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s0dium · 9 months

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PEEPING TOM

A/n: Its good to be back, I also will be doing kink tober! Yay!

Synopsis: In which you find a peephole in your wall, allowing you to spy on your neighbor Gojo Satoru

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Peeping Tom, mutual masturbation, masturbation, slight dub-con, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, breeding, Dom!Gojo, fingering, rough sex

MINORS DNI

The first time it happened, it was an accident.

It was day numero uno in your new dorm at Tokyo Jujutsu High. You were hesitant at first enrolling, being suddenly uprooted from an overall normal life into a world of curses and sorcerers was a, well, definitely a shocking experience for you. In fact, today was a boring blur for you, by the time you were done moving in it was nightfall and the only people you met were principle yaga and an old guy.

So you didn't expect the most exciting part of your day would be finding a peep hole right at eye view of you when you sat up on your bed.

Of course you pay no attention to it, this was a pretty old Japanese building after all. It was when you were searching up what the hell “spackle was” when you heard a loud “FUCK” coming from the other side of the wall.

Well that's interesting.

You know it's wrong, you wouldn't want peering in on you. But curiosity got the better of you as you sat down on your bed and aligned your eye with the hole.

From what you could see, your nameless neighbors room was pretty neat, but your mind went completely blank when a set of abs came into your vision, followed by the side profile of one of the most handsome white haired man you had ever seen.

So yeah, the first time you peeped on your neighbor was a mistake.

The second time. Not so much.

"Hey! My name is y/n l/n im your neighbor"

Piercing blue eyes look you up and down and your breath catches in your throat. His eyes, framed by a shock of defiantly white hair, hold a mysterious depth that seems to invite you into an endless ocean of secrets. They twinkle with a mischievous glint. His lips, full and inviting, flash you a devilish smile that hints at an irreverent sense of humor. The white hair man leans on the door frame.

“Ahh so your the new girl”

You gulp, trying to keep your eyes from raking over his well built body that were sporting sweat pants that rode just slightly low on his hips and a black shirt that exposed the tone muscles of his arms.

Lawd have mercy, we must stay focused, we must stay focused.

"Yeah uh, I just wanted to get your name, you know, since we are gonna be neighbors and all….." You trail off at the end, fiddling with the ends of your uniform skirt.

You can feel his eyes bore into your head as you averted his gaze. He chuckles and blows out air from his nose in amusement.

“Gojo satoru. You can call me Satoru, since you know, we are going to be neighbors and all” He almost coos mockingly.

You nod and hold out your hand.

“Nice to meet you Satoru.”

For the next two weeks you find yourself slowly adjusting into your new life. You spend most of your time either training or hanging out with your new friend Shoko, since you are deemed ‘too new’ for any missions which is fine by you. During this your interactions and conversations with Gojo are kept rather short. You laugh at the jokes he and Geto come up with during class, roll your eyes at the snarky comments he makes about how ‘new’ you are, and occasionally even give him a smile in the hall. But for some reason you can't seem to get him out of your head; your eyes often wandering to stare at the back of his white hair during lessons, watching how his long digits gracefully twirl a pencil around, finding yourself wondering what else he can do with those fingers.

And it is for those very reasons you find yourself lying in your bed, unable to sleep.

Huffing, you sat up in your bed and turned on the light on your night stand. As you leaned toward the wall to grab your phone, that’s when you heard it.

A faint groan.

….

You shouldn’t.

It's wrong. You already peeped once, and that’s enough.

But god, curiosity is killing you right now. It was eating away at your brain like termites and you couldn’t seem to let the question go.

So you made a promise. One look. One final quick last look and that would be it.

Oh how curiosity killed the cat.

The moment your eye was aligned with the hole, your mind went blank and in front of you was a sight ever to behold.

There on white bed sheets was Gojo, shirtless, sweatpants slightly lowered furiously fisting his dick. For a couple seconds, you couldn't seem to take your eyes off of him; how beautiful he looked with his head thrown back, the glide of his hand up and down his long dick and how the top of his fist captured his redish pink tip with every thrust.

Once the initial shock was over you immediately pulled away, hand covering your mouth to silence your gasp. You should've never looked, never crossed the threshold between curiosity and invasion of privacy. But as you move away to go back to sleep and forget all about this, you wince.

Oh no.

An all too familiar ache has started to form between your thighs and you felt your stomach twist into knots and form into a million butterflies. Frantically, you pull down your short, silently cursing when your eyes are met with a small damp stain at the base of your underwear.

This couldn't be happening. Quickly you crawled back under your covers and turned off the lights, praying that the feeling would go away. Surprise surprise, it didnt.

Biting your lip, you grabbed a pillow and placed it between your legs, squeezing your thighs together. A couple seconds later without realizing it you had started to slowly roll your hips on the soft object, desperately seeking some way to alleviate your pain.

But it seemed like that only made things worse.

Your skin was buzzing, and your breaths had turned deep and heavy. The slick accumulating in your cunt has started to become borderline uncomfortable and the twisting in your stomach didnt seem to cease. You needed release.

One more look. One more look than one orgasm and thats it.

Frantically you crawled back to the small hole, letting out a soft whimper when you're met with the sight again. This time his eyes were squeezed shut, and white substance filled the space between his fingers as he hurriedly fisted himself. Without even thinking, you slipped a hand under your underwear and letting out a sigh of relief when your index finger came in contact with your clit.

Quick, you'd make this quick.

Using your wetness, you began to circle your finger around the nerve, falling into a slow rythm. You tried your best to cover the wet clicking sounds coming from your ministrations, but after a couple minutes you couldnt see to care any more. You let your mind drift to thoughts of Satoru. How would he look above you, sweaty and in euphoria? Oh you bet his dick would feel so good inside of you, fill you up and hit all the right places. Fuck it you'd probably let him cum in you, spill his seed in your cunt and fill you up over and over again.

Your movements had become frantic now as you desperately chased your orgasm and from what you could tell it seemed like he was getting close too. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to suppress the moans and your thighs started to tremble as you got closer to finishing. Suddenly, your stomach dipped and tightened as a surge of mind numbing pleasure took over you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and mouth falling agape.

After a couple seconds passed, you were left panting and you dazedly glanced back through the hole to find that Satrou had also finished; white streams of cum painting his toned stomach and fist.

You blink back the euphoria that slowly escaped your brain.

Ok. Never again.

That was a lie.

You started to pick up the fact that Gojo had a routine. He’d jack off once in the morning and once at night, and boy, where the sounds impossible to ignore. So, you started to fall into this routine with Gojo. On cue, when you heard his shaky breath and silent whimpers, your hand would automatically slip into your pants, circling around your wetness to the sound of his shaky sighs. On the days you slept through the ones in the morning and missed it as night as well, you’d touch yourself on your own time, cumming over and over again to the thought of Gojo pumping his thick cock in and out of you.

You didn't know what the end goal was to this and hell you knew it was wrong. But the pleasure was too overwhelming, the sound of Gojo was too overwhelming, too damn compelling.

So here you were again, another night laying next to the peep hole, hand down your pants intently listening to the fast pap pap pap that came from the other side of the way.

But something was different tonight. Your skin felt like it was on fire. Your walls pulsed and squeezed around nothing with every light rub for your clit. This was becoming dangerous, the pleasure was becoming too much, the thought of gojo fucking you was becoming too much.

You let out a whine that comes out louder than expected but you can't seem to care. You dig your ass into the mattress and arch your back slightly. You're not thinking of your fingers as your own right no, no, they are Gojo’s long pale ones rubbing fast circles on your throbbing clit. His name falls from your mouth like a silent plea over and over, begging him to fuck you. You're so engrossed in the pleasure that it took you 20 seconds to fully realize that the sounds on the other side of the wall had stopped. Confused, you align your eye with the peep hole and a gasp rips out of your throat.

Instead of finding Gojo’s body layed out your met with the sight of another eye. A blue eye. Staring right back at you.

You pull away from the wall and cover your mouth. Before you can even process a thought your door swings open and in steps the last person you wanted to see.

"You've been peeping on me." Gojo coos, a shit eating grin spread on his face. Hes disheveled, white hair tousled, black tank top slightly riding up and grey sweat pants riding down showing his white happy trail. But most notable was his hard dick pressing against the fabric of his pants, a slight stain adorning the material right where the tip is.

"You've been peeping on me!!!" You stammer, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Oh really? Is that the best defense you’ve got?” Gojo chuckles and rakes a hand through his white hair, taking a few steps closer to your bed.

“What are you doing? Get out!”

“Oh? Is that what you really want? You want me to leave?” Gojo is at the foot of your bed now, and your breathing becomes faster when he climbs on. “Because I can leave. I can leave and tell everyone what a little whore you’ve been, listening to me morning and night.”

“You-” You can't even finish your sentence because he's on top of you now, legs on either side of your body and you gaze up helplessly at him.

“Of course I noticed princess,why do you think I was doing it so much anyway?” He places his index under your face and tilts your chin up so your lips align with his. “Loved hearing those whines…. Wanna hear more so badly” He murmurs before placing his lips onto yours. You sigh into the kiss, letting his warm tongue entangle into yours. He holds the back of your neck to deepen the kiss before peppering his lips along your jawline and your neck. A hand slips below your flimsy tank top and another pulls at the hem of your underwear. Before you know it your completely naked, your chest rising and falling and Gojos hungry eyes scan your body.

He licks his lips.

“You gonna let me hear more?”

You gasp when you feel a long finger slide down your slit connecting the wetness before dipping into your tight hole. Gojo leaned close to soothingly press dry lips to your temple. “Shh,” He whispered, the resulting puffs of air washing over the side of your face making you shake. “This your first time being touched like this baby?Or did you not know about this special little g-spot you’ve got right here?”

Your toes curl when he touches a spot deep inside you that sends bolts of pleasure coursing through your brain. You don’t even notice that he’s pulling down his pants until he pulls his fingers away, a string of wetness connecting his digits with your pussy, and your eyes are met with the sight of his length.

You unconsciously buck your hips up at the sight of it, practically humping the air, and Gojo has to secure your hips down to the bed to prevent you from hurting yourself. You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Shhhh, we are going to have so much fun together baby.”

You're cut off by the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, your cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Gojo let oout a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said hoarsely.

“Satoru please-”

You dont get to finish the thought because Gojo pulls out and ram back into you with such fever everything goes blank for a second. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted. But that quickly changed to harsher thrusts, until he’s using you like his personal cock sleeve, shaping your insides and bruising your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity.

Every thrust knocks the wind out of you, his tip smushing right against your cervix only to be pulled out and rammed back in again. And the sounds, god the sounds where sinful. Wet skin against skin echoed through the room the sloshing of cum

It was too much, the feeling of your wet gummy walls gripping him so tightly, fuck, his hand felt like sand paper compared to this, how was he able to fucking live without your pussy in the first place. There was no way Gojo could stop now. His body had kicked into auto pilot, a primal need for you settled in as he thrusted in and out, creating a methodical fast rhythm that echoed in your ears. The sight of you right now, the feeling of your pussy clamped on his dick did not justice to the image his fucked his fist to. No, this was better, this was heaven.

“So good- don’t stop, please don’t stop!” your babbling strung out of your lips too absorbed in the thought of how god damn good he was fucking you, his thick cock driving in and out of your velvet walls. It was as if you were made for each other, your cunt sucking him in with each push and shove that hit at just the right spots.

“Say my name baby” he coos and an involuntary cry escapes your lips, a passionate fusion of pleasure and intensity. Amid the overwhelming waves of ecstasy that washed over you, your mouth began to call out your boyfriend's name. Again and again.

“Beautiful girl, such a natural submissive” he whispered hoarsely. Your stomach coiled with anticipation, heat encircling your core like a tightening cord. Your senses tingled, your mind a haze of desire, all consuming thoughts centered around Gojos electrifying touch. You pressed back into him, arching off a second later and then your hips rocked down. Words became superfluous, you couldn't say anything, not with the way you were panting and twitching, so insanely close to your peak that you wouldn’t ruin it with your words.

“Do it,” Gojo said into your ear with conviction. “Wanna see you cum all over me, fu-fuck, been waiting for that.”

His words seem to flip a switch in you. The heat on your stomach is unbearable, you can’t take it anymore, it’s consuming you, driving you over the edge so fast that you can’t put a stop on it. Your pussy tightens so hard around Gojos dick that he nearly has to stop his thrusts, your scream is muffled by a hand clamped over your mouth as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. Gojo doesnt stop, He fucks you hard into the futon; your eyes roll back, toes curling as waves of pleasure crash over you, your entire body trembles over his thrusts.

"Oh shit!" He gasps as your cunt clamps around him. He growls something unintelligible as his thrusts become erratic and sloppy. “"Gonna cum in you, gonna fill you up it's what you were made for- ah, fu-uck- cumming!" Gojo pressing him flush against you choking over his words as his hips sputter inside of you, hot cum fills you as much as you can hold inside of your stuffed cunny.

“Wa-wait! N-not ins-si-” You squeal but cut your self off when you feel something deliciously warm enter your battered pussy. You babbled and squirmed as it built and built and built, like there was a dam of his seed spurting into you. You unintentionally, probably instinctually, squeezed around him, drawing more out and he whined and murmured his praise. “Good girl, get as much as you can.” He petted circles over your stomach, over the bulge of where his cock and cum lay. “Such a pretty tummy….” You threw your face into your arms and shook.

The two of you stayed like that for a while–Gojo keeping you plugged with his cock while you both watched your breaths, listening to eachother and occasionally leaning in for a messy kiss.

“So, I guess we are both peeping toms then.”

A/N: Im too lazy to write an ending

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen fanfic #jjk x reader

7K notes · View notes

kyuuppi · 1 year

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Genshin men Instagram HCs

Ft. Xiao; Scaramouche; Zhongli; Childe; Alhaitham; Kaveh; Tighnari

(gender neutral reader but wears a dress in Scara & Zhongli's parts)

Xiao // @ a1atus

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Very rarely posts

Never pictures of himself, you’ll only see his face in tagged photos

If he does post, it’s probably a new album cover of a band he likes, a particularly good plate of almond tofu from his favorite café, or—if he’s in a particularly good mood—a cute stray cat that befriended him on the street

Never edits anything but still takes pretty decent photos because he understands basic composition rules

Never tags anything but will sometimes write simple captions like “new guitar”

His pfp has not changed since he made his account and its literally just the blandest selfie you’ve ever seen—but he’s effortlessly photogenic so even when he’s just staring at the camera with a blank expression he looks hot

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

Xiao will unintentionally do his loyal boyfriend duties and like all of your posts but he never actually leaves a comment unless you specifically ask him to but you have to tell him what to say or else you’ll just get something like “your hair is nice” LOL

Maybe makes one post related to you but it doesn’t have your face—just picture of your hands holding each other or a photo he secretly took of you from behind as you admire some paintings from when he took you on an art gallery date

Still doesn’t write much in captions but if the post includes you, he always adds a little black heart emoji 🖤

Scaramouche // @ balladeer

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Vehemently claims he’s not chronically online but he definitely is

Def has a dark / emo aesthetic profile and puts more effort into it than he’d ever admit

Uses stories pretty frequently

Usually to show off his game stats and victories or to vent about some annoying inconvenience that's just happened to him

balladeer Jfc the train is late again I may as well just walk home everyday ffs

All his late night gaming photos are so highly saturated in his pitch black bedroom, the only source of light being his screen on max brightness and his violet RGB keyboard. If you raise the screen brightness on your phone you might be able to make out some empty Monster cans and ramen cups on his desk—he absolutely gives Discord / Reddit mod vibes 🤢

Definitely has a story archive just for Valorant 🤮

I wanna fuck him so bad it makes me look stupid—

Posts a few selfies to show a new piercing or the very rare occasion where he’s feeling really confident in his looks

unintentionally thirst traps the emo boy lovers; yes, I am talking about you and I—

Lightly edits photos or uses filters to make them look good but nothing extreme or super aesthetic, mostly just for decent contrast

Usually the first one to see any of his friends posts but never ‘likes’ them

Will leave snarky or sarcastic comments when the mood strikes tho

His pfp is a candid picture someone else took that he thinks he looks decent in—sticking his tongue out and giving double middle fingers to the camera

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

Makes a post or story for every date you guys have, even if it’s just a vague picture of your shoes together

He likes to show off that he has such an attractive s/o but also lowkey just wants to have a memory to look back on for the nights he feels lonely

Doesn’t post just you though, he’s always in frame holding you or touching you in some way—he feels the need to put some sort of claim cause he thinks people are gonna shoot their shot with you—he’s kinda paranoid and insecure, pls have patience w him

Likes and comments on all of your posts. Sometimes it's a snarky quip like if you post about you and your friends doing something funny he might comment “lmao ur so dumb” but if its a selfie or something you’re proud of, he leaves a little compliment and heart emoji.

YN0103 [bedroom mirror selfie of you shyly posing in a dress]

YN0103 Bought a new dress today…it’s not my usual style but I rlly like it 🥺

balladeer cute 💜

If anyone ever confronts him in person about his nice comments on your posts tho he’ll get flustered and claim his account was temporarily hacked LOL

His heart def flutters when you post a picture of him on your own account

He kinda can’t believe you’re proud enough of him to publicly post about him

Changes his pfp to the two of you together and, if you zoom in and squint, you can tell he’s kind of smiling <3

Zhongli // @ rex_lapis

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

I’m sorry but I have to do it…

He has Facebook grandpa vibes

Like he has no idea how to use half of the features; stories are an absolute mystery to him. What is a reel?

But he tries to be supportive of his friends and will leave way-too eloquent comments with a Wikipedia levels of supplemental information

a1atus [ photo of a shiny Fender acoustic guitar laying on what seems to be a bed]

a1atus new guitar

rex_lapis Lovely new instrument, Xiao. You seem to have quite good tastes – that particular model is popular among many professional musicians. It is well renowned for its clear sound and beautiful mahogany exterior. If you wouldn’t mind, I would love to hear you play it someday over tea.

a1atus @ rex_lapis thanks

the way I cackled writing that exchange ygweyufgwyu Xiaos just like ‘thanks for commenting dad’

His pfp is not him—it’s probably a famous painting he likes or a beautiful white flower from a garden he visited

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

If you want him to improve his Insta game, you’re going to have to teach him, I’m sorry

On the up side, Zhongli is a great student and is eager to learn anything you teach him

Will try to post pretty regularly; usually somewhat mediocre photos of beautiful scenery like sunsets and flowers

Like Scaramouche, he enjoys the idea of documentary your time together so he posts something at the end of each of your dates

Your heart lowkey melts when Zhongli, very earnestly, asks after dinner if you’ll allow him to take a selfie with you to post on his Instagram

Regularly asks for feedback on his posts to ensure he’s properly taking your advice and improving :,)

He even starts organizing and naming story archives on his profile—simple titles like “tea,” “nature,” “friends,” and “my dearest”

Likes and comments on every single one of your posts and replies to all of your stories, even if he was there with you

Usually just lathers you in compliments on your beauty or tastes but they’re so thoughtfully written that it’s obvious he’s not “just saying it” and genuinely believes all the kind things about you he writes

YN1231 [photo of you twirling in a summer dress amidst a colorful of bed of flowers in a botanical garden, take by your friend]

YN1231 It’s finally starting to feel like spring! 🌸🌼🌺

rex_lapis While the camelias are lovely, they pale in comparison to your radiance. Your yellow sundress is also quite lovely and compliments your complexion in the morning sunlight. Truly a divine sight.

balladeer @ YN1231 @ rex_lapis ugh can you guys keep it in the DMs

- Changes his pfp to a selfie of himself smiling after you told him he should. The angle is a little odd but he’s so naturally attractive that he still manages to look good.

Ajax // @ tartaglia_on_top

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Doesn’t post too often but when he does, it kinda gives stereotypical frat boy

Like, lots of parties and shirtless beach photos with his friends

The surprise is the occasional posts of his little siblings and kids he volunteers with in between

He sometimes posts championship and practice photos from his martial arts competitions with captions thanking his team and mentors

Is pretty popular—has a few thousand followers, many are people he met just once or twice at parties or genuine friends and classmates, but the vast majority are online fans who just follow cause he’s hot LOL

Is the type of person you followed once after meeting a long time ago and never talk to again but you can’t bring yourself to unfollow cause he’s nice and his updates are kinda interesting and he’s hot

Isn’t online that much so he doesn’t like/comment on his friends’ every post but usually tries to leave congratulatory messages when someone accomplishes something or graduates

His pfp is a closeup of himself with a boyish grin he cropped from a group photo

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

It is super obvious when you guys start dating cause almost every post from that point is about you in some way LOL

tartaglia_on_top [photo of Ajax, sweaty and exhausted but clearly excited as he holds a trophy in one hand with the other wrapped around your waist while he presses a kiss to your cheek]

tartaglia_on_top Officially a 3 year championship winner! Thanks to my biggest supporter @ YN0720 😘

He’s not even consciously trying to post you all the time, it just happens because you are either always together or any memorable moment he thinks are worth an Insta post involve you in some way

You’re the only person, aside from his family - that he actually likes/comments on all posts for

Is the type of boyfriend to leave those super dramatic, embarrassing comments on your selfies like “DAAAMN BABE 🥵 finna make me act UP” and, in one particularly shameless case, “god youre so hot pls step on me queen 😍”

Please block him

He shamelessly liked all your past posts from before you too met as well—you were kinda mortified to wake up one morning to a notification that just said “what a lil cutie ❤️” on a post of yourself from seventh grade.

Changes his pfp to a couple selfie he took of the two of you kissing on a winter vacation in the mountains

Kaveh // @ kaveh.designs

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Obsessed with having an aesthetic profile

Like, the color palette of the background and clothing in his pfp selfie are carefully matched with the cover of each of his story archives, down to the hex code

He carefully edits every post and uses filters to make them all fit with his theme no matter how inaccurate to real life they may become

“Huh…I thought your bedroom wall was a bit more orange than this…”

“Oh, that’s cause I use 30% Juno in all my bedroom photos for a warmer finish.”

“???”

Despite his aesthetic profile, he doesn’t come off as particularly vain or narcissistic—only posts selfies when he’s has a particularly good hair day or changed his accessories

Most of his posts are of places he travels to (museums and big cities with interesting architecture) or his own sketches and rendered design projects

Online pretty frequently, always checks insta when he wakes up, before bed, and during lunch breaks

His stories are often project updates, interesting things he encounters throughout the day, or food photos

Only likes posts he actually likes and sometimes comments with photography critiques

tighnar1 [photo of a cluster of three bright blue mushrooms clustered against vibrant green grass and patches of dark, wet soil]

tighnar1 Proof the forest is an amazing place: found this beautiful little cluster of juvenile Rakkhashava mushrooms on my hike today. Great spotting by @ colleeei. Check my story for some cool mushroom facts. 🍄

kaveh.designs great photo composition, Tigh, perfect golden ratio on the caps.

tighnar1 @ kaveh.designs Thanks I guess…

Has a decent number of followers, many of whom are also artists familiar with Kaveh’s reputation from the Kshahrewar. Others just like his OOTD stories and charming smile

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

Kaveh revamps his entire profile once you two become official

His pfp becomes a candid taken by a stranger of the two of you together at an aquarium, holding hands as you point something out to him through the glass

It was taken by a photographer working at the aquarium as part of a promotion—the photographer showed you two the photo and asked for permission to post it on their official website and Kaveh was absolutely obsessed with the photo—it’s still one of his favorite and it doesn’t even show your faces

He still matches his archived story covers to his new pfp but his actual feed had become a lot more relaxed and natural now

He still slightly edits photos so they look as good as possible, but he doesn’t like using filters on photos of you or the two of you together because he thinks it would be a disservice to your natural beauty

Like Ajax, his posts and stories naturally become mostly about you whether scenes from your dates—candid photos he takes of you where he insists you look like art even though you’re just in pajamas with an unmade face—or even photos of things he sees throughout the day that remind him of you

Sometimes he posts stories of funny reels or art pieces he knows you’d like and tags you in them with messages like “@YN0709 omg remember when we were talking abt this?” and “me & @ YN0709💕”

Similar to Childe, leaves the most downbad, dramatic comments on your posts

YN0709 [swimsuit selfie]

YN0709 happy summer! ☀️🌊

kaveh.designs Oh my god my heart– 💘 I cannot believe I get to come home to this every night 👅💦

YN0709 @ kaveh.designs omg kaveh pls 💀

al_haitham @ kaveh.designs Every time I see one of your comments I regret ever learning how to read.

Alhaitham // @ al_haitham

★ ★ pre-relationship ★ ★

Only made an account so his friends would stop bothering him about not keeping up with things tbh

Checks his feed a few times a day but skips through stories if they’re too long/too many

Absolutely hates concert stories the most cause they’d loud, long, and filled with off-key drunken singing

Never likes or comments on anything unless it’s really interesting to him

Occasionally shares reels in his story that are like interesting history facts or official Akademiya announcements

Has a few posts (and only cause Kaveh would not shut up about it) but they’re mostly just pictures of book covers he’d just finished reading with a detailed review or literary analysis as the caption—but he’s mindful of avoiding spoilers for those who haven’t read it

However, he does have one post that stands out quite a bit

He posted an unintentional gym third trap because he just happened to be working out, as is routine, and thought it might be nice to share some tips on proper rope pushdown form

If you’re not a gym babe and don’t know what this is, I beg of you, please look up a gif or video and imagine Alhaitham doing this, shirtless. You’re welcome.

