#''you two need to get to work!! we need more desserts for tonight!!''

[brainfullofbees]

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[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Three) (18+) / Part One | Part Two

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 6.9K / navigation / inbox

A/N: if you've been on my blog anytime since last year and you've heard me mention 'my big hangman fic', this is it! I've been working on Spring Fling for almost a year now, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm glad so many new people are making their way into our top gun fandom because of twisters and Glen's role in it. Welcome, and enjoy!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Dinner is a tense affair, but by the end of it it feels less like walking on eggshells and more like walking around hard boiled eggs on the floor. There won’t be a goopy mess if you step wrong, but no one wants a squashed egg.

You and Jake seem to be getting on as friends, as long as you ignore all of the blatantly romantic elements of your current situation. You’re unfortunately subjected to a man beside you fingering his roommate beneath the table cloth, and you’re glad that Jake also agrees that despite being on a sex boat, that kind of thing is better done in private.

“Unless, of course, everyone’s into that,” He shoots you another one of his patented winks, and you delight in reaching across the table to steal the cherry off of his black forest cake.

“Hey! Oh, whatever,” He scoffs at your triumphant grin, reaching for his glass of wine. There’s not much left in the bottle; he’s a heavy pour and you didn’t bother counting his glasses- you just know he’s had more than one. His cheeks are just the slightest shade of pink, and you plan on snapping as many pictures as you can as soon as you can get him hazy enough to let you. 

“Here, Hangman,” You feign kindness, taking hold of the bottle and trying to line the neck up with the rim of his glass despite him pulling away, “There’s only a little bit left, finish it off so you don’t waste your money.”

“No, ‘can’t.” He insists, gulping the rest of what’s in his glass in a manner rather contradictory to his words, “Gotta sober up again if we’re going out tonight.”

“I’m going out tonight,” You remind him firmly, finding woozy, pliant Jake much easier to talk to than sharp-as-a-tack Hangman, “You were all set to head to bed earlier; I thought you were some sort of kissing fiend on wine.”

“That’s why I’m soberin’ up, darlin’.” Jake drawls, and though he’s blinking slower than normal, his tone indicates that you’re the stupid one.

“Can’t be much of a security guard if my eyes are goin’ all dizzy,” He says, his tongue lazing into a southern twang that’s sharper when he’s oiled up with booze.

“Security guard?” You echo incredulously, “Hangman, what possessed you to think I’d need a security guard? I’m in the Navy, we both know how to aim between the eyes.”

“No, you know how to aim between the legs,” Jake licks the bitter wine residue from his lips, most likely tasting a sweet tinge of chocolate there, too, “I just don’t feel right leavin’ you with that Daniel guy.”

“He’s nice.” You speak with a tight clench to your teeth, and though you have to separate them to fit your dessert fork into your mouth, they still feel tense. You supplement the need to snap at him by grinding the pastry dough on your tongue into shreds with your molars. Perhaps you’re brutalizing your pie instead of enjoying it, but you’re not in much of a state to enjoy anything right now, except maybe liquor.

“If you’re not gonna drink this, I will,” You secede, waving the bottle at him, “If I’ve gotta spend the night with you I don’t wanna remember it.”

“Finally,” He scoffs, reaching now for his water glass where it’s sweating on the table cloth. His cold, calculating smooth-talk has been reduced to a petulant fit, “Only reason I bought the damn wine was for you, ‘then you had to make a big fuss about it, ‘n all of a sudden you’re suckin’ it down just ‘cause I’m gonna crash your little date later.”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very unfair, Hangman,” You drawl, the only thing stopping you from drinking straight from the bottle being the elegant setting around you, “I’m unreasonable and I think you should ask someone to switch roommates because you can’t stand me.”

“Oh, nice try,” He levels you with a glare, water beading at the corners of his lips as his hand trembles slightly around the glass, “That’s that reverse psychology bullshit. Nah, I can handle you. You jus’ need a good kiss, that’s all.”

Annoyance prickles in your chest; he’d been shaming you for kissing earlier, now he’s prescribing it?

“Oh, really? Do tell.”

“Mhm.” He nods, his eyes slipping shut as he braces his hand against his forehead, elbow on the table to support his weight. He looks pitiful- like he’d worked 14 hours and not like a man on vacation. Perhaps the water is working, loosening the effects of the sweet wine and leaving him drained in its wake.

“It would calm you down, I think.” He mumbles, somewhere hazy between sleep and wake, “Jus’ gotta arm wrestle Damien for it.”

“Daniel.”

“Whatever.”

--

Jake has mostly sobered up by the time that you’re all four bathed in multicolored strobe lighting one deck down from the restaurant. He’s sticking to strictly water now which is bringing his awareness back, but he has to take trips to the bathroom every ten minutes. You don’t mind- you appreciate having the time alone with Daniel.

“So,” He hums, hands framing your waist and chest pressed to your own, “He’s a little protective, isn’t he? You guys have a thing going on?”

“No thing.” You snap, “There’s no thing going on between us.”

“He acts like there is,” Daniel muses, and it’s somewhere between disappointed and resentful. But his hands never stray from your skin, so you hope it’s not directed at you.

“He just- he likes to be the best in everything,” You explain, the words escaping in a sigh, “You should see him in the cockpit, he’s insufferable. ‘Always has to win. I think that’s all it is, Daniel. And- for him to win, I’d have to lose. So I think he’s trying to bully you away from me, then he can boast about how I’m lonely and he’s not. He does it all the time back home.”

Daniel’s face curves into a frown, “He seems like a douche. ‘Like the kinda guy you should stay away from.”

“Trust me, I’m trying to stay away from him,” You scoff, tucking your nose against Daniel’s chest while the music lulls into a more heartfelt melody, “But for the next seven days we’re stuck on a boat together.”

“At least Danica likes him. Maybe we can unofficially swap.” Daniel nods towards his roommate, who’s now offering Jake a beer where he’s just exited the restroom. 

You watch as he grins charmingly- the same one he’d leveled at you during dinner only an hour before, “No thanks, darlin’. I’ve gotta keep an eye on that one over there.”

The pair glance at you when Jake gestures, and you realize they’ve caught you staring when you hadn’t even realized you were doing it yourself. You press your face back against Daniel’s chest, a strange breed of embarrassment heating your cheeks. 

“You can drink,” You call to Jake, agonizing as you’d rather keep your voice to a low murmur against Daniel’s ear, “I don’t need to be babysat.”

At that exact moment the four shots you’d done of something they’d promised you was mild all flood to your ankle and weaken it so that it gives out under your weight. You stumble, your foot bending awkwardly as you shriek, gravity trying its best to drag you down to the scuffed floor.

Daniel’s eyes widen but he works quickly, and his strong arms brace against your back as he keeps you pressed tight to his chest. He glances over your shoulder at Jake who’d lunged forwards to catch you, and there’s a tightness in his jaw, a hardness in his eyes as he straightens up that spells irritation close to bursting. Daniel smirks at him.

“What were you saying?,” Daniel chuckles, letting you ease your hands off of him where you’d gripped tight to his biceps, “I’d make a ‘falling for me’ joke but it’d be so bad I’d throw myself overboard afterwards.”

“Sorry,” You bemoan the surely stinging handprints on Daniel’s toned biceps, “I didn’t mean to- aah,” You hiss, gingerly raising your tweaked ankle, “I rolled it or something, I’ll- ooh, I’ll be back. Just gonna ask the bartender for some ice.”

Both men step forwards to brace your weight against theirs- even Danica offers her hand, but you wave them off with a sheepish laugh.

“I’m okay, guys, really. I can walk, it just-” You wince, a twinge of pain shooting through your ankle, “It just hurts a bit. I’m gonna go sit in the bathroom for a minute with the ice on it, ‘see what that does.”

Daniel looks hesitant to leave you, but he lets you hobble to the counter. The bartender looks suspicious of your request at first, like you’re somehow cheating him out of profit by asking for six ice cubes in a plastic bag. But one glance down at your elevated ankle gets him moving, and he wraps it once in a paper towel before passing it over the counter.

The bathroom counter is not an ideal resting spot, but it does give you a chance to glance at your makeup in the mirror. It’s mostly in-tact, but you note that your lipstick has faded some, partially from pressing it to the rim of your glass and partially from pressing it to Daniel’s own mouth. You’d shared a few more dizzying kisses on the dance floor, and they make your rolled ankle worth it a thousand times over.

The ice bleeds condensation through the towel after only a few minutes, and you turn the package so the dry side is now pressed to your sore limb. You hear footsteps and you ensure that your dress is draped over your lap- sure it’s a sex cruise but no one wants to see you on display, and glance at the doorway to see who’d come in through the hall.

It’s Jake.

In the women’s bathroom.

“Hey!” You scoff, glaring at him while your fingers numb with cold, “Get out of here, you creep. This is the women’s bathroom.”

“I know. But you’re treating it like a hospital, so I’m gonna do the same. How’s your ankle?” He glances towards your foot braced on the counter, “Dalton can’t be that good of a dancer if he’s steppin’ on your feet the whole time.”

“First off, it’s Daniel. Second, I didn’t roll my ankle because he stepped on me, I rolled it because I’m drunk.”

A satisfied smile flits over Jake’s face, “So you do need babysitting, then?”

You neglect to respond verbally in favor of trying to melt his face off with your glare. It doesn’t work- in fact, his own expression only gets brighter.

“So, whaddya say we just drop right down on the tile and go for it?” He offers, gesturing towards the dingy bathroom floor, “Or- this counter might work,” He leans forwards to brace his biceps against it, shaking to no avail as the fixture stays tight.

“Oh, yes, that would be very comfortable,” You gripe.

“It could be.”

“Get out, Hangman.” You grimace, shifting the ice against your ankle, “I just wanna freeze this pain away and get back out there, and I think your presence is somehow making it hurt worse.”

“You really know how to make a man feel special,” He cocks his head slightly, leaning against the counter and glancing at your ankle, “Is it throbbing?”

“No. Just stings a bit.” You grumble, keeping your eyes off of his dress shirt and the way he’s rolled the sleeves up. It’s a pretty color, nice against his tan skin.

“Right.” He murmurs, voice similarly soft as the music leaks in muffled through the walls.

“You can go,” You nod towards the door, “I think Danica really likes you. Which is weird, because she’s heard you open your big fat mouth, and that’s usually what sends ‘em running.”

Jake rolls his eyes in an excellent impression of Penny’s daughter Amelia now that she’s in the throes of teenagedom. 

“Anyways, you should go and drink with her. Have fun,” You offer, hesitantly kind to him, “You might as well get lucky even if you got stuck with a prudish roommate.”

“You’re not prudish,” He narrows his eyes at you, “You and Devon dry-humped in an elevator.”

“Daniel!”

“You didn’t even deny it,” Jake mock-gasps, “I bet the two of you were rubbin’ up on each other-”

“Get out.”

“-from decks 1-8. Hey, what’s that Ed Sheeran line that Rooster likes? Up and comin’ like I’m fuckin’ in an elevator?”

“Get out!”

Your ice pack doubles as an excellent projectile, but Jake was raised with older sisters, and is fantastic at dodging things flying towards his face.

He catches it with that infuriating grin he’s always shooting at you, and he tosses it into the trash while extending his other hand as an offering towards you.

“C’mon, Roger Clemens, let’s get back out there, shall we? Or are you too drunk to stand?”

“I can stand,” You insist, ignoring his hand and sliding off of the counter onto your feet, though one protests the weight with a sharp jolt of pain up your leg.

“Sure,” He scoffs, once more rolling his eyes skyward as he grabs hold of your bicep anyways, hoisting part of your weight onto him, “Let’s just get outta here before a gaggle of you ladies decide they’re all going to the bathroom together. Why do you do that, by the way?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe because men have a habit of wandering in despite the clear sign on the door that says Women’s.” You glare up at him, but you let him help you hobble out of the bathroom.

“I go where I’m needed. You needed a medic,” He shrugs, angling you towards one of the barstools so that you can rest your weight again, “And you needed someone to tell you to stay away from that David guy.”

You snap your eyes shut instead of correcting Jake yet again, instead focusing on why he’s being particularly dickish this evening.

“Why do you care so much? He’s a nice man, why are you so angry that we’re connecting?”

“Because I don’t think he’s a nice man,” Jake’s face scrunches in a frown packed with judgment, “He defiled you in an elevator and he’s leaving his roommate high and dry.”

“No he’s not,” You scoff, “They’re dancing right now!” 

