the screen as well as you wanted to with the angle your face had been in and that was why you couldn’t focus on this. It had nothing to do with anything else, it was just for comfort, the tingly legs, the angle of the screen.

Fifteen minutes into the scene, you moved. You shifted further down on the bed, you let the blanket he pulled up cover over your legs and you laid down with the center of your back propped up on your own personal pile of pillows. You pulled another one just under your head and you let your face sink toward his just a little bit, just enough to feel the warmth and comfort of another living human beside you, just enough for you to be able to smell his skin.

It took another ten minutes for you to relax enough to drop a hand down between both of your bodies and it only took two minutes for you to feel the warmth of his fingertips touching lightly over the back of your hand and your silly mind lost the ability to keep track of time after that.

His fingers were traveling, just light as a feather touching up and down your arm, slipping up high into the crook of your elbow before switching direction and making his way back down again with just as light of pressure and as heavy as hell intentions.

You felt on fire. Every single perceivable thing about the man felt heightened. Your cells felt the warmth of his cells. Your skin was hyper aware of the exact position and location he lay in. You knew his bent knees were maybe 4 centimeters from yours, facing you. His thighs would have been within grazing distance from your hand if you merely reached a bit. Your ears tuned into the rhythm of his breathing, even the stuttered half breath he took with the little block you heard in his throat made its way into your ears and when he shifted his face mere millimeters you turned yours in involuntary response. It felt unimaginable that he wasn’t touching you more. He wasn’t reaching a hand up to slip behind your neck to pull you into him; he wasn’t lifting himself up to kiss you on the mouth, wasn’t rolling over your body and pressing himself in between your needy thighs, he was just laying there, lightly touching your inner arm with his fingertips as your entire body burst into flames that rivaled the burning building you caught glimpses of in that movie.

You could have fallen with one word from his mouth.

It was the last slow exhale that did it. You could tell that his lips were parted and his face had turned, impossibly closer to yours. You felt the heat from his lungs against your face and the skin of your scalp prickled and pulled with the goosebumps that spread from your nape down to the center of your spine; it moved like a wave through you and when you finally lost the battle and turned your face enough to look at him, he was watching your face with his dark brown eyes. The moment he had you held within, he inhaled through those parted lips and let his eyelids sink down halfway through the breath, his brown irises turned black in this dim lighting, his pupils never once letting go of your face.

He didn’t look away.

You couldn’t look away.

The forces radiating out of him felt too heavy to resist and you gave in with a sigh. You turned your face, dipped into him and you kissed his lips. That want had you by a chokehold, the way you wanted him nearly suffocated you.

You kissed him and he kissed you back and oh -- oh you were trembling. It was coming from inside of your chest and each gasp for air had a stutter. His soft lips changed, tightening against your mouth; you felt the smooth hard toothiness of a grin and the puff of air from his laugh blew over the wetness left behind by his mouth. His hands were holding your face and after the chuckle from him came the inhaled whisper, “Why did it take you so damn long to kiss me?”

You didn't know. You didn’t know. You shook your head back and forth and leaned into him again, touching his face, reaching for his lips, capturing him again in another deep and desperate kiss before pulling away again to answer his question with one of your own.

“Why didn’t you do it? You could have kissed me.”

You wanted him. Every bit of your body wanted him. You kissed him again; it felt insatiable. Biting down on his lip did not satisfy it. Sucking on his tongue felt like not enough — you wanted to burrow under his skin just like he’d done to you and when you pushed yourself to sit atop of his slim waist and your thighs tightened their hold around his hips you felt eternally thankful for the thinness of the fabric of your panties below the shorts you wore today. Thin enough to be able to feel the definite shape and size of his arousal pressing hard into you; the friction and pressure gave very little relief. His hands dug hard enough into your thighs to leave marks and he pushed his hips up while his rough grip pulled you down.

He shook his head back and forth and his lips pulled, showing his teeth before he pulled his pink lips in and bit down. He made a sound from the back of his throat, a moan that turned into a no, matching the shaking of his head, answering your question with a sound before he spoke.

“It had to be you,” he said cryptically. Smiling the moment you shook your head in confusion.

“Why?”

Kyungsoo sat up then, and he was reaching for your face with one hand, wrapping his other around you, pulling you harder over his lap with a strong forearm around your lower back.

“Because I want you to fuck me—” your skin reacted first to his words whispered into your ear; you felt the goosebumps erupt everywhere. Another wave of warmth flooded your abdomen, settling between your legs.

“I already know what I want.”

“But I need you to want me. I need to feel you wrap yourself around me completely.” His hand tightened around the back of your neck and you felt the sting of his hard teeth sinking down into your neck below your ear.

“And have me.” Your breath was caught in your throat. “And fuck me.”

You nodded your head, “I do — want to,” feeling much too breathless for quite as many debilitating words as he used. Your hands were pulling uselessly at his clothes; feeling not quite in full control of yourself with the trembling that you still felt happening inside. It was too much. You were overwhelmed but you managed a whispered request, “Take your clothes off.”

You had to get off of him. The logistics of removing all of these damned layers demanded it. You let balance give in and you sank down, noticing how the clarity in your mind very gradually returned without his hands on you; without that pressure between your legs; without those low whispered weighty words in your ear.