It has become his most popular post by far

His pfp is probably taken straight from his faculty ID card: plain background, bright lighting, neutral facial expression

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

After you two have become official and are pretty comfortably established in your relationship, he’ll post a photo of the two of you—probably one you took - with a simple caption like “Late night at Puspa Café with my favorite person 💚”

Everyone who knows him freaks out in the comments with variations of “omg hathie got an s/o???” and “wow he finally posted a normal pic of himself, y/n is a good influence” but he doesn’t reply to any of them lmao

If you use Instagram a lot, he’ll naturally become more active too because he enjoys learning more about what you like through your posts and stories

He likes all of your posts but never comments—if one of your posts interests him, he’d prefer to wait until he sees you later to ask you about it in person

He just wants an excuse to talk to you more

As he becomes more active, little bits and pieces of your relationship naturally infiltrate his feed

His latest book review post has your favorite mug in the background because the two of you had breakfast together

His informational story post of an antique Sumerian emerald he found at a street vendor is being modeled by your pretty hands because you were with him when he saw it and later given to you after the vendor insisted on Alhaitham gifting it to his “beautiful spouse”

He changes his profile picture to the two of you from one of your many reading dates, comfortably lounging on a loveseat in a quiet corner of the library—and this time, he’s softly smiling

Tighnari // @ t1ghnar1

Surprisingly active on social media

He thinks social media is a great way to share information about the importance of forest conservation and get people to appreciate the beauty of Avidya forest

Makes one post almost every day and multiple stories

Needless to say, 90% of his posts are of plants or small animals he finds on his hikes or while working

His most popular posts are those of cute squirrels and birds that are being nursed back to health after being found wounded—animals just seem to naturally love him so the pictures are usually taken by his coworkers because his arms are full with cuddly animals that refuse to move

The other 10% of his posts are from the occasional hang outs with friends or coworkers after work—snaps of iced fruit teas from Puspa café or colorful clay plates overflowing with Collei’s homemade pita pockets.

He makes sure to reply to or at least like every comment, particularly those from people asking questions about the plants he posts or how to become a forest ranger. Even simple “wow that's so cool” comments often get at least a “thanks, glad you liked it” from Tighnari

He tends to use some cute forest or food emoji when they fit with his posts. For example, 🍄,🥙,🦊,🐦, etc.

Also tends to use “:)” when replying to his followers because he knows it can be difficult to read tone in text-based communications

Tigh is basically a social media manager at this point oops

Because he is online so much, he naturally keeps up with almost everything his friends post and will like or comment on things he finds interesting

His pfp is a selfie of himself with a small yellow bird perched on his shoulder from one of his patrols

★ ★ in a relationship ★ ★

All Tighnaris written by me WILL follow the “fennec foxes mate for life” trope regardless of AU, it is an indisputable law of the universe

If you’re in a relationship with Tighnari, you should be prepared for stability and commitment in general

While he doesn’t go out of his way to make an official announcement post or anything like that, you become a regular feature on his page

Will tag you in anything you’re related to, unless you specifically ask him not to

t1ghnar1 [photo of a small, cream-colored fox brushing itself against Tighnari’s leg and looking up at the camera with large eyes]

t1ghnar1 On a walk with @ YN1229 this morning we spotted this cute little kit without her mom. 🦊 While adorable, foxes - even kits - are wild animals and should never be approached unless by professionals. We have informed the local animal control where she will be taken care of until we can locate her family. Photo by @ YN1229

He never outright announces you as his lover but he seems to spend so much time with you and refer to you so casually that his followers who don’t know him just assume you’re his spouse LOL

He doesn’t bother to correct them either :,)

bennie_boy Wow, that mountain is so high up - wasn’t ur spouse scared to go up there?

t1ghnar1 @ bennie_boy Y/n has been on so many trips like this with me that they’re pretty used to it. :)

Likes your posts as he see them on his feed and occasionally leaves a short comment like, “beautiful <3”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagine #genshin scenario #genshin hcs #tighnari x reader #scaramouch x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #kaveh x reader #alhaitham x reader #zhongli x reader #sm au #genshin sm au

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mrs-weasley-reid · 17 days

Text

TEN'S A GOOD NUMBER

Aaron Hotchner x psychiatrist!reader

Sypnosis: After Aaron's traumatizing encounter with Peter Lewis, he's sent to you, but who knew a profiler is the worst patient you'll ever have? Warning: enemies to lovers— ish(?) angst. a dash of fluff. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. went ballistic— it's lengthy, so pace yourself. A/N: loosely follows Mr. Scratch timeline for three seasons.

Monday, May 4, 8:34 AM

Aaron Hotchner sits across from you.

He studies you in every detail like he's about to take an exam, and you're the topic.

The weight of your scribbles—light, almost featherlike. Ink leaves a soft trail of words, a map of your thoughts, your perception of him.

The speed of your hand. Swift and elegant. Each movement portrays a scene in a movie. As if they're telling a quiet story, your story he is yet to unravel.

The way you deprive him of eye contact.

What are you hiding?

Why can't you look him in the eye?

The occasional nod to remind him that you're listening—not like anything's coming out from his end.

In conclusion, just about everything you do, really.

To Aaron, you're a cheat sheet. His way back to the field, to work—the part of his life that cannot be halted despite the need for a break.

"Your hand is heavier," Aaron vaguely goads.

You silently stare at him, waiting for the rest of his thoughts to spill out of his mouth.

"Usually, you write like you're afraid to puncture the paper, but just right now, your strikes are deeper. Your grip on your pen is also tighter. Am I annoying you?"

Creative.

You think to yourself as he rakes his eyes down the canvas of your face, blank and land of nothing but mirroring eyes.

Although you prefer Aaron's comment about your new lipstick and how it makes your skin glow—something about your prospect of finding a lover—fifteen minutes into your session. You didn't peg him as a man who knows his lipstick shades, but you stand corrected as he says coral with the utmost confidence for a man who wears his tie like a choker.

Aaron does it all the time. Every five minutes, he says one thing he's noticed about you and then proceeds to zip his mouth, denying you details about him like you're some hired criminal paid to torture the King's hidden fortune out of him.

And as per your entertainment, you'd do something out of your character to throw him off. If you can laugh at his gullibility, you would.

His goal is to intimidate you. Pressure you. Make you tick like every other serial killer he's encountered. Because he'd really rather be across an unsub than you. Aaron would rather be the one to ask questions and not you. In his eyes, you're no better than a small-town detective ignorantly interrogating a serial killer for a cheap gas station robbery, unaware of the skeletons in his closet.

At this moment, Aaron ponders why he agreed to meet with you once a week only to sit in almost absolute silence for about an hour, then go about his day like he hadn't just wasted minutes of his—and your—life.

It's always the same.

He arrives, flaunts his profiling skills for an accumulated total of twelve minutes, and then sits across you like a rock for the remaining forty minutes.

Aaron could've talked more, but...

He despises you.

Well, not you, per se. He despises the profession, and you just happen to choose it as your career. Nonetheless, Aaron generalizes and includes you on his list.

He finds it unnecessary and a waste of one's valuable time. Presenting a series of well-thought-out facts that he's sure Spencer Reid will enjoy. A list of reasons why talking to a psychiatrist isn't as helpful as people perceive it to be.

Aaron spits the words 'family' and 'friends' for the sake of ease and comfort as if he doesn't flinch at the words 'your father' and his face hasn't been frozen into a permanent stern. Because why talk to someone who doesn't know you when there are people who know you best? He lies through his teeth. He lies to himself.

Then, there's you.

You don't know him enough to trust his lies.

"Profiling me won't get you cleared," you state out of the blue. "This is our seventh session, and you haven't said anything." You add, finally lifting your gaze.

Aaron feels taken aback. He'd never encountered a shrink with such pride at their job—they managed to infuriate him. You infuriate him.

Now that you've granted him the wish—your eyes meeting his—it's having an effect on him instead. One that he wishes he didn't feel creep under his skin, stimulating the anxiety he's worked hard to ignore.

Still, Aaron squares his shoulder, "Nothing is wrong with me," He claims like he's not feeling the pit of his stomach churn with every word. "I'm only here for the formalities." He says.

"Ahh," You deadpan, pulling your eyes down on your clipboard. Hushed scribbles echo in the room. "Is that what you told, Dr. Briar? Or Dr. McCormick? Stiles doesn't seem to remember you at all—"

"They deemed me fit to go back to work, which you don't seem to realize." Aaron cuts you off. He doesn't notice the slight lilt of his voice. How a vein peeked on his forehead as he furrows his brows.

You have an effect on him, and Aaron's in strong denial.

"How?" You lean a bit, propping against your lap. It's the first time he's ever let himself tear out of his 'I don't break' shell. You consider it a crumb of a breakthrough and a laughable stain on your pride.

Challenging his stability—you raise your brows—makes him tick.

A faux frown draws on your face—patronizing, "Did you play a staring contest, and they lost against you?" You notice the little twitch of his eye masked as a blink.

It's a little unprofessional to provoke your patient, but you do, anyway.

This one's been particularly adamant about manipulating you into permitting him back to work like you were born yesterday. You think it hilarious how smug he's been for the past six sessions. It is as if you didn't spend almost half of your life devoted to the study of behavior. Like you hadn't figured out his plans from the get-go.

Profilers. They catch a criminal out of idea of sorts, and they think they can read everyone. It makes you want to laugh while pointing at him.

Aaron stares at you with his usual stoic expression, intimidating eyes filled with unforeseen horrors, and a straight mouth that's no use in your four walls.

He decides then that he hates you with a passion.

You feel a vibration on your wrist, "Would you look at that? Your time's up, Hotchner." You withdraw, straightening your back as you scribble yet another word Aaron is curious to know.

If he only knew you're not really writing anything new about the nature of his mental state or anything legible at all, you imagine Aaron exploding like a stack of case files blown by harsh wind.

But can he blame you when he's given you nothing to write?

"Agent Hotchner," He corrects with gritted teeth. Aaron's jaw clenches as he pierces his gaze through you. His hands intertwined with each other as if he's preventing himself from clawing at you.

You smile at him, "In this room, you're just Aaron Hotchner. A patient. A case." You know the specific word will piss him off, much less the motherly tone you paired it with.

A tactic. Unlike him, you don't need a team of agents to get a rise out of a culprit. The bare idea of you, a stranger who has access to his life on a piece of paper, is enough a stimuli to get an individual aiming at your neck.

"So, between you and me, I think you should start talking if you ever want to fly to wherever city your team wanders in. The longer you take, the less progress we make, and the less progress you make, the more possible that the bureau will assign a new psychiatrist for you." You say nonchalantly, letting his anger lead him right into your trap.

The words float like small fire specks of dust, both dazzling and dangerous to the eyes. Getting assigned to a new psychiatrist is like getting an easy case directly handed to Aaron. However, it also means he'll have to restart his psych evaluation process, and he knows firsthand how time-consuming that is.

"But, then again, who knows? Maybe the next fella will let you slide like the others did. Or you'll have to attend a series of sessions again for a lengthy psych evaluation. I've got friends too, you know? They might do me a favor and make your life more… difficult." You're bluffing. In no way, shape, or form will you jeopardize his health, even if Aaron's the most stubborn patient you have ever met in your lifetime.

His nose flares as he stands up. You know that he's done and murdered you in his mind at the way he's glaring at you with invisible daggers, but you play it well and act blameless.

Aaron marches out of your office with blazing hatred. You watch as he dulls every vicinity he's stepped into like death taking a stroll. A part of you is apologetic to his colleagues. They'll be having one hell of a day.

Retreating back inside your office, you plop on your chair behind your desk as a heavy sigh escapes your lips.

You stare at Aaron Hotchner's patient chart.

"What am I going to do with you?" You ask rhetorically in the air.

Aaron Hotchner is—for you at least—a special case. A case so intricate you had to be careful how you'd tread the water, wary of its fragile ripples.

When Aaron's chart landed on your desk, you immediately knew that he'd be toilsome. He'd make it his goal to skip the talk and jump back onto another case. The same routine he did with his old therapists and psychologist, anyone that was able to write a note and say he's fine when he's really not—never have been for a long time.

You already had enough patients on your plate, but you just couldn't say no to your favorite Italian patient; you only had one. You're the best bureau-mandated psychiatrist. His words, not yours.

Then, again, you never fail to mentally brag about how easily you read Aaron just from his chart, his image, and the first step he took to get inside your office. You read him like an open toddler's book, a piece of cake.

During the first session, you learn how badly Aaron's last case had affected him. The intonation of his voice. The way he'd shake his hand, your hand. His scorn. His fiddling fingers.

It's amazing how he's managed to divert his anger towards you instead of the man who traumatized him.

Melodic ringing snaps you out of your trance.

Aaron Hotchner might just get what he wants.

Sunday, May 10, 11:51 PM

A sniffle tickles your nose as you lay flat on the carpet floor of your apartment.

Your face stings from tear stains, and you muse how horrid you must look after your makeup runs dry. Your chunky heels were still on. In a minute or two, you expect one of your feet to cramp.

The day has been hostile towards you.

The mind, which used to be an oasis of positive thoughts, has gone draught. Sleep begins to blur your vision, and you don't hesitate to let it take over.

Until a bombarding knock jolts you up.

"I'm here! I'm here! Calm down!" You shout as you swing the door open. A familiar man stands in front of you with a dour face. Your eyebrows narrow tightly, "Mr. Hotchner—"

"What did you write?!" Aaron badgers as he storms inside your apartment like he owns the place. He pivots on the balls of his feet once he's reached your living room, glowering at you with scalding fury. "I was relieved to know that you released me from your care and looked forward to my clearance. So, tell me why a random therapist called me this morning to confirm an appointment I didn't even know I had. What did you write on my report that I have to go through this again for the second time? Is dealing with your sick games not enough? I'm fine. I know I'm fine. I'm straight in the head to go back in the field. I aced the psych evaluation questions. Your sessions are the problem. You're the problem." His ears, face, and neck are burning red. If he's a cartoon character, you imagine he'd be steaming with smoke by now.

Quite surprised; you're standing speechless. You're watching Aaron like he's a crazy old hag yapping about the Revolutionary War and how she hates not having the power to shoot every redcoat for the sake of rage.

You head towards your sofa, taking a seat.

Aaron examines you in confusion, furrowing his brows.

After a moment, you look at him expectantly. "Don't be shy, Mr. Hotchner. By any means—" you nod towards the armchair across you, glancing back and forth between him and the empty space "—continue with your thoughts. You already started. Might as well let it all out."

He only clenches his hands inside his pockets as he bores holes into your head.

What a sad little man.

You scoff in your mind.

You lean against the back of the sofa, tilting your head to meet dagger-like brown eyes aiming at you. "No? Suit yourself, then." You shrug, feeling the soft cushions under your palms.

"Let me remind you that I'm a federal agent, and I can make your life a living hell if I want to." He threatens, glaring at you as if the twitch of his eye is enough to make you combust into thin air.

But all you see is a child on a tantrum, deprived of getting what he wants.

"Answer my question. What. Did. You. Write?" He growls.

Silence coats the two of you.

His heavy breathing fills the deafening air. Your nonchalance fuels his hatred more than ever and the sentiment is beginning to emit from both ends. It takes a lot out of you to think of multiple ways to sprinkle some salty sense onto him without stinging his wounds.

One thing you learned well enough in time is how good Aaron is when pushing someone's buttons. A perk of his prosecutor days and seasoned by his bureau career.

He's just troubled.

He's just in denial of his own pain.

You chant the words in your head—uncertain of its purpose. Detachment ironically detaches from your senses like old velcro.

"You're not the first agent in my office, Mr. Hotchner. And frankly, you should be thanking me for taking you in. Unlike your old therapists, I actually read through your chart and took the time to understand you to the best of my ability. I cared—" Shocked as he is, your eyes subtly widen.

Before you can continue Aaron speaks over you, "I do not care about your pity. What I wanted was for you to do your damn job and clear me back to work. But that's just little to no pay for a shrink, isn't it? You need messed up people to stay messed up so they can continue knocking on your door." A clear hint of a demeaning smirk flashes across his face.

The sheer irreverence makes you dizzy. The calm snaps, banishing kindness and composure out the window. And rage knocks on your door.

"That's the problem. You don't care. You don't care about yourself." Your tone is sharp—stern.

You knew. You knew from the moment his file thudded on your wooden desk. The moment SSA David Rossi charmed his way to get your favor. You know that Aaron Hotchner does what he believes is right. Not because the unit chief title has gotten in his head. No. Not the slightest. But because he only cares about his values and people.

And you're neither.

It's not you to hold grudges. So, you had it down and set before you accepted Rossi's request. You had it tattooed in your mind that no matter how sharp-tongued and insensitive the man before you might be, he's still just a man under the weight of the world's greatest horrors.

You cannot break. You're not allowed to break.

Pieces of you shatter at the realization that some patients under your care inevitably slip away from your fingers. How your promised oath to do no harm did nothing—not enough to stop the monsters that haunt the world. Not enough to stop you, Aaron's psychiatrist, from dumping your own frustration onto him the same way he's currently doing to you.

But you're not Aaron's psychiatrist today. You're not anything today. You're not on the clock. And no one except Aaron—to your demise—will ever witness such an ugly sight. If ever he shuts up about his dilemma, that is.

"I did my job exactly as I should." You declare, licking the bottom of your lips. Damned the Hippocratic Oath. You wonder if the healing gods will forgive you.

You really shouldn't say the words that are about to leave your mouth, but you've been taking whatever hostility he's got for the last two months; the capacity has reached its limit. A little bit of harshness wouldn't hurt, would it?

"When are you going to admit that the reason you can't sleep at night is not because of all the serial killers you claim I prevent you from catching?" You finally stand. You are a few inches shorter, yet you have never felt taller than you do right now.

You grit your teeth as you move closer to Aaron, almost a breath away, tiptoeing. "When will you admit that the mighty SSA Aaron Hotchner, unit chief, doesn't blink, not once, because he's afraid he'd become the very thing he promised to put away." You raise your brows, challenging him.

Aaron's face morphs into bewilderment and perturbation. His brows are sewn shut. His jawline pops out as he grinds his teeth.

Resentment. Fury. Vexation. Chagrin.

All Aaron felt was anger.

Antagonized.

A walking tower of pure acrimony, finger-pointing towards the innocent.

"Don't you dare compare me to those— I'm anything but." He towers over you, losing his words through the stream of lividity flooding all over his senses.

"Do you really believe that?"

Aaron studies your face. It's different. It's raw and maimed. A squeeze of guilt whispers, but he shoves it quickly.

"What did you write?" He asks once more, earning a scoff out of you.

You step back, staring straight into his glare. Crossed arms tight against your chest. Brows rest over your deadpan eyes.

"While SSA Aaron Hotchner is proficient at his skills and rather placid in physically and mentally challenging situations, I strongly recommend further evaluation in psychotherapy as his emotional capacity is at its limits. The stress accumulated from the job itself has given him little to no time to allow himself the indulgence to properly process certain impacts of the stimulus he encounters on the job. Will update after further observation. Is what I wrote… so far."

You pause.

"Aaron Hotchner is an insufferable, pompous idiot who's afraid of nothing but himself. He is incapable of stepping off his pedestal and refuses to cooperate while complaining about the consequences he himself caused. He has been through enormous trauma. It will be torture to try and help him cope properly. I do not want him in my care as he is a danger to his own progress, and I don't want any part of it. Is what I wanted to write."

Silence.

For him to reflect.

For you to breathe.

Aaron's frozen before you. A pale statue bleached under the moon's harsh reality. Words that used to be superficial insecurities float in the wind of truth, forming into a cage he's sentenced for life.

Your fuse still runs—a long time coming from two months of his deliberate disrespect. The silence annoys you, so you break it. "Excuse my hostility. No one's invaded my privacy and barged into my household at such an unreasonable hour before." The impassive smile on your lips can haunt anyone.

Maybe you've gone too far.

Maybe it's evil to say such blunt things to someone fragile.

But Aaron started the countdown. He lit the fuse. Now, you're exploding right before his eyes, reaping what he sowed. And he's forced to eat up all the debris.

His eyes twitch, scanning your face for any sign of bluff, any sign of fallacy. Any sign that he successfully pissed you off and your words were nothing but overwhelmed impulse.

"I—" he closes his mouth, then agape. Any sign. Aaron will take anything besides the forthright expression on your face. He inhales, "I'm sorry." The sound dies before it can roll off his tongue.

It's like watching a bully shrink into the tiniest man who's ever lived.

Okay, maybe you were a little bit brutal.

You gulp as guilt creeps along your veins, wishing that someone out there would just do you both a favor and snipe you out before the embarrassment settles.

Drawing in a gentle breath, you take another step back from Aaron with a delicate voice, "You're not starting a new evaluation, but you're not done either. I transferred you under someone else's care because of personal reasons. My life doesn't revolve around you, Mr. Hotchner. So, if you have nothing else to say, go home." Your eyes drift to the vast selection of objects in your living room to diffuse the growing pity you can't help but harbor.

Only then does Aaron discern his impulsivity. Internally arguing with himself as he allows himself to look at you. One thing he's never done since the moment he met you with screwed brows and unwavering bias. His gaze instantly softens like a thick fog around him finally dissipates. Like he's achieved a clearer vision.

The first thing he notices is the state of your face. The dry mascara that drew faded stripes down your cheeks. Your puffy eyes are now faint pink, but he recalls them being red when he arrived.

Then Aaron brings his attention to your black dress. It's a simple formal, mesh midi dress, but he admits how it elegantly fits you. But he doesn't say it aloud because there's only one reason why you'd wear such an article of depressing clothing.

As if your words and his own realizations aren't enough, he gets a glimpse of the clock on your wall that reads 12:03 AM.

His blood suddenly stops flowing—skin clammy and pale. Aaron's lightheaded from guilt and penitence.

Without another word, you lead him towards the door, swinging it open. The past 24 hours already drained you, and Aaron just about made it fifty times worse. All you wanted was to get a shuteye.

Aaron swallows the shame and makes his way out. Before he leaves, though, he turns to face you once more. Genuine curiosity pinches his brows.

"Why didn't you just clear me out like the others did if I was such a difficult case?" The word tastes bitter in his mouth. What used to be a desired flavor turned rotten on his palette.

He asks with utter softness, leaving you skeptical to respond.

"Same reason why you kept attending my sessions even though you clearly hated it." You slightly close the door, only leaving enough space for the two of you to see each other.

He looks at you like the answer's all over your face but written in some foreign language he's not familiar with. Aaron barely opens his mouth when you answer the question in his mind.

"You needed a place where you can just be."

The door shuts.

Friday, June 19, 11:02 PM

"I didn't know where to go."

You pore at Aaron Hotchner with nothing but a flimsy robe to prevent his imagination from going rampant—and dirty.

It's eleven in the evening. It's been one month since you last saw him. It's been a month since he barged into your apartment like an entitled brat. It's been a month since you let your emotions take over. It's been a month since the two of you revealed parts of yourselves either of you don't dare think of.

A month and no contact.

You didn't wonder; just hoped and prayed that Aaron finally finds it in him to let go of the emotional turmoil that's torturing the soul out of his body.

Sighing, you step aside and let him in, closing the door behind you like it's normal to stop by one's ex-psychiatrist's apartment in the middle of the night without prior notice and, most importantly, without meter to run the minutes he's inconveniencing you.

Aaron walks in, and the heavy humidity of arousal immediately hits him.

Oh.

Well...

If he had something to say, Aaron kept his mouth shut. He is at fault for driving straight to your place like he's your bestest friend. So, he doesn't mention it, ignoring the fact that you're barely clothed.

Besides, after your last interaction with him, Aaron's certain he didn't have any prerogative in how you'd like to spend your Friday evening.

"Take a seat. I'll be with you in a minute." Your steps are light behind him—feet nimbly grazing the wooden floor.

He turns to face you but quickly averts his gaze to avoid the glistening sight of your thighs. "Thank you..." He does his best to sound normal, choking in between syllables.

Aaron begins to regret his decision. Though, not enough to leave your place.

You disappear in the corner of the hallway. Allowing Aaron to finally release the breath he didn't know he was holding.

With you out of sight, his mind deliberately wanders...

What were you doing?

Aaron shakes his head vigorously like a worm under a storm of salt. The thought is undiscovered—untouched territory, forbidden to be exact. Should he form such thoughts, he'll do it somewhere else or rather about someone else.

Just as he caters to the sudden dizziness caused by his action, a man, half-dressed, walks past him, cursing under his breath and buttoning his shirt. Aaron's eyes widen a little, keeping his stoic face.

Oh, that's what you were doing.

Ick—as Aaron would like to call your visitor—had brown and curly, unruly hair. He was tall and definitely had a face, which, Aaron assumes, is nothing like the one he envisioned you're attracted to.

Somehow not a pleasant discovery compared to what he attempted to imagine—you, alone.

Ick looks at Aaron with a scoff echoing out of his throat, "Oh, what a surprise! She's a slut." He states smugly.

"Or she just wants someone better." The words spill out without hesitation, fired on sight. Aaron doesn't know where the boldness came from as he leans against the seat with a cocky smirk on his face. Definitely no more perplexed than the uncertainty of anger boiling inside of him. He glares at the man either way.

The man scoffs again before leaving with a couple more insults that Aaron thinks he's lucky to whisper, or your visitor would've left your apartment in an ambulance.

Ick slams the door, shaking the vase on the accent chest by the entrance.

Where did that come from?

He's questionably not as big of a hater as he was before, but Aaron can't determine the motivation that made him act the way he just did with a person who has business with you, which he should have no interest in.

Moments later, you come back, fully clothed, in an oversized hoodie and a pair of wide-leg linen pants. Comfy and a 180 contrast on how you dress at work, plus the garments you had on minutes ago.

You make a beeline to your kitchen, "Water or scotch?" You holler out, opening cabinets with a creek on their hinges.

The question is rhetorical. You place a glass with brown liquid glinting under the warm ambient light on the coffee table in front of Aaron, then plop on the armchair across from him, catering your own glass.

He stares between you and the glass while you kiss yours, never breaking your gaze. You hum in delight, making a popping sound with your lips.

Aaron opens his mouth and then closes it, falling into a cycle like a fish underwater. How should he explain himself? How does one explain why they're bothering their ex-psychiatrist past working hours? After making a scene a month ago? He swallows the thick void in his throat.

"Don't talk, just drink. Sit here for an hour. Then, go home." You say, opening up a book that's been sitting on the table since he arrived.

Aaron feels a surge of relief. He reaches for the drink and lets the smoky taste trail down his throat without hesitation. He wouldn't have guessed you as a fan of scotch—or anything not clear or fruity. This is the first he's seen you without some sort of filter he can't read through, and the observation prints you under a new light.

The silence comforts him. The occasional scrape of paper against paper with each flip of a page provides him reassurance. The company he finds within your presence gives him solace.