You jab a finger towards the pair now pressed together on the dance floor, ignoring the newly familiar tinge of jealousy in your chest when you see Daniel’s hands pressed to Danica’s waist just the same as they’d been to yours. It’s fine. You’re on a sex cruise; he signed a lot of contracts but monogamy wasn’t one of them.

“That’s worse,” Jake sneers, his hand sliding from your bicep to your back to steady you on the barstool, “He’s not loyal to either of you.”

“I don’t need his loyalty.”

“That’s not right. You should want loyalty. You don’t see me chatting up everyone’s roommates, do you?”

“You’re certainly friendly with Danica! And I don’t need your loyalty either, Jake!” You gush, voice raising, “Loyalty is for relationships! This is sex! Heated, messy, sloppy, dirty sex!”

Jake’s eyes dim of their usual fire, but you wouldn’t know it by the way his grin stays plastered in place. Then, slowly, bitterly, it fades, and he looks away towards a water ring on the surface of the bar, “Sex ain’t all there is in life. One day you’ll want loyalty.”

Your indignant laugh comes immediately, “Hangman, I can’t believe you of all people are lecturing me on loyalty. You’ve cycled through every tourist that makes the unfortunate mistake of wandering too close to the naval base. You’re not even loyal to your friends, why do you think we call you Hangman?”

The fire in his eyes is back, but it’s hot and not warm. Low blow. Maybe if you weren’t so drunk you wouldn’t have said it.

His jaw is tight when it opens for him to spit, “That’s ‘cause I ain’t got a girl I wanna be loyal to. And- and that Hangman shit is old, I don’t leave you hanging anymore. Not in the air, and not on the ground. Not after-”

Neither of you say it, but you both remember the sheer terror you’d felt when Bradley had gone down trying to save Maverick. How Jake had begged to be launched in a search and rescue, how they’d held him back until they were certain the two pilots were already on their way back. Like they didn’t want to risk one man to save two. Like Jake’s pleading wasn’t proof enough that they were more than just soldiers, more than just numbers, that they were people, too. You owe him that; he’d shown loyalty there, even if his pride had been hurt. Perhaps that proves his ego doesn’t win out, even if its what he likes to display.

“Fine.” You murmur, biting your cheek, “But- but just stay out of this, okay? If I wanna fool around with someone then I can, doesn’t matter if he won’t be here after this cruise is over.”

Jake’s face sours impossibly further, “Fine.”

He storms off through the crowd, and there’s a handprint-shaped cold spot on your back. 

You scoff at his dramatic display, but before the bartender serves you the drink you order in a huff, Daniel comes weaving towards you through the crowd.

“He asked to swap,” Daniel informs you, “And he called you my ‘side chick’.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” You take a bitter sip of your drink, eyes widening at the strength, “Oh, god, if I can even aim.”

“Aim?” Daniel asks, slight trepidation clouding his features, “You gonna punch him?”

“Nah, I’ll shoot him down in a fighter jet.”

It draws a laugh out of Daniel, and you enjoy the rich, warm sound. It sounds a little how your drink tastes, but it’s not as sour.

It’s just as intoxicating, though, and you let it make you dizzy as he takes your hands and spins you on the barstool to the rhythm of the music, dancing with you as much as you’re capable of.

--

“I think she’s one drink away from falling off of that stool,” Danica muses, and Jake’s eyes snap to her own where her head reaches his shoulder.

“What? Y/N?”

“Yeah. You’ve been staring at her for the last six songs.”

“Sorry.” Jake grimaces, “I didn’t mean to zone out.”

“It’s fine.” She pats his chest and god, it’s pathetic and oozing with pity, “She was giving you a hard time earlier?”

“She’s always giving me a hard time. Can’t just let me help her, she’s gotta make a big stink of everything.”

“Mm-hm,” She nods along, and Hangman begins wondering if this is how people feel when they speak to him. Patronized and condescended.

“Well, I don’t think she’s capable of giving you a hard time anymore,” She narrows in on the way you’re slumped against Daniel’s shoulder, face stretched into a permanent lazy grin, “You wanna head out for the night and get her to bed before she passes out?”

“I dunno,” Jake shrugs, but his eyes never leave your slouched frame, “I’m having a nice time dancing with you, doll.”

“No you’re not.”

He turns to her, brows furrowed, “What?”

“No,” She repeats, but there’s mirth in her voice instead of reprimand, “You’re not. You’re worried about her. You two are friends?”

“Something like that.” Jake hums, but pointedly never denies her accusations, “She’s just- pardon me for speaking ill of your roommate, Danica, but I don’t want him messing around with her.”

“Mm. So you’re her father?”

“No,” Jake’s face wrinkles, and he tugs his arm an inch tighter around her waist, “We’re friends like you said. Sort of. The kind of friends that are always at each other’s throats, y’know the type.”

“Oh. So fuckbuddies.”

“No,” Jake laughs, and it eases out some of the worrisome creases in his face, puts new, happier ones in his skin instead, “See, I suggested that this cruise partnership was a work’a fate, that it’d give us a chance to blow off some of our steam, but she won’t have it. So now I’m just a glorified babysitter.”

“Ooh, so you’re not even in the friendzone,” Danica grimaces, a dry smile on her face, “Well, Jake, for what it’s worth, I think she’s lucky to have you as a roommate. And as whatever sort of friend you are to her.”

Jake nods tersely, head still turned to watch the way Daniel keeps you upright with an arm around your waist. 

“She said-” Jake starts, then remembers he’s talking to a woman he barely knows, then remembers he’s got nothing to lose, “She said all this shit earlier about me not being loyal. Reliable, trustworthy, all that. And- I wasn’t, okay? I was a… not so great person. For longer than I’d like to admit. But,” His throat feels tight now, and it tenses in his jaw as Danica listens, “I’m not like that anymore. And I haven’t been for long enough for her to notice. If she’s lookin’, that is. Which- I guess she’s not. But I just thought maybe- I thought maybe she’d see it and we could be different. I still wanna tease her, of course. But at dinner she told me she thought I was just trying to ruin this for her. And I’m not,” His eyes gleam, not with tears but with something close and soulful as he blinks into Danica’s eyes, “I’m trying to make it better. I’m trying to make it the week of her life. The week of both of our lives. I’m just…” He hesitates, weighing the word on his tongue, “I’m afraid she won’t let me.”

Danica squeezes gently at his bicep through his dress shirt, and briefly mourns that the beefiest man on this ship is 100%, prime-time in love with you. She’d have loved to spend a night with him, but she kisses her chances goodbye as she smiles sweetly at Jake.

“You’re a good friend. You’re a very good friend, Jake. You’re trying to be very good at being much more than a friend. But she’s not seeing it, right?”

Jake nods, and she mimics the action, “So you need to show her. Show, not tell. Even if she’s resistant, even if she tries to gripe at you, it’s because she’s still seeing the man you used to be. And hey, maybe she won’t want the man you’ve become, even if you worked hard on becoming him. But there’s no reason to throw up your hands now, is there? Let her see the real you, then she’ll decide whether she’s willing to have you. Be patient. It’s all up to her in the end, so be this new-and-improved version of yourself, and she’ll take care of the rest. Okay? Remember, you’re a good friend.”

Jake nods at her reassuring words, steeling himself for a week of patience that he doesn’t typically possess.

Danica continues through the silence, “Aaand a good friend would make sure she gets back to her cabin before she blows chunks all over her hookup’s shoes, right?”

“Oh.” Jake’s eyes widen momentarily as his head jerks towards you - he’s only ever seen you upchuck twice before, both times after rowdy nights out with the group, but he is noticing a familiar pudge to your cheeks that can’t spell anything good. He’s tempted to let you ralph all over Daniel, teach you a lesson about mouthing off to people that are only trying to be nice- but that’s what pre-dagger squad Hangman would have thought. That’s old Hangman, the aviator who’d have sold his wingman out for fame and glory. Now he’s an entirely different Hangman, the one with a rope around his neck that tightens each time Daniel squeezes the pudge of your hip.

“Thanks, Danica,” He breaks away from her embrace with a kind, chaste smile, none of his usual toothy sleaze, “Hey, uh- enjoy your night with Daniel. Careful, though: I’ve heard he does terrible things in elevators.”

“I’ll keep it in mind!” She calls, her voice a melodious laugh as she waves goodbye at him, “Straight to bed, Jake! And leave water on the nightstand!”

“This ain’t my first rodeo,” He’s happy to let his southern drawl take over, nodding at her with a wink before spinning around to face you.

Daniel glances up at him, and his attempt at keeping a neutral expression over his face is valiant, but some of the wariness seeps through in the way that his arm tightens almost imperceptibly around your shoulders. Your eyes are desperately trying to stay open but they still lock onto Jake no problem, and you raise both of your eyebrows in what Jake is certain was an attempt to only raise one.

“Yes, Hangman?” You ask, your voice thick with booze, “You need somethin’?”

“You look like you’re about to need a trashcan,” Jake tentatively reaches for you, “C’mon, it’s gettin’ late. We should head back to the cabin for the night.”

Jake expects another jab about the nature of the cruise, but what he gets is drunken compliance, an easy reach of your hand for his own and a mumbled, ‘kay’.

“Hold on,” Daniel catches your waist, keeping you suspended between them, “You sure you can get her back okay?”

There’s a sharp tilt to his brow that makes Jake think Daniel’s not questioning whether he’s strong enough to carry you. The thought both offends and disgusts Jake, and he takes pleasure in swatting Daniel’s arm away from your hips to tug you into his embrace.

“She’s safe with me,” Jake scoffs, “But your roommate’s gettin’ lonely out there, Dallas.”

“It’s Dominic,” You gripe, the stench of liquor hitting Jake full-force now that your face is only inches away from his own, your forehead bumping his jaw.

Daniel hadn’t found Jake’s jab to be very funny, but a smile quirks the corners of his mouth at your slip-up, and he finally lets you go with a pat to the hip.

“You can call me any name you want, Y/N,” He offers, but his eyes pass darkly over Jake’s tense face, “So long as it’s not Jake.”

“No, no, he’s- he’s Jake.” You jab a sharp finger into Jake’s chest and he flinches back slightly, hissing at the contact.

“Good memory, darlin’.” Jake commends you, “Now let’s head for the elevators, m’kay?”

“I love elevators,” You sigh, no doubt remembering the feverish embrace you’d shared in one only hours prior, “Daniel, are you coming too?”

His face turns down in visible pain and he shakes his head, “No, I’m not. I’m gonna go find Danica - she’s probably looking for me.”

“She’s probably found someone else by now,” Jake laughs, haughty and biting, “I wouldn’t wait around for someone if they were hellbent on fooling around with someone else.”

“Really?” Daniel speaks like he’s snapping at Jake, gnashing and snarling like a fighting dog, “It seems like that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

The weight of your head slumped in the juncture between Jake’s neck and shoulder feels like shackles. 

For a moment the two men stare at each other, and if you weren’t slowly losing consciousness between them, they might have given into their tension-fueled urge to scrap like feisty teens. But you release a soft, tender sigh against Jake’s chest, and he hikes his arm up under your thighs instead.

“‘Gonna lift you, darlin’.” He informs you, waiting only a second before he scoops you into a bridal hold. Your head is quick to loll backwards at a grotesque angle, and before Jake can balance you out, Daniel reaches over to assist.

“Here, honey,” The man croons, nestling your head against Jake’s bicep, and he watches in abject horror as Daniel leans down to press his lips to your forehead, “We’ll see each other tomorrow, okay? I’ll find you.”

Jake is desperate to know whether your responding smile is dreamy from the liquor or from the sight of his face, “Mm, okay, g’night.”

“Night,” Daniel murmurs fondly, and Jake is all too happy to drag you away from him. 

“Slow down,” You plead when Jake is ten steps out of the bar and beelining for the elevators, “I’m gonna spew.”

“Not on me, please,” Jake jolts to a stop in the middle of the hallway, noting the rhythmic rocking motion of the boat and cringing, “Can I go for the elevator?”

“Slowly,” You mumble, and evidently you hadn’t heard his begging by the way you nestle your nose into his chest.

Upon hearing the ding of the elevator your eyes snap open, and you seem horrified despite having heard the word mere seconds before.

“Wait. No elevator.”

“What?”

“No elevator. Please, I can’t- ugh,” You groan, leaning away from Jake to hang your face over the ground beside him, “I can’t take the pressure of moving up in an enclosed space.”

“Well we’re one floor away from our room, how do you expect me to get you up there?” Jake gripes.

Approximately thirty seconds later he’s hauling you up a flight of agonizingly shallow stairs.

“This is bullshit.” Jake scoffs, “Should’ve had Daniel do this.”

“Dean,” You correct him, “His name is Dean.”