If you’d been under the impression that he was beautiful before this moment, you hadn’t come into this with the full impression of him. You’d thought he was simply beautiful but this word felt so inadequate for the illuminatingly, nearly blinding view of this man watching you — waiting for you. You hadn’t come to this conclusion with everything; not the glimpse of that thick heady look of arousal in his eyes and the way he consumed you entirely as you stripped bare in front of him. You hadn’t made up your mind about his actual beauty without first properly considering the swollen lips; plumped up by your teeth — the dark eyes, black eyelashes, the perfectly straight hair that fell over his forehead and contrasted perfectly with the pink in his cheeks; the expanse of absolutely perfectly smooth skin; the very scant trail of dark hair that scattered from his navel; a breadcrumb trail that lead to the evidence of the effect you’d had on him. That beautiful part of him that swelled and twitched when you touched lightly along his abdomen with your fingertips as you made your way closer.

Your lips pulled into a smile, feeling quite satisfied. His beauty was overwhelming and when he saw your smile, his lips mirrored it, pulling his lips in staggered bursts as his big eyes watched you climb over this bed coming closer to where he was, moving a thigh over him to sit over his waist again. This time without any barriers between your skin and his skin.

The moment you felt him, when his hardness and your wetness met each other, the smiles fell for the sake of the other senses that overwhelmed. You closed your eyes and had to breathe through parted lips as you moved your hips over him, the slip within the wet here; each pass; each bump between your legs was particularly addictive. A peek through heavy eyelids gave you glimpses of him; his face as he felt you, the furrow of his brows, the way his lips fell open — pink and plump; the flutter and drift of his eyelids and the way his head fell back; him reacting to the way you felt slipping over the length of him. Those sinful words he’d said to you still echoed inside of your mind as you moved. You felt encouraged by his words. He wanted this. He wanted your unrestricted enjoyment of his body.

You braced your hands on his abdomen and you pushed and lifted yourself up and as if he had been made specially for you, he lined up so perfectly without any effort at all. As if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, he slipped inside of you, making you feel complete in a single motion as you sank down on top of him. And all at once, all of the feelings of this, of him inside of you, of the slight pain of the stretch, the bump against him inside and then with how good it felt to feel him again; all of this consumed you so completely, you struggled to pay attention to anything else but the memory of his words; you let go of whatever silly restrictions you usually attached to sex. You could have this man. You could do what you wanted.

Still again and again your eyes sought him out. You watched his face as you fell. He was so beautiful and so very overcome — you watched him react to the feeling of you and each gasp from his lips, each furrowed brow and each bite down of his lips all fueled your movements. His hands were touching you, moving with you and he struggled to keep his eyes open, despite the very obvious need to look at you riding him like this, these feelings took his self control away from him.

The temptation to watch his reactions was so strong but another sensation demanded precedence. Closing your eyes and feeling him was everything. With each sink, each glide, each rough grip of his hands on your hips that pulled you down onto him the pleasure built inside of you, and when you could feel yourself succumbing. When you snaked your hips forward, slipping against him in that desperate way that brought you closer, you simply gave in; tightening your thighs, tightening your walls around him, shaking and trembling and coming undone on top of him with a reckless abandoning of every inhibition you’d had in the past. Something about him -- something about Kyungsoo. You gave in without hesitation.

And he -- he gave you only a few moments of it. You were still trembling when Kyungsoo sat up, compressing his strong arms around you tight enough to steal your breath. You felt dizzy when his hand landed on the back of your neck and his demanding mouth opened; he used plump lips to spread your parted lips further, he suctioned your tongue into the hollow of his mouth and the trail of wetness that connected your mouths when he pulled away held on, succumbing to the distance with a wet pop that landed on your heaving breasts. You felt just as desperate as his needy kiss; even his humid naked skin when pressed up against yours seemed reluctant to let go, you felt the warm stickiness wherever your skin met his, and when he moved just too far away, the humidity slicked over your skin’s surface begged to hold on just a little while longer.

His tight hold around you did not let you go, even through the rough roll as his muscles pushed and you found yourself on your back, looking up into the ceiling at the harsh fluorescent lights that lined this big room. Your limbs all wrapped tightly around his body as he pushed and pushed and pushed in between your sticky thighs, into the slick wetness, deep inside of you again and again until he was shaking, until he was pushing in hard, until he was moaning into your ear with that low voice, until the tremors echoed inside and brought the flooded heat that he filled you up with.

There was a pause, only for a few breath’s worth of time.

You felt the weight of his body land over your chest for a moment.

Kyungsoo laid his head down on you, his temple right over where your heart beat frantically inside of your chest and you unwound one of your hands, slipping your fingers into the strands of his straight hair and feeling the heat of his scalp with your fingertips and you just touched him softly and gently, feeling all of the life inside of him and knowing that this was something bigger than you. It was something bigger than him. It felt like so much more. All of that labored breathing and these two thumping hearts that beat in sync beside each other seemed to fall into the background.

This felt like nothing you’d ever felt before. This felt more than love. This felt more than happiness. Something greater than peace or satisfaction and something insurmountably bigger than the universe. Something unnamable, something indescribable like the nanoseconds of death itself when the soul slipped over the threshold and exploded into pure light.

You could have cried; if it had prolonged for longer than only a few breaths you might have. You felt him shift, probably worried he was suffocating you by laying on your chest like this. With the shift of his body came the soft sounds from him; the soft touches and gentle kisses over the surface of your skin that was already beginning to cool off.

He sighed into the skin of your neck and the dreamy sound pulled your lips into a smile.

His whispered words slipped inside of your waiting ears. “I can’t wait to spend my life with you.” With these words, they carried along the dreamy sort of promise that slipped into your open heart and clamped down tight inside the chambers, promising to never ever let go. Promising you a lifetime of this -- this something that you might just spend the rest of your life with him trying to give a name to.

“Me too,” you whispered and for now you just smiled, not too concerned with silly things like finding the right words to describe just how much this human meant to you.

All that mattered was that he was yours and that was enough for you.

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

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