You let him be. Asked no questions, reading in peace like he was just any other friend who needed company.

He does as you said. Indulging in the hour of tranquility and stillness. His nerves tame. And he forgets why he went to you in the first place.

Why did he go to you?

Of all people. Of all the friends he brags about. The family he cherishes. His feet dragged—drove him to you.

The onerous unit chief chose to wander to your front door, sipping scotch as he enjoyed the silence and absence of others' guilting worry and constant craving to make him feel better when all he wanted was peace and letting the ache pass in gradual acceptance.

By the end of the hour, you call him a cab with the instructions for him to pick up his car the next day.

Aaron slept effortlessly that night.

Saturday, October 24, 9:24 PM

Aaron expected some sort of rejection or for you to slam the door close, or worse, ignore him as soon as you see his face through the peephole.

One can only tolerate a couple of unannounced visits from an insufferable ex-patient, right? He's surprised you haven't called the cops on him.

He skims your face for any sign of irritation or annoyance as soon as you reveal yourself behind your door, standing next to it to give him way. Aaron saw nothing but impatience.

You knit your brows, slightly tilting your head at his frozen build outside the frame of your door. "Well? Are you stuck or something? Get in, Hotchner—" You turn before you can even finish talking, disappearing down the small entryway.

He turns deaf for a moment. Your voice rings in his ears as if a bomb had just popped the only working drum he had left.

Hotchner.

Agent.

Mister—

Just Hotchner.

One simple change, and the light above your head suddenly looks brighter.

Like he's found something good. Something he can say he knows. Something he can trust(?)

"Don't forget to take your shoes off and shut the door!" You holler from the living room—unfazed.

Aaron flinches, snapping out of his trance. He wonders where you'd gone to, furrowing his brows, and yet enters your apartment with the permission you'd given him. He closes the door, pivoting on the soles of his dress shoes as he tentatively takes them off per your instructions.

He emerges back in your peripheral while you stare at the screen on your laptop, blue-filtered glasses back on. Your fingers hammer on the keys, soft sighs slipping past your lips every once in a while.

You glance at Aaron when his figure stays at the corner of your eye, cupping a coffee mug between your hands. "There's fresh coffee if you'd like. Are you hungry? I don't usually eat dinner, so I have nothing ready to eat, but I can whip something up." You blow over the surface of caffeine, and steam wafts on the tip of your nose.

"No—" He shakes his head, scoffing in confusion, "I'm sorry—"

"Apology accepted," You muffle into the mug.

Aaron's brows connect tighter, and his forehead creases. He looks at you like he's under an illusion, a hypnotic dream he can't quite distinguish.

"Hold on," He hoists his hand up as if to pause a scene in the movie. "I'm very confused. What is going on? Why are you being… casual and nice?"

"You say it like I'm incapable of human decency." Your back makes contact with the cushion of your sofa, pulling your legs close to your chest while one hand holds the handle of your mug. You roll your eyes when Aaron only stares at you, "Are you uncomfortable? Do you want to leave?"

Aaron shakes his head.

"Problem solved, then?" Confusion is still fresh on his blank face. You mentally smack your forehead. "There are patients who lack temporal sense, but turning them away when they clearly need immediate tending to would be a form of negligence on my part. So, feel at home." You theatrically stretch your arms, offering every corner of your space as his own.

"But I'm not your patient anymore. I've been back on duty for weeks." Aaron informs. Although he finds a place for his go bag on your floor.

If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he's about to stay for a sleepover—coming to your apartment late at night.

You wrinkle your nose, "Okay?" You look around as if someone else is in the room with you two. "Is that why you went here? You wanted to brag?"

Three months.

Aaron's been back to his usual routine for the past three months. And it's been four since he drank scotch on the very couch you're comfortably in.

A chuckle.

The sound tickles your ears, filling you with unexpected pride.

"No," Aaron shakes his head as the chuckle resonates through his chest. "I… I don't really know why I came here, if I'm being honest." He swallows air.

You nod, setting your laptop back on your lap. "Like I said, you're free to feel at home. Scotch is in the third cupboard. Coffee's in the pot. I've got some stuff to take care of, so help yourself." Your eyes are already fixed on the screen, hands jumping from one key to the other.

With your permission, Aaron ventures into your kitchen. Neat. Clean. Cozy. He somehow imagines you cooking as a hobby.

He settles for coffee. Asking you from the kitchen island if you'd like a refill—which you took without a thought, hoisting your cup up—and taking out a couple of his files to get a head start on his paperwork. He wasn't allowed to bring them outside the bureau's building, but it didn't matter at the moment.

Your apartment becomes a haven.

Aaron, for the first time in years, feels comfortable to slouch. He had no collection of when and how, but turns out he'd changed into a quarter-zip and one of his pajamas tucked in his go bag through the hours.

The two of you silently took care of your own thing until 1 AM strikes, and a yawn pulls you back into the earth.

You turn your head towards the kitchen to find Aaron scribbling over your kitchen island. He's sipping coffee—a fresh batch he made not long ago.

Stretching, you make your way past him. After placing the mug into the sink, you lean against it, crossing your arms as you stare at him. "Ten."

"What's that?" Aaron halts on his seat, lifting his head to look at you.

"I'm granting you ten visits," You announce.

"And that means?.."

Your face deadpans, and he does well at stifling a smile. "You can come here whenever you want—need, but only for ten free visits. It doesn't matter if it's late, too early, or unreasonable. I'm allowing you to knock on my door whenever you need. Any more than that, you have to attend my sessions in my office, where I get paid."

"What's the catch?" Aaron entwines his eyebrows, straightening his back as he props on the edge of the counter.

"No catch. Just one condition," You shift your weight on your other leg, "Don't come empty-handed. Food, drink, things, a person, anything. Bring something." Your brows hang on your forehead, anticipating any type of response.

Aaron weighs his choices. Calculated every possible outcome and benefit. He meets your eyes again. Index and thumb rubbing the growing stubble on his chin.

"Ten's a good number," He says as he nods.

Wednesday, March 2, 7:31 PM

Eleven months pass by in the blink of an eye.

It's the seventh time Aaron showed up without warning, and by this point in whatever acquaintance you two had, you aren't fazed or surprised anymore.

The fourth time he knocked on your door, he was carrying a hefty price of whiskey. An odd reason for a psychiatrist and a former patient to bond with, but you had no qualms about sipping neat whiskey that night.

At first, he stayed for an hour. Then, an hour turned into three. One time, a case hit too deep, and three became seven, but that only happened once—all you remember was a Wednesday night.

"Are you okay?"

Gentle sighs escape shivering lips. Tears pooling deep inside sockets.

One sharp sniff breaks it all.

You sob under Aaron's worried eyes as your grip on the knob almost snaps it off the door.

His brows twists and he reflexively yanks you by the back of your head into his chest, bringing you out of your apartment and into the complex's hallway.

"What happened?" He carefully inquires while he rests his chin atop your head.

You're a mess in his arms. Uncontrollable whimpers muffled in his soaked chest.

Aaron suggested that you two step inside for more privacy and heat, but he didn't complain when you two stayed frozen in the end of winter evening.

When it stops. The suffocating ache. You lightly push yourself off him, wiping the leftover tears off your cheeks—half of it already dampened his shirt.

Fifty-three minutes and seventeen seconds.

You cried to the point of dehydration.

"Sorry," you mutter, eyes down. "We should go inside if we don't want to catch hypothermia." You sniffle.

"Oh, we don't want that," Aaron attempts to joke, closely observing whether you'd react to it.

You didn't.

He closes the door behind him, following your figure as you practically drag yourself to your unofficial designated spot on the sofa.

"I know I'm the last person you'd want to hear this from, but would you like to talk about it?" He bites his inner cheek.

Nothing.

You only mold yourself into a ball.

Aaron hesitates whether to stay or leave you alone. It's true that you said he's welcome anytime, but you're definitely in no condition to entertain his own problems when you can't even look him in the eye the way you would, no matter how insufferable he is.

But he can't just leave you by yourself either. Nothing is stopping him, but he's not cold-blooded enough.

"It's not easy," Aaron fractures out of his trance at the sound of your small voice. You look at him with a tight-lipped smile. "This job, I mean."

You inhale a sharp breath, tucking your lower lip between your teeth. "I can be hopeful, positive, supportive… Everything to prove that a better life is possible, but at the end of the day, it's not my choice." You wryly chuckle. "It's the patient's. It's your decision to want to feel better. To want to change. To want to live—" You choke, and the tears flow once more.

"It's not about me, but I can't help feeling like a failure." Sobs spill off your lips, gasping for air. "I was supposed to make everything better. I was supposed to heal everyone and save everyone from whatever monster was hurting them. She said she's never felt so much better. She said it's the first time she felt so peaceful for years, Hotchner. She said she was looking forward to our next session. But she just… I didn't—" You gulp—struggling. "I didn't catch it. I didn't catch her lie. And hours later, I get a call from her mother telling me she— she died." Your hands shakily clasp your mouth to push the sobs back, but you fail.

Aaron doesn't know what to say.

But he knows what to feel.

He knows it well.

The guilt. The shame of never living up to your own promise. The pain of losing someone you swore to keep safe.

Then, it hits him like a wrecking ball.

How difficult of a patient was he before?

Has he ever made you cry before?

It's a stretch that you'd ever shed a tear over his stubbornness, but Aaron hopes you never did.

Because he's never seen anyone care so much despite getting all the hate. Despite taking all the blame. You stood your ground and became other people's foundation. You became their comfort.

You became the only thing that gave him serenity.

With the little time he's known you—a total of 43 genuine friendly hours—Aaron can testify in heaven that they had mistakenly dropped you into the earth. And he's never felt blessed to have someone like you. Never felt lucky enough to find someone with who he could feel broken as much as he could but never needed to save face.

So, he's heartbroken for you. And guilty that more than half of the time you'd known him, he made your passion a miserable experience.

And also guilty of developing feelings for you.

Saturday, August 13, 4:16 PM

"I'm not playing favorites, but your tech analyst definitely deserves better than being cooped up in the bureau's building." You say, plopping on the sofa with a soft bounce and a squeak from the coil spring.

Aaron hands you a glass of bourbon while sipping his own. Eyes fixated on the board on your coffee table. "I have no other choice. It's the only way to keep her safe. Unless you're willing to adopt her, I don't want to hear it." He chuckles, connecting his brows at the sight of your winning streak.

You two are playing Scrabble. It was Monopoly twenty minutes ago, but along the lines, you learned how butt-hurt a six-foot and two-inch man can get. Not an enlightening experience. It would have been two stars if you had to rate it.

So, you switched to Scrabble.

And Aaron is losing again.

Boy, were you so entertained.

He just came back from a fairly short case from Los Angeles. The case is not heavy or mentally draining—according to Aaron, but Jack's at a two-day sleepover, and Aaron has no idea how to spend the rest of his day—turning down Derek Morgan's and David Rossi's invitation to grab a drink at O'Keefe's with you in mind.

Aaron leans on the back of his seat. You don't know when your reclining armchair became his designated seat, but you noticed how lax he is in it and didn't question it further.

Months and months of relaxing stillness in your home—only ever full of bizarre surprises and irresistible joy whenever Aaron knocks at your door. With no means of communication or ever seeing each other at either workplace, Aaron's visits are welcomed but never fully anticipated. Thrilling.

Spelling the word 'loser' on the board with triple points, you bite the tissue inside your lower lip. "Maybe you can play Scrabble with her. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky and win." You grin smugly at him.

Aaron gapes at you with a mixture of disbelief and merriment. He looks down on the flat entertainment, then back to you as he blinks. "You're cheating." He declares, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

A hearty laugh Aaron's never heard before roars out of you, and it's melodic to his ears. The meringue light spills through the forgotten open blinds of your window, painting your face with a dreamy filter. Aaron feels dizzy at the sight.

Your smile is contagious, and out of nowhere, his heart starts to pick up as if he'd caught whatever illness your radiant lips had by only staring at it. The loose hair over your forehead frames your face differently—different good. Like you'd been glowing, and the watts in your core mysteriously increased, so you're as bright as the sun and as warm as its light.

"You're just a sore loser. Suck it up, Hotchner." You shake with mirth, casually running dainty fingers along the curve of your ear.

"Aaron," He blurts too fast, too soon—too late to take back.

With a nonchalant shrug, you rephrase, "Suck. It. Up. Aaron." Much more emphasis and friskiness.

You tease him more about his lack of greatness in board games compared to his undeniable talent in every case the BAU encountered. But Aaron's already dazed by your lips calling his name.

Without either of you realizing it, 4 PM became AM.

Talk about abusing one's privileges. Aaron's moderately good at that. You conclude he's simply a strutting opportunist.

After the longest winning streak you've ever had in your life, you and Aaron decided to take a much-needed break and fell into silent reading—or, in your case, grooming your schedule for the next five months.

Midnight strikes along the grumble of Aaron's stomach. You two were too quiet. It echoed all over your apartment. Both of you fell into an obstreperous fit of laughter for another hour, stopping for a minute in between only to laugh some more as soon as you met each other's eyes.

Now, it's four in the morning. You're busy munching on Chinese takeout from a 24-hour restaurant Aaron called in. He claims he has handsome privilege courtesy of the owner, which you mockingly laughed at, to his dismay.

"I'm still terrified." He blurts.

The case must've been very difficult, then. He lied yesterday. However, at this point in your friendship, you expect him to do so, even if it's obvious.

You'd long given up on coaxing Aaron to talk about the case that brought him to your office. Or any other cases that got him knocking on your door at the most unreasonable hour. You thought that the best you could offer him was the comfort that no matter how beaten up he looked, you'd ask no questions and let him sort his boggled mind until he was ready to talk about it.

Looks like tonight's the moment. It only took more than a year, so it is not a big deal—to either of you, at least.

He looks at you when you remain quiet, silently asking for your permission. You nod, and he continues, "What Peter Lewis did to me was terrorizing. I always wonder whether I'm making the right decision or sending my agents straight to their deaths. I second guess. I'm scared that a part of him is still in my head, driving me to make a fatal mistake." Aaron starts playing with his food, poking an orange chicken with his chopsticks.

The memory brings a tangy taste to his tongue, and Aaron can't help but cringe. It's the first time he's ever talked about Peter Lewis. Granted, Aaron spoke about the event numerous times but never about how it made him feel. Never how it broke him.

Is it weird to say you're a little proud of Aaron?

Of course, you don't tell him that. Not out loud. You know he knows you're proud of him. And that's enough said.

With a few audible chews—caused by a carrot bit stuck between your teeth—that somehow doesn't piss Aaron off, you swallow the food and draw your lips into a thin line. You place the chopsticks on the side, wiping the rim of your mouth.

You know he's watching you. Anticipatingly waiting for a response for anything other than the silence he's accustomed to.

"Breathe," You gently instruct, clear enough for him to hear but not too loud for Aaron to jump in shock.

And he does.

His shoulder blades rise and fall into a soft rhythm. Aaron was holding his breath, and you knew. Of course, you knew.

"Do you know the purpose of defense mechanisms?" You quiz him, earning a nod from Aaron, and yet no following answer. "You were already mad at me even before we met. And for what? Nothing concrete, I'm sure."

Aaron was about to object, but you raised your hand to stop him, "I'm not trying to attack you. All I'm saying is that rather than being in denial, you displaced your frustration on someone else less threatening—me."

Silence.

"I'm sorry—"

"I'm not done, shush!" You close your fist to mute him, cutting him off.

Aaron subtly rolls his eyes. He started doing so on his fifth visit when Aaron brought Jack and a few video games.

He told you that Jack's heard about your interest in a couple of games and wanted to play with you, but you know damn well Aaron bought the game for himself. Nonetheless, you entertained them by teaming up with Jack and obliterating Aaron. He vowed never to play against you ever again, at least not to your face.

"I would never know the pain and suffering that you went through. And somehow, even with that fact, a part of your life was in the palm of my hand. You had no control, but I did. So, instead of understanding the why, you hated the wrong who. And it's okay."

You take a sip from your straw, and a bubbly sensation fills you. Your tongue glides over your lips as you lean against the counter. "In short, for a man who's been through a lot, you know how to cope." A shrug ends your sentence, grabbing another bite of chow mein on your plate.

"Yeah, right," Aaron scoffs. The sincerity in your voice sparks something in him. It's giddy and tempting. But he can't possibly show the smile that's itching to spread his lips.

But his nonchalance may have triggered something in you because Aaron doesn't expect your next move. His neck felt like a snapped glow stick after you manually turned his head to face you—grabbing him by the space between his neck and chin. Aaron widens his eyes in the process.

"Listen here, you stubborn poopy head." You start, forehead creasing.

Aaron badly wanted to poke fun at your poor, intimidating skills, but he realized you didn't need any pointers just by the glare in your eyes.

"Peter Lewis got to your head, but that doesn't mean you were weak to let him. Yes, you fought through the influence of the drug heroically. Yes, you saved your agents and, most importantly, yourself. But it's still okay to be scared. It's okay that you feel broken. Who says broken things aren't great?"

It might be the sleep deprivation that's hitting Aaron, but he's very much enjoying your little fuse. How your words meant nothing like how you sound.

"That silver watch of yours—" you glance at his wrist "—has been broken for years, but I bet if you pawn it, it'll be more valuable than me. Antiques are expensive because they have unique histories. They survived beaten up, scratched, damaged, but still as beautiful as ever."

You're rambling, explaining more than you need to. Felt obligated to drill in his mind that despite the bad things, Aaron remains good. You're uncertain—clueless—as to why you felt the need to prove his praiseworthy, almost as if you're trying to convince yourself rather than him.

"From my observation, you're a sharper profiler despite all the things you went through. A part of you suffered and died in that house and many houses before. Of course, you'll be broken. You're a human being, Aaron. Act like one for Pete's sake!"

"I don't know whether you're being nice or mean." He chuckles with a mischievous grin, marveling at the way your eyes narrow as you look at him.

"I liked you better when you didn't talk." You tut, rolling your eyes.

For a moment, your senses heighten, and the simple brush of his hand against the skin over your wrist, as he takes your hold off him, sends billions of electricity throughout your body.

Aaron smiles—genuinely. "Thank you," He says softly, clearing his throat. His hand is still tight around your wrist. "You simply could've slammed the door the first time I knocked, but you always let me in. I appreciate you tolerating me."

You laugh, retracting your hands off his skin before you melt in his grasp. "I did not let you in the first time. You barged in like I'm some fugitive." You fix your posture on the stool beneath you, looking away.

His chuckle wakes the butterflies in your stomach, and you shove them right back down by stuffing your mouth with food.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the time, "Y-you better go home and change before your son wonders why his father smells like Chinese food for Sunday brunch. Jack's a big fan of good 'ole syrupy pancakes, there's a good one by the bureau's building. Better hurry up and pick him up." It's amazing how much you almost choked and stuttered as you spoke, hoping that Aaron wouldn't question the way your demeanor changed.

Aaron takes one last bite before towering next to you, "Let me clean up. It's the least I can do for imposing half of your weekend." He insists, swiping the styrofoam off your hands.

"Glad you got manners," You nod approvingly, earning another chuckle from him, making sure you gave him enough space to move around without brushing any part of your body, or you wouldn't know what the brewing feeling in your chest would make you do.

You mindlessly peer at Aaron's broad shoulders and dark hair that looks so soft you wonder if it'll melt with your touch. You blink, catching yourself mid-swoon.

After a few minutes, Aaron bids you goodbye and you wish him well, asking to relay a short message to Jack.

"I think you're only nice to me because of Jack," He jokes, pivoting on the heel of his shoes to get one last glimpse of you.

You give him a tight smile, raising your brows as you shrug.

One visit left.

Thursday, May 5, 12:51 PM

The news said Mr. Scratch escaped prison. Peter Lewis is out and about, no doubt, planning serious harm against Aaron. You turn the TV off. The image shrinks into a small diamond spark 'til it leaves a dark screen.

Ninety-eight beats per minute are your normal, but you surmise it's about a hundred and twelve at the moment as your mind anxiously ruminates your not-so-favorite-unofficial patient's well-being.

You glance at your phone, debating whether to give him a call, but even if you gain the guts to do so, you don't have his number. Who knew that refusing personal contacts would backfire? Aaron can knock anytime, you said. It doesn't matter whether he texts or calls before, you said.

Now, you have no means of contacting him, and you refuse to resort to his ways—going through his file like he went through yours.

It's a shitty feeling.

You keep your fingers as far away from your mouth as possible, afraid you'll bite your nails to its quick. If Aaron was with you, he'd say something annoyingly witty about how your anxiety's too easy to read, and you'd be bantering back a remark about his tells that not many notice but sure slightly pisses him off that you know him like the back of your hand.

Eyes dart in the direction of your entryway, waiting for any distinctive sound only Aaron makes whenever he closes the door like a teenager coming home past curfew.

"This is driving me crazy!" You ruffle your own hair, rubbing your face in frustration.

Tempted to wait outside your door for Aaron to arrive, in need of a company. A once-in-a-lifetime bone-crushing hug, given by yours truly. Or open up the 1997 Old Forester bourbon on top of your shelf that Aaron's been eyeing for a year.

You need to know if he's okay. You need to see that he's okay. Physically, mentally, and emotionally okay.

No one ever knocked.

Friday, November 18, 2:33 PM

"Aren't you curious?"

You look at Rossi, "About?" Your eyebrows pinch together. You backtrack the entire session in your mind, trying to remember if there is anything you are supposed to be curious about.

There's none.

Rossi turns to face you, a hand emerging out of his pocket. "You're not curious where he's been? I've known him for years, and I've never been more curious about his whereabouts 'til now." The hand waves around as each syllable flows, and slices the air every emphasis he makes like a conductor of his emotions.

He usually talks with his hand whenever he's emotionally troubled, attempting to make a point to himself, justifying that his feelings are reasonable.

David Rossi has been your patient for years; you can write any and everything about him into a best-selling book.

"You said it yourself, Dave," You shrugged with your arms. "You've known him for years. He and I saw each other a couple of times during our physician-patient interaction. Any interaction we had after is just the two of us drowning in silence."

Aaron never knocked that day.

He hasn't redeemed his last visit for the past five months. While it isn't the longest time he's never stopped by, you're bitter about it.

You couldn't sleep for a week after Peter Lewis escaped prison. You were afraid that Aaron's name would flash across any type of screen or mark a headline on every article and newspaper. You had to take anxiety medication to stop your body from trembling whenever the thought of him crossed your mind.

It was hell.

The utter hopelessness and lack of courage teared you apart. The strangeness. The nonexistence. You don't reckon a conversation with Aaron that involves you and him. Only you or him or whatever depressing topic comes up. You're not even sure if you had actual conversations. Always wallowing in silence while sipping either scotch or coffee.

But you two had a deal. No catch. Not even feelings. Developing one for Aaron did not cross your mind when you granted him the power to bother you at any running time.

All of it is to say you wish you had known Aaron's last visit was, in fact, the last.

Rossi squints, "You're telling me the quietness you shared didn't matter? That his company didn't benefit you the same way it did for him?" He stands tall, pleased with his words.

It did.

Of course, it did.

And you loved every second of it.

Even if you realize it too late.

But you won't say that to Rossi. Or to anyone ever.

A sigh drops your shoulders. You give him a blank stare, letting his question hover for a moment. "What do you want me to say?" You continue packing up your things on your desk, breaking eye contact.

If you knew David Rossi like the back of your hand, David Rossi knew you like every family of the victims he managed to save.

Worried.

Heartbroken.

Hurt.

Aaron never told Rossi about any interactions with you after he was released from your care. It's information Rossi's only ever heard a confirmation from you. But he knew it from the moment Aaron came to work after his first session with you and couldn't seem to get the specific idea of you out of his head.

"We're doing everything we can to catch Peter Lewis. Aaron will be back, I promise."

Pause.

You fight your every single sense to remain composed. Hearing Aaron's name instantly made you crumble. The sound of it hitting your chest with such force you had to bite the tissue behind your closed lip. You badly wanted—needed to cry and throw a tantrum.

The inner ends of your brows lift up as you nod, "Good for you... and for him. I'll see you in two weeks, Dave." You dismiss, walking around your desk to push him out of your office.

"Wait, wait! Just listen!" You retract your hands off his back and let him face you. "He's okay. He and Jack are safe somewhere I, unfortunately, don't know." He tries to meet your gaze—successful. "But! But that's a good thing. Not knowing where he is while in protective custody is good. Safe. I just thought you'd want to know."

You nod, "Certainly a good information, Dave. But not really necessary." Your tongue subtly swipes the bottom of your lips. "Aa—Agent Hotchner was a patient. Anything outside of that is not my business." Liar.

Rossi tucks his mouth into a thin line, nodding. "See you in two weeks, kid."

Tuesday, March 27, 6:12 PM

It's a nice Spring.

Your hair dances like the breeze is music as you trudge back to your apartment against the rush hour sidewalk traffic.

A year and a half.

You moved to a different place since then.

Moved on— from something that never existed, but really, your old complex just ran out of business.

You couldn't possibly move on, even if you wanted to.

"Good evening, Mrs. Willows," You smile at the old lady as she steps on the base of the stairs.

Mrs. Willows was old, close to ninety. And she's the best landlady you've ever met.

She smiles back, "Oh, just in time!" She waddles towards you, scraping the soles of her flats against the creaky floorboards.

"Did you need anything, Mrs—"

The old lady doesn't let you finish when she yanks you back up the stairs. Confusion fills you, but if you are being honest, you're more amazed by her speed. You didn't know it was possible for her to have that much energy.

"There's this handsome boy knocking at your door earlier. So, I let him in."

You dig your feet on one of the steps, halting her. "Mrs. Willows, you let a stranger in my house?" Your brows knit.

She looks at you, "Well, I figured it's one of your patients." She shrugs.

"I wasn't expecting any home visit today." You announce, peeking at the top of the stairs. "And I would've been home if there was…"

You excuse yourself, cautiously walking towards your door. The floor plan is different from your old apartment. But everything still felt the same.

The anxiety of a random stranger going through your place left you rushing to the living room. You don't exactly let any random patient inside your home. It's usually the profilers that seem to have a liking to you that lucked the privilege to visit your home at any given time.