“No it’s not!” Jake laughs incredulously, rounding the corner to the second half of the staircase, “See, if you can’t even remember his name, you shouldn’t be foolin’ around with the guy.”

“What’s the name of the last woman you took home, Hangman?” You shoot him a glare with narrowed eyes where you’re still held in his arms, and he stops in his tracks to shoot you a menacing glance of his own while his chest heaves from exertion.

“Touche. That’s why I stopped foolin’ around with her, though. Couldn’t care enough to remember.”

“You never care,” You grumble groggily, and Jake tugs the both of you up the remaining four steps until he’s on your cabin’s level.

Your words are slashing relentlessly at a wound that’s been gaping for longer than Jake can remember. He thinks it's worse when you’re drunk- you’re shitfaced enough to forget your new boytoy’s name, but you still remember how shallow and vapid of a person Jake used to be.

“Right now, I care very deeply that you’ve got your room key with you. Or that you can reach mine; whichever works. You got it on you, darlin’?”

“This dress doesn’t have pockets,” You lament, “Where’s yours?”

“Uh.” Hangman glances over his shoulder, “Back pocket.”

Alcohol courses through your veins in the same quantity blood does when you reach with no inhibition for Hangman’s ass.

Jake’s eyes widen as he feels your fingers prodding and poking liberally around his dress pants, finally finding the pocket and slipping inside. He stays frozen solid at the door while you root around for his phone, finally pulling it out and squinting to focus on it as you bring it towards your face.

“Room key,” You pull out one of his debit cards out of the sleeve on the back, handing it to him expectantly.

“Uh- no, not exactly,” He strains to keep you suspended- he’s starting to wonder if you’ve got more muscle mass than he does, “The red one in the front, Y/N, that’s the room key. And I don’t have a hand to unlock the door with, so you’ll have to do that yourself.”

You toss his debit card onto the floor like it’s garbage.

“Hey! That’s- oh, just get the key.” He kicks it forwards, keeping it propped against the toe of his shoe while he waits for the door to open.

“Got it,” You drawl, and this time you’re right. You lean forwards without waiting for Hangman to move with you, and he nearly drops you where you’re aiming the keycard for the slot on the lock.

“Jesus, just- stick it in!” Hangman snaps, eyes on his debit card still discarded on the floor, “Let’s hope you never use a strap-on, you’ve got terrible aim.”

“I got it,” You grunt and a green light flashes while the lock clicks open. You manage to jiggle the door handle until the heavy slab of wood swings open, and Hangman is glad you’d remembered to leave a light on before you’d left.

He takes his final steps towards the bed and sets you down on the side he’d left open earlier. You’re too shitfaced to remember that you were vehemently opposed to sleeping in the bed earlier, and he’s glad for it when you sink willingly into the mattress, eyes fluttering closed, lashes resting over your cheeks.

“Hang on, ‘gonna get you some water. You- uh, change while I’m gone.”

He ambles off to the bathroom, and when he hears rustling outside the door he shuts himself inside to give you privacy. He decides to change into his own sleeping clothes, but it’s less of an outfit and more of a strip tease until he’s standing on the cool tile floor in nothing but boxers. He hadn’t planned on wearing much of anything for the entire week, and he definitely hadn’t packed sleeping clothes.

He fills a glass of water and knocks briefly on the inside of the bathroom door, “Hey Y/N, I’m coming out, m’kay?”

There’s no reply.

He assumes you’d shout at him if he tried barging in on you changing- in fact, you had only hours prior. He takes your silence as permission to exit the bathroom, but when he finds you curled up in bed, your dress is still on.

Evidently you hadn’t been changing.

“Y/N,” He groans, reaching out to prod tentatively at your shoulder, “No, don’t do this to me. Wake up, c’mon.”

Your eyes are firmly shut, glued there by booze.

“Shit.”

Jake sets the water on your square nightstand, ankles sturdy despite the rocking motions of the boat. He’s well used to being at sea, and it doesn’t make him unstable as he leans over to inspect your sleeping face. He can see your eyes flitting this way and that, barely covered by the thin skin of your lids, and he marvels at your drunken ability to knock out like you’ve been concussed mere minutes after hitting the mattress.

He lifts your arm and when he lets go it falls pathetically over your chest - there’s no waking you.

“Okay,” Jake grimaces, reaching for one of the straps of your dress, “For the record, I don’t wanna be doin’ this.”

“If you were awake you’d be yellin’ at me for breathing towards you,'' Jake rambles, a running dialogue making him feel slightly better about stripping you naked in your sleep, “But if you wake up tomorrow in this deathtrap you’re gonna be pissed, so I’m doin’ what I think is best. I swear it’s not a ploy to stick my hand down your shirt.”

And- speaking of sticking his hand down your shirt, he has to ruck the fabric of your dress up and over your breasts to slide it off of your head, “Aaand, there they are, and they’re out now, and that bra looks really uncomfortable, so I’m gonna-”

Jake slides his hands beneath your back, locating the series of clasps easily. 

“Please don’t kill me,” Jake begs, blinking up at the ceiling as his neck aches with the way he cranes his head upwards, “I’m not lookin’, I swear.”

He peels your pushup bra off of your chest, and the fabric is warm where he tosses it in the vague direction of your suitcase. He wants nothing more than to linger on that, to press his hand to the pad that had just cupped your flesh and let the warmth travel south. But he is a Southern gentleman, and you’re sleeping, and the bra remains discarded in the hallway.

“Right. Now the pajamas,” He continues his stream of consciousness if only to reassure himself that he’s not a creeping perv in the darkness of your cabin, “For both of our sakes, Y/N, I hope you packed better nightwear than I did.”

Upon discovering nothing but lacy chemises neatly folded among your other clothes, he gnaws at the inside of his cheek.

“Okay. Don’t go gripin’ at me in the morning for sticking you in one of these things. It was your poor packing skills that led us here.”

He plunges a hand into your suitcase and comes out with a red lacy contraption. He feels, to his own incredulity, a blush rising over his cheeks, as if he’s a teenage boy thumbing through a porn mag and not a decorated naval aviator. He drops the red thing, and reaches for something less sinful. What he finds next is a softer pink garment, silky and longer than the red- though he’s sure it’ll only barely cover your ass. All he wants is to cover his own, though, to make sure he won’t be in trouble for cramming you into a sexy getup while you’re passed out drunk, and the pink is looking better than the red for that purpose. Although- Jake has to admit, the pink is sexy in its own right. It’s soft, and smooth, and delicate, and he’s getting uncomfortable down south so he really needs to stop staring at it.

“Pink it is, darlin’.” He hums, “Hope you don’t mind. Maybe when we dock you can find something a little more conservative. Up you go,” He slides a hand beneath your back, his eyes trained dutifully on your forehead and absolutely nothing down below, “Hope y’don’t mind your hair getting a little messy. I think you scruffed it up when you hit that banister earlier, anyways.” Technically, that had been equal parts yours and his fault. He’d been carrying you, so he could have been a little more careful about swinging you this way and that as he’d navigated the ships’ halls, but you kept reaching out to touch things, and you’d collided square with a metal post in your curiosity. He bunches up the chemise and slides it over your head, careful not to scrape the lace over what little of your lip gloss remains. He doesn’t want to add staining your clothes to the list you’ve surely got of all his transgressions against you.

It’s rather hard to dress you blindly, and his hand does accidentally dip between your tits as he tries settling the material against your skin. He jerks it away like it’s burnt, hissing as his eyes widen where they’re staring at a particularly boring ceiling light.

“Accident. It was an accident. I swear.” He vows, hoping against hope that you’ll stay sleeping as he clumsily dresses you.

“Christ,” He yanks the material down your thighs, settling the chemise into place, “‘Knew how easy it was to take one off’a woman, never knew how hard it was to put it on. I think,” He muses, blinking long and hard before peering down carefully at you. You’re fully clothed, “That’s good. Okay. Done.”

The silence in the room is deafening now that he doesn’t need to keep up a stream of dialogue to soothe his fraying nerves, and his footsteps seem to pound against the cabin floor as he rounds the bed to his own side. There’s plenty of room, but he still feels like he’s sinning - crawling into bed beside your sleep-limp, pink satin-swathed form in nothing but his boxers.

With one click of the remote beside his bed the lights turn off, and there’s no sound besides the ship’s motor to distract him from the gentle inhales and exhales of your peaceful breathing. He licks his lips, settles into his typical sleeping position, sniffles briefly, fiddles with his hands, lifts a leg up to stretch his muscles, readjusts his neck on the pillow, clears his throat, wriggles his toes beneath the blankets, itches his nose, and comes to terms with the fact that he’s unable to sleep. Something’s not right, and he thinks little before he turns to his opposite side to see if sleep will meet him there.

It doesn’t, but your face does.

His neck stiffens and he nearly rears his head back when his nose brushes against your own, your warm breath fanning over his face. He snaps his eyes shut and breathes deeply himself, lashes fluttering when he deems himself brave enough to open his eyes again.

You’re there, looking like sleep was made for you the way it lulls your face into peace and erases the wrinkles Jake puts around your nose and mouth. There’s no longer the prominent frown lines that you’re always sporting around him, and your lips are blessedly relaxed, almost pouting with the way your cheek is squished into the pillow instead of disapprovingly downturned in his direction.

The silence suffocates him, rushing into Jake’s ears and clogging them until tv static fills his brain. The only words he can form, the only thing he’s capable of doing is murmuring a gentle, “Goodnight, Y/N,” In a voice far softer than he’s ever aimed towards you before.

Then he turns, rolling back onto a shoulder that aches from carrying your phantom weight, and shuts his eyes for the night.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[luveline]

Hii, I absolutely love your Hotch fics in which he meets his adult daughter. Could we get one in which she is feeling down about something and he helps/reassures her?💕💕

It’s difficult to foster a relationship with someone when you don’t get to see them. Even harder when the relationship is with your father who didn’t know you existed for over two decades, and who works as a Special Agent in the FBI, spending half of his life in other states. 

Lately it feels impossible. 

He’s just never home. When he is, he can't make it to dinner. You start to feel exactly as you had before you knew him, alone again, working hard to keep up in class, drained from your part time job, and always tired. 

You should stay home and sleep, but tonight, your dad is free for dinner. 

You wait on the corner of the street in the golden light of the restaurant. It’s chilly out, and the sky is slowly darkening. You watch the road for the shape and bulk of Aaron’s SUV, relieved to see him on the way past. He parks in the parking lot, making a small stop into the trunk of the car before he makes his way toward you. 

He’s carrying a little white teddy bear wrapped in pink heart cellophane. 

You know it’s for you, but it’s still sweet enough to surprise you when he smiles at you and encourages it into your hands. “Hello,” he says, wrapping one arm around you quickly as he kisses your cheek. 

It’s always a shock, but never unwelcome. 

“Hi, Aaron.” 

“Let’s go in, yes?” he asks. “It’s too cold to stay out here. Were you waiting a long time?” 

You let him walk you to the entrance, where he gives his name to the hostess for the reservation, and together you follow her to a small table near a bay window. The trees outside are strung with tea lights. The restaurant smells like nutty chocolate ganache. You mentioned that you liked the desserts here the first time he brought you, and he’s continued to bring you here ever since. 

You are undoubtedly getting to know one another. You’ve met Haley three times, and Jack five. You had dinner together only two weeks ago where he tried to show you how to keep spaghetti on your fork while failing to manage it himself. He was sweet, and Aaron was really good with him. 

You’d been jealous. 

“What’s the bear for?” you ask. 

“I’m trying to buy your forgiveness. Is it working?” 

You laugh without thinking. “My forgiveness?” 

“Sometimes, when I don’t see Jack for a long time, he gets frosty with me. I know it’s poor parenting but I’ll bring home a souvenir in the hopes he won’t stay mad.” 

“This is a souvenir?” you ask. 

He sits with good posture, but his face is ducked apologetically. It’s a kind sort of look, like he really is sorry. “I think I owe you more than that.” 

This regret he’s expressed before. You truly believe that he wishes he could go back in time and be there for you, which might be why it aches to think about it in detail. He wanted to be the loving, doting father. He just didn’t get the chance. 

“It sort of… breaks my heart sometimes, when I see you,” you say. 

It’s a lot. You haven’t even ordered your drinks. 

“It does?” he asks gently. 

“I wish…” You bite the inside of your cheek. Shake your head when you can’t finish. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I think about it a lot. I resent your mother.” 

She’s your mother, but yes. “I do, too.” 

You listen to the clatter of the kitchen somewhere deep in the building and the indistinguishable chatter of other families and dates where they sit around you. Your hand closes tightly on a napkin. 

“Are you okay? You look tired, honey.” 

“Must be a Hotchner thing,” you say. 

He laughs like you haven’t just slighted him. “It definitely is. I’m getting the sense that you’re upset about more than your mother, though.” 

“How would you know?” you ask genuinely. 

It’s his party trick. You’re expecting a rundown: your hand moves a quarter inch to the left and shows your upset, or your nose twitches to betray your true feelings. But he doesn’t need to use his special set of agent skills on you tonight. 

“You won’t look at me for very long. It’s exactly like your brother.” 

You sniff ineffectually. “It is?” 

He looks especially solemn, then. “I wish we didn’t miss out on so much with each other, but I’m here now, if you want me. You can tell me what’s bothering you. I promise I’ll listen.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ve always heard worse.” He manages a smile. “Not that what you’re feeling isn’t important.” 

“Well, I… it’s mostly the little things. You know school is hard.” 

“At GWU? It’s gruelling.” 

“It’s awful. I probably need a tutor.” You laugh. “Maybe. It’s not so bad, and once this year is over, I’m done, but I have my internship lined up for the summer, so I’m trying very hard to– to work as much as I can now. But working and studying all the time makes me tired.” Your cheeks heat at having spilled it all without finesse. “Sorry, I know you work twenty three hours a day.” 

“How many hours are you working a week?” he asks. 

“Uh, usually twenty-four. I try to do three shifts a week. Sometimes they want me after school, so it’s more like twenty-nine or thirty-four.” Or forty-four.

“And you’re studying–”

“Every spare minute.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. It sounds hard…” 

“What?” you ask. 

“I’m just thinking about something.” He licks his lips. “And you’ve always worked? Since high school?” 

Your flush worsens. “Yeah. I have to pay for school somehow, and to eat.” You quieten. 

“What if you didn’t have to work, honey?” 

You shake your head vehemently. “Aaron.” 

“I’m serious. What if you didn’t have to do so much? You need time to do nothing. Overworking yourself will give you an ulcer, trust me, and that’s the last thing I want. I could–”

“I can’t take your money–”

“It’s not just my money. Does Jack ‘take’ my money?” 

“You signed up for Jack–”

“And I’m signed up for you. I want to be here for you, and this is what father’s do, okay? If they can, and I can.” 

“Unnecessary brag.” 

He ignores your joke. “Even if I could just pay for GWU. I know those textbooks are burning a hole in your pocket.” 

You refuse. Aaron promises to return to the subject when you aren’t exhausted, and maybe you’ll let him. It would be beautiful to wake up on a Saturday with nothing to do. 

It would be nice not to miss your dad. You’ve done it your whole life, but now he’s real, and he seems to really care about you. When he hugs you after he’s paid for dinner, you want to be allowed to cling, and, as he tightens his hold, you realise you are. 

“It’s so good to see you,” he says, rubbing your upper arm. 

“Yeah,” you mumble. 

“Can I see you tomorrow?” 

You ease back. “Really?” Because you hadn’t mentioned that you missed him, but he already knows.

He pats your arm. “You know I’d see you every day, if I could? I’ve missed out on enough already. We’ll take Jack to Olive Garden again and you can think a bit more on what I proposed.” 

“I can’t take your money,” you repeat quietly. 

“Not that, though you should. You can tell me anything, okay?” 

You breathe out as he steps away. “Okay.” 

He touches your cheek briefly. “Okay. I’m proud of you. You’re doing great.” 

“Thanks, Aaron.” 

“You’re welcome. Text me when you get home safe, all right?” 

You look at him for too long. “Thank you,” you say again, moving in for another hug. 

He props his head atop yours carefully. “You’re welcome, honey.” 

[reverie-starlight]

{the proposal- kuroo}

on today’s episode of “rev accidentally disregards the polls she made”, we have this fic :3 I actually adore this one, it was so fun to write!! hope you enjoy <3 also… thank you sm for 1k followers 😭🫶🏻 that’s huge, I appreciate everyone sm 🥹

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff. alcohol mentions, drunk reader. dialogue heavy at the start.

“You need to propose to me.”

Kuroo, who is enjoying his drink, begins to choke. “I what?”

You roll your eyes with a barely concealed smile.

“Not for real, silly, just a fake one.”

He looks at you like you’ve gone insane. “I’m not following.”

“We’re broke university students, do you really think we can afford to pay for more than two drinks tonight? If you propose, I bet people would make a drunken mistake and offer to buy us a celebration round.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as he continues to give you that same incredulous look.

“That’s-“ he cuts himself off before he can finish that thought and starts with a new one. “I doubt that would work. I mean, maybe at a restaurant with free dessert, but a bar? Really?”

“I’ve seen it done in stranger places!” You defend yourself. “Besides, you’ve been sipping on your drink for the past 25 minutes. If the ice had poison in it, you’d be dead by now,” you lean back and cross your arms.

Your boyfriend just shakes his head. “Your mind is a very interesting place. Alright, fine. We’ll do it, but if it doesn’t work that’s going to be really embarrassing. Hand me your ring, I’ll do it when more people are around.”

You only have to wait another ten minutes before a group of business men having a meeting a couple of tables over appear to be drunk enough to invest in young love.

Your boyfriend nods once to signal that he’s going to do it and soon enough he’s on one knee, fake tears forming at the corners of his eyes and a dusting of pink on his cheeks that make you want to kiss them.

(Your heart jumps that the thought that he could do this for real one day).

“You’re the love of my life,” he begins, and you make a mental note that he either has a bright future in acting or his drink really is too strong, despite his insistence that he could handle it earlier.

A lady one table over gasps and draws more attention to the performance in front of the customers.

“And I absolutely adore every single thing about you. I had a whole plan for this, but with the way you’re looking tonight, I can’t wait a second longer. We’ve managed to get many years together already, and I’d be honoured to spend the rest of our lives just like this. Will you marry me?”

You’re genuinely touched at his words and the sincerity in his tone almost makes you forget it’s fake.

Not wanting to make your audience wait much longer, you make a big show of nodding your head and jumping into his crouched form with a loud “yes!”

Drunken cheers are only background noise while you press against his chest. His heartbeat eliminates the chance of you focusing on anything but him.

Kuroo tips his head down to whisper, “think we pulled it off?”

You nod against him and start to get up. He looks over to see one of the drunk business men coming over to greet you.

“Congratulations on your engagement! Let us buy the happy couple some drinks!”

The man’s face is flushed and he gestures to his table. “Order whatever you’d like, it’ll be put on our tab.”

You fake surprise. “Oh my goodness, that’s very generous of you, but we could never take advantage of your kindness like that!”

Beside you, your ‘fiancé’ stifles a laugh but the man doesn’t notice. “No, I insist! You should celebrate.”

This time Kuroo takes over. “Ah… well, thank you, sir. Rest assured we won’t go too crazy.”

The man laughs and claps him on the back. “What a polite couple of kids you are! Reminds me of me and my wife,” he winks before heading back to his table, whistling some tune.

You spin around and look up at your boyfriend with a smug grin. “So what are we getting first?”

A couple of hours later, you’re both stumbling into your campus apartment, giggling and trying to shush each other despite not having any other roommates.

You somehow manage to get through your night routines and fall back into your bed soon after. You’re a far more wasted than Kuroo is (he always drinks less than you to be able to take care of you), so he tries to get you to sip on some water.

He watches you with a silly grin as you fiddle with your “engagement” ring. You’ve since slipped it back onto your index finger where it originally was this evening, but you move it back to your ring finger and fiddle with it.

“I think…” your words are slightly slurred and laced with sleep. “I mean, I know… that I don’t want my real engagement ring to be diamond.”

His grin widens so much his cheeks begin to hurt. “No? So what will it be, baby?”

You form your own smile. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with. You know me best after all.”

He forces you to take another sip of water when your words don’t get any less coherent. While you drink he thinks of the ruby ring tucked away somewhere at Kenma’s house. You’re far too good at sniffing out clues and he’s never been good at keeping secrets from you.

You’re still in university, it’s far too soon to get engaged for real- you’ve both always said you wanted to wait until you’re done with school- but he’s been saving up for that ring since high school. he’s always knows you would be the one for him.

So when the time comes he’ll be ready. With a speech much better than whatever he said tonight.

“Alright, let’s get some sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow, you haven’t had that much to drink in a while.”

You tug at his wrist before he can shut the lamp off. “Wait, don’t you want to celebrate our engagement?”

“Sleep, baby.”

You pout a bit. “Don’t you think we celebrated enough tonight?”

You stare at him and he sighs. “There’s plenty of time for celebrating our fake engagement some more tomorrow,” he shuts the lamp off and wrangles you down with him. “Now it’s time for sleep.”

“‘m not tired,” you mumble, obviously lying. “I could go all night.”

You settle onto your pillow and he strokes your cheek. “I know, sweetheart, you’re a fighter.”

You nod as you begin to doze off.

He notices the ring still on your finger and he smiles softly.

The hangover you’ll be sporting tomorrow will definitely have been worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ty for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed <3

tagging: @emmyrosee @luvring @dira333 @tetzoro

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny AU where he's half asleep and rambling as he mentions some people back home like his exes (especially Valerie), his English teacher, this stalker of his who he likes messing with, and the annoying fruitloop who's the bane of his existence! They're concerned. Only once he's fully awake when they ask for names.

Lancer is Alfred, Talia is Val, maybe Paulina is Julie Madison but idk, Wes is Edward/The riddler (I'm pretty sure there was a time he had a reddish orange hair. Either way, he was the same model as Danny so maybe Wes dyed his hair to not be confused with the Fentons in this AU), and Vlad is Ra's!

Hello! This actually falls out of my planned plotline for Cave Boy, but I will write something for you that is close to the prompt to make up for it! Hope that's okay and that you like it

Flash sends them a message sometime in the early afternoon before any of the Bats are ready to go out. In fact, Damian, Duke, Steph, and Jason are in class when his message arrives.

Bruce, Dick, Tim, Cass, and Barbara are at work. As the Flash is one of the few who knows what the Batfamily is doing during these hours, it is rare for him to bother at this hour. He would have usually waited until after five as that was when a majority of them became available.

They all quickly check their phones when they vibrate to ensure it's not a world-ending threat, just in case.

Since the messages would be sent to their civilian phones- anyone in the know of the Bat's real identity chooses to text in a very specific code. This way, no one would know what they were saying, and the Bats would realize they were speaking to who they thought they were.

Barry Allen chose Disney theme GIFs as his code.

A gif of Mulan singing Reflections lets them all know that somehow, the speedster has again opened a portal into a different dimension and/or mess with time.

"Why is my reflection someone I don't know?" meant "A double of one of you has crossed over from a different dimension and/or timeline"

This causes a brief ripple of anxiety. The last time someone had a double, it was Tim, and his future version of himself was crazy, evil, and surprisingly capable. It took Tim almost ending his life to beat the guy.

Thankfully, the second GIF comes through seconds later. This one is Mulan's Honor To Us All.

"Please bring honor to us all" meant "The double is friendly."

The last Gif was from Lion King, Timon cheerfully singing Hakuna Matata. "It means no worries for the rest of your days" meant "Sorry for the trouble."

Those in class return to their various lessons, but Tim quickly responds, "I love that movie! We should watch Mulan again the next time I see you, Uncle Barry!"

This means, "We will meet the double tonight."

The rest of the day drags on as they all slowly start to make bets on who the double would be for. They all agree that Cass is long overdue to face herself again. Still, Dick makes the complying argument that Duke needed to have his first "My counterpart from another dimensional/ Timal plane" moment.

They all actively hope Duke can clear another block on his Bat-bingo card. He gets two more and a complimentary tray of any of his favorite Alfred's desserts.

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

That night, they all meet up in the watch tower, each clutching their bingo card just in case. (The game resets every month, and so far, Jason has written down the most accurate predictions. He needed two more squares for a cooking lesson of his favorite meal, and he was out for blood)

They all silently go to the conference room, where Barry entertains the guests. Apparently, they were trying to find discrepancies in their world's history and the double's life to help find which world they came from and send them back.

They were being shown the main rouges to test the timeframe.

"Is that Wes!?" A young male teenager yells. Sadly, Steph swears, staring at her "A new Batgirl from a different world" box.

"We call him Edward when he's not in his costume. Otherwise, his name is the Riddler." Barry answers, amusement clear in his voice.

"Riddler? How is Riddler menacing? What does he tell you, riddles of death or something?"

"You be surprised......."

Bruce gets to the door, pushing it open with a quick flick of the wrist, and inside is Barry sitting at the conference table next to a boy with dark hair and blue eyes. In front of them is a hologram showcasing the Gotham Rouge files.