"I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to set an appointment at the clinic—" you abruptly stop, blinking.

Aaron Hotchner.

He's sat on the armchair, only lifting his gaze after he'd closed the book you were reading before you decided to step out to run some errands.

He is wearing a navy blue quarter zip sweater and a white shirt, peeking from under. It's paired with loose-fitting gray casual pants. Like his closet had an upset stomach and threw up all over him.

The bags under his eyes are almost invisible. It used to be a tint of greenish purple. A proof of his late nights and stressful days. He's caught up with sleep for a while now.

His hair, a little longer than you're accustomed to, somehow made him look young and boyish. Probably why Mrs. Willows referred to him as a boy.

It's quite an image. Not one you'd expect to see upon opening your front door, but you mentally admit liking it.

He looks refreshing and well-rested.

"I heard you started your own practice?" He didn't mean to form it as a question, tongue-tied by nervousness. He flashes an awkward, subtle smile, dipping his hands into his pockets.

Your lashes flutter like butterflies gliding through the soft wind of Spring, except you're struggling to go against the breeze, winded by the city pollution.

"H-have you eaten?" You ask, snapping out of your trance as you head to the kitchen. Great. A question for a question. You're as nervous as he is, and you don't feel the need to hide it, though you aren't inclined to admit it.

He chuckles, and it still makes you melt after a year of trying to remember how it sounds, "That's your first question? Not 'What are you doing here?' or 'How did you find me?'" He follows you to the kitchen, it's a lot smaller than the one at your old place but you had a dinner table now, which still feels like an upgrade.

You turn and face him, leaning against the counter, "I'll just charge the entire team on their next visit. But I have a feeling David's the culprit." You blurt, earning raised brows from Aaron. "Oh? They didn't tell you? Your team unofficially designated me as their psychiatrist. I guess they also kept an important information from you." You twist on your feet to focus on the produce you carefully picked in hopes someone would join you for dinner.

But you didn't expect Aaron to be that person.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No!" You almost stumble as you spin back to face him. "I'm in no position to be mad. If a patient doesn't need my services, then I have no say." You lick the lower of your lip, biting it as soon as your tongue glides past. Heat pooling in the back of your eyes.

Aaron steps closer, "I didn't mean to—"

"I told you I'm not mad."

"You're really going to lie to an FBI profiler?"

"Former," You correct him, sniffing as you fight the tears from rolling down your cheeks. Your head's tilted up, almost facing the ceiling. Anger and frustration hammer into your chest.

He rolls his eyes, trying to catch yours. "Former, right." He parrots with a little more sarcasm. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything... I needed to make sure Jack's safe." He softly speaks, making sure you understand every syllable.

It's your turn to roll your eyes, blinking and letting a tear fall in the process. "You don't have to apologize for protecting your son. I'm not evil, Hotchner. I'll do the same thing for my family. I'm completely indifferent about your disappearance, and i-it's allergy season. I'm fine." You wipe the tear stain off your face.

"I missed hearing you say my name like it's a foul word." Aaron smiles so brightly you thought you were dead and some divine was just using his image to guide you across.

"Seriously? That's what you took from it?" You shake your head, turning your back to him once more. "I feel bad for Jack now that you're a full-time father."

Aaron laughs, and by definition. "Oh, he's had enough of me." His eyebrows jump on his forehead, drifting his eyes aside as if he's replaying every instance Jack's complained to him.

You laugh, too. A full hearty laugh that seems to source from the casualty between the two of you despite the irritation you felt.

It's still the same. The ease. The effortless flow and connection despite anxious nerves. It felt like talking to an old friend you've known longer than you are alive.

You nibble on your lips, "So? You're off protective custody, or do I have to call you Brad?" You quiz airily, back still facing him to hide any form of amusement that's forming on your facial features.

"Brad?" He scoffs, crossing his arms and knitting his brows. He sounds about offended as if you'd disrespected his entire bloodline.

"Yeah, you look like a Brad to me." You remember a story from the women in the BAU. One that they happily shared one evening at Rossi's before they all begged to be added to your list of patients once you start your private practice.

Aaron lets out another scoff. "No, I'm just Aaron. Aaron to everyone. Aaron to you." He grumbles something under his breath that you don't hear, but a clear indication of his disapproval regarding the name.

You stifle a giggle, "Well, just Aaron. Consider yourself lucky that I got a free slot. I would've been with a patient by now." You state.

"Am I really just a patient to you?" Aaron inquires from behind you. He attentively observes for any subtle movement or expression in your voice. There's a longing look in his eyes that you aren't aware of. A frown drops his lips as he adds, "I at least thought we were friends."

"Mm," You hum a chuckle, "More like my stalker. But sure, we'll go with yours... friends—"

He spins you by the waist, and you're not sure if your initial thought of dreaming is ending anytime soon as your body tenses under his hold.

A small yelp squeaks out of you, hands flying behind you on the counter as if to hold yourself up from your wobbly feet. And you're certain both of you can hear the loud pulse on your carotid.

"Hotchner, what the hell?!" You chastise, pulling back, but to no avail. Caged and pinned by his strength, and you're too baffled to react accordingly.

"I'd like to redeem my tenth visit." Aaron smiles from ear to ear. You never thought it possible for a stern-faced man to ever grin this wide. To ever be this bright and bubbly.

Aaron keeps the two of you that way for a few minutes. His face is a few inches from yours. You can hear him calculating in his head.

Only the busy street outside and one of your neighbor's loud TV fills the silence.

"Your pupils are dilated." Aaron grins mischievously. He further scans your face, the same way he did when he used to be your patient, reading you like it's his job to know every micro-movement and expression you make.

Your eyes widen, "Stop—" Your voice barely comes out, breath hitching halfway through your throat. "—profiling me." The space between you and his body feels suffocatingly good. It's making you dizzy.

"Usually, you're composed, but you can barely look me in the eyes." His hands remain on your hips, and every twitch of it makes you stiff like a statue. "Am I making you nervous?" He quips wittily.

Like a switch, your heart rate steadies, and his image becomes clear.

It's Aaron Hotchner.

Just Aaron, he said.

Warmth surges through your veins. You stare at the grin on his face.

Your head tilts, and you blink excruciatingly slow. "Are you trying to ask me out, Hotchner?" You mirror the trail of his eyes like a map.

Aaron beams like he'd won the lottery. Sending you impulsive thoughts such as kissing the smile off his face.

It's tempting and nauseating.

And if he doesn't stop, you just might.

"Ten."

Your eyebrows merge in confusion, "What?"

"Ten dates," He breathes as he looks you in the eye. "Let me take you out on ten dates. Then you can decide if I'm just one of your many stubborn patients or if I can be more. Let me make it up to you in ten dates. Please." He implores, hopeful, or rather knowing that you'd say yes.

And he'd be right.

All you want at that moment is to say yes.

But teasing him won't hurt, at least not you.

"And what's in it for me?" You try your best not to smile as you taunt him.

Aaron rolls his eyes, but his grin tugs the corner of his lips up. "You get unlimited access to me?"

"Wow, that's... very compelling." And you burst out laughing, folding on your stomach as you lean against his chest. You inhale, "Sorry, I expected better negotiation. Uh, any catch?" You say between chuckles.

He shakes his head, "Just one condition," He's chuckling now, too. Not immune from your contagious giggles. "I spend most of my days with you. Even if it's just sitting in silence. I want it to be with you." He lets go of one of your hips and tucks a strand behind your ear.

The giggles die down a bit, gazing at him with reverie. You nod after a few seconds, squeezing his arms. You lift yourself, tiptoeing, closing the gap.

You leave a quick, soft peck on his lips, smiling as you get back on your feet.

Aaron smiles, and you're as ecstatic as he is.

Another nod fills your chest with utter joy as you breathe in euphoria.

"Ten's a good number."

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #fem!reader #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch #cm #criminalminds #bau team

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1uvtae · 3 months

Text

i think i just saw my ex. | jeon jungkook

★ word count: 10k- yay!

★ genre: classic exes to lovers,,,with slightly suggestive smut,,,and fluff...and the typical mutual pinning that may be a tad (a lot) angst... also TENSION. SOO MUCH TENSION!!!!! and both y/n and jungkook are trying to play hard to get which might be a bit crack up!!!

★ summary/snippet: jeon jungkook is your ex from many years ago, and you think you might've just seen him in a bar…and a part of you is definitely craving him.

★ kae's little chat: playing the typical kae exes to lovers theme, cos all i write about is exes to lovers micro-fics!! (this might be the only thing i'm good at writing) I recently just bought this glazed donut lanolips lip balm and it is what I religiously used while writing this fic for a whole ass week and I hope this fic tastes and smells like glazed donuts to you guys too ;) also a quick tag for @cassies-cookies!!! the fic has arrived!!!

enjoy a little teaser before you start!! can i consider this as an appetizer??

do you want to give me some feedback? request something fun? chit chat with me?!

this is my masterlist and drabble list for more of my works!

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you are 99.9% sure you just saw your ex.

you can't add that 0.1% on because 1) it is so darn dark in this bar, the annoying flashing lights poking through your eyes and into your soul, and 2), you are drunkenly intoxicated right now.

but gosh, that side profile looks almost identical to him. you've tried to follow him with your gaze, but all you got to closely view was the back of his head. (the very familiar back of his head, may you add.)

this isn’t something you expected on a nice friday evening.

when you randomly woke up in the middle of the night, you realised you typed quite some texts and paragraphs to that familiar number of his, but it seemed like you were way too drunk to hit “send”. thank god.

blank-eyed, staring at the unsent texts, you felt a stinging pain in your chest.

you’re not the type to go back to any of your exes, and all your break-ups have been straightforward and savage. plus, you dumped him first!!!

you sit up on your bed, finger tracing over the floral details of your quilt cover. maybe it was because your partners after him have all been so lame, yes definitely that. plus, you’ve been very single and lonely for the past few months, that’s exactly why you are missing him.

he wasn’t the perfect boyfriend, you remember how childish he was, and was quite protective over you- which was one of the reasons you two didn’t end well.

but on the other hand…

he was a really good sex partner. you two mended flawlessly together. not to boost his ego or something, but that boy definitely can fuck.

you sighed loudly, pulling the covers over your head. the night is still so long, but you do not have any of the calmness to fall back into sleep.

oh, the long, dark night.

after a whole day of debating and contemplating, you ended up hanging out with a few of your friends back at that specific bar. tonight, you needed someone to get your mind off your ex that you saw yesterday.

when excusing yourself to the bathrooms, you brushed past someone's shoulder in the hallways while scrolling through your instagram feed; he had a broad and tall frame, and his vividly tattooed hand holding a glass cup, and you felt the urge to jerk your head back to see his face.

thinking “this is someone to take my mind off him!!”, you turn your head and your wild imagination completely halts. you feel your eyes widen and your pupils might as well fall onto the ground - it’s your ex.

thank god you just got your hair done a few days back and you were head down, focusing on your phone the whole time, so he didn’t even glance at you. your heart completely dropped and skipped a beat, and you rushed into the bathroom to freshen up.

after you walked out of the restroom, you carefully scanned every table for his silhouette, after locating the target, you walked a good lap around his booth to eye him out. fairly, he wasn’t hard to look for, judging by his clean undercut under those dark brown locks, and his perfect complexions, everyone seemed to notice him the way you did. you spot two girls walking up to him, offering him drinks in exchange for his number.

you were now more than certain that this was your ex… and you’re also certain that you’ll never get over how attractive he is.

once you’ve fallen for jeon jungkook, you’ll never fall out.

on the way home you remembered how hard you worked to get him to date you, it was almost rejection after rejection. and then you dumped him?! gosh, now it will be even more difficult to get his attention.

you feel like giving up instantly at that thought, but you cannot help yourself texting your mutual friend yerin: “did jungkook come back?”

your friend did not respond, which leads to whatever you’re doing right now - sitting on your couch, stalking through social media accounts. it was not under his old username, which made it difficult to find. but you remembered his dog’s name.

after typing bam’s name into the search bar, it only took a few scrolls to find a decent amount of photos and videos of the brown doberman. after clicking into his account, you sigh. he never posts himself, just some more dog posts and a few random scenery shots.

continuing to watch every single video of bam, you see that the newest video of the cute dog was taken in another location that didn’t look like the place from the video from before. clicking on the comments, one from his friend reads “you moved?” he replied: “yeah”

you moved, or did you come back?

just realizing what you’ve been doing stupidly for the last 20 minutes, you lock your screen and toss your phone onto the coffee table. your friend responded right after the phone dropped onto the surface.

did he quit his job?

“yeah, he quit his job last month, he probably came back”

although he moved to a different city after the breakup, he still worked for the same company you worked for - that could’ve been a reason to reconnect. but now that he has quit that job, it makes it impossible for you to even have an excuse to hit him up.

yerin double-texted, “what’s up abt jungkook?”

you: i think i saw him recently

you: he’s still so fine

yerin understood your tone extremely well, responding immediately: do you want me to plan a group dinner or something this week

you: yes please, i’m free every night this week

yerin: y/n, i meant ONLY group dinner…nothing else.

you: of course just dinner…what were you thinking?

yerin: i know you way too well

yerin: you obviously don’t only want dinner

you: hm

yerin was very speedy with her planning skills, the dinner was booked to be this friday night, it wasn’t weird at all since you and jungkook did have the same social circle for years, and considering he just came back, it was just more of a couple of friends and coworkers gathering together to celebrate. but yerin did not hint to him that you were also going to attend this dinner at all.

you stood in front of the mirror, your outfit was carefully picked out, and you spent almost 2 hours doing your makeup- in these years, your style has changed drastically, but you still wore the same fragrance he gifted you.

to create your ‘grand entrance’, you decided to show up late by 20 minutes, just so you can look casual and not too prepared to see jungkook. when you were on the road, you received a speedy text from yerin: be mentally prepared for what’s coming.

huh? be prepared for what?

when you were led to the table of the reservation, you realized what she meant.

you recognised every single face, except one. there was an unfamiliar girl seated right next to jungkook. jungkook wore a casual black hoodie, his hair slightly fluffing out. looking almost too soft to touch. you tried very hard not to lay your eyes on him for too long - since you already got a very personal look from the girl that was seated next to him.

yerin mutters under her breath when you seat yourself next to her, which is right across him. “he brought that random girl over.”

you keep that in mind, starting to greet your friends, then shooting a look back at yerin, then whispering “if you told me this was gonna happen i would’ve turned around on the spot and sprinted back home!!!”

(yerin did tell you after the meal that the second you walked into the room, there were almost no expressions on his face. you don’t know if he was already expecting you, or if he just did not care about you whatsoever.)

you hope it’s not the second option.

the dinner was french cuisine, everyone had already ordered some sort of grilled steak while you decided to order sole fish fillets. sipping your chardonnay, you oversee the girl nudge jungkook’s arm, softly asking, gesturing at your transparent drink: “kook, what did that girl order?” he puts his glass down, responding with a gentle tone: “white wine. you pair white wine with fish. wine with red meats.” “so that's why you ordered red wine for me?” she nods before asking again.

“mhm.” he nods in response, taking a sip of water, with his very charming and endearing smile.

you almost knock over your wine glass when slamming it back down on the table with aggression, suddenly this chardonnay tastes like fucking ass.

you listen quietly to everyone talking about careers and how they’ve been doing recently, jungkook occasionally opens his mouth to input or say something. you realize how mature he has grown over these years, he speaks like a logical, grown man, and is completely not the person you were with a while back. you remember the old gatherings when you and he were dating - he barely says a word during the whole meal. not going to lie, this well-spoken jungkook is super attractive.

the main course came very fast after the drinks. you gasp at the fancy plating. the girl in front of you takes her knife and fork, struggling to slice the red meat. she slowly glances over to jungkook, and he notices her stare, speedily finishing up cutting up his plate, and offering her his already perfectly sliced steak, taking her uncut serving for himself.

after that, you put down the knife and fork, containing yourself to not roll your eyes.

that was an eyeful. might as well just not eat this shitty meal.

after that awful meal, they all planned to go for a second round, but jungkook said that he couldn’t go because he had to drive the girl home. after hearing that, you lost every interest you had in going for shots, which caused you to head straight home on a friday evening at 9 pm. how eventful.

taking a thoughtful and steamy shower, you decided to put a face mask on. a notification from no other than yerin broke the night’s silence.

yerin: jungkook’s here

you bounced up from your bed, replying within a millisecond.

y/n: huh? why is he there?

yerin: he’s sitting on the table next to ours

yerin: u coming?

you close your eyes, every single imagination you had got crushed today when you saw the girl that he brought. it was almost hurtful now that you think about it.

yerin continued to add: he didn't bring the girl, if that’s what you’re wondering

hm…you hesitated for a while, but gave up. you can’t be interested in someone with a girlfriend-

yerin: and!! tae was being nosy so he asked him

yerin: turns out that the girl was just a blind date his mum arranged

yerin: not his gf

yerin: u still have a chance yk!!

you yanked the face mask off, rushing to redo your makeup again. you didn’t even bother to drive there, calling an uber instead. before entering the bar, you ensured yerin grabbed jungkook to sit at the same table.

just when everything was planned beautifully and you were ready to make your grand entrance pt2, you bumped into a client who was by the bar table. how can you reject a business client? quick answer: you can’t. it’s a business client.

having to sit with a stranger by the bar table, but unable to walk to that table with your friends (and your ex) might be the biggest struggle you’ve ever gotten yourself into. by the time you and the client had finished chatting and drinking, jungkook had left not only the table but the entire nightclub.

oh my gosh, you are going to lose your mind! a whole full stomach of alcohol and yet you still haven’t gotten to use your flirting tactics on your ex that you’ve been missing. you did not feel like staying at all, dragging yerin to get out of this hellhole.

but who knew you’d see him again in the parking lot?

every cloud has a silver lining.

and there jungkook stood, leaning against his flashy black mercedes, phone to his ear. the second you saw him, you knew what to do. you were going to fake being drunk. you link arms with yerin, stumbling your steps and attempting to slur your words. yerin has to straighten you up manually when she goes over to jungkook. “hey jungkook! i thought you already left.” jungkook puts the phone back into his pocket. “i was just about to.”

yerin wasn’t hesitant at all, almost shoving you at him, thinking he’d help grab onto you, but he did not move a single muscle. her last resort was to lean you against the car. “perfect! can you drive y/n home? the girls are still waiting for me so…”

he opened his mouth to speak, you figured he was going to reject yerin. before a single sound came out of his mouth, yerin quickly interrupted him, “amazing! thanks so much, dude!! okayimjustgonnago-!” from your peripheral vision, you could see her almost sprint from the parking lot back into the front door of the club.

all that was left was you, who was faking drunk, and jungkook, with his brows, knitted, looking down at you.

judging from how rapidly yerin ran away from you, jungkook knows he can’t do anything else other than drive you home. he sighed and held open the passenger’s door for you. he raised his chin, gesturing you to hop in.“get in yourself.” he heard you chuckle at his words, turning to him and giving him a judging glance, then getting into the seat.

jungkook was extremely confused, and only realized the reason when he got into the driver's seat.

you seemed to not let that joke go, “i’m in, what now?” jungkook keeps a straight face while starting the engine. “seatbelt.”

he drove out of the parking lot, and he immediately hit a left turn, driving towards the direction of your house. after a few moments, he turned his head towards her at a red light. “where do you live?” your eyes were shut, leaning back on the seat, not wanting to respond to him.

jungkook does not want you to know that he still remembers your address off by heart like an idiot, so he turns into a random street on his right and keeps on driving. after feeling the car stopping, you open your eyes, peeking out the window.

the hotel?? he drove you to a hotel?? you kept your eyes shut, as a silent protest to not get out of the car. you knew jungkook too well, he probably wanted to just leave your ass in the hotel, and you won’t get to ever see him again if you went with that.

jungkook nudges you with a finger hesitantly. you didn’t even budge. after a deep sigh from the man in the driver's seat, you hear the engine start again.

he always drove at a perfect steady pace. you swear you almost dozed off when you felt the car stop in the underground parking garage.

jungkook gently held onto you up the elevator, you heard the sound of a door unlocking, and your ears perked up when the sound of the door opening was followed by a loud bark from bam.

he brought you back to his place. that perfectly goes with your plan!!

you behaved the entire way home just for this moment. all that acting led up to this moment. he locked the front door, then squatted in front of you to help you take off your black heels. you were going to be using the moment wisely- when jungkook carried you over to the couch to put you down, you scratched his lower torso aggressively with your right hand.

it was a strong scratch, causing the person carrying you to let a harsh hiss under his breath. he looked down at your sharply shaped nails, then at the girl in his hands right now, your eyes were shut, lashes slightly fluttering.

he always liked working out and had an almost daily streak of hitting up the gym, resulting in his body being super in shape. he had the perfect model figure- abs, pecs, shoulders, you name it. he has it. you look back on how great he was at using his strength advantage in bed, gosh, he was perfect.

even bring able to leave a little scratch on his skin could do something to you right now.

jungkook goes straight into the kitchen to pour you a cup of water. the first thing he did though, was lift up his hoodie and inspect the scratch. and under the hoodie, lay two vivid red scratch marks on his lower abdomen. the bright marks went from his veins into his spank bank, the vivid images of you under his control, he reminisces how you always loved scratching his back, his neck, and his shoulders when he hit your soft spots. jungkook’s skin was always very sensitive, making it effortless to leave marks and bruises for days. he recalls his friends making fun of the scratch marks you left on his back ever so often during the few summers when you and he were dating.

by the time he recollected himself and brought you the glass of water, you were already fast asleep on his leather couch. he watches you for a while and realizes you still look the same after this many years. more mature, but still the appearance he could never forget, even in his dreams. his eyes fall on your delicate ears before he puts a stop to his mind.

he clears his throat. “go sleep in the bedroom.”

your eyelashes flutter as you turn to face the other side of the couch, mumbling something inaudible to yourself before getting back into your dreamland.

jungkook: “y/n?”

his ears catching a delicate airy whine leave your mouth.

jungkook isn’t too fond of whatever game you are playing, but he knows what you want to do to him. he’s matured and grown now, not the loverboy that was wrapped around your pinky finger anymore. he can read expressions off your face very accurately. considering the fact that it has been years since the breakup, and you had never broken the non-contact thing.

and suddenly after he got back into town, a reuniting dinner was planned, you showed up to the clubs, and whatever yerin was trying to do, and now- you are in his house, on his couch. he knows exactly what you’re trying to do.

this is exactly the little tricks you used to play, and he fell head-first into it last time.

he promised himself that he would never fall into the same hole twice!

but of course, he won’t let you sleep on his couch for the whole night. this two-seater leather couch is extremely small for anyone to find comfort in. your figure is curled up in the soft seats, and he notices your legs almost dangling out from the couch.

he bends down to swoop you up, and by instinct, your arms find his neck. he slowly makes his way towards the bedroom, not wanting to wake up the girl in his arms.

considering this was a brand-new apartment, jungkook doesn’t have a bed yet- it’s just a mattress in the middle of the floor. he lowers his body carefully and places you in the centre of the bed, thinking your arms would instantly unwrap themselves from your neck, he tries to stand back up. but your grip on him was way too tight, jungkook almost lost his balance, but his reaction was fast enough for him to use his arm strength to hold on both sides of the bed, keeping a small dangerous distance from falling on top of you. his warm breath lands on your exposed neck, and you feel the warmth melting on your collarbones.

you had to keep everything within yourself to not pull him closer, hoping he would find his balance to move away from you, instead, it’s almost as if he bowed his head lower, leaving more burning breath marks on your collarbones. the itchy feeling almost numbing. you couldn’t help but slightly peel your eyes open discreetly- through your lashes, you realise he was already on his feet again, simply pulling the covers up for you.

the soft quilt falls on top of your lower torso, and his warm hand ‘accidentally’ brushes against your thigh before he completely gets up. he watches your reaction for a short while, but nothing from your side. he knew if it this was two years ago, you would’ve absolutely gone for it right now. he remembers even if his hand slightly rested on your thigh while driving, you would immediately get him to pull up on the side of the road for a heated makeout session. but it looks like, y/n is not the y/n he remembered.

jungkook turned off the big light, leaving a small night lamp on by the bedside table before patting bam to follow him back to the living room, planning to deal with the couch for the night.

honestly speaking, if he stayed for even one more single second, you wouldn’t be sure what you’re capable of doing to him.

painful, very painful.

it was almost 4 am when you opened your eyes, trying to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. your eyes land on the agape bedroom door. from where you’re resting, you can clearly see most of the living room. there he lay, on the couch.

jungkook normally sleeps just in his boxers, but considering the fact that you’re in the residence, he had to grab a pair of sweats to cover up. you observe the man on the couch, he is lying on his back, and you end up studying his figure. you could tell he was wearing nothing under those grey sweats- gosh the grey sweats and his shirtless body?!

you shut your eyes and sigh. contain yourself y/n.

if you weren’t already, you’re surely hungry for jeon jungkook now.

but you must control yourself now- jungkook knows what game you’re playing, and so do you. he’s such a slippery fish to catch- you can’t just pull the rod as soon as you hook him?

and, it looks like he wasn’t going to give in tonight that easily too.

this can be a fun game to play.

you watch him for a little longer, he turns his body to sleep on his right side, now his body fully facing you. well- this is awful. it took no time for you to fall asleep for the millionth time, this time- it was a heavy sleep. the scent of his bed surrounding you.

you decide to stay in his bed for a little longer because you know you have to leave the second you wake up.

jungkook also stayed home today, heading into the bathroom to clean up, then making breakfast, following up with feeding bam, and lastly back to the couch, attending a business call meeting.

if you didn’t have to use the bathroom so urgently, you could stay in his bed until noon. you crawled out of bed to stretch, then mentally prepared yourself to walk out of his room. well, you can’t fake drunk anymore, can you?

after coming out of the washroom, you slowly walk to jungkook, trying not to interrupt him. “...do you know where my phone went…?”

his gaze did not leave the laptop screen, his chin raised slightly, directing you to the device on the coffee table- where your phone lay. you hesitantly collect your phone, wanting to thank him about yesterday, but the sight of him so focused stops you. you didn’t have the heart to interrupt him, making way to the entrance.

you put your heels on while watching bam play with his ball on the side. the doberman notices you, walking over to you while cocking his head which reminds you of how jungkook would always do. you reach a hand out to pat his head but bam back up immediately out of caution.

feeling a little butthurt, you ask: “don’t remember me?”

not only forgetting about you, but bam also leaves to sit next to the man on the couch. jungkook gives bam an endearing rub, then looks up at you, standing by the door.

wow, bam. he always preferred jungkook over you, even when you and him were together.

you glance at the black-brown dog….but now you have a reason to contact him again.

although finding his social media account was a hassle, his phone number never changed. the same night after leaving his house, you found the number that you almost accidentally texted.

y/n: can i pick bam up from yours

he replied almost instantly: you are?

you let out a light laugh in unbelief before texting back: y/n

then it took a good 30 minutes to get a text back. “sure thing, but only if he wants to go home with you.”

you roll your eyes at the obvious fact that: of course bam doesn’t want to go home with you?! considering the cold shoulder he gave you this morning.

but it’s okay since the cute dog was never the target to go for in the first place.

the day after the text, you went straight to his apartment after work, not bothering to change out of your work outfit- because you knew he was very into this specific set. it was a simple creamy white formal skirt set with black opaque tights.( and he loved this set. so much to the point by the time you normally got back home, he would press you onto the couch immediately. your skirt would usually be wrinkly by the time you two were done.)

jungkook answered the door, his eyes instantaneously landing on the girl in front of him, his eyes slightly widened for a split second. he has to admit, that you recognize his preferences a little too well.

it's not because he likes the pantyhose with skirt look, but more because it is on you. especially because he would watch you get ready for work all seriously, and you would get home and find his shoulders immediately, draping on top of him all tired and worn out from socializing. and he was a whore for it.

he’s literally hooked for you.

he opened the door wide open for you, he didn’t have any spare slippers in the house, so before you could take your slip heels off, he stopped you. “no need.”

after shutting the door, he opened his mouth: “you didn’t bring anything?”

you’re here to pick up bam, and yet you came empty-handed, causing bam to only take one glance at you before jumping on the couch, disinterested.

jungkook brought bam’s toys and treats over to you, yet bam didn’t even budge, to the point where he had to physically carry him over to you. it seemed like bam wasn't having any of this, not even giving you any sort of attention. jungkook had to give him a big encouraging talk before handing the medium-sized dog over to you.

you needed a lot of strength to hold the doberman in your arms while jungkook went to get a dog leash. the second bam saw the leash in jungkook’s hands,he started to struggle out of your grasp, struggling to get out of your embrace.

you weren’t prepared for the dog to be so strong, before you could let go of him, he had already left a faint bite mark on your arm, you winced under your breath while watching bam hop over to jungkook’s feet. jungkook hurried to drop the leash, coming up to you. “are you all good?”