There are papers and pencils scattered on the table. Likely, they have been writing down notes of the differences they have spotted.

Barry's eyes flicker to them, but the boy is too distracted to count on his fingers.

"Okay, so Wes is Riddler, Val is Talia, Fruitloop is Ra's, Sckuller is Bane, and ugh....for some reason, Spectra is Harley Quinn." The boy finishes checking his notes.

"For some reason? I thought you said Spectra studied psychology too."

"yeah, but Harley Quinn actually got a Ph.D. What did Spectra do? Land a school counselor position? Please." The boy rolls his eyes dismissively, and Barry frowns.

He's never taken kindly to people disregarding another person's profession, especially if it was connected to the educational system in some way.

"Hey now, that's an important job, and you need years of study before you can be a school counselor-"

"I bet Spectra peaked in high school. That's why she's like that." The boy cut him off, nodding as though he had found the universe's answer.

Well.....this was either a version of Jason, Tim, or maybe early Dick, that was a little too sassy but not angry? It's not sad either; it's more like, fed up? Or teenage tired.

"Oh, who are they?" The boy asks, and Barry zips right next to Batman.

"Danny, meet Batman...the you of this world. And his kids."

Danny squints. "Who is your mom, and how easy am I? Because there is a lot of you that I fathered for me to not be easy."

Jason burst out laughing, checking a box. "Yes, someone calling Bruce easy in costume. That's on bingo for me!"

[puck-luck]

learning curves | trevor zegras

warnings: inexperienced!reader x experienced!tz, general anziety about having sex for the first time/doing sexual things for the first time, silly goofy sex questions that everyone has but refuses to speak on, conversation about kinks (lasts two seconds because they get derailed almost immediately), handjob, innocence!kink, probably some other stuff i missed. pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!reader summary: trevor zegras and his gf have "the talk" wc: 3891

Three dates. It’s been three dates. Your best friend in the world says that it’s after the third date that she considers putting out– but she’s also had sex before, racked up a body count that seems substantial next to yours (yours being a whopping zero and hers being a solid nine). Where you didn’t have boyfriends and were more focused on graduating early so you could start your dream job with the Angels, she seemed happy with the fast-paced, social side of college that afforded her connections and contacts with men of all kinds.

You told her about Trevor when you started dating him, after he brought you to your own baseball game, the last of the season against the Oakland A’s. It had worked out well in his favor, despite the fact that you hadn’t told him about your passion for baseball. Since it was the last of the season, your supervisor had let you take the day off as a reward for all your hard work and had pawned your tasks off to the other members of your team. 

Your best friend had called you mere minutes after that first date had ended, gushing with you about Trevor’s kindness in buying your food and drinks (and ticket) and laughing at the way you reenacted Trevor’s attempt to mansplain baseball to you. 

After the second date, when Trevor brought you to play mini-golf and took you to get ice cream, you had called her. She had asked if he had kissed you yet. She also asked if you were going to send a picture of his butt anytime soon. The answer to both was “no.”

And last week, after the third date where Trevor had taken you to see Killers of the Flower Moon when it released, she had told you about her policy: the one where she starts to consider putting out. 

It seems like Trevor might be on the same page. For your fourth date, Trevor invited you to dinner. Tonight. At his apartment. He’s cooking for you. At his apartment. 

Alone.

You haven’t told him yet about the fact that you haven’t had sex with anyone. He’s probably picked up on it by now, with how you shy away from his touches and swerved him twice (once at mini-golf and once after the movies). 

You’re going to tell him tonight. He’s going to cook a beautiful dinner, be nothing but sweet and caring like he always is, and then you’re going to tell him that you’re still a virgin, and he’s going to be freaked out, and probably break up with you.

That’s the only way it could go, right?

The potential for disaster is on your mind the whole night, from the drive to Trevor’s to the last bite of the cheesecake Trevor bought for dessert. 

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Trevor asks, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Did I make something you don’t like? Are you not a cheesecake fan?”

“No, Trevor, I like cheesecake. You haven’t done anything wrong.” You continue to pick at your dessert. You sigh, then place your fork down on the side of the plate. “I think we need to have a conversation.”

You don’t miss the alarm that flashes across Trevor’s face when you say that. 

He stands almost immediately from his seat, taking your hand to bring you to his living room, where you can sit comfortably on the couch. Trevor stays quiet, something you know is difficult for him, but it means so much more to you that he’s trying to let you take charge here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my best friend?” You ask, finding it safest to start there.

Trevor nods. “What about her?”

You’re quiet for a beat, taking a deep breath. “She told me that she starts to put out after the third date.”

A sharp silence follows. Your heart is beating through your chest, but it starts to slow the longer the silence drags on.

Finally, Trevor breaks the silence. “So?” He asks. “What does that have to do with us?”

You fishmouth at him, jaw open wide and dangling. 

“Not in like a mean way, but I was inviting you over for dinner. If you want to fuck, we can fuck, but I really just wanted to eat with you today.”

Trevor’s words are both comforting and cutting. He’s sassy, always is, and the consonants of his words sound harsh. He’s saying everything like he’s so sure, like it was obvious, and the word “fuck” twists your intestines in a way that causes you to grimace. It’s nice that he didn’t intend to have sex with you tonight, but now it seems like an offhanded afterthought. If you want to, we can. 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” You bite the edge of your thumbnail. “It’s– well, that’s kind of a big deal for me?”

Trevor nods, encouraging you to continue.

“I haven’t, um. I, kind of, haven’t really… done that… yet.” Your voice shakes a bit in an embarrassing way, a way that makes you want to cringe, but you don’t want to seem so vulnerable in front of Trevor. 

The problem is that you like him. You’ve been going on dates as often as you can, with Trevor’s busy schedule. You enjoy seeing him, you like hanging out with him, and you want to keep doing it. You always get your hopes up and this time is no different, you can feel it. You’re hoping that Trevor won’t say the same shit as the other guys you’ve told this to, the ones that laughed or belittled you or asked “Why? Why haven’t you?” like there’s a good answer to their question.

“Oh,” is the eloquent response that Trevor comes up with. His eyes are wide and his mouth stays slightly open, even when he’s done speaking. It’s like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t know what. 

You’re the same way– you bite the inside of your cheek and your lip as you continue to watch Trevor. If you weren’t feeling so nervous, it would be a funny sight: two people sitting on the couch, just staring at each other with wide eyes.

“I really like you, Trevor,” You tell him. “I just– I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want you to leave me because I can’t give you what you want.”

Trevor moves quickly, closing the space between you. He hugs you tightly and you sniff, holding back emotion that you didn’t realize was there. 

“Is there anything else?” Trevor asks , rubbing your back. 

You shake your head.

“I really like you, too,” Trevor adds. “I’m not going to leave you because you’re… inexperienced. I want to keep dating you, Y/N. If you’ll let me, I would really like to…” Trevor trails off, offering you a smile and a little bit of a laugh before continuing. “Teach you?”

Your mouth opens in surprise. “Teach me?” You repeat.

Trevor grimaces, an embarrassed smile on his face. “It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“A little bit,” You agree. Your heart has slowed to its normal pace and Trevor’s hand on your knee is a comfort, not unwelcome pressure. 

“Can I kiss you?” Trevor asks. His voice is soft and his hand has drifted up to your cheek. 

“Well, I’ve done that before,” You joke. You’re not lying– you’ve kissed people in the past. You feel like that should be clear to Trevor before he gets too big of a head. 

“Not with me.” Trevor leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, then the other. He kisses along your face until he gets to your lips, which is when he pauses before barely letting his lips ghost across yours. He holds himself there for a moment, waits for you to tilt your head up, and Trevor dives in. It’s sweet and he’s patient, never moving any faster than you want him to. 

Over the next week, you tell Trevor your theories about why you haven’t had sex before: that you were a weird kid, or too focused on school, or too eager for the next big thing that you never considered it. Or that guys were scary and often didn’t actually seem to care. Trevor reassured you that he didn’t care that you hadn’t had sex before, but that he did care more about you than anyone he’d ever been with in the past.

By your fifth date, Trevor had officially made you his girlfriend. He had also officially told you that you could ask him any questions you wanted, whenever they popped into your mind.

You had taken advantage of it, often at the worst times:

Over text before a game: “Is it going to hurt?” “Probably. But I’ll go slow and try to get you as ready for my cock as I can.” While you and Trevor are grocery shopping: “What am I supposed to do?” “What do you mean?” “Like, I don’t want to just lay there.” “There are a lot of different positions. I’m not going to make you just lay there.” “Okay, well I don’t think I’ll be any good on top.” “You don’t know that yet. Also, chill out. We’re in the middle of the toilet paper aisle. Can we finish this conversation at home?” Later, in that same grocery trip, while in the condom aisle: “Is it really that different?” “What?” “When you have sex with and without a condom. Is there a big difference?” “Uh, it’s more… intimate without. I think it feels better.” “So should we skip the condom altogether?” “Uh… probably not the first time. We should probably work up to that.” “Well, I want you to feel good.” “You’re going to give me a boner if you keep talking. Shut up. We’re buying condoms.” And when you pouted: “Just be patient, we’ll get there.” When you drop him off for practice: “How long do you usually last?” “I have to go.” Then, over text two minutes after he walks away from the car: “you’re hot so probably not more than two minutes <3”

You’d waited to ask the more pressing questions when you were in private. It brought you a thrill of glee each time you asked a question and you could watch Trevor grow uncomfortable with the effort it took to restrain himself, to not try and get some relief whenever you caused him to grow hard with your unintentionally dirty words. 

“I made a list of questions for you,” You tell Trevor. It’s the last time you’re hanging out before you head home for Thanksgiving. You’re sitting on the same couch, Trevor on one side, you on the other. 

“Twenty questions, sexy style?” Trevor teases, pulling your legs over his lap. 

“You’re my little encyclopedia,” You reply. “And I’m curious.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“What do you like, Trev? Tell me everything. Likes, dislikes, kinks, dare I say fetishes…”

“Don’t really think I have any fetishes, but thanks for being open about it,” Trevor laughs. He rubs his thumb over your ankle. “That’s a really big question, baby.”

You shrug, foregoing a reply.

“I mean, I don’t know. I like sex. I like getting head. I like giving head. I like it when I finger a girl. I like it when I can make a girl come. I occasionally like to spank a girl. I’m pretty chill, baby. I’m down for anything.”

You scoff. “Trev, I don’t know anything. You have to be specific.”

Trevor takes a breath and chews his bottom lip, seeming to consider your words. “I like that you don’t know anything.” His fingers circle your ankle and he squeezes what he can hold in his hand. For probably the first time since he’s talked to you about this sort of thing, Trevor seems hesitant, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “It makes me feel really special.”

“Special how?” You ask.

“I don’t know, just… that you trust me with this.”

You suppress a smile. “Look at you, Mr. Emotional Intimacy.”

Trevor snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’ve never been a huge relationship guy, Y/N. I think it’s really cool that you make me want to experience all this shit with you. It’s nice to feel this way. We get to treat every moment like it’s really special, and that makes me feel special, since most of my other sexual encounters are just heat of the moment hookups with other experienced partners.”

When you open your mouth to apologize for your inexperience, unable to help yourself, Trevor cuts you off. 

“I also think it’s really hot that– God, this sounds so fucked up– I get to show you everything. It’s… like, okay, fuck, it’s kind of the student and teacher thing.”

“So you do have a fetish!” You accuse, pointing your finger at Trevor wildly. He captures your hand and rolls his eyes. “You want me to dress up like a Catholic schoolgirl!”

“I do not!” Trevor replies, sounding exasperated. He pauses to consider it. “Okay, it would be hot. But that’s not why, bro. Chill out.”

“Why, then?” You ask. You’re interested, almost too interested. You want to know what makes Trevor click, what you can do to make him hard and what he looks like when he’s in pleasure, when he comes.

“I like that you’re innocent. It just makes me feel like I get to take care of you. It’s dumb, but I get to be the man and I get to make you feel good and show you how to make me feel good. I’m the only one who’s seen you like this, it’s fun for me.”

Your eyes drift lower to his lap, wanting to see if he’s tenting his shorts just at the idea. He is. You move closer to him, taking your legs off his lap and tucking yourself into his side. Feeling bold, you place your hand on his stomach.

“Can I see you?” You ask, making sure your voice sounds extra sweet and you’re blinking up at him through your eyelashes. 

Trevor practically convulses, his mouth pressed into a straight line, but still wobbling a bit as he stares at you in shock. “What?” He asks.