“just a bite.” you brought your arm to his eye level, it wasn’t bleeding or anything, just a clear bite. “i’ve got some antibiotic ointment. you want some?”

you nodded your head. “sure.”

“...do you want to those off then?”

“hm?” you followed his eyes, looking down at your tights, a hole had been scratched open too, and you didn’t realize that maybe bam had also scratched you on the leg while trying to get out of your grasp. “yeah- yeah. i’ll do that.” you answered after excusing yourself to the bathroom. taking off the nylons, you threw them into the laundry basket before checking the scratch.

it was nothing but a pink line, you hurried out of the room, scared that by the time you headed out, it would already have faded.

jungkook was already seated on the familiar couch by the time you finished taking your tights off. you went over and seated down extremely close to him. pressing your thigh against his knee to show him the faint mark. he kept a very straight face while taking out the otc ointment from the first aid kit. he treated the few marks, you don't know if it was intentional or not, but he applied way too much on the injuries, leaving a big patch of your skin covered in ointment.

you look at him, who is now putting the cream back into the box. he clears the silence, “it doesn’t seem like he wants to go with you.”

you let out a sigh, looking at the dog resting by jungkook’s side. “it’s a shame that he completely forgot about me.”

“it’s been too long since he last saw you, that’s why.” he gives loving pats to bam, and you find an endearing smile creeping on your face at the scene. you muttered under your breath, “i missed him, i definitely wanted to live with him.” jungkook turned his head from the dog to you, adding “i take great care of him, and he likes me more.”

you went silent. that’s an unarguable fact. the silence went on for another minute when he spoke again. “gotta rebuild the trust again.”

your ears perk up at his comment…does this mean you can come to visit more often…to build the relationship again?

but you know it’s petty unlike for bam to like you again, lowering your head slightly, you mention, “i don’t think so,” you look up into his glassy, pure eyes, “i don’t want to force it. he looks way more comfortable with you anyway.” you’re not sure if jungkook wanted to hear that, but his brows slightly knot as he slowly opens his mouth to speak. “you’re giving up? even just being friends?”

your eyes immediately widen- you’re not sure if he meant being friends with bam…or him. he subconsciously avoids eye contact with you, looking back down at bam. “since i- no, bam, can consider you as a co-owner.”

you like the sound of that.

this is something you could get used to.

jungkook didn’t seem like he minded you staying, so you obviously did not have any intentions of leaving just yet. you’re playing with bam (surprisingly you and bam have gotten quite along within an hour) when his takeout arrives. he hesitantly asked you if you wanted to have dinner together, which you agreed happily to. he walked into the kitchen to cook something extra for the two of you.

you weren’t too hungry, but you had to admit you desperately missed his cooking. it was already 9 pm when you and him had finished dinner. the entire time it was filled with small talk and comfortable silence. you left right after dinner, saying farewell to bam, and received a slight nod from jungkook.

after getting home, your phone buzzed with a notification from jungkook’s number. it was an image of your tights in his laundry basket. you locked the phone without replying and hopped into the shower.

after doing your skincare, you casually replied: “chuck it in the trash”

jungkook sent a photo of the tights in the rubbish bin with no other caption.

you decided to tease him a little: or you can keep it if you want

jungkook: ……i’m not that gross

as if he has never touched your tights. you don't even remember how many pairs of your stockings he had ripped during the time when you two were together.

as if he could read your mind, he sent a full 2-minute video of him taking the rubbish bag outside, followed by him throwing the plastic bag into the rubbish bin with no remorse. you watch the video on a loop for a few minutes, chuckling to yourself.

you weren’t sure what got into your mind the next day. after taking a relaxing bubble bath after work, something within you told you to find jungkook. although you were very rough from working, you still felt energized to prepare yourself. after putting on a tank top and a skirt- you made your way out.

your hair still damp, you decided to pick some snacks on the way to his house. with confident and happy steps, you knocked on his door.

no answer.

you stood outside the locked door, dialing his number: he picked up within two rings, voice relaxed and soft. “what’s up?”

“are you not at home?”

he paused for a split second “you’re coming over?”

you hummed in response, “i brought fried chicken too.”

“i’m out fishing.” jungkook said, then changed to a softer tone. “since…it didn’t look like you were coming over tonight.”

you suppressed your laughter, teasingly asked: “so you were waiting for me then?”

the other side of the phone remained silent, causing you to let out a giggle. “i’ll come find you, share your location.”

he hung up, sharing his location with you right after- a freshwater lake close by. you made your way to his location with no hesitation.

bro he’s actually fishing on this fine evening.

it was extremely dark by the lakeside, but you could make out the figure of many middle-aged men sitting by the lake. turning your phone flashlight on, you spot your familiar ex-boyfriend in the middle of many men.

he stood up to borrow a foldable stool from the man next to him. you tidied your skirt before sitting real close to him, your arm pressing against his. he looked at you on his side, “it’s too hot.” he muttered. you didn’t move away at all, instead, you decided to lean your head on his broad shoulder. he didn’t move away either.

you didn’t understand the joy of fishing but still watched him the whole time quietly. it felt peaceful to have him against you by the dark, calming lake.

instead, jungkook felt slightly heated - how is it possible to focus on his rod when he had you leaning on him? it only took him half an hour to start packing his equipment, he couldn’t stand you next to him! you’re such a distraction! (not that he’s complaining…)

after leaving the lake, you two stood under the road lights, he glanced at you under the warm streetlights. he noticed your glassy eyes of discomfort. he looked down at the few itchy bites on your arms. oh shit- he forgot to remind you about that.

the lake was surrounded by grassy areas, he was smart wearing a long sleeve and sweatpants, but he forgot to warn you about the mosquitoes before sending you his location. it was only around 30 minutes, but he could spot a few reddish marks on your arm, waist, and legs.

you didn’t realise this when you were by the lake, but now that you’re under the light, you can see the spots clear as day. jungkook takes your hand to lead you to his car, occasionally having to stop you from touching the mosquito bites. “don’t scratch them, we’ll be home soon.” he tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, before stopping to caress your earlobe for a slight second.

“but it’s itchy.”

“patient.”

you bite down on your lip. patient. you should’ve been patient when you were taking that damn bath!!! this is what you get when you’re too eager for jeon jungkook.

jungkook took you back to his, immediately using a cold damp towel to caress over the little scattered bites. the mosquitos that were by the lakeside were deadly- the small pink dots had turned into a few red swollen bumps.

you were in his embrace, feeling nothing but defeated. this is literally his second time treating your injuries within two days. a familiar feeling you feel before tearing up runs up your nose, triggering your eyes to start to build up with tears. oh, you feel so guilty right now. almost weeping in his lap, he comforts you on the back while the other hand applies ointment on the bumps, he pulls out a handheld fan to relieve the itching.

“there’s more on the legs.” you tugged on his sleeve, speaking through sulking. jungkook moves to search for the rest of the bites, not expecting you to lift up your skirt to reveal the red mark on the inside of your left thigh. jungkook hesitates for a split second before applying some of the white ointment on his fingertip, his heart seems to be beating faster than usual - his head spinning, but he ignores it.

when his hands move closer to the spot, you close your legs slightly out of discomfort, just enough to cover the mark with your panties. jungkook feels his breathing fasten, he uses his middle finger to push the fabric of the underwear out of the way, rubbing the treatment on the spot. he wasn’t too sure what he touched, but he was sure he saw a slight reaction from your body, causing your hand that was holding the skirt to slightly twitch. feeling a twinge of playfulness creep up, he holds the small fan to the spot, turning it on with the press of a button.

you immediately close your legs out of sensitivity, giving him an alarming look. the second your legs squeezed against each other, jungkook swore he touched your core with his hand. he felt a numb shoot from his hand, through his veins, then right to his scalp.

you noticed his reaction on his face, and downwards. half of you wanted to take the rare opportunity- but you listened to the other half that told you to slow this down. you decided to leave after that interaction, not giving the both of you what you two obviously want from each other.

plus, he has the whole night to deal with that problem. and plenty of time to think about you.

talking about giving him time, you made the cruel decision to not contact him for the next few days. plus, there was a load of work you had to do for this week for your job.

you knew jungkook would never break the ‘no contact’ type of thing either, but through some late-night stalking, you did find him updating his social media a little too frequently. either it was some workout progress pictures or his dinner with bam. weird.

the weekend came by fast, yerin texted you wondering if you wanted to go bowling with her, you hesitated, wanting to use tomorrow getting ready to see jungkook and bam. but she added that jungkook was going to be there- and you were immediately sold.

yerin’s boyfriend was decent friends with jungkook, they always hung out together, but right after you and jungkook ended things roughly, her boyfriend did not seem to like you very much. which is very reasonable since you did break up with him over text and whatever. which is something that has been keeping you awake at night lately.

arriving at the bowling alley, you see someone familiar with jungkook…the blind date girl. she had two bottles of sprite in her hands while sitting on the side benches. you can’t help but notice the pair of matching sneakers they had on.

you watch with widened eyes as jungkook goes over to her to converse, his eyes glistening with a smile that you haven’t seen in a while.

you do not like jeon jungkook very much right now.

yerin drags you to go say hi to her boyfriend and jungkook, you get a hesitant and sly “hey” from yerin’s boyfriend while jungkook on the side spares you a glance, just one single glance, to instantly turn back to the girl, the two chatting away. oh okay, so he’s going to do this now.

out of annoyance, you decided to cheer and clap for every other guy that is up bowling. you immediately caught the attention of one boy, he walked up to you, asking for your number with redness rising from his ears. naturally, you couldn’t reject him right now, giving your number in a swift motion right in front of jungkook.

still no acknowledgement from him.

finding a spot next to him on the benches, you intentionally sat closer to him. he gave you one warning look before scooting to the other side.

the girl on his right seemed to notice you, sparing you a cautious look while handing jungkook a pre-opened sprite bottle- he took it easily, raising the bottle to his mouth to take a sip out of it.

you slightly raised your arm, bumping the bottle with some strength just before his lips touched the bottle's mouth…causing a few drops to splatter out and onto the collar of his t-shirt, and his face.

as this was not expected at all, the other girl lets out a sharp gasp before pulling a pack of tissues out of her purse, and he takes it urgently to wipe the liquid off his face. you feel him turning to look at you, head cocked, his tongue poking around his mouth. you decided to play dumb, “shit, i’m so sorry kook, i didn't mean to do that.”

the girl on the other side kept calling jungkook by kook the whole time, hearing the nickname leave your mouth, he knows exactly what you’re doing. you’re doing this again.

jungkook didn’t make a single sound, while yerin’s boyfriend couldn’t help but let out a chuckle out his mouth at your actions.

when he got the chance to bowl, he took it very seriously, pins knocked after pins. yerin nudges you to capture your attention: “it’s definitely because he wants to show off to someone he’s interested in.”

you: “can’t be that blind-dating girl, can it?”

yerin: “well it’s not you…not after all that…”

you commented sourly: “she’s not his type.”

yerin gives you a knowing smile. “y/n oh y/n.”

“i know yerin, i’m being very stupid. but i can’t help it.”

you fully understand what “the grass is always greener on the other side” means now. you want what you can’t have.

the loud sound of many pins being knocked down, this is his second strike in a row- a turkey, if you will. your eyes darted towards him after the ‘STRIKE’ was displayed on the screen, but he was looking at the girl sitting on the bench, currently giving him two thumbs-ups.

he responded with a boyish smile.

and that was your cue to leave. you told yerin you felt like leaving early, and she grabbed your arm before you could go. “we’re nearly done then we’re getting dinner, you really wanna leave?” “yeah, i’m going…” you replied, uninterested anymore.

driving home, your phone buzzed many times when you hit a red light. yerin notified you that once you left, it seemed like jungkook also lost his energy to continue playing, hitting only a few pins before leaving with the girl without staying afterwards.

an idea popped into your head, causing you to spin the wheel and turn back- to his house.

this will be the final time you’ll ever willingly go to his house if this does not work out the way you wanted.

when you arrive at the familiar door, you know he probably hasn’t gotten home just yet. you decided to wait outside. the thought that what if he brought the girl home? races through your mind as you suddenly shoot up, contemplating whether you should just hop into the elevator and go home before you vividly see that image happen in front of your eyes.

you are now facing the closed elevator, a shaky finger hovering over the “↓” button. just before physically pressing it, the ‘ding’ from the elevator pulled you back to reality from your thoughts. you watch the door open at a snail's pace, revealing the figure of one specific person- just one, thank god.

jungkook has his phone in one hand, scrolling through emails when he notices that a person is standing outside of the elevator. and it was you. his girl.

eyes meet. he holds strong eye contact, and you could look right through those brown eyes. no words were needed at this moment. the distance between the two of you closes when he hurries to unlock the door, takes your purse and throws it onto the couch, pushing you against the back of the door. everything just simply felt right. his right hand immediately found itself slightly pinching the soft flesh of your earlobe- as if it was made to rest on top of your lobe.

you seriously missed being this close to him, feeling your knees weaken as he pressed his soft lips on you, he tasted like exactly what you’ve been missing for these years. it feels almost like what you feel when you’re in love. you pulled away when bam nudged your foot, but he was more forceful than ever, lifting your chin to meet your lips with his again. you only needed to focus on jungkook at this moment.

right when your hands were finding their way into his shirt, he pulled away, gazing at you. “i got to shower first.” he said, slightly out of breath.

jungkook rushed home after dropping that girl off, planning to take a shower before driving to your place. he had nothing to lose at this point- he doesn’t care if you know that he still remembers your address; he doesn’t care if he’s the one outside your door this time. the way he should’ve been two years ago.

but he was taken by surprise when he saw you outside his front door.

he couldn’t keep lying to himself that he doesn’t think about you, because you’re all he’s been missing about every single day. you, you, and only you.

you couldn’t let go of him at all, scared that he’d just slip away if you didn’t have your hands on him. “we can shower together.”

…the ‘shower’ took almost a whole hour. the bathroom echoed with your whines. many times, jungkook had to wrap his hand around your mouth, softly reminding you through his own pleasurable groans “the walls are thin in the bathroom, darl.”

carrying you to his bed, you were surprised at how effortlessly the mattress allowed him to move all over you. at first, you did not realize, but he was being way too harsh with you.

he was rough when he wanted to be, but he was never this rough?!! jungkook had no hesitation in marking you, pinching your waist when you moved in his rhythm, every single push inside of you made you feel like he wanted to pin you straight into the bed. not to mention- your entire body has been scattered with bites and signs of his touch. you’re definitely not complaining about how perfect he felt when he mended into you, and you had to admit, he was so fucking hot when he is rutting himself inside of you out of pure desire and frustration.

jungkook did not want to hurt you in any way, and you both knew that.

but you did not need him knowing that this was the most passionate, satisfying sex you’ve ever had. so you made the bold decision to start putting your underwear on right after the sensual fuck. not giving him any time for aftercare.

jungkook was lying comfortably on the bed when he noticed that you wanted to leave, his quick reaction caused him to sit up, large hands holding down your waist as he pressed you back down into the mattress. his bright eyes stared at you, “where are you heading to? hm?”

“back home,” you maintain deep eye contact, it’s hard not to kiss him when his soft, pretty lips are at a reachable distance in front of you. “i obviously can’t stay the night…”

jungkook’s grip on your waist tightened, you swear you saw the light in his eyes die out almost immediately. almost a fog covers his pupils and you figure maybe you were a little too extreme with that answer.

a delicate emotion runs across his face and he almost looks hurt when he finally gathers his words, “so…you waited outside my house…just to sleep with me?”

in that moment, you felt like the biggest cunt in the world.

you couldn’t find the right answer, if you said yes, you are the biggest cunt in the world confirmed- if you said no, you don’t think that’s a correct answer either way.

after not collecting a response from you, jungkook lets go, plopping back onto the bed, it’s almost like he took that silence from you as a confirmation of his theory. he laughs to himself, “fuck, why do i keep falling for these games you play?”

he moves his eyes away from you, to a random object in the room. “if you could’ve told me you’re real intention ages ago, we wouldn’t be like this at all, y/n.”

you close your eyes, remaining in your position on his bed.

in the start, you were definitely in it just for a quick fuck. but it looks like you’re now in deep waters. jungkook is irresistible- and you might’ve gone way too far with this one.

“don’t say that.” you move to his side, “i seriously loved you back then.”

“if you loved me, i don’t think you would’ve sent me off to a different city, y/n.”

“i told you it was an opportunity…i know you’d be better off if you got that job, even if we broke up, i wanted you to be successful, and not- stay in this small city…being stuck with me.” you replied, hoping he would meet eye with you again.

jungkook was tired of arguing about this. he knew the both of you weren’t the best when it came to communicating, he didn’t want to leave your city because you were in it, but he knew it might’ve been the end when he saw his name on the office announcement. he told you he couldn’t accept doing long distance, while you simply replied over text “then let’s just end it all. no matter if you go or not. let’s just end it here.” and that ruined him.

it was almost like you just desperately wanted to get rid of him.

if only he had the balls to drive to your house to talk this out, but he didn’t. he absolutely should’ve, but he didn’t.

“look at this! it’s painful.” he stopped in his thoughts when your head found his chest, you were pointing to the bruises he had left on your thigh. “jungkook! bruises.”

jungkook didn’t want to respond at all, but couldn’t help looking down on your pretty body. many parts of your skin were turning red from his roughness. he knew he didn’t use much strength at all, your skin was just easily sensitive. but he couldn’t help but feel his heart soften slightly when he heard your voice full of sulk.

he spoke with a gentle tone “sorry,” while circling an arm around your waist, massaging your hips. “does it still hurt?”

“yeah.”

jungkook adjusted his position, hovering over you, he kissed every single mark he made on your body, making sure every single area on your skin was being loved.

“what now?”

you knew exactly what he was asking about. what now? us? but you played dumb once again. “what?”

looking down at you his tongue ran over his pillow lips, he remained silent.

“you explain the matching sneakers first.” you raised your eyebrows.

“i bought them on purpose after i saw her wearing them after friday dinner. to piss you off.” jungkook replied.

but he didn’t include the part where he rejected her blatantly the first night he drove her home. he didn’t include the part where he asked her the night before going bowling if she could help him with a favor. he didn’t include the part where the favor was to ask her if she could come and help him act to piss you off.

you couldn’t help but let a giggle slip when he stared at you with a straight face. “okay, now i like you a whole lot again.”

after receiving a satisfying answer, a smile of relief crept onto his face, feeling his jaw unclench. “so you’re not just in it for one single fuck?” he teased.

“one won’t be enough.”

“give me an amount then.”

“i don’t know…until you’re bored of me? i guess?” you replied, intertwining your hand with his.

jungkook will never get bored of you, he thought to himself. he looked at your soft hand interlocked with his, not only will he never get bored of you, but he’ll also never let go of this hand ever again.

his other hand reached for your earlobe.

after getting back together with jungkook, you’ve realized how different this man has become over this time.

you remember him sometimes being very unreasonable, overprotective, almost overwhelming- of a boyfriend. and of course, sometimes jealousy is cute! you get that, but he was over the top about it. but now- now this is different.

it’s the indifferences that make a relationship cute!

occasionally you still pull a cheeky lie, telling him that you’re going home to rest- but bumping into him in a local bar. he wouldn’t be angry at all, unlike before. instead, he would drag you with a teasing smile to come drink at his table. that’s when you know you’re in for a long night back at his house.

but there was something you really wanted to talk out with him.

one summer night, when the cold wind was blowing through his large window, you turned your body to face him- there was something that was keeping you up tonight. he felt your movement next to him, “what’s up?”

“it’s been like…two months since we got back together, right?”

“right.”

“i think i want to talk some things out.”

thank god the night was dim, and jungkook was grateful because of that, he knows the expression on his face is not very charming. if this was a face-to-face conversation, he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle it.

“yeah?” there was a hint of calmness in his voice, almost like he was forcing it. jungkook doesn’t know what to expect. he thought there would be a different result this time- he’s a different person! he finds himself desperately praying with his aching heart that this will not be another heart-shattering break-up again.

at least, this time it's in person, right?

he was lost in panic when your hand squeezed him under the quilt.

“jungkook, do you think i broke up with you because i wanted to get rid of you?”

was it not? the three words were stuck in his throat, but he wanted to hear your voice more than his own right now.

“well, it wasn’t. it was for a more stupid reason- not because you were clingy, and whatever you thought. i wanted you to be successful, of course. but it was all out of my stupidity, i texted that out of anger, i didn’t actually mean it. i just wanted to see if you would come find me. come talk it out. i know we both weren’t good with words.”

you lowered your voice, “stupidly, a selfish part of me- even though i wanted you to get the job- a little bit of me still wished that you would’ve picked me over that.” after your little statement, you felt a heavy rock was lifted from your chest.

the hand that you held slightly twitched under your grip. he fully moved to face you. you turned away out of embarrassment.

to honestly admit that you love jeon jungkook, is a harder thing than you thought.

you felt the mattress vibrate, and then you realize he was now laughing at you. “i believe everything you say, even if you lied to my face, i would trust you without a doubt, y/n.”

“that was all my honest words!!!”

“i know. i know.” he said through chuckles. you turned towards him, embracing your urge to touch your lips with his. with muffled laughter, he moves right on top of you, locking both sides of your body with his strong thighs.

it’s annoying how he’s still smiling….when he’s peeling your pyjamas off you.

his eyes are glassy and glowy under the reflection of the moonlight, you could get lost in them for days.

“i don’t care what you say,” he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “i’ve always loved you more than you did me. y/n.”

“okay then.” you replied, not wanting to argue with the man who was currently pressing lovebites on your neck.

jungkook smirks against your neck,

way, way more. (end)

here is my masterlist if you want to enjoy some more of my writing!

and until next time, kae.

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noiselessbuck · 6 months

Text

Buck's Guide to Making Fake Dash Posts

The general format of a "post" is

😀 emoji for the profile pic

regular text for url/username with maybe -s or _s or a -deactivated[numbers that indicate a date]

optional Follow text with the blue colored text option (if there isnt a follow its implied the reader of the fake dash post is already following them

contents of post

bold text for notes count

post divider image (see below)

example:

😀 fakestoftumblrinas Follow

ummm im new to tumblr this is my first post

3 notes

the ways to make it cooler:

there is an image between this line and the next which is a skinny rectangle thats a fake post divider (works best on people using dark mode but gets the point across regardless)

^^ feel free to save the image ^^ (as you can see adding an image also adds a blank line above it you prob wanna delete)

i've seen some people put a ♻️ before a users emoji if they are a reblog comment on a post

example:

🤡 clowncarboy

knock knock

♻️🎭 myharlequinromance

who's there?

2 notes

tags:

some people have been using tiny text for tags i think thats something you can pull off on the browser but not mobile

you can also use, chat mode, text

or [this type of, thing]

personally i used chat mode as a pretend version of screenshotting tags

go forth! have fun! also tag your posts with at least fake dash if not also unreality so folks don't get unnecessarily freaked out :)

#fake dashboard #fake tumblr dash #dashboard simulator #dash simulator #snake mumbles

884 notes · View notes

playingdxngerous · 8 months

Text

Relaxation Break

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!

Warnings: smut, hand kink, unprotected p in v, oral m! and f! receiving, digital penetration f! receiving, some teasing, use of the word sir, some pet names, shared hotel room, cussing, spencer reid x reader, begging, probably some more small ones that i'm forgetting, me actually not proofreading whatsoever

first spencer reid fic, be nice to me guys

Sharing hotels with the BAU team was something you easily got used to as the job went on. You usually like to bunk with another girl, not wanting to have an awkward experience with someone like Gideon, for example. However, tonight will be different. With Garcia coming along this time, you have no other choice but to share a room with one of the men. You decide to stay with Spencer, feeling as if it would maybe be less awkward than Hotch. Hopefully, at least...

He unlocks the door and lets you walk in first, observing the room with every step you take. Two beds. Thank God.

"Care if I take the bed next to the lamp?" Spencer asks from beside you as he double checks the locked door.

"No, I don't care," you smile, trying to spark some form of emotion rather than the blank, quiet stares you share.

"Okay great," he replies, immediately setting his stuff down. You walk into the bathroom and wash your face, getting ready for bed. You walk out in sweatpants and a tank top, surprised to see Spencer is also dressed in comfier clothes. You've never seen this side of him, nor did you know it even existed. He's sitting criss cross, staring intently at the files in front of him.

"I'm going to try to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow," you say in a yawn.

"Is it okay if I keep the lamp on for a bit?" He asks innocently with a rasp in his voice. You like it a little more than it should, and it really surprises you. You've always thought Spencer was cute, but you never saw it any more than just admiring from afar. You've never pictured any form of relationship, or even touch with him. Especially when it comes to the two of you sharing a room. This is foreign land to you, and for some reason you can't help but let your mind wander further into it. You look at the grip on his black pen, his veins popping out with each quick movement. Heat rises in you, yet you force yourself to keep it in control. Not tonight. You are not falling for Dr. Spencer Reid tonight.

"Yeah of course, do whatever you need to do Dr. Reid." Did you really just say that out loud? You force a slight chuckle, masking the flirty sarcasm in your voice.

"Oh, that's sir to you actually. Don't forget I'm a professor too." He smirks with his comment.

"Whatever smarty pants," you say to lower the mood of the conversation. Not tonight. You are not falling tonight.

"Mhm..." he mumbles before focusing his attention back to the folders in front of him.

"Night," you say, covering your face with the covers to block out the bright light.

"Night," you hear him say from outside of the sheets. The white blankets don't do much to hide the light from you, which slightly aggravates you. This is definitely not something to look forward to after a long day of profiling a killer. You toss and turn for what feels like forever until you're all tangled up in the sheets. With an abrupt movement you throw them off of you and blow the hair out of your face.

"Is something wrong? A nightmare?" He asks worriedly.

"No not that. I haven't slept yet. Do you mind to maybe turn the light off? I understand you probably have a lot to do but it's okay to take a break sometimes. You can't let this job take over every part of your life." You pause and loudly sigh. "It's kind of worrying. You deserve the same amount of rest as everyone else in the branch. You don't need all of this hard work placed on you."

"I don't mind. I chose this job because I knew I could handle it. I'll be okay."

"Spencer..." you whisper to almost nothing.

"Maybe I can do the work in the hallway or in the bathroom or something. I want you to be able to rest. I'm sorry, I didn't know I was bothering you or-" He rambles on before you cut him off.

"Spencer no," you say as you walk over to his bed. You gently place the files to the side in an organized manner so as to not mess up his work. He looks at you in silence, his puppy dog eyes becoming strangely hard to ignore. You grab his hand, and he slightly flinches.

"I'm sorry I forgot you probably don't like that." You apologize and quickly pull away.

"It's okay, I honestly didn't mind."

"Are you sure?" You bewilder. He nods.

"Look Spence...," you take a deep breath. "I know you have a ton of work, but you deserve to take a break for once in your life. Let that be tonight. Get some good sleep for once. Wake up energized to finish the files."

"No one calls me that." He smiles. "I think I like it, to be honest."

"What happened to sir?" You laugh and grab his hand again. This time he doesn't pull away.

"Oh, you know." He shrugs his shoulders. "I guess you're not one of my students so it's cool."

'I'll still call you sir if you like', your mind threatens to say. However, for right now at least, this thought must be kept to yourself.

"Well, that's beside the point. I just want you to know that it's okay to relax sometimes," you actually do say.

"I don't really know how." He responds, giving you trouble deciding what to say back. You run your thumb along his hand, admiring every little perfection about it. He looks down to see for himself, and his breath slightly hitches at the commotion. You squeeze his other hand with your free one, causing him to meet your gaze once more. This time way closer than the last. Inches lay between your faces. His warm breath blows onto you, proving the closeness between you. He seems to finally be catching on to you as his eyelids only remain halfway open. Afraid to make a move, the two of you sit in silence wondering if he feels the same as you.

"I can try to help you," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear.

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice almost a whimper. He has definitely caught on. For a man who rarely even shakes hands with other people, he seems to love the attention you are now giving him. You squeeze his hands harder, admiring the way they tower over yours in size. He mimics your thumb movement, slightly going back and forth. Definitely caught on. Thankfully.

"Yeah." You slightly lean in, lips parted ever so softly. He follows your movement, not yet making contact with you. After what feels like forever, you decide to take control and simply peck his lips to see how he reacts. Once again he follows you, pulling away right after you do.

"I-" he pushes out in a stutter, his eyes wide and his face red. You smile as he swallows anxiously.

"Everything okay Spence?" You smirk, eyes slightly closed still.

"Yeah." He clears his throat and licks his lips. Silence barges in once again, the room filled with blushes and clandestine stares. Out of nowhere, your starving lips collide with his quickly. He slides his tongue over your bottom lip, forcing him inside of you. His change in demeaner surprises you to your core. Never in your job have you seen Spencer Reid so full of life and action. He moves quicker than ever, desperate to be as close to you as possible. He grabs your jawline, your pussy wet at the thought of what his hands probably look like again your soft skin. He moves back to your neck, grabbing a handful of hair to push you closer. He tastes sweeter with each kiss, driving you absolutely rabid

"Jesus Christ, Spencer, you're so different right now."

"Is that a bad thing?" His swollen pink lips ask. You can't move your gaze away from them.

"Not at all." You say and hurriedly go back into the kiss. After a few moments you pull away and stare into his dilated pupils as your brain seems to stop functioning. Arousal takes over the both of you.

"Just to be clear, how far are you wanting to go?" He asks.

"Wherever you take me." You say weakly.

"Just tell me if you need to stop, okay?"

"Yes sir." You smirk. Found his weakness. He rolls his head back and licks his lips, his adams apple moving as he swallows gently.

"I've never done this before, I'm sorry if-" He begins before you shut him up with a short kiss.

"Spence, you don't know how long I've looked at you in awe, forcing away my thoughts of seeing you on top of me. Fucking me until I can't breathe. Worshipping you." You breathe out.

"I never thought I'd enjoy this as much as I am."

"Let's make it even better." You say as you climb on top of him, pushing him against the pillows parallel to the bedframe. Your lips meet his again, this time neater than the last. You bite his bottom lip as you pull away, dragging it with you. You crawl down to his waistband, teasingly putting your fingers underneath it.

"Can I?" You ask.

"Wait. You first." He lifts up your chin with his index finger.

"Me?"

"Is there a problem with that darling?" His words echo in your mind. Darling, darling, darling. His darling. All his. No one else.

"No, just usually men don't care about the women's pleasure. I assumed you'd want me to suck you off first."

"Well, I personally care very much. I'm fucking dying to taste you." You've never heard Spencer curse before, and you've sure been missing out.

"Please do baby." You moan.

"On your back. Now." He says strictly. You love this side of him more than anything. You follow his rules and lay on your back as he looks at you in hunger.

"May I?" He holds the waistband to your pants in his perfect hands.

"Yes," you nod.

"Yes what?"

"Please Spencer."

"Yes what."

"Yes sir."

He finally pulls down your sweatpants, your soaked panties still on. He eyes them down, sliding one finger up the crease.

"You're so wet for me sweetheart."

"Spencer you're being so different. Ten minutes ago you would have passed out if I were almost naked in front of you. What's changed?"

"You think I haven't waited ages to touch you?" Oh.

"I don't understand. You're so much more... I don't know." You trail off.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks seriously, backing away slightly.

"No!" You almost shout. "I'm just so lost."

"I guess I just feel comfortable with you. I've wanted you for so long and now that I finally have you, I just feel so different." He smiles.

"I'm all yours."

"Good," he kisses your thigh. He begins to trail up to your pulsing heat in a line of kisses. Gently he pulls the remaining fabric off of you, leaving you in just a tank top that you happily remove. His fingers graze across your clit, your nerves sending tingles through your whole body. He grabs both of your thighs, squeezing gently as he drowns his head in you. His tongue moves all around, making you see stars. He licks at your entrance, slowly sliding in a finger out of nowhere.

"More..." you beg. He slides another in, slowly pumping. Each time he slides in he curls at just the right place, almost sending you over the edge. The mixture of his tongue and fingers begins to take over you, making you grab his hair to relieve some of the pressure.

"C'mon baby finish for me." His words vibrate into you. With this your orgasm finally collapses onto him, relief suddenly flowing through you. You raise up and look into his menacing eyes. The two of you exchange deep breaths as he holds you in his arms.

"Your turn." You exhale.

"Think you can handle one more?"

"Why don't you tell me, Dr. Reid. The corner of your lip curves up. Oh sorry, I mean sir."

"Guess we won't know unless we try." He leans in to kiss you, then kissing down your neck and leaving a red spot from sucking.

"Better hope Gideon doesn't see that," you laugh.

"Yeah good luck. He would never suspect it from me."

"I didn't either," you mumble, Moving down his body you slide his sweatpants off and run your hand up his shirt, purposefully ignoring his huge erection. He takes it off, the two of you completely vulnerable to each other now.

"Think you can take it?" He laughs.

"Watch me." You sit on his waist, slowly sliding his dick in. He whimpers, the unholy sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Fuck," he says under his breath. As you gain speed his mouth falls open and he leans his head back. Moans escape his lips and you've never been more content in your life. He grabs your chin once more, placing it between his index and thumb. "You're so pretty riding me like the princess you are. I love it." You speed up at his words, desperate to make cum. "I'm so close love, keep going." Every new pet name sends you head over heels for him.

Acknowledging how close he is, you pull off and begin to suck on him. He releases almost instantly with a quiet moan. He looks down and watches as you swallow his load.

"Woah." Is all you can manage out as you both admire each other in such a state.

"Never thought this would happen." He says smiling.

"Me neither." You smile back and crawl up next to him, pulling the messy sheets over the two of you. He kisses you on the forehead and pulls you in closer. "Feel relaxed now?" You laugh.

"Oh definitely. More than ever."

"So... the lamp goes off now?" You ask excitedly.

"Yes," he sighs and reaches over to twist the knob on it. "The stupid lamp can go off."

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic

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mandarinmoons · 4 months

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"I won't give up on you" - Spencer Reid

Summary: During times of doubt Spencer reminds you of his feelings towards you

The day you met Spencer it felt like you got to see a glimpse into heaven and the day he asked you to be his it felt like you died and went straight to heaven.

Why you of all people? There were so many better people out there, people who could offer so much more to him and were intellectually stimulating enough to keep a conversation going. You felt bad whenever he would have to stop talking about a topic you had no clue on and you were left to nod along and reply with a “Mhm” every now and then. It wasn’t fair on him.

It also didn’t help that you struggled with your mental health at times. For the past week the recurring depression resurfaced again and on top of dealing with the feelings of not being enough for Spencer, it was a recipe for disaster.

Growing up the way you did, you weren’t one to talk about what was going on in your head. You were used to keeping it to yourself and riding out the dark wave until you eventually felt better again, Spencer changed that though. He was a profiler after all and could easily tell whenever the dark thoughts took over and would drop anything to focus all of his attention on you. Holding you close to him, whispering reassurances, anything that would make you feel better he would do. The man was so close to even getting you a puppy at one point so you wouldn’t have to be alone when he would have to go on cases halfway across the country.

You felt guilty though. You felt bad that he had to put his life on hold to take care of you, hell you felt guilty for asking him to pick up some ice cream on the way home from work.

Spencer finally got home from work at a somewhat decent time tonight and the second he stepped through the front door his eyes scanned the apartment, the TV was on but the sound was on the lowest setting. As he walked to the living room he saw your sleeping figure lying on the couch. He rested his hands on the back of the couch and his eyes filled with concern as he saw red streaks across your cheeks. He reached out and lightly brushed his thumb across them which made you stir in your sleep. A moment later you looked up at him and saw his sad eyes.

"Hey,” your voice was hoarse from the crying. Spencer moved your face his way and ran his hand over your cheek, “Baby what’s wrong?”

You took a shaky breath as you gathered your words, “Spencer I…”

Spencer’s eyebrows knitted together and instantly went blank as it hit him, “No, baby no. Don’t say anything.”

Spencer moved quickly as he sat next to you and took you into his arms, pressing you to his chest, one hand on your back as the other caressed your head.

“Spencer I’m not-,” you could barely finish your sentence as tears began to blur your vision again and a sob racked your throat.

“Y/N you are everything to me. Please don’t let those thoughts influence you right now, I need you just as much as you need me.”

Spencer pulled you back as he carefully wiped the tears from your face, “I will not give up on you.”

Spencer’s voice was calm and the love and care he had in his eyes was evident. It hurt him to see you think you weren’t good enough for him when in fact he thought that he wasn’t good enough for you.

“I just think there’s someone better out there for you.”

Spencer shakes his head and looks at you with his puppy dog like eyes, “I don’t care if there could be someone out there who’s scientifically proven to be my perfect match. You’re all that I want.”

Spencer peppered light kisses over your face which caused a light chuckle to fall from your lips, “I’m sorry.”

"Oh sweetheart don’t be, just please, don’t shut yourself out yeah? Please come to me.”

You nodded and buried yourself deep in his embrace as your face rested in the crook of his neck, taking in the comforting scent of his cologne, “I’ll try to.”

You can find my masterlist here!

My requests are open so feel free to send one in! (SFW only)

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fxshigurosbae · 6 months

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THE STRICT MAN . . .

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ toji fushiguro (40) x f!reader (18)

✶ mature content (minors do not interact) — pseudo!incest, step!cest, school!girl, virginity, dumbification, size kink, pet names, discipline, fingering, cunnilingus, humiliation, squirting, corruption, daddy kink, dilf, age gap, jealousy, manhandling, strong language.

this one is quite problematic and i apologize for it, deal with it however you want to i guess . . .

taglist | masterlist

a sweet eighteen year old high school girl. she is going back home, wearing the school’s cute uniform — on her way back to her step-daddy and older step-bro’s home, and mommy nowhere to be seen. the rules are pretty simple: she can’t have a boyfriend, she has strict curfew, no guy friends. yet, she’s extremely pampered, spoiled, and innocent… that’s you, you’re toji fushiguro’s cute step-daughter.

to your misfortune, you’re later than usual tonight . . .

leaving your mary janes at the entrance neatly and taking off your blazer, undoing the first few buttons of your shirt. you’re a little taken aback by toji already latched onto the couch, all spread out while watching the tv on mute. he doesn’t seem happy, but that’s also just his usual bitchy rest face. your delicate feet tip toe as in to stand behind the sofa, leaning over and giving the grumpy old man a wet kiss on the cheek, MWAH, with that strawberry lipgloss, mixed with the drool of the cherry lollipop you clumsy held on the other hand full of the bracelets toji gifted you, then putting a strand of your hair behind your ear in order to admire his profile better, despite the dim-lit room, with a wide cheeky smile of yours to add to the charm, and probably gain some mercy from him.

“where were ya, little miss? ya late.” he speaks in his deep usual lazy tone, eyes blank as they remain on the television. he’s wearing grey sweatpants and one of the thousand of black tight shirts he owns, which means he’s been home for quite a while now — what a deception he had when he realized you hadn’t arrived yet.

“had a project to work on, sorryyy.” you whine gently and honeyed, dragging out the last letters of the apology. then, walking to the front of the couch, seating down as your purposely flimsy short skirt puffs along and you prop the lollipop on your mouth in front of him innocently.

“at school? with who?” his face finally turns towards you slowly and uncaring, cold voice. his arms spreading wide against the back of the couch, his eyes focused on your doe ones that look up at him like a pitiful puppy.

“my classmates.” you purely reply, taking out the lollipop with a low POP before you speak, with a quick lick of your lips, all while watching him — he wonders if you’re doing it on purpose, but knowing you, he disagrees.

“where’d ya get that lollipop?” toji then asked, glancing down at your lips sucking onto the candy that has left your lips prettily reddish.

“a friend, he gave me a few, i shouldn’t have eaten so much sugar.” a slight pout surges on your pretty dolled face, with a slight devilish grin that’s almost mocking him. “sorry.” you add a few seconds later with a chuckle.

“he? ya should be apologizing for something else other than sum candy. didn’t i say i don’t wan’ ya to be friends with boys?” his voice is still flat, nosy but a little intimidating, his piercing eyes on you makes your little heart flutter, and your eyes shy away at the rebel action you committed. “‘m sorry…” you mumble, once again, discouraged to even lick more of the sweet lollipop, as you keep looking away, turning your body towards the tv now.

“were ya two alone? did he do anything to ya?” toji pressures rigidly as he rests his temple on his fingertips, and the same arm still on the headrest of the couch behind you, closely. turning his body towards you, and simply staring, analyzing is all he does. once he’s gotten a negative response to his question with a head shake from you still avoiding eye contact, the man remained quiet for a few seconds before leaving a low exhale. “i don’t believe ya, let me see for myself if ya lyin’.” as soon as toji demands, your cheeks warm up, and you now pout expressively, moving your earlier low head to now look at his eyes, all slowly, and he’s staring back intensely with a controlling and demanding aura. your cheeks burn. used to it, you leaned your head back onto the armrest beside you instead, lifting up your legs on the sofa cushion and holding the short skirt up, still with the drooled lollipop in one hand, while it almost drips and stains the white fabric of your skirt. there’s a small smirk on toji’s scarred lips as he focus on the middle of your legs, watching the slight wet trail on your pastel pink cotton thong as he towers over you with that huge figure of his, it’s even more intimidating than the way he talks.

“did ya get wet ‘cause of that boy? just ‘cause he gave ya some attention? popped a lolly or two out of his pocket? did he put ‘em in y’er mouth? don’t doubt it.” toji teases, his thumb dragging onto the hem of the panties, then right over your entrance. his emerald eyes shifting to yours, he’s watching your cheeks flush to pink but he knows it’s all innocent when it comes to you, after all, he’s made you think this is normal, and instead of making you blush from toji’s actions, the man has bred you into making your cheeks flush for the simple thought of the things he’s accusing you to have done . . . so, in other words, your mind doesn’t think that your step-father is doing something wrong, but you’re focused on imagining what he just said: about your guy friend putting the lolly in your pretty mouth, but why? it makes you feel dirty, because it sounds dirty coming from toji, so you get flustered, and he knows it, it’s his doing after all.

but you shake your head again and immediately, very shyly and quiet. “i think ya did, i’m gonna check if ya haven’t been a little slut and let him fuck ya. spread those fucking legs, sweetheart.” he demands firmly since your thighs threatened to close, and at the same time, his hand tapped your knee a little harshly for you to obey. yet, you flinched and ended up giving in, embarrassed and aware there was no way out of this.

toji’s fingers easily removed your thong, and you were so focused on his eyes that you couldn’t even see him putting it on his sweats’ pocket . . . for later. some slick almost dripped onto the couch, you were a little wetter than usual. toji tries to keep that neutral cold face as his lids narrow a little and maintain this controlling stare at your parts. his calloused hands spread your silky thighs even further apart, as his eyes kept focused onto your cute pussy, virgin pussy, taking in every single tissue and color.

he inhales deep and exhales restrainedly, the silence is loud as you can hear your heartbeat intensify, and your own breath hitch through your slightly parted lips. toji’s thumbs spread your folds widely, stretching the skin and you let out a very short unconscious moan. toji can see how moist you are, making his fingers almost slip, SQUELCH, he can almost feel the arousing warmth exuding onto his face as he leans closer, even feeling your legs tremble a bit at the sensitivity of his fanning breath, and the embarrassment of his face being so close. the man admires and looks at every muscle, noticing how he still can see the intact hymen — not being able to look inside the walls of your cunt as much as he spreads you out — which takes a sigh from him, leading your legs to twitch and your hole clench in response, even if not so much. the smirk he had before comes in again as he chuckles at your cute chaste reaction, your grip onto the hems of your skirt is tight and nervous, the lollipop in your hands is so close to slipping from your fingers, a string of the red sugar melting into your hand as your eyes are totally hypnotized onto the man facing your heating core.

“y’er princess’ pretty parts ‘pparently look aight, but that doesn’t mean nothing, i gotta be 100% sure, understand? i don’t trust ya no more.” he looks up to you, and your eyebrows knit in nervousness, slightly pinched nose and pouty lips, red cheeks and glowing pupils are such a sight for him. his eyes go excitedly back to your pussy, as he leans a little closer even, he’s invested, and the self-control this man has in on another level, toji’s almost licking his lips at the sight of his step-daughter’s pretty virgin cunt, how could he not, how could anyone not?

his middle finger — the thicker one — runs through your drenching slit, squelching again, sending shivers down your spine as the liquid refreshes your burning core skin, and your eyelids immediately shut down, toji silences a chuckle at that. the tip of his digit messes with the sensitivity of your hole, which aches a little, and he teases with a poke or two, making sure to take his time, as if he really was examining your cunt.

“look at me.” amidst the silence, his nasal deep voice resonates across the room lowly, and your eyebrows remain knit as your eyes open slightly to stare at him. “i needa see y’er face to know if y’er lying.” he begins, “have ya been a little slut with boys at school?” and even a little before he’s finished, your head immediately shakes NO and his eyes remain fixed onto your shy ones. toji’s finger continues feeling the small tight gummy ring of the opening of your cunny. “if i can tell y’er lying, ya in big trouble, miss.” he threatens slightly, your heart racing ten times faster because you know you haven’t.

yet suddenly, toji’s middle finger entered your pussy and your eyes shut down once again, letting out a silent lengthy moan — his cock is aching inside his sweats — you’re trying to close your legs together, and your head and shoulders shrugged like a turtle, gripping tight onto the hem of your skirt. “keep y’er legs open.” he demands monotonously, struggling to do so, they’re trembling at the slightly uncomfortable? feeling, since he’s never done this before.

“f-feels weird.” you mumble, clenching your pussy as he goes in a little deeper, and squeezing his only finger tightly. he’s stretching this freshly virgin pussy only a little bit and it feels almost impossible to fit it in, he’s having thousands of thoughts now.

“it’s nothin’.” he replies forcefully, manipulative, almost a little too eager too as he tries to glance between your contorted cute face and your drenching cunt, but his eyes keep moving to the latter. toji’s suffering inside, he’s miserable at how much restraint he is going through, and he’s almost groaning out lots of fucks and literally just fucking you right now. his finger goes a little deeper, your legs shaking a bit more and belly squirming and breathing heavily along with your chest, eyelids trembling as they remain closed and lips slightly parted, temptously leaving shy quivering hums. it’s an almost excessive reaction for such a small stimulation as this, but he has never ever gone this far, it’s entirely new, and you have never done this by yourself.

toji’s mean, and once his finger finds a good length, he instantly and not even hesitantly curls it upwards, finding something else that you have never even imagined, and it was so fucking easy, despite you being a virgin, but after all, toji . . . he has a curriculum. your hips move forward and up gently, you’re moaning unconsciously. you’re in another world, and to you, letting out those sounds is nothing wrong.

“aren’t you eager?” he mumbles under his breath, inaudibly, smirking and finally looking at your struggling face, you’re almost humping at his hand. “feels really weird, toji.” you repeat, panting like a puppy. “toji?” he fakes a little offended expression, “well aren’t you being a little rebel, little girl?” your head gets thrown back onto the armrest as you’re struggling to even listen to his words, and he’s up for more teasing as well. once you believed to have calmed down a bit and finally got used to his finger exploring inside your pussy, caressing that one specific spot for an unknown reason, something wet pressed against your clit. your eyes instantly flew to look down, and found toji licking your folds, having a hungry sloppy taste, SLURP. “w-what are you doing?” your half-lidded drunk eyes threaten to cross as his mouth muscle keeps running messy lazy slow circles over the nub.

“what else could i be doin’? i’m examining ya, taste test.” he lies shamelessly, and you accept it, hesitant still because this feels too good, and in your mind, you believe toji is actually just being a caring step-father and making sure you’re being kept in line. so, guilt is filling you entirely. firstly, for believing you were actually slutting yourself out. secondly, your hips now begin trying to hump his face subconsciously, and sweat starts to drip your forehead. you start to feel bad for trying to wrap your mind around what you’re feeling, and the desires is roaming your head constantly, though you’re unsure, quite unfamiliar with this concept. of course, toji takes notice of your failed disguised attempt of restraint, and he’s contemplating on whether it is a good idea to take advantage and corrupt you in this way so bluntly, just leading you on to believe on this facade . . . but he doesn’t care, because he loves you, and also, he’d never do you any harm either.

your breath is faster, as his finger keeps poking your g-spot, his tongue running laps over your clit, sucking and occasionally kissing it very subtly. he’s also drunk, but this time on your sweet pussy, because it’s just too addictive, too tempting to destroy and make it even more belonging to him. he wants to shape your cunt into his dick’s own personal bed, his cock’s own personal cave hole, fuck, he wants to see you under him all fragilely and begging to cum, to drop you off at school after he’s fucked you in the parking lot with his seed all the way into your womb, then have you walk down the hallways with the cum threatening to slip down your bare legs — that he knows guys stare at and fantasize, since he’s caught them doing it multiple times when picking you up — he wants you to beg for his cock on your knees as your step-brother is just down the hallway studying his ass off in his room. don’t worry, he knows he’s problematic.

but the way you look right now, the way his eyes are drowsy as he eats you out, the way his only finger is being sucked inside, it’s just heaven, and it’s more than he can take, it’s absolutely driving this old man insane. yet, it’s also the way your legs close and your pussy clenches intensely, along with a very specific louder moan coming our from your lips that he knows you’re on the edge, and perhaps, he achieved something greater. “toji, toji, feels so, s-so so weird.” your voice sounds a little more desperate, pulling onto your skirt and your legs almost smothering him, he’s looking up and trying to observe your face as you’re incessantly fidgety and squirmy, with doe sleepy eyes finally staring back and down at him. “oh yeah?” he only teases, barely moving an inch from your clit to speak, with his tongue out pressing down at the nerves, almost not even being able to make his words out. once in for all, without further stimulation, and so easily, his finger presses down a little more forcefully on the spot he’s been rubbing so gently inside, and it sends you over the moon. your head leans back swiftly and shaking legs wrap around his head firmer, as toji takes a deep breath in to try and relieve some tension, your eyes close and eyebrows knit more, with a loud cracking whine you SQUIRT against his face, and he pulls out his middle finger amidst to have it SPLASH onto his hand and cushion.

toji is mesmerized, addicted.

this man spreads out your legs and takes a quick exhale, feeling the blood being pumped to his cock thousand of times faster, and he’s dying to even rub his mere thumb over his pants, but his grip onto your wide-spread knees are keeping him from doing so. you’re panting and messily laying on the couch, sweating a little and staring up at him as he’s on his knees straight up on the cushion, looking down on you like a predator, a hunter. you are unaware, but suddenly, he breaks the unbreathable air with a smirk, and his eyes remain filled with lust, but at least, you feel less tense.