You let your fingers drift to the waistband of his shorts, but you dare not to tread further. You don’t want to touch him wrong, or mess everything up. But, at the same time, you really want to see his dick. “Can I see you?” You repeat. Then, you let out a little laugh, just to yourself. “I’m–” You cut yourself off and press your lips together, proud of the joke you’re about to make. “I’m a hands-on learner.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Trevor says, shaking his head at your terrible joke. “Baby, are you sure?”

“Trev, I want to see your dick.” You roll your eyes, pulling your hand back. “I should see the hardware before I ask of any more questions, right?”

Trevor seems to be battling with himself. 

You dip your finger under the waistband, feeling his v-line with your pinky. 

It snaps Trevor out of his inner turmoil and he bats your hand away. He shimmies his shorts off, leaving his boxers on. They don’t leave much to the imagination and you bite your lip with a gasp.

It’s big. It’s not even out yet, and it’s big.

Trevor dips his head down, tilting your chin up with a finger, and kisses you softly. “Still sure?” He whispers.

“Leave it in there for a second,” You reply. You lower your voice to a whisper to match his: “How is that going to fit inside me?”

“We’ll go slow and I’ll get you nice and open for me. Three fingers, so it’s easier.” He winks. “Maybe four.”

“Jesus Christ, Trevor.” Your voice is more admonishing than turned on, but it would be a lie if you weren’t intrigued by his words. 

“And you know what else?” Trevor asks. 

You nod for him to continue. 

“If we need to, we’ll use lube. But I want to make you come a couple times before I get my cock in you, that first time. Wanna make it so good for you. You’ll be so relaxed that you’ll forget it’s your first time.”

“A couple times,” You repeat, feeling a little dazed. “Is that… normal?”

Trevor shrugs. “Normal is different for everyone. It’s possible and I think you’ll like the feeling of me making you come. I know I will. So, I hope it becomes normal for us.”

“Okay,” You say. You know your voice sounds unsure. You clear your throat. “Take it out,” You tell him, a little hoarse still. 

“You’re sure?”

“Trevor, just do it,” You let the words burst out of you. “If I hate it, I’ll tell you to put it away!”

Trevor laughs. “God, I hope you don’t hate it. That would really derail my plans for us.��� He hooks his thumbs in his waistband and inches his boxers down.

The inching slowly reveals the head of his cock, red and shiny. Eyes wide, you tilt your head to the side. Your lips part as Trevor continues to reveal himself to you. It lays flat against his stomach, curved a little to the side. 

Trevor smiles, the right side of his mouth tilting up into a smirk. He brings his hand to the base of his cock and watches your breath hitch when he pumps himself once, slowly, just to gauge your reaction. He squeezes, milking a little precum out of his tip. 

You tense up, watching the drip slide down his length. 

“Oh my God,” You whisper to yourself. 

“What do you think, baby? Hideous?” Trevor asks, a knowing lilt in his voice. He sees how your eyes haven’t left his dick since he pulled it out of his boxers, curious but also enraptured.

Your hand twitches on his stomach. “Can I…”

Trevor hums, stroking himself again.

“Can I touch you?”

“Whatever you want,” Trevor agrees and takes his hand off of himself, practically dropping his cock like a hot potato. 

You reach out, hesitating at the last second. You pull back. “I feel so stupid.”

“Why?” Trevor asks. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” You say begrudgingly, pouting under his watchful eye. 

“That’s okay. Just get your hand on it, feel it out. I can help you, if you want.”

“No, I want to do it.” You reach out, making contact with Trevor’s cock with a single finger. You draw a line from his base to his tip, following the vein on the side. You bite your lip in concentration, circling the tip of his cock with your finger and thumb. You purse your lips and feel the weight of his cock in your hand, tilting it gently from one side, to the other, forwards and backwards like a joystick, just to see how it moves.

You fail to notice Trevor’s breathing grow deeper, nor the way his eyes are trained on your face.

You press your thumb into the underside of the head of his dick, where the tip meets the shaft. You drag your thumb up, swiping over the slit. A bubble of precum appears and leaks out. You rub your thumb through it, then turn your hand over to look at your thumb.

Trevor’s jaw drops and a strangled noise leaves his mouth when you bring your thumb up to your mouth and take a taste. 

His cock jumps, drawing your eyes. You then look up to him and notice the sweat on his brow. He’s biting his lip to recover from his groan, but lets out a whimper when you circle his cock with your entire hand and pump him. 

“Oh my God,” Trevor whispers, mirroring your reaction from earlier. His voice is shaky and his eyes roll backwards into his head. 

You bring your other hand down to cradle one of his balls, rolling it in your palm. You pump his cock at the same time and Trevor’s hips jump into your fist, catching you off guard.

“Gonna come,” Trevor chokes out. “Just– fuck– keep going.”

“Help me,” You request, taking his hand and bringing it so his hand covers yours.

He moans aloud, tightening his grip (and yours by extension), and moving his hips up into his hand in short thrusts.

“Fuck, is this– is this okay?” Trevor checks with you, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “Can I come?”

Your eyes stay on his face, watching as his face contorts with pleasure. “Yeah,” You breathe out. “Want to see you come, Trev.”

He lets out a moan at that, throwing his head back as you continue to stroke over his member in tandem. He fucks up until your fists as he hurls himself over the edge, ribbons of come shooting out of his tip and falling in pools over his hand and abdomen. 

A bit drips through his fingers onto your hand and you stare at it, crinkling your nose at the feeling of the sticky substance as it settles on your skin.

“Gross,” You say, wincing at the way it cools on your skin. 

“Let me clean you up,” Trevor offers, tucking himself away and rising off the couch to wet a paper towel. You stand and follow him, holding your hand a reasonable distance away from yourself, and trying not to drip everywhere. When Trevor turns to you with the paper towel, he laughs. “Well, don’t act like it’s acid!”

“You look pretty when you come,” You tell Trevor as he wipes his come off of your hand. He dumps the paper towel in the trash can and you elbow him out of the way to wash your hands for an extra long amount of time. He follows suit when you’re done and you plaster yourself to his back, hugging him from behind.

“What’s that for?” Trevor asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder fondly.

“For being so understanding and nice to me,” You mumble into his back, hiding your face. “Thank you.”

Trevor turns around in your grasp and returns your hug, holding you tightly to his chest. “Oh, baby, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Cuz you find me so hot when I’m innocent,” You giggle, poking his ribs.

“It’s my kink,” Trevor teases back, with a hint of truth to it, though you won’t find out about that until Trevor sheepishly admits it the next time you jerk him off and he’s babbling aimlessly about how pretty you look when you’re staring up at him in awe, asking him how he feels and if you’re doing well. He’s praising you and whining and when he finally comes, he almost hardens immediately after because you lift your hand up and give his come a little kitten lick, getting a taste of him. 

You end up scrunching your nose in distaste, not because you dislike it, but because it’s such a unique taste.

It makes Trevor laugh and it makes him lean in to kiss you, even venturing to open his mouth and let you take the lead with tongue (the way he taught you).

note: the monday morning streak continues! pls send feedback to my inbox (not requests, i'm booked) but i want to talk about this series!! I love chit-chatting with y'all! i also think that since i'm starting my new job(!!!!!!) this week, we might be down to one post this week & then i'll just work on a bunch of stuff throughout the week so i can hopefully post more when i'm acclimated to my job! also, my cousin is having her baby today! it's the first baby of the next generation! i'm so excited for her!

[ithebookhoarder]

Do you have any criminal minds fics in progress? I’d love to see more of your work for them :)

A Sweet Surprise (Aaron Hotchner x AFAB!Reader)

A/N: Oh do I? Haha. Well, whilst my inbox of requests is bursting this randomly fell out of my brain, so great timing with this I guess? I promise I will get to the other stories soon people - in the meantime, enjoy xxx

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then visit my Ko-fi here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of pregnancy, Aaron being a protective partner

Masterlist

“Aaron, honey, stop," you giggled, trying and failing to wriggle free from your husband’s wandering hands. "I swear, I am fine. Don’t make me banish you back into the living room. You know Garcia has been dying to get you to play Monopoly and, so help me God, I will tell her you’re dying to be the shoe.“

Aaron’s laugh was infectious and if you weren’t so stressed you’d have melted into him. Instead, your eyes narrowed into a warning glare as he reached for you again. 

“I just think you should let me help you, honey-” he pleaded, falling silent as soon as you heard footsteps approaching the kitchen doorway. You glanced up, watching as your host for the evening, Rossi, appeared, an empty glass of wine in hand. He had clearly come in need of a refill of whatever expensive vintage he had cracked open for your monthly team dinner. 

“Help with what?” he teased, watching as Aaron sheepishly stepped back, as if he was a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Aaron, you may be the boss in the office but in the kitchen? We both know Y/N is the only one I trust to help me cook, so leave her be and come relax in the other room, ok? She clearly has dessert handled.” 

“Thank you, Rossi.” You smirked, pushing Aaron back with a floured covered hand. “I told him I could handle a pie, but you know what he’s like.”

“I’m just offering to help.”

“Which I thank you for, but I got this,” you assured, even if he clearly disagreed. 

“I know, but it’s been a long day, why don’t you let me finish this-”

“Aaron Hotchner, go and sit down. Now.”

Rossi’s eyes widened as he let the bickering continue, waiting until he had finished filling his glass before he decided to weigh in again. He knew the pair of you better than you knew yourselves sometimes and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what was going on here. 

Aaron was protective of those he loved at the best of times, but something was different - and considering you hadn’t touched any of the drinks that had been put in front of you tonight, he had a pretty good idea what.  

“Aaron,” he sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, come have a drink with me and the team. We both know Y/N is going to be ok. She’ll join us in a minute, or she’ll ask if she needs help.” 

"But-"

"Leave the poor girl alone," Rossi teased, shooting you both a knowing look. “Otherwise, you'll give yourselves away before we even get to dinner.”

Aaron coughed but failed to hide the shock on his face. It was no use either of you trying to deny it, not when your closest friends were also profilers. If anything, you were surprised you two had been able to hide it this long - and it had only been a mere week since you’d first told him the good news. 

“Ah,” he choked, turning slightly red. However, he relaxed as soon as you turned and pressed a kiss against his cheek. He could see you were relieved by the discovery, rather than upset, and that was enough to make him remember who it was he was sharing the news with. 

"Ha! I told youuuuu,” you sang smugly. “And now you owe me $50. I knew you’d be the one to give it away.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I will.” 

“Well, congratulations to you both,” Rossi said simply, lifting his glass in a silent toast. He then shook Aaron’s hand and reached to pull you into a hug of his own. However, it was he went to let you go that he paused. “And Y/N? If you do need a break, or want me to finish dessert, I can-“

"Oh my god, Rossi! Not you too,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “Are you going to tell anyone?”  

“Oh, hell no,” he chuckled. “Given your performance tonight, I want to see if you can manage to keep it a secret from the team until dinner, let alone until work on Monday."

"So much for the being the best profilers in the US," you snorted, remembering how it had been Jack who had first worked it out rather than his usually observant father. He'd been the one to spot the pregnancy pamphlets hidden in your purse, after digging to find the candy he knew you always kept in there.

Of course, he'd only reacted with excitement upon learning he was going to be a big brother - leading to him bursting into the house, asking when he'd get to play with his new sibling... yeah, you'd thought Aaron was about to pass out he went so white.

“Hey, now. In my defence,” Aaron protested, “you're not showing yet."

"So my weird ass craving requests didn't tip you off?"

"Honey, you eat so much weird shit normally... Like, so much. Even Jack wouldn't eat half the stuff you do."

Well, he had you there. "... You still owe me $50."

[mykoreanlove]

The cat's revenge

Your eyes shot open. Finally. The last day of your self-imposed sex ban was finally over.

You turned around and faced your boyfriend who was still sound asleep. His behavior had surprised you – Minho had begged for the first couple of days but then he just gave up and accepted his fate, never mentioning it again. You wondered how it was so easy for him, giving up sex like that.

You masked your frustration as best as you could, it was your ban after all. His behavior needed to be punished but most of the times it felt like you were the one that was suffering the most.

Minho slowly opened his eyes and smiled softly. “Baby, are you up?” He put his arms around you and hugged you tightly. The last two weeks were not only depleted of sex but rather every kind of contact that went beyond a peck. Minho nuzzled into you and sighed happily. “I missed this. I missed you, y/n.”

The butterflies in your stomach awoke as well, turning you into a mess in seconds. He placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Let’s not fight like that ever again, please.”