“knew ya were a good girl,” he praises, caressing your knees with his thumbs. “ya know, sweet thing, this means y’er body’s telling me that ya haven’t disobeyed me, ‘cause only virgins do that.” he starts, it’s blatant lie after lie, just planting brainwashing thoughts into your head over and over again. “i’ll know if ya have disobeyed me if next time i take a look at yer princess parts, ya don’t react like this,” look at him creating imaginary things. “i’ll know then that ya been a little whore, understand?”

he’s so childish, such a strict man.

🔖 @reiners-milkbiddies @lilithlunas @poesexual @sacvh @xdxdyg @missyasma @DelicatelyCraftedBambi @gorekuma

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu toji #toji zenin #toji x y/n #dilf toji #fushiguro toji #fushiguro #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro x y/n #fushiguro x you #fushiguro x reader

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daughter-of-sapph0 · 10 months

Text

one thing about tumblr that I don't see anyone talk about even with all the discussion about horrible changes is what happens when someone blocks you.

how it used to be is that you could still go to their profile, and would be able to report them or block them back. but you couldn't see any of their posts. and if one of their posts did happen to show up on your dash through reblogs, you couldn't like or reblog it. of course, it wouldn't tell you any of this. it would just give an error message or load indefinitely pretending like something was happening, rather than just saying "hey this person has you blocked, so you can't interact with them"

now it's a lot worse. idk when it was, but some change made it so now you can't even click on their blog at all.

now you might say "what's the big deal? why would anyone even want to go to a blog that had you blocked if you already couldn't see any of their posts in the first place?" and while true, there was at least something you could do on that blank blog. blocking them back and reporting them.

here's how it worked in the past. if someone sent me a rude message or tagged me in a dumb post and then blocked me, I could simply go to their blog (which would be blank for me) and block and report them.

now, if somone does that, I cannot click on their blog. in fact, because I can't block or report them, they can keep sending me horrible things, or even do the same to others without any fear of consequences. in order to actually be free of them, I'd have to go onto the desktop dashboard which a lot of people don't use, go to blog settings, scroll all the way down to blocked accounts, and manually type in their url exactly and add them to my list of blocked accounts.

and also, there is no way to report them. if someone is being racist or antisemitic or homophobic, and they have you blocked, you cannot report them at all.

I'm not going to say that this change was made by the sympathizers on staff specifically to protect terfs and white supremacists who spend all their time harassing and stalking and abusing people online while making it harder for their victims to protect themselves or even make those people face any consequences for their actions at all...

but the fact that this change happened around the same time as the whole "scorched earth / partyjockers" situation where staff entirely disintegrated a post and all it's reblogs because op said that one of the people on staff was a hairy potty fan, it's a bit too suspicious for me to call it a coincidental change.

#dostxt

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straykeedz · 8 months

Text

day 3: changbin + blowjob

©straykeedz

tw: changbin’s stressed so reader literally asks him to use their mouth as a fleshlight (i’m sorry💀); oral (m receiving, duh 🙄); a bit of throat fucking; cum swallowing; mention of showering together; ♡

wc: 2,1k

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober). ♡

smut below the cut so minors dni.

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to join the taglist you haven to be over 18 (please have an age indicator on your profile) and have a profile picture. no blank blogs. ♡

✧

When you enter your shared bedroom, you’re surprised to find Changbin sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees as his face is buried in his hands. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence in the room, too focused in whatever’s going on inside his head. You let out a heavy sigh as you make your way inside the room - the faint light of the lamp on his nightstand being the only source of light in your bedroom. You don’t know what’s up with your fiancé lately, but whatever it is - it’s starting to worry you.

You get closer to him, but he’s still not aware of you being in the same room as him, so you call his name to get his attention. “Binnie…”, your voice is sweet, and your fingers immediately find their way to his soft, curly hair, freshly washed.

He immediately snaps his head up in your direction, letting his arms fall limp along his sides as he stares at you like an abandoned puppy, big, brown eyes looking into yours. He looks absolutely wrecked, defeated, and you hate it. You want to ease the weight on his shoulders, but you’re also aware of the fact that he doesn’t like to be forced to open up about his feelings.

“Y/n…”, he calls your name softly, spreading his legs even wider to accommodate your body between them, wrapping his limbs around your figure and resting his forehead on your stomach, you don’t stop caressing his soft hair.

“Everything alright, Bin?”, you murmur, and you feel him shaking his head against your stomach. “Wanna talk about it?”

He sighs deeply. “Life’s just being a bitch lately.”, he says, tone defeated and tired.

“Something happened at work?”, you try.

Being a worldwide famous idol and producer is not easy, Changbin learned it the hard way. You honestly understand where this is coming from, and just wish you could ease some of his pressure from his shoulders.

“Not really, the usual.”, he mutters. “I’ve been feeling unproductive lately, that’s all. Can’t find the inspiration and everything I produce is shit.”

Now you get why he’s been sulking more than usual the past days. Changbin hates when he’s feeling uninspired - he doesn’t like to be forced to write lyrics or produce music, as he feels it’s not genuine. So, he find himself stuck in a limbo: being stressed because unproductive and being unproductive because stressed, and it’s driving him crazy.

“I think you should take some time off to yourself.”, you suggest, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to give him a massage, knowing he loves feeling your hands on him. “You know, just a couple of days - you’re too stressed.”

He practically moans when your fingers press on the muscles of his clavicle. Another defeated sigh leaves his mouth, and you feel his strong arms hold you tighter as he nuzzles his face against your stomach.

“I can’t do that.”, he grunts. “They need me, I can’t take a day off, let alone a couple.”, you can’t see him, but he rolls his eyes. Honestly, he wishes he could just not go to work for a while and rest peacefully and maybe enjoy a good meal instead of eating instant ramen every other day, but the agency’s been biting his ass and pressuring him into writing more music, and they’d never allow him to do that.

“Mh.”, you hum sadly, sincerely concerned about him. “This just means we’ll have to find another way to get you relaxed and to relieve some of your stress…”, you trail, the grip on his shoulder a bit more intense now, and you hope he got the hint. He snaps his head up to meet your eyes, and by the smirk that appears on his lips, it looks like he did.

“Oh, yeah?”, he raises his eyebrows, grinning. “And what did you have in mind?”, he purrs, his hands moving from your thighs to your ass, cupping and squeezing the flesh as you bite your lip.

“Mhh, I was thinking of something on the line of…”, you bend a little to whisper the following words in his ear, knowing it’ll drive him crazy. “You using my mouth like a fleshlight to get off.” When you pull away, you find him looking at you with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape, shocked by your words. “Would you like that?”

It’s a stupid question and an understatement, Changbin thinks, because you should see the way his cock practically came to life as soon as his brain processed what you’d said. So, instead of answering with words like a normal human being - he frantically nods, looking at you with big, brown puppy eyes as he licks his lips in anticipation.

“How do you want me?”, you ask, and he feels like he’s about to pass out.

“On your knees, love, please.” Changbin’s tone is demanding yet sweet at the same time - even when he’s in the mood to dominate you in bed, he can’t find it in himself to be too rough or too harsh with you, nor to offend you with words, even though you reassured him plenty of times that it’s okay if he does, that you like it.

You nod eagerly, a smile spreading on your face as you kneel before him, positioning yourself between his spread thighs - thankfully, there’s a fluffy rug at the end of the bed, so that you don’t hurt your knees when you go down on him, though it’s not the reason why you bought it. Maybe.

You automatically reach for his cock, still confined in his sweats, but rock hard nonetheless, and squeeze it through the thin fabric. Changbin doesn’t usually wear boxers to sleep, he doesn’t like how tight they feel against his skin, so that allows to feel him a bit closer. However, it’s not enough, and Changbin swiftly hooks his thumb on the hem of his sweats and pulls them off, lifting his body from the mattress just enough to let them slide off his ass and thighs.

When you finally wrap your fingers around his length, Changbin hisses and closes his eyes shut, too blessed in the feeling. It’s been a while since you’d last done that - with his busy schedule, he also had had to sacrifice long, steamy, lovemaking sessions, and your intimacy had mainly sticked to quickies or spooning sex lately, with basically zero foreplay.

You spit on your fingers to coat them in your saliva, which you use as a lubricant, before starting to jerk him off - slowly, just how he likes it. When he does it to himself, he does it fast, but when you’re the one with your hand around his cock - he wishes the feeling would last forever. He kicks his head back when you brush his slit with the pad of your thumb, gripping the sheets beneath him as you spread his pre-cum all over his cockhead.

“Mhh, like that.”, he moans, cock twitching in your hand. “I love it when you touch me.”, he opens his eyes to look at you.

You smile at him. “And I love touching you.”, you bite your lower lip as you bring your mouth closer to his dick.

Changbin feels his soul leave his body when you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, warm, wet mouth engulfing him - sensation so good it’s almost enough to make him cum on the spot. He almost forgot how your mouth feels like around him, and the feeling sends a shiver down his spine and a pleasant tingle in his cock, all the way from his base to the tip.

“God, how I love your mouth.”, his words are followed by a shaky breath as he feels you taking him deeper in your mouth - albeit not without struggling because of his girth. Changbin brings one hand to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb as he witness your mouth being stuffed with his fat cock.

You pull away, letting his cock fall out of your mouth as you continue to jerk him off, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to it, a sight that has Changbin biting on his lower lip. “Wanna fuck it?”, you ask, a bit breathlessly.

Changbin’s eyes widen and his breath gets stuck in his throat. “Yes.”, he responds, equally breathlessly. “God, yes.”

Changbin sucks in a breath when you wrap your lips around him once again, and he wastes no time in tangling his fingers in your hair in a very messy ponytail, careful to not pull your hair too hard as he slowly pushes you down on his cock, slurping sounds blessing his ears as you sink deeper on his length. He can feel your spit dripping from your mouth and all over his shaft, some ending on his balls, and his other hand grips even tighter on the bedsheets as he flexes the muscles of his thighs in order to control himself.

An obscene whimper leaves his mouth when you gag around him. “Oh, my God.”, goosebumps all over his skin. “Y-Yeah, just like that.”, he moans. “Choke on my cock like that.”

He kicks his head back as he continues to push your mouth on his cock to the point the tip of your nose is buried in the soft, trimmed hair on his pubic bone, his tip hitting the back of your throat with each movement as you hum around him. When your other hand finds its way to his balls, he nearly chokes on air and pulls you away from his cock, giving you time to regain your breath. When he looks at you - you have mascara running all over your face, and saliva drooling on your chin, mixed with his arousal. He thinks it’s the most beautiful sight ever, but of course he’s biased.

“Gonna fuck your throat now, love.”, his tone is sweet even when he says such filthy things to you. “Tap on my thigh if it gets too much, alright?”, he caresses your cheek sweetly.

You nod eagerly, and he stands up from the bed, towering above you. You moan when he wraps his own fingers around the base of his cock and slaps your mouth with his hard length, albeit lightly. You immediately part your lips when he aligns his cock to your mouth, welcoming him inside of you once again. Then, his hands move to each side of your face to keep you in place as he starts to rock his hips.

At first, he goes slow, his cock only halfway inside your mouth, giving you time to adjust to his length and to regulate your breathing through your nose. Once he’s made sure you’re okay, he starts to thrust inside your mouth, each time deeper and deeper until he’s fully buried inside your throat.

“You’re doing so good, love.”, he moans, pulling out almost all the way only to thrust back inside your mouth, squelching sounds filling the room together with his whimpers and your hums, clearly pleased with the way he’s using your throat to get off. After all, it’s what you asked him to do. “Looking so good with my cock in your throat.”, he pulls away a couple of locks of hair from your face, then entangles his fingers in your hair once again as he starts to thrust faster and faster, evidently close to finding his release.

“Mhh.”, his moans start to become more high-pitched, and his cock is throbbing in your throat. It’s only a matter of seconds before he shoots his load in your throat, reaching his yearned and deserved orgasm. “Go- God, I’m - fuck, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.”, he chants, knees buckling a little when he finally releases inside your mouth, hot spurts of his seed filling your mouth, some landing on your tongue, which you swallow gladly.

He pulls his cock out of you as soon as he’s made sure he’s given you until the very last drop of his cum, letting you regain your regular breathing as he brushes the skin of your face with his thumbs, trying to fix or at least clean your smudged mascara from under your eyes, smiling softly at you. He just loves you so much.

“Let me grab you a towel.”, he tells you sweetly, but before he can leave the room you stand up, legs feeling a bit shaky.

You shake your head as a no. “Come in the shower with me and then we can cuddle?”

Yes, Changbin is sure he’s found the love of his life in you.

✧

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-> don't forget to reblog to support me if you enjoyed reading my works and to let me know your thoughts, i love reading your feedbacks! ♡

#seo changbin smut #changbin smut #changbin #changbin hard thoughts #changbin hard hours #stray kids smut #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #changbin x reader #changbin x you #seo changbin hard thoughts #seo changbin hard hours

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coff33andb00ks · 13 hours

Text

Rule Breaker - Pt 3

max Verstappen x single mom!reader

{masterlist}{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, jos is an even bigger asshole, barely proofread, logan's there, glazed-over mentioning of childhood trauma Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 7937 (i got so carried away holy shit) auth.note: listen, eagle boy swayed me with his pretty eyes and soft voice... also this was a great excuse for me to rewatch Mulan for the millionth time. spotify: i made a playlist

"Team meeting in ten," GP commented.

Max nodded, eyes following y/n through the window as she paced in the small courtyard, talking on her phone. He hadn't seen or spoken to her since they'd finished the Q and A the day before. Surprisingly, he'd actually enjoyed it. He told himself it was because she'd made sure to gather thought provoking questions, not because some of his answers had made her laugh and her laugh made him feel relaxed. GP turned to look out the window and Max quickly looked down at his plate, even though he'd just taken the last bite of his breakfast. When the engineer turned back, Max could feel his amused expression.

"Looks like it might rain," GP said casually.

Nodding again, Max washed down the last of his food with his coffee. "More chances for fuck ups."

"It's not a crime."

He finally looked up. "What?"

GP nodded towards the window.

"If rain was a crime, would they put god in prison?" Max asked, keeping his face blank when his friend snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You're not a robot, Max."

From the corner of his eye he could see her approaching Christian, who was coming from the garage. "I never said I was."

"Then stop acting like one. You're still young, I guess you're attractive, and you're at the top of your career."

"Thank you for that endorsement," Max said drily. Horner had stepped aside with y/n, whose hands were moving as she spoke to him. "I'll be sure and put it in my Tinder profile."

GP's eyebrows lifted. "You have one?"

"Fuck no." He pushed his chair back. "I don't have time."

"Max," his friend sighed.

"I'll see you at the meeting." He took care of his dishes, making sure to thank the staff working the dining area before leaving the motorhome, telling himself it was so he could get some fresh air and clear his head for the meeting. His legs carried him around the corner to where y/n and Christian were still talking, and he boldly approached.

"…speak to him." Christian shot a look at Max.

"If he was joking I wouldn't think twice about it.," y/n said, frowning. "But I don't see how it could have been. He was extremely rude, implied I wasn't worth hiring based on my looks, and…"

Max kept his mouth shut, knowing she needed to do the speaking. Giving her a faint nod when she looked at him, he felt a glimmer of pride when she straightened her shoulders.

"I didn't spend four years in college – sorry, university – and work three jobs at once to be demeaned. I know I have the skills and drive to do my job, but if this team continues to foster that sort of toxic environment you'll have to look for a new social media admin," she said firmly.

He tried to but couldn't keep the smile from forming.

Christian looked slightly impressed, giving her a reassuring nod. "I understand. He's not employed by us, he's only here by our good graces."

"I know he's the father of the your top driver, and I spoke with him before coming to you," she said, as though Max wasn't standing right there.

Christian pressed his lips together and Max knew he was trying to hide his smile. "Of course. We'll deal with it, I promise."

"Thank you." She relaxed, sighing softly. "I'm not trying to cause trouble, Mr. Horner."

"It's Jos fucking Verstappen, he's the trouble," Christian muttered. "Don't worry, alright? If anyone ever gives you a problem, reach out to me."

She nodded. "Thanks again. Oh!" She turned to Max, smiling hopefully. "I already asked Checo and he said yes to doing it this week. Would you be up to 24 hours with you at Monaco? Not the full 24 hours since I don't want to watch you sleep, but I just stick with you for the rest of the day and show fans a behind the scenes look at what a practice or quali day for you looks like."

"Why?" he asked, still stuck on the thought of her watching him sleep.

"Well! Casual fans don't realize how much work goes into being you. The training and diet and analyzing and teamwork. All the stuff you do even before practice and quali, like walking the track."

"For the whole day."

"Yeah, except for sleeping. I mean, that would probably really ramp up views, but—"

"I'm not that interesting though," he said. Why would anyone want to spend a practice or quali day with him?

"Oh don't start with the modesty. You're an elite athlete. I'm not asking you to invite me into your bedroom and let me show your bed to the world, just a small peek at what you're like. We can highlight your sim racing, explain how it's helped you learn the tracks so well. Talk about your suit, why the fireproof is so important." She tipped her head. "Maybe a shot of your suitcase to prove you do have clothes other than Red Bull gear? If you do, because I'm beginning to think you only have one pair of jeans and a Red Bull shirt."

He laughed at that, shaking his head. "I guess I can do it. We'll see how Checo's goes."

"Perfect. Speaking of, I'm doing that tomorrow so I gotta start posting to hype it up—"

"Meeting in two minutes," Christian told them.

Max looked at him, chagrined to admit he'd forgotten the man was there. "On the way," he promised, rubbing the back of his neck when Christian shot him a knowing look and headed off. Turning back to y/n, he cleared his throat. "I'm not showing my suitcase to the world."

"Is it that embarrassing?" she asked, clicking her tongue in sympathy. "Do you have Red Bull boxers too?"

"No, I—" he cut off, remembering the company's joke birthday gift to him the year before. "Okay, I do, but they're not in my suitcase."

"At least let me throw a team logo pillow on the bed—"

"Absolutely not."

She fell into step next to him, an extra bounce in her walk. "Are you saying there's already one there?"

He shouldn't say it. It would probably be inappropriate. He told himself that repeatedly, even as he drew a breath and opened his mouth. "Why the interest in my bed?"

"I told you, I love sleep. Oh." She frowned. "It'll be a hotel bed anyway."

Opening the motorhome door for her, he glanced up at the cloudy sky as the aroma of flowers he couldn't identify washed over him. "No?"

"Are you saying you get an Airbnb?" she asked in confusion. "Do they even have that in Monaco—"

"You didn't know? I thought you asked Google everything," he teased.

Her brow furrowed deeply. "Didn't know what?"

"I live in Monaco. So no, it wouldn't be a hotel room."

The confusion melted away, her eyes widening a little. "Oh. Wow."

"Wow?" he echoed, heading to the stairs.

"You're rich rich."

"Don't say that," he requested, making a face. She made wealth sound dirty.

"In my defense I didn't think to look up everyone's salary when I got hired. I mean I knew you were rich, but—"

"Stop saying it—"

"Sorry." She smiled sweetly, which told him she wasn't sorry at all. "Have a good meeting, Max. Oh, wait!"

He stopped at the top of the stairs, huffing when she lifted her phone and snapped a photo of him. "Why do you need a picture of me right now?"

"To show the world that even Max Verstappen, three time world champion, record breaker and maker, is sometimes late for a meeting."

Dragging a hand over his face, he sighed. "You're in a strange mood today."

"I'm getting comfortable. It's what I do. Lull everyone into thinking I'm sweet and quiet, then once I know I can relax I let my true self out."

"I'm scared to ask what your true self is," he admitted, ignoring his phone when it began to buzz with a phone call.

"Chaos," she told him, snapping another photo. "And I'm so putting a team logo pillow on your bed next week."

"No," he warned her as she turned to go back down the stairs. "No pillow."

"Go to your meeting or I'll post on Twitter than you have Red Bull boxers!"

"You wouldn't."

"Try me, rich boy."

And, damn everything, he laughed. She spun at the bottom of the stairs, giving him a smile that was pure sunshine. Not about to tempt fate, he held up his hands in surrender and went to the conference room for the meeting, still smiling as he slid into his seat next to Checo. When the meeting was over he hung back, his smile long gone as he waited for whatever Christian had to say.

"Two things," Christian started, leaning back in his seat with a sigh.

Max rolled his water bottle between his hands and stayed silent.

"Your dad."

He nodded. "I'll talk to him—"

"He's on probation now. If he so much as looks at anyone the wrong way, he'll be banned from the garage and the paddock." Christian steepled his hands. "It would probably be best if I did it now, but…"

"I'll talk to him," Max said again, already dreading that conversation. "Sometimes he speaks before he thinks, and unfortunately y/n was on the receiving end."

"Are you defending him?"

"No. I'm saying…" What was he saying? He didn't even know himself, so how could he explain it to Christian?

"You're saying what he would expect you to say. Max." Christian leaned forward. "I know he's your father. But – what did y/n say? He creates a toxic environment."

Max was on his feet and pacing before he realized he was moving. "What do you want me to do? Cut him out of my life completely? He's my dad. He made me who I am." Slinging his cap onto the table, he ran a hand through his hair. "He gave up on a marriage so I could achieve my dreams. I know people call it abuse and yeah if I could change the past I would, or at least some parts, but… Would I be me if he didn't do what he did?"

Christian sighed and Max hung his head. The bitterness between team principal and his father had been around as long as he could remember. And he understood, he did. Most days even he didn't like Jos that much.

"What he said to y/n was unacceptable. I know that. When she told me, I…" He paused, unsure whether he wanted to admit what his first thoughts had been. Starting to pace again, he stopped at the window and looked outside, noting that the earlier clouds had rolled away. "I was ready to tell you to ban him."

Christian nodded. "You sure you want to talk to him? Because I'll do it. I don't have a problem telling him to go fuck himself."

"I should do it," Max said with a sigh.

There was silence from Christian, and Max finally snatched up his hat and sat back down. "I'll do it, Max."

He would never admit to the rush of relief at those words. "What was the other thing?"

"Y/n."

He set his jaw. "What about her?"

"She's off limits."

Max blinked. "How do you mean?"

"I've seen the way you look at her."

He pinched his eyebrows together. He wasn't aware he'd been looking at her in any particular way. He just…looked at her. It was true that she did make him smile a little bit more than he usually did, but that had to be due to her self-professed chaos—

"It's in her contract. Yours too, I'm sure."

"I'm – Nothing's happened." Yes, she'd slept in his private room and yes, his sheets had smelled of her and given him dreams he shouldn't have been dreaming. But nothing else had happened.

Soft hands, plush hips, bright eyes, lush mouth—

"Keep it that way. We can't afford another PR disaster."

Max snorted, unsure how anything he did – not that he would do anything – with y/n could come close to the disaster Christian had caused. "I'm not texting her, so."

"Cheeky bastard," Christian muttered. "Go get prepped for practice."

Grabbing his water bottle from the floor, Max left. Off limits. What the hell did that even mean? He couldn't be friendly with her? He couldn't keep his promise to watch a movie with Kevin?

Fuck Christian anyway, he wasn't one to talk about someone being off limits, he decided. He went down for another coffee, inconspicuously looking around for y/n. Not seeing her, he turned his attention to the upcoming practice, trying his best to push his worries about his father to the back of his mind.

When he approached the garage he saw her, and he frowned slightly when he saw Logan talking to her. Did they know each other? They obviously did, judging by the way she laughed at something he said. Sourness filled his mouth and he gulped down his water, grunting when a hand suddenly clapped his shoulder.

"Mate, you coming out tonight?" Lando asked with a grin.

"Not a good idea to go out before quali, mate," Max said automatically.

"I'm not gonna get drunk. A few of us are just going out to eat. You in?"

"I think I'll skip it. But we'll go out Sunday?"

Lando's grin widened and Max chuckled, knowing he was remembering what little he could of the celebration in Miami. Lando loved to party after a race. "Absolutely. Good practice, yeah?"

Max grinned, bumping fists with him before they parted. The American was still talking to y/n. Didn't he need to get ready? Go fluff his hair or something? Walking up to them, he nodded at Logan. "Have a good practice alright, mate?"

"Oh, yeah, better get to the garage." Logan turned and flashed a smile at y/n. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure. Be safe," she said.

She was smiling a little too hard, in his opinion. And then she was—

Hugging? Him?

Max felt like he might vomit.

"Later, Max," Logan said as he jogged off.

"What did he want?" Max asked.

She looked up from checking something on her camera. "Hm? Oh, nothing, just chatting. He's nice."

"Yeah, a complete sweetheart," he said with a roll of his eyes. Then, shoving the sourness away, he cleared his throat. "I've got the sim racing tomorrow after quali, then the race is Sunday."