“Agreed”, you mumbled as your hands touched his body. God, you missed feeling his chiseled abs. You missed your fingers trailing down his v-line. You let out a quiet gasp as your fingers traced over his bulge, already stone-hard.

Minho tilted your face up and looked into your eyes deeply. You could have sworn you saw them sparkle more than usual. “Let’s not rush it, baby. Why don’t I take you out for dinner tonight and after that, we uh, continue where we left of two weeks ago?”

He jumped out of the bed and went to shower while you lay in bed cheerily.

The ban worked perfectly, look how sorry he is. I think this was a great idea after all.

Empowering music was blasting through the stereo as you were getting ready for your date. You took a long bubble bath, shaved everywhere and applied scented lotion all over your body. You were so ready for tonight. Your body was covered in the dress he loved the most, your neck sprayed in the most seductive perfume while your face was slightly tinted in different colors. You felt like a goddess ready to be worshipped after so long. Minho knocked on the door and entered slowly.

“Baby, are you ready?”

He was holding a giant bouquet of flowers, red roses to be precise. “Are those for me?” It took him a minute to answer as he was eyeing you up and down, too flabbergasted to speak. Minho cleared his throat hastily. “Yeah, uh, they are. God, I don’t know why I feel so nervous. It’s like our first date all over again.” You chuckled, feeling the same way.

“Baby, you look mesmerizing. Absolutely mesmerizing.”

You took the flowers out of his hands and kissed his check. “So do you, Min.”

He had made a reservation in your favorite restaurant, spoiling you with steak and red wine. You didn’t even notice the stares of the other guests as you two were too engulfed with each other.

You had missed this so much. The sex ban was a risky idea, one that stirred up a lot of controversy among your peers. Your friends warned you about this – withholding sex as a form of punishment was just as shitty of you, but you were desperate for revenge. Minho needed to be put in his place and luckily it all worked itself out.

“Do you want dessert?”

You smirked and got up to leave. “Yeah. But not the kind they’re serving here.”

The desperation for each other was immense, you barely made it to your bedroom. “Min”, you mumbled in between passionate kisses. “Yeah, kitty?”

“I want you. Now. Fuck me now.”

He shook his head as he put you down on the kingsize bed. “Kitty, right now I wouldn’t survive two seconds in your exquisite pussy. I’d combust instantly after what you put me through. No, let me take care of you first.”

He had that devious look in his eyes - the one that made you afraid for your life but also as horny as ever. He stripped you naked and hovered over you, placing wet kisses all over your body.

“Spread your legs for me”, he instructed quietly. He let out a gasp as you did, admiring your pussy for minutes.

“Kitty, look how wet you are.”

He traced his fingers through your blinds, collecting your juices on his middle finger. “All for me, huh?” Minho put his finger in his mouth and sucked on it, his eyes rolling back from pleasure. Seeing him like that was such a turn on. “Min”, you whined desperately. “Take care of me, now.”

He snapped back to reality and pumped his fingers into you – starting with one and adding two more. He was slipping in and out in a steady motion, getting you ready in minutes. He hovered in between your legs and watched you breathe quicker, your breasts heaving up and down. Minho curved his fingers, hitting all the right spots as you moaned excessively.

He could read you like a book, knowing damn well that you were close to coming undone.

“Min”, your moans filled the bedroom, which filled him with joy. “Min”, you whimpered his name. “MIN-“

And just like that he took out his fingers, making you open your eyes in irritation.

“Why did you stop? I was about to cum”, you whined in annoyance.

Minho chuckled. “Sorry Kitty, not yet. I want to make you cum real hard after those two weeks. Will you let me?”

He didn’t even wait for your reply as his lips landed on your throbbing core, licking his way to your clit. Your hands grabbed his long hair instantly and pulled on it, you felt the vibration of his grunts in your pussy. His tongue was quickly switching places between your clit and entrance, making you squirm from overstimulation. Your thighs clasped around his head, which made him go faster, making you dizzy from all the sensations.

“Min”, you moaned again, “Min wait, this is too much. I-“

Quickly, he pulled down his pants and thrusted into you – hard and rapidly. Your breath got caught in between your moans, he was stretching you out as much as he could.

His lips were on your ear as he thrusted, his animalistic grunts were the only sounds you were able to hear. Your body was on fire, but you were too far gone to notice.

All you cared about was your release, all you cared about was Minho fucking you into oblivion. But this time something was off.

Minho knew exactly what he had to do to make you cum in seconds, he knew your body better than you did yourself. Yet, this time he was working around it, eliciting all the spots that made you weak but never truly igniting them. Instead, he was irritating them.

Minho pulled out and slapped your clit with the tip of his cock, turning you into an even bigger mess. Tears started to roll down your cheeks as pleasure mixed with pain. Minho grabbed the vibrator he had gifted you last Christmas and turned it on to the highest level, holding it to your swollen clit. Your felt your body shaking, you lost all control over its movements.

“Min”, you cried. “Min, it’s too much. Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Kitty, kitty, kitty”, he whispered into your ear condescendingly. “What do you want?”

“Cum”, was the only word you were able to mutter in that state.

“Oh, is that so?”

You nodded.

“I’ll give you what you want kitty. Under one circumstance though.”

You would have agreed to anything right now. Your body felt like it was electrocuted – with vibrations, sensations and oxytocin. You nodded forcefully, not even questioning what he wanted of you.

Minho traced the vibrator along your folds and pushed it inside you, making you arch your back from pleasure. “I’ll make you cum kitty but only if you promise me to never use sex against me ever again.”

All you heard was cum and promise, ignoring the rest blindly. “Yes”, you huffed out. “Yes.”

Your boyfriend pulled the vibrator out of you and pushed himself into your heated core, thrusting into you as hard as he could. You felt the heat waves crush over you, stars blinding your vision. Minho’s voice in your ear: “Promise me, baby.”

You gathered your remaining strength and kissed him forcefully, promising him to never do such a thing ever again.

Content with himself, he gave you what you craved. You came multiple times, this had to be the most intensive orgasm you had ever felt with him. It felt like you were high for hours, jerking and shaking, too invested in the blankness of your mind.

Minho held you in his arms tenderly and waited for you to come down before he cleaned you up and pulled the blankets over you. You fell asleep instantly, this sexual encounter was too much for you to bear.

Minho however was beyond pleased. He whispered declarations of love into your ear while placing sweet kisses on your forehead. “You did so well for me, kitty. I am so proud of you.” He pushed strands of hair behind your ears and watched you sleep peacefully.

“You have no idea how much I love you. Only you, my adorable baby. Only you.” Your boyfriend’s swollen lips landed on the tip of your nose, smooching you once more in the most adorable way. Everybody knew how much he cared for you, how much he loved you – even if his ways of portraying that were very bizarre at times.

“Let’s not ever fight like this again, okay?” He nuzzled into you and closed his eyes, joining you in some restful sleep. “You learned your lesson, didn’t you?”

______________________________________________________

@maximumkillshot @weareapackofstrays @lieslovefantasy @thatonenoona @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @livzsposts @i2nsstuff @n3tunobellah @redstayrosie @straykidsholicleigh @notastraykid @astayinwonderland @hanjisung-enjoyer @nicolechingish @sassyhumancoppainter @got-me-seein-stars @kairinne @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @kkamismom12 @xoxominghxe @f3rr0-fluid @straykidsholicleigh @xoxominghxe

i hope i got u all if not please share <3

[erwinsvow]

you’re made of tougher stuff than rafe had realized.

he pampers you, of course, gives you the full princess treatment, even though you get all shy about it, trying to refuse him—which never works. he thinks you deserve it, because you deserve everything that he can give you, but he’s really trying to butter you up, get you ready for when you find out what kind of shit he’s really been up to. 

you’ve made a habit out of not questioning anything rafe says, following his instructions without a second guess. your boyfriend is overpoweringly dominant—it’s easy to do as he says and a part of you is convinced that you prefer it this way. you feel your shyness melt away when you’re with him, your real self bubbling to the surface, more sure of yourself now because rafe is sure of you. 

you don’t realize when it’s happened—only that it has. hand in hand with becoming more confident like rafe, because of rafe, you start being a little more observant.

rafe usually sends you away—gently murmuring in your ear to go get him another drink, or go say hi to someone for him, while he’s trying to conduct business. he sells coke only when you’re out of eyeshot or back at tannyhill waiting for him—he doesn’t need you knowing the details of what he’s doing to make money. the crap with the pogues is put on hold anytime you’re around since he knows your bleeding heart will only feel bad for them. more than that, rafe doesn’t need those idiots earning your sympathy and making him seem like the bad guy. he likes you as you are, all your emotions just for him. 

he thinks this is the way it needs to be to keep you with him, but you start to surprise him.

you come back with a beer for rafe and another lemonade seltzer for yourself, handing it to rafe with a smile and settling on his lap. people at the party might look at the two of you weirdly, but you don’t care anymore, even though the thought of something like that used to make you cry. you lock eyes with rafe, a hand resting on his shoulder while his own hands wrap around your waist.

“that guy over there told me to ask you if you had any coke on you,” you say, taking a sip of your drink and making yourself comfortable against rafe. he freezes for a second, tenses under your touch.

“he said that?” rafe shrugs, fist clenching around the beer bottle. “don’t know why he’d ask that.” you respond with a matching shrug.

“i don’t know. but he’s been talking to those two all night, i bet they’ll buy from you too.” he tries not to act surprised with your words—so comfortably talking about who he could sell drugs to tonight, like you’re discussing what you want for dessert. 

“yeah, kid?”

“mm-hmm. he seemed real nervous. you could probably upcharge, doubt he’d notice.” you take another sip of your drink, swinging your legs. “can we get ice cream on the way home?” rafe presses a wet kiss to your cheek, making you squirm and giggle. he gets up, setting you down on the couch. 

“yeah. let me go take care of business first.”

“okay. charge him double. then i can get a large.” 

“sure thing. you’re the boss.”

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 21

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings; language, minor alcohol, minor anxiety/worry but it's all fluff otherwise. 3k. Wow. We're finally here. It lowkey feels super surreal. The passage of time is wild and I don't remember when I started writing this fic, though I know I had a lot of it written before I started posting so that likely makes it seem longer. When it all comes down to it, this is one of my favourite fics that I've written. I'm proud of it. I'm incredibly thankful to everyone who's been reading it, reblogging and commenting, you are all wonderful and amazing. Stay tuned for plenty more one shots and lots of fun with our favourite characters in the future! Don't wanna miss a fic? Sign up for taglist here! Liked the story? Send me a ko-fi!

Now that you’ve finished the fic please feel free to head into my inbox & leave a legit honest review!! It helps me know what y’all like, what you didn’t like & how to improve future writing both here & elsewhere! 😘🩷

To say that Emily’s mind was not focused over the next twenty four hours would have been an understatement. She knew that dinner was occupying her thoughts, trying to think of the best way to get her words out without fumbling all over them or saying the wrong thing. She almost considered practicing by writing them down, having a speech ready to go if she forgot what she was supposed to be saying. She started to wonder if that alone was enough, if words would be strong enough to win you over or if she needed to stop for flowers, dessert or even something fancier on the way over to your place.

She thought she was doing a decent job of keeping it under wraps while at work until Tara asked what break in the case her and DiNozzo had discovered. When Emily’s brow furrowed the other woman pointed out Tony had been in her office for nearly an hour, the two of them involved in a deep conversation and she could only assume they’d discovered something. Emily’s cheeks burned as she bluffed the best reasoning she could think of before excusing herself back to her office. While the case had been the original reason Tony popped into her office, she’d roped him in to staying, saying he was the king of all movies and tropes, wondering if maybe now was the time for some grand gesture.

He'd shot that idea down, which is why she was pulling up to your place empty handed except for a bottle of wine. The biggest grand gesture she was planning was to greet you with a kiss neither of you would be able to forget. Her heart thudded against her rib cage as she waited for the elevator, letting out a breath in an attempt to relax herself the best she could, a kiss was a kiss, the worst thing that could happen was that you wouldn’t read into it the way she did.

You swung the door open, a soft smile on your cheeks as you stepped back to let her into your apartment. Her hand quickly found your waist but any and all plans she had immediately fell out the window at the hesitancy and anxiety wafting off you and vibrating through the air. She could tell your shoulders were tensed, and you didn’t melt into her embrace the way you normally did, so she settled for a kiss on the cheek as per your usual greeting, following you into the kitchen as she passed off the bottle of wine.

“I’ve got a white open if you want to start with that?” You offered, tucking the bottle she’d brought into the fridge and she nodded.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” She smiled softly at you, watching you pull down a glass to fill for her, adding in a couple of ice cubes just as she liked it.