Y/n blinked, then nodded slowly. "Yes?"

"I promised Kevin we'd watch the movie?" he reminded her.

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it, I know you're too busy. He hasn't even mentioned it again, I'm sure he's already forgotten." She turned slightly and knelt to take pictures of his car in the garage.

"But I promised."

"Max, it's really not that big a deal."

It was. To her it might not be. If she couldn't do something with her son when she had promised she could, she was able to do it another time. He couldn't just show up to her flat to watch a movie. And Kevin had been so excited… He tried not to remember all the promises that had been made to him as a child, promises he had learned at an early age would never be kept. "Y/n…"

She looked up at him, drawing a breath to, he was sure, tell him again that it was fine. But she paused, studying his face, and he heard her sigh as she lowered the camera. "This is really important to you, isn't it?"

"And to Kevin," he pointed out.

"He did talk about it a lot last night before he went to sleep. Made sure the hotel tv had Disney plus and asked if Ellie would buy some popcorn…" She sighed, smiling. "Did you want to do it next week before Monaco?"

"I was thinking today? After the practice and debrief. If you're not too busy," he added, unintentionally looking towards the Williams garage.

"No, I don't have any plans. Just editing and posting, and I can do that while you two watch a movie. I've got plans for dinner, but there's plenty of time."

"Plans?" he asked, trying his best to sound casual.

"Yeah! Logan offered to take me out to see a little of the town. He's offered to be my tour guide."

At night. Now he knew he would vomit. "How delightful," he managed.

"Yeah, he's sweet. Don't worry, I won't give away any secrets."

The sourness returned, doubled, and he recognized it now as jealousy. Which was beyond ridiculous, because she wasn't his to be jealous over. Seeing that she was about to stand he immediately offered his hand, easily steadying her as she rose to her feet.

"Thanks."

He wondered what sort of cream she used on her hands. They were so soft. "Y/n—"

"Max!"

Y/n's smile faded and she practically snatched her hand away. "I'll message you the hotel info," she said, turning on her heel and sweeping into the garage.

"I need to talk to you," his father demanded.

Looking into the garage, he saw that he had a full thirty minutes before practice began. No way out of this conversation. Nodding, he followed his father to a relatively secluded spot, keeping his head down.

*-*

"His father is such an asshole, honestly. We were talking outside the garage and he marched up like he owns the—" Y/n glanced to make sure Kevin still had his headphones on and wasn't listening in. Seeing that he did and wasn't, she turned back to Ellie. "—fucking place and barked at him all 'I need to talk to you' like the guy isn't about to go out on the track."

Ellie made a face. "What a prick. What did he have to say to him that was so important?"

Y/n shrugged, bending to gather the dirty pair of socks off the floor. "No idea. He dragged him off and I could see them but couldn't hear anything. I felt so bad for Max."

"I would have too. And he didn't say anything when he got back to the garage?" Ellie smoothed the bedding while y/n stuffed the dirty laundry into a sack.

"Not to me." Sighing, y/n dropped the sack inside the bathroom and then got down on her hands and knees to make sure nothing embarrassing was lying around. "He looked like a kid getting yelled at, Ellie. I had no idea his dad was that much of an—"

She saw Kevin moving and stopped, getting to her feet while he set his tablet and headphones on the table. "Gotta pee, mama," he said, sliding out of the chair.

"Did you finish your game?" she asked while Ellie looked around to make sure the hotel room was presentable.

"Yeah, it's easy," Kevin said.

"Are you gonna tell him?" Ellie whispered.

"No… What if he can't make it? I don't want to get his hopes up." Y/n pushed the chair in at the table and checked the tablet, seeing that Kevin had indeed finished the alphabet game she'd downloaded that morning for him.

"If he doesn't come, maybe we can—" Ellie laughed when there was a knock at the door. "Never mind."

"It might not be him," y/n muttered, even though she knew it had to be. He'd been so insistent, and she'd been able to tell that it was possibly more important to him than it would be to Kevin.

"I'll make sure the lil rugrat washes his hand," Ellie murmured, slipping into the bathroom.

Y/n rubbed her hands on her thighs and went to open the door, giving the hotel room one last glance before doing so. And, just as she'd known, Max was in the hallway. "Hey," she greeted softly, eyes widening a little when she saw he was wearing a pair of sweats and a hoodie. "Holy shit, you're allowed to wear non-Red Bull clothes?"

He snorted, letting out a laugh when she just stared at him. "Very funny."

"No, no, I'm serious. Isn't that in your contract or something?" Stepping back, she finally gave him a grin. "C'mon in."

"I don't know if he's allowed, but I brought some sweets." Max held up the grocery bag hanging from one finger.

"Yeah, he's allowed. No allergies or anything," she assured him, closing the door once he'd stepped inside. "He's washing his—"

"Mister Max!"

Y/n nearly teared up. Her son sounded so excited, and she had a moment of panic for letting him befriend Max. He was too busy to drop by regularly, and after Monaco Kevin would be staying home with Ellie, so—

"There's my little mate!"

Fuck's sake, even Max sounded excited. As though a movie with a three year old was the height of his day. Looking on as he swung Kevin up and spun him in a circle, she took the bag and emptied the packets onto the table while Ellie greeted Max and brought out the popcorn from where she'd hidden it from Kevin. Max and Kevin talked nonstop to one another, Max telling him about practice after Kevin gave him a detailed report on what he'd done all day. The boy grabbed his tablet and showed him the games he'd played, showing off his alphabet skills.

"You're good with letters, yeah? Maybe you'd be good learning a new language?" Max suggested.

"Do you know a new language?" Kevin asked.

"He's really good with him," Ellie whispered to y/n.

"Shh," she hissed. Because she already knew. And she didn't need it pointed out to her. Besides, she was listening to Max tell Kevin about the languages he spoke, then to him rattle off a few sentences in each one, much to Kevin's amazement.

"Can you teach me?" he asked hopefully.

"When I can, kleine maat." Max ruffled Kevin's hair. "That means little mate."

"You're my big mate," Kevin decided.

"Grote maat," Max said, repeating it slowly a couple times before Kevin said it properly. "There you go. You'll be speaking Dutch like a pro in no time."

"You want a drink, Max?" Y/n offered. "We don't have Red Bull, sorry—"

"Water's fine. Thanks."

"Can I have water too, mama?"

Nodding, y/n fixed their drinks while Kevin turned on the TV and opened Disney+, rolling her eyes when he told Max the password so he could put it in for him. She saw that Ellie was putting on her shoes and raised her eyebrows. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, I don't want to intrude on big mate, little mate bonding time," Ellie said with a small smile. Peeling Kevin from Max long enough to give him a quick hug, she grabbed her wallet and phone. "And I've seen Mulan about six hundred times, so I'm just gonna go for a walk. Take pictures. Get a coffee and a pastry."

"Have fun," y/n said.

"Mhmm, you too," Ellie said with a smirk as she left.

She rolled her eyes and handed Max his drink then Kevin his cup. Motioning for Max to have a seat on the small sofa, she couldn't help but smile when Kevin immediately climbed to sit next to him, and had the feeling that before the movie was over her son would be cuddled close to his big mate.

"Join us?" Max asked while Kevin looked for the movie.

"Work," she reminded him, transferring the sweets and popcorn to the coffee table and getting her laptop. "I'll watch from here."

"It doesn't look very comfortable."

"It shouldn't. It's work."

He looked ready to argue, but instead took a sip of his water and grabbed a bag of candy. Tossing it onto the table, he gave a small shrug when she looked at him. "You said you like strawberry milk."

Y/n looked from him to the bag several times. He remembered that? She'd mentioned it during the Q and A, when the question had been other than red bull what's your favorite drink? Staring at the bag, she felt a sudden rush of warmth. No one had bought her candy in so long… "Thank you," she murmured.

"You're welcome," he said softly.

She almost told him he didn't have to, but she knew that he already knew that. He'd done it because… She didn't know. Maybe to apologize for his father's behavior. Maybe to show he listened. Maybe, just maybe, because he'd seen it in the shop, remembered her liking strawberry milk, and had bought it because that was something he did, buy a little something for no other reason than you said you liked it.

She tried to focus on work, but the movie kept getting her attention. Finally she gave up, scheduling the posts she'd edited and closing her laptop. Grabbing a bottle of water, she joined them on the sofa as Mushu revealed himself to Mulan. As she'd expected, Kevin had already crawled into Max's lap, sharing his bag of popcorn with the man as they both focused on the movie.

"Mama," Kevin whispered, reaching for her.

She scooted closer, sighing as he turned so he could lean against her arm. Max shifted, and she tried to act nonchalant when he draped his arm behind her on the back of the sofa. Smoothing her son's hair, she pretended not to notice when the arm slid to her shoulders. He probably hadn't even noticed, she told herself, aware that his eyes were locked on the TV screen, paying attention to the movie. When Kevin's favorite part began he sat up, quickly sliding to the floor to sing along and she fully expected Max to pull away from her.

But he didn't, and she pulled her knees up, unable to focus on anything except the weight of his arm around her. It was solid but not uncomfortable, a very real reminder that she hadn't been in this position in a very long time.

"He's so mean," Kevin mumbled as Shun-Yu appeared on the screen. Y/n waited for him to hurry over to climb into her lap but he chose Max instead, and she bit back a sigh when the man gently soothed him, hugging him close.

"It's okay, kleine maat. The good guys will beat him, yeah?" he murmured, pausing the movie.

Kevin nodded against Max's shoulder. "Yeah but he's bad."

"A lot of people are," Max said softly. "But if we focus on that we don't see the good. Do you think about your happy days more or your bad days?"

"Happy days," Kevin said.

"Because they make you happy, yeah? If you think about bad days you'll always be having them. It's like that with people. Focus on the good and do what you can to keep the bad from happening. Bad happens, but the good will always be there."

"Okay."

"You ready to finish the movie?" Max asked gently.

Kevin nodded.

Max finally looked at y/n, glancing down when he saw the way she was staring at him. "I didn't—"

"No, you're good," she promised in a whisper, picking up the remote to resume the movie then hugging her knees. If she didn't occupy her arms, she would throw them around him. Usually she had to explain those things to Kevin. Ellie helped, of course, but Kevin always came to her for more explanation after a life lesson. But Max… He'd explained it so eloquently and gently that he'd understood. And she didn't know why, but, god help her…

It was the sexiest thing she'd ever witnessed.

His arm stayed around her shoulders through the rest of the movie. When Mulan was cast out, she got a little emotional as she always did, even after over six hundred views, and she felt his arm tighten around her, hesitating a tiny bit before letting her head lean against him. All she could smell now was him, the gentle but memorable sandalwood and amber scent that she remembered well from the day before.

"Gotta pee," Kevin announced a little bit later, clambering down and running to the bathroom. Max took the remote to pause the movie.

Y/n began to pull away, lifting her head when he squeezed her arm.

"You're fine," he whispered.

His face was so close. Seeing a tiny piece of popcorn on his chin, she reached up to brush it away, freezing at the sound of his sharp inhale. "Sorry, you got a little…"

When the hell had his eyes become so blue? Just a day ago they'd been a normal blue. Now they reminded her of the antique blue willow china her great grandmother had treasured. Her gaze slipped to his mouth and quickly moved back to his eyes and she heard him inhale again.

"Max?"

"Y/n, I…" His eyes flicked down and she unconsciously licked her lips.

She knew she shouldn't but she suddenly, desperately, wanted to know what it was like to kiss him. She hadn't thought about kissing anyone in what felt like a lifetime, but now she needed it. Lifting her chin slightly, she dropped her hand to his chest. "Max—"

"Y/n, you… I—"

"Okay!"

She snatched herself away from Max as though she'd been burned, going so far as to jump to her feet while Kevin rushed back to the sofa. "Go ahead and hit play, I'll be back in just a minute," she promised, nearly tripping over nothing in her haste to get as far away from Max as possible. "Hit play, it's fine, I've seen it a million times."

Once in the bathroom she closed the door and leaned against it, covering her face with both hands. What the hell was wrong with her? Just because she hadn't been kissed since— She dropped her hands, wrinkling her nose in thought. Kevin was three years and two months, and… At any rate, it had been so long she'd assumed she was never going to be kissed again. She hadn't even thought about it in ages, because she'd been so focused on work and raising her son and trying to survive. Now, all of a sudden, she was craving one so bad she'd practically begged him.

He'd been about to tell her he couldn't. She was sure of that. Which only made it even more embarrassing. How could he even want to? She'd seen the girlfriends of other drivers on the grid, there was no way he'd be even remotely interested in her. She wasn't a model or tennis star or whatever their occupations were.

Not to mention she couldn't. It would be wrong on so many levels. What kind of impression would her behavior leave on her son? Not to mention the troubles it would cause at work? And it was in her contract that any sort of fraternization with other members of the team were forbidden. She'd known that but she had read the full contract on the flight to Italy. If she and Max did anything it would eventually come out and she'd be jobless again, this time in a foreign country.

Checking her phone when she felt it buzz in her pocket, she sighed while reading Logan's text.

We're still on right?

She wanted to say no. The best thing for her to do would be to suffer through the rest of the movie, say goodbye to Max, have an early dinner, put Kevin to bed, then take the world's coldest shower. But she was already typing out her reply.

Of course! Looking forward to it.

And she was, she thought, seeing the delivered change to read then the three little dots that he was typing a message. Logan was fun. Nice. Completely uninterested in her romantically, she thought with a sigh.

Great. Be there at 8 to pick you up. Give Kev a high 5 for me?

Will do.

Pushing away from the door, she turned on the water to wash her hands and jumped slightly when there was a gentle knock.

"Y/n?"

"I'm almost done," she called.

She heard his sigh. "Can I come in?"

No. "Yeah, sure."

He opened the door and stepped in, and she swallowed when he closed the door behind him. "I…"

"Max, don't," she groaned, washing her hands and grabbing the towel. "You don't have to tell me you wouldn't have… Even if I wanted you to. I know."

"Wouldn't have what?" he asked.

God, could the moment get any more embarrassing? "I – You – Jesus, never mind."

"Kiss you?" he murmured.

Why did the way he said it sound like so much more than a kiss? "It's fine. Go back and finish the movie."

"Y/n, I can't."

"You have to leave?" she asked.

"What – no, not the movie," he said. Cupping a hand over his mouth, he breathed deeply and dropped his hand after a few seconds, looking pained. "I can't kiss you."

"Oh." Oh. "Do you have a girlfriend or—"

"If I had a girlfriend I wouldn't be in this tiny toilet with you."

And she believed him. He didn't seem the type to put himself in a situation that could be misinterpreted if he had a partner. "Right. Of course. Then…"

"It's…" He sighed.

"Are you gay? Because I won't tell any—"

"I'm not gay," he cut in gently. "It's… I'm not allowed to kiss you."

She blinked, suddenly understanding. And she wondered if he'd read the contract, too. "Right. Neither am I."

"Christian talked to you too?"

"No? Why would he?"

"He told me you're off limits." Max shook his head. "Said I look at you or something."

"Oh." He did? And just how did Max look at her? "I see."

"And it's in our contracts. Yours and mine, I mean. So… I can't."

She nodded. "Of course. Understood. No more explanation necessary, Max."

"I wouldn't want you to lose your job," he said softly.

She continued to nod. "Got it. Thanks."

He tipped his head, then reached to take the towel from her and she realized she was still drying her hands. "I'll still be Kevin's friend."

Still nodding, she picked up her hand cream and squeezed a dollop into her palm. "Thanks. He likes you."

"I like him too." He hesitated, watching her carefully. "You okay?"

"Peachy keen," she promised, rubbing the cream into her hands. "Just getting ready for my dinner."

His lips settled into a fine line. "Your date."

The way he said it irritated her. As though she was in the wrong for making plans with a new friend. "It's not a date, but yes."

"I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time," he said with absolutely no emotion.

"Well, he's not contractually obligated to be nice to me, so… I know I will," she said, forcing as much sweetness into her voice as possible.

"I'm not nice because of a contract," he snapped.

"Right, sorry, my mistake. He won't not kiss me because of a piece of paper," she corrected.

Max's eyes flashed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "I thought it wasn't a date?" he asked carefully.

Good, at least he had some emotion. "Oh, so I'm only allowed to kiss him if we're on a date?"

"I didn't say—" He cut off, pressing his lips tight together and exhaling slowly. "You said it wasn't a date."

"Why do you care either way?"

"Is it a date or not?" he ground out.

"It's not." She took her hair down from the ponytail as he sighed with something like relief. "But it could be in the future."

"What, so you'll kiss him because I won't kiss you?"

"If I kiss him, it'll be because both of us want it," she said. She knew she was being silly, maybe even a little stupid. But he was acting as though he were doing her a favor. As though he were somehow honorable, a gentleman even, because he refused to do what she now knew they both wanted.

"Y/n, I can't—"

"A word I'm sure you're not used to saying about yourself," she muttered under her breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, an edge in his voice.

"I didn't know that 'can't' was in your vocabulary is all." Looking at her phone to check the time, she cleared her throat. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to change."

He hesitated while she opened her makeup bag. "Do you want to kiss him?"

"Why do you care?"

He visibly bristled. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Does he have a reputation for hurting women?" She picked up her hairbrush, and had brushed out her hair completely before he finally answered.

"No." It sounded like it hurt him to say it. "He's nice."

"Then you don't have to worry."

"Where are you going?"

"Oh, no." She laughed humorlessly. "You don't get to ask that. Now please, I have to change."

He stared at her, looking annoyed and irritated, his jaw still twitching. Then, with a huff, he turned to open the door. And froze when he saw the dress hanging from the hook. "Is… That's what you're wearing?"

"Oh my god, Max, you're starting to sound like a jealous boyfriend."

"I'm not jealous," he snorted.

"And you're not my boyfriend," she snapped.

She waited for him to turn around and restart their argument. Altercation. Whatever it was. Instead, he muttered something under his breath and snatched the door open. Went out, closing it. And sounded perfectly normal when he apologized to Kevin and resumed the movie.

Y/n was still annoyed even after changing and doing her makeup. She fussed over her hair, unsure whether she wanted to wear it up or down, finally leaving it down. She was fully aware that she was putting more work into her appearance than she would have if Max hadn't said what he had, and still knew she was being silly and stupid. Hadn't she just told herself nothing could happen between them?

Yes, but maybe if he hadn't acted as though he were doing an immense favor she wouldn't be so upset. I wouldn't want you to lose your job. Indicating that if he kissed her and they were found out, his job was secure.

"Sanctimonious prick," she muttered while she spritzed perfume on her wrists and rubbed them together. As she exited the bathroom the outer door of the room opened and Ellie came in, her jaw dropping when she saw her.

"Holy shit babes, you look amazing!"

She smiled, doing a turn for her friend. "You think so?"

"His jaw is gonna be on the floor the whole time. Holy shit, milf alert." Ellie whistled softly, waving her hand as though overcome with heat.

Y/n giggled. "Thanks."

The movie was ending and Kevin oohed and aahed over her dress, telling her over and over how pretty she was. Max stared at her, his jaw set, but said nothing, looking away and starting to clear up the remains of the snacks.

"Isn't she pretty, grote maat?" Kevin asked.

And even though her back was to him, she felt his gaze. Glancing over her shoulder at him while she fastened her necklace, she watched his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. "Very pretty, kleine maat."

"You're supposed to tell her," Kevin whispered. "Always tell a lady she's beautiful. Right, aunt Ellie?"

"That's right, buddy," Ellie said proudly. She gave y/n an odd look, silently asking what had happened, narrowing her eyes when y/n merely shrugged.

"Because women are pretty all the time," Kevin went on and y/n smiled. At least she was doing something right…

After fastening her earrings she turned from the dresser, breath catching in her throat when she found Max staring at her. Vaguely aware of Ellie telling Kevin to wash his hands so they could eat the dinner she'd brought, she squatted, getting her heels from her suitcase, along with her shawl.

"Je bent mooi," Max said.

She met his gaze as she rose to her feet. "What's that mean?"

"You're beautiful," he whispered.

"Thank you." And though she knew it was catty, she couldn't help the words that slipped out of her mouth. "Do you think Logan will like it?"

His jaw twitched. "He'd be stupid not to."

"That doesn't answer my question," she practically cooed, slipping on her heels.

He made a sound of disgust in his throat. "He's annoying and dumb sometimes, but he's not stupid. So, yes, I think he'll like it."

"Look at you, hyping me up." She wasn't stupid either, she could hear and feel the jealousy. Good, she thought, getting her small handbag and transferring her few necessities to it.

"Is he picking you up?" Max asked. "Or are you meeting him somewhere?"

"Are you gonna stick around and question his intentions?" she scoffed. "Because if so, I'm meeting him."

"I just—"

"Do you want some pasta, Mister Max?" Kevin asked as he came out of the bathroom with Ellie.

"Ah, maybe next time," Max said after clearing his throat. "You eat some for me, hm?"

She wanted to be mad that he was so good with her son. Proclaim they could only ever be coworkers, then turn around and continue to be her son's favorite person. It wasn't fair. But she didn't want him to be mean to Kevin. So she smiled, fixing her shawl while Max told Kevin he would see him at quali tomorrow, wishing she could stay mad at him but that was impossible, especially when he lifted her son up and gave him a tight hug, telling him he'd enjoyed the movie.

"Can we watch another one day?" Kevin asked hopefully and y/n drew in a breath, prepared to say they couldn't ask Max that, he was too busy.

"Of course we can. You pick the movie and we'll watch it next week?"

He gave Kevin another hug then gently encouraged him to eat his dinner, smiling and saying goodnight to Ellie. Then he turned to her, and she felt an unexpected heat ripple through her as his eyes slowly looked her up and down.

"Thanks for coming," she murmured, walking him to the door.

"I enjoyed it." He rubbed the back of his neck. "For the most part."

"Kevin had a great time."

"Yes. And that's all that matters."

Ouch. "Goodnight, Max."

"Enjoy your dinner with Logan."

"I will."

He rocked back on his heels, exhaling harshly. "I'm…" He cleared his throat. "Goodnight, y/n."

She closed the door and bit back a whine. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

"Talk tonight when you get back?" Ellie asked gently, watching her while she fixed Kevin's plate.

"It's nothing," she insisted, double checking that she had everything in her handbag. Phone, ID and passport, room key, lipstick, mirror. "Just being stupid."

"You're not stupid, mama," Kevin said anxiously.

"I know, thank you. Sorry. Just feeling stupid."

"But you look so pretty," he told her.

She smiled, sighing as she crossed the room to kiss his cheek. "You're the best son in the world, you know that?"

He giggled, rubbing the lipstick from his cheek. "And you're the best mama."

"Only because you're the best son," she insisted.

"Do you like Mister Logan?" he asked suddenly, scrunching his face when she fastened the bib around his neck.

"He's nice. But he's just a friend."

"But." Kevin's lips poked out in thought. "He's taking you on a date."

"Dinner. You know how you miss Cotton?" She took a napkin and cleaned the smudge of lipstick from his cheek when he nodded. "He misses America sometimes. It's kind of like when you pet the cats on your walks."

"Ohh…" Kevin nodded with all the understanding a three year old could muster. "So he's gonna pet you?"

She blinked, instinctively reaching to swat Ellie's arm when her friend choked back a giggle. "Not exactly," she groaned. "We're just gonna talk."

Ellie was still giggling ten minutes later when Logan knocked on the door. "Sorry, sorry," she gasped when y/n shot her a glare. "I'll behave."

"That'll be the day," y/n muttered under her breath as she went to open the door. "Hey," she greeted warmly, smiling up at him.

He was dressed in slacks, a button down, and a jacket. His smile faded a little as he stared at her, and she saw his throat move as he swallowed. "Whoa. You look great."

"Thanks. You do too."

She let him in so Kevin could say hi, ducking into the bathroom to fix her lipstick and remind herself that it was just dinner. Logan was just a friend, or at least would hopefully be a friend. Saying goodnight to her son, she felt her shawl slipping, ignoring Ellie's knowing look when Logan immediately reached to catch it, his hands gentle as he draped it over her shoulders. Just dinner. Just dinner with just a friend.

But when they walked down the street to the restaurant, which was just around the corner, and his hand brushed hers she told herself it was alright. And when he slipped his hand protectively over hers she didn't pull away. In the restaurant when Lando and a few others called out to him she hung back, blushing when Logan gently tugged her along to greet his friends.

"Didn't know you had a date tonight, mate," Oscar commented, nodding to her in greeting.

She could have corrected him. Could have announced to everyone that it wasn't a date. But Logan's bashful chuckle warmed her and she smiled. "We American's have to stick together," she said, enjoying Logan's laugh.

"You know, England is an ally," Lando said with a smirk.

"Still haven't forgiven you for taxation without representation," she sighed.

"That wasn't me," Lando defended while the others laughed.

"Your ancestors though," Oscar told him.

"They were doing what they thought was right? How am I at fault now?"

"You opened your mouth," Carlos said with a laugh.

"C'mon, babe, our table's ready," Logan murmured, hand slipping to the small of her back.

"Enjoy your date!" Oscar called after them.

"I hope you trip over your independence!" Lando yelped when Oscar elbowed him.

Laughing, y/n let Logan guide her to the other side of the dining room, where they were thankfully shielded from the table of drivers. He held the chair for her and she thanked him while the waiter handed them the menus.

"I'm sorry about that. Oscar and Lando… I should have told them it wasn't a date," Logan said once they were alone.

"It's fine," she assured him. "I mean, technically, it is a date."

"I guess so. I just don't want you thinking I'm making it out to more than it is."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Two friends, hopefully. Spending time together." He looked up from his menu. "Probably should have taken you somewhere more casual, huh? This place makes it look like I'm trying to impress you."

She hadn't thought of it like that. "…Are you trying to impress me?"

"Do you want me to?"

Their eyes met and she slowly inhaled, thinking over what the best answer would be.

So you'll kiss him because I won't kiss you?

Do you want to kiss him?

She exhaled, sending thoughts of Max as far away as possible. "I think I do."

He looked relieved and oh, so handsome in this light. "Then I might be trying to impress you a little."

"You're doing amazing so far."

taglist

#f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #my writings > mv > rulebreaker

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