“How’s the case?” You asked, picking up your own wine as you leant against the island across from her, “Tony mentioned it was still pretty dead ended, I was kinda surprised you had time to make it tonight.”

“It’s a case.” She shrugged, “there’s only so much we can do right now. Figured it was best to let everyone have the night off, come back clear headed tomorrow.”

As her eyes swept through the kitchen she felt her own anxiety beginning to settle into her bones, her heart still strumming faster than usual in her chest. You had made the plan to stay in for dinner, so she wasn’t confused over your very casual attire of pyjama shorts and a cardigan, but aside from the wine bottle, there was no sign of intending to host tonight.

“Bummer.” You let out a sigh as you took a sip of wine, catching the way Emily nearly jumped at the sound of your voice, her jaw tightening and you were quick to finish you sentence, “about the case! Not that you had time to come over. That’s good, I’m glad. I just uh..” you let out an awkward laugh she wasn’t used to hearing, “didn’t want to make it sound like I was happy there was some psycho killer still out there.”

It was Emily’s turn to chuckle, taking another large sip of her drink, “no, I get it, it’s a tricky line to walk…”

Her accidentally chosen words hung heavily in the air, weighing down on both of you as you let out a quiet hum, staring over her shoulder, your wine glass in front of your face. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest so heavily you were almost certain Emily could hear it or at least could see the way the pulse point in your neck was jumping. It was part of the reason you’d pulled away so quickly at the front door, you didn’t want her to be able to feel it, or your clammy hands, she didn’t need to know you were nervous.

“Hey…” you were almost certain your voice cracked, “I uh, wanted to talk to you about something.”

Her face shot up, trying to control the expression written across it when she finally caught your eye, “oh, yeah. Me too, but you first.”

You downed the rest of your wine, your glass likely hitting the island with a little too much velocity as the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could take a second thought. “I think we should end the arrangement.”

Emily felt her heart drop into her stomach, the butterflies that were once there crushed into a churning of bile as she swallowed. This certainly wasn’t what she had expected, she thought she’d read the situation right, followed Tony’s advice that was supposed to lead her in the right direction. Then she felt incredibly stupid, she read body language and people for a living when she’d known them for all of two seconds. Yet she’d spent incredibly intimate and personal hours with you and still didn’t manage to get the right vibe.

“Oh…I, okay.” She placed the half full glass of wine, her eyes not totally focused on anything before she scooped up her bag, “I’ll uh… get out of your hair then.”

You’d caught the way her face fell ever so briefly before she managed to mask it, your heart squeezing in your chest as you darted around the island, managing to catch her wrist in your hand.

“No! Emily, please, no.” You tugged her back to you and when she finally did focus on you there was an evident shimmer of tears threatening to spill into her eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” You let out a shaky laugh, tripping over your words you were speaking so quickly, “well, I guess it is what I meant, but not how I meant it.”

“You… want to rewrite the contract?” She asked hesitantly and you felt the heat creeping up your cheeks.

“More like I was thinking about ripping up the contract…”

There was a moment of relief washing through Emily that you could feel sparking through your body as she let out a breath. Her gaze was still pouring into you and the entire room suddenly felt too hot, causing you to shove up the sleeves of your cardigan, making sure they were settled above your elbows before undoing a couple of buttons to give you a little cool room to breathe. Emily’s eyes darted over your body as her mind continued to race.

“Listen, I.. god…” you shook your head with a laugh. Despite reciting what you wanted to say for hours, you were still totally flustered when it came to saying it to her face. It didn’t help that you suddenly noticed the way her eyes were flitting between your arms and your thighs. “What?”

She looked up, a curious expression on her face, “no blood drawn?”

“Huh?” Your brow furrowed, head titling in the adorable way Emily loved when you were utterly confused. When she was done shooting you heart eyes she suddenly realized her mistake, her tongue swiping out the corner of her mouth as she began to stutter over her words.

“Uh, just… last time you went out of town you had blood drawn.” She shrugged, “I guess I thought it was some kind of travel, germaphobe, don’t want to pick up a flu or something…” She trailed off, kicking herself for letting it slip out in the first place. Her eyes darted down to your thighs again before flicking up to your collarbone, tracing the line up your neck.

Your face relaxed, lips curving up into a small smile when you caught on to what she was doing, and what she really meant. “No…” You shook your head softly, reaching out to squeeze at her hand, “no blood drawn.”

You felt your chest swell, and Emily wanted nothing more than to kiss you to high heaven in that moment, never wanting to drop your hand no matter what the cost. Instead of getting her chance you spoke again, which, honestly, was probably for the best.

“God…” you laughed again, running a hand through your hair, “I really don’t know how to do this, I’ve never done it before.”

“Wait, what?” Her head tilted, “I thought you like, made a side hustle out of sugar babying.”

“No!” You laughed, “Oh my god I’ve done it once and that was like twenty years ago. We had a very specific end date written into the contract and knew nothing was ever going to come of it aside from my tuition.”

“But you’re so knowledgeable about the subject.” She pointed out, thinking back to how confidently you’d flown through the first few months of your relationship, how you always seemed to be a step or two ahead of her when it came to navigating your way through it.

“I’ve done my research?” You shrugged, “seen a lot of examples with Heather. Hell, with a good chunk of other politicians. Listen,” you squeezed at her hand again, pulling the focus back to the topic at hand, “I don’t know how to navigate it like this.” You gestured between the two of you, “I’m not good at it, I guess it’s another reason I’ve stayed so committed to the job… being committed to a person just kind of scares me. I’ve never felt safe enough to open up the way I needed to, never been relaxed around another person to just… let them into my life so comfortably. I don’t know why things happened so differently with you, so incredibly easily and I think that kinda freaks me out too, but I think that fear is more than worth it if it gives me the chance to be with you…really be with you. Because that’s all I really want.”

When she looked up from your joined hands Emily could hear her heart hammering between her ears, the butterflies from her stomach slowly creeping into her chest. You were fully opening yourself up to her, no matter how much it scared you and behind the hesitancy in your eyes she could see something else pouring out, something that she’d been seeing for weeks but was never ballsy enough to say something about.

“I’m hearing everything your saying and believe me I want to respond and I will, but can I do something first?” She asked.

“Uh… yeah, sure.” Your brow furrowed for a second, thinking that she had to take a call, that over your racing heartbeat you hadn’t been able to hear her phone vibrate.

Instead you were letting out a little squeak in surprise when Emily stepped toward you, her hands gently cupping your face as she brought her lips to yours. Your arms easily wound around her shoulders, pulling her body directly into yours so you could absolutely melt against her. You were instantly lost into the kiss, feeling like everything inside of you was exploding in the best way possible. Somehow the thundering in Emily’s chest was calming down as her lips moved against yours with ease, as if that was exactly where they were meant to be. The sweet smell of your shampoo invaded her nose, you invaded every single one of her senses and there was absolutely nothing else that she could ever possibly want.

Her tongue traced the seam of your lips and you easily parted them, wanting nothing more than to be able to fully taste her. Your had crept up the back of her neck, fingers gently toying with the roots of her hair, your thumb stroking at her skin. Her tongue explored your mouth, rolling against your own and she couldn’t help but let out a small groan into the kiss. When your fingers ever so slightly tugged on her hair she retaliated by nipping at your lower lip while her own curved up into a grin. A small laugh broke free from your mouth, neither of you pulling away as you relaxed deeper into each other, giggles and smiles prevalent through a series of smaller kisses until you couldn’t stop them.

Emily’s forehead rested against your own as she stole one more kiss, her hand cupping your chin, thumb tracing your lower lip and you couldn’t help but press a tender kiss to it.

“I know it can be scary…” she started, “it scares me too and honestly I’m not sure if I’m particularly great at it either. I’ve been trying to untangle my thoughts and emotions for weeks, maybe even longer and it’s been driving me insane. All that I really know is that I love spending time with you, I’m happier when you’re around, you make me laugh, you encourage me to be my best, I even sleep better with you next to me and I want so much more of all of that in my life. So…maybe we can figure it out together?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a bright smile on your cheeks and a sparkle in your eye that absolutely made her weak in the knees, “I’d really like that.”

With another adorable giggle you surged closer to her, kissing her again, your hands tugging at the fabric of her shirt, pulling her impossibly close. You couldn’t get enough of each other and it made Emily laugh again between the kisses.

“Jeeze,” she shook her head, “I can’t believe DiNozzo was right.”

“DiNozzo?” You murmured; head full of butterflies as you stole another kiss. Though once his name was on your lips you were crashed back down to earth and you leant your torso away from her, “were you talking to Tony about our love life?!”

“Uh, maybe?” She winced, her cheeks tinging as she laughed, “I mean, it turned out he did give some pretty good advice.”

“Oh god.” You hung your head, “I am never going to hear the end of this.”

“At least it was worth it?” She suggested and you smiled across at her, pressing your lips to hers.

“It definitely was.”

Her hand caressed your cheek again as she leant in to kiss you, unable to help herself at this point and you weren’t about to deny her. Right as your lips met you jumped at the sound of the doorbell.

“You expecting someone?” She asked, her arm almost tightening around your waist as you laughed, swatting at her arm.

“It’s dinner.” You grabbed your wallet from the island, “did you really think I was going to cook after such a long day?”

Emily shook her head at the look in your eyes as you disappeared around the corner. Choosing to take the time you were dealing with the driver to collect your wine glasses from the island, refilling both before selecting cutlery and setting things up on the coffee table.

“Hope you’re okay with Indian,” you started, setting the bag down on the table as you tucked a leg under yourself on the couch, “I had a craving.”

“Cuisine doesn’t matter as long as I’m sharing it with you.” She replied and you felt your heart thud in your chest, your body melting at the look in her eyes as she gazed over at you.

“You fucking sap.” You teased, choosing to distract her from the misting of happy tears in your eyes by jumping into her lap, your lips meeting hers for another kiss.

Emily’s hands ghosted up your sides as yours settled on her face, thumbs stroking at her cheeks while your tongue explored her mouth. You let out a happy sigh into the kiss that she eagerly swallowed down, her entire being relaxing at the way you were melting into the embrace.

“What?” She asked softly, a smile on her face as she nudged your nose with hers.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, unable to control your own bright smile.

“Oh c’mon.” She prodded at your sides, earning a squeal from you, “don’t pull that crap anymore.”

You laughed, gazing down at her as your thumbs continued to soothe across her cheeks, “I just guess I’ve spent so long avoiding it and being scared that I never realized it could be this easy to fall in love...”

“You’re in love with me?” If it had been even a day earlier the question would have been filled with worry, but right now Emily asked it with a tease in her voice, because she already knew the answer. You didn’t need to say it, she could feel it, the warmth flowing through the room, wrapping itself around the two of you as you perched in her lap. She wasn’t scared to hear anything you had to say and she knew she felt the same way.

“Yeah…yeah I am.”

“Good.” Her hand gently wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you to her for another kiss, this one deeper and a little longer than the last. One that you could feel her emotion in, joy dancing deep through your veins as your heart began to strum in time with hers, “because I’ve been in love with you for weeks. I never thought we could end up like this when we started… but here we are.”

“Mmm.” You left a kiss on the tip of her nose, “and I wouldn’t have it any either way.”

_____________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovakxprentiss @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog @m1lfsh4ke

[buckets-and-trees]

I’m so happy to see you back on my feed 😍 An ask for your sleepover! Do Cedar Trees!Steve and his Queen have any ::ahem:: spring rituals*? 👀

*Make it dirty lollll.

Title: Love That's Laid Beside Me

Collection: CEDAR TREES Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x Queen!Reader Word Count: 5k

Summary: With the first spring equinox, Steve shares a tradition from his past before he was royal. You broach something that's been on your mind for your future.

Content & Warnings: royal au, discussion of children, explicit smut - NATURE/OUTDOOR SEX (bahaha YAY), nipple play, cock stroking, brief cock warming, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, slight dirty talk (it's still royal Steve, so...), breeding kink, potential pregnancy

Logistical Notes: I knew the second you dropped this in my askbox that I wanted outdoor sex for the spring equinox, and when I started it, it was timely, but I have worked on this installment of their story now for six or seven weeks. I've rewritten it a couple of times, wrestled with parts of the emotional journey. Steve surprised me in the middle portion by opening up with a lot more nostalgia than I knew was going to insert itself into the story. And then with the rest of their conversation for the final third of the story, I went back to the drawing board a few times. Thank you @biteofcherry and @stargazingfangirl18 for being instrumental in talking through what I was working on with Steve and his queen at vital points when I needed it!

Narrative Notes: Steve and his queen were married in June, and this takes place during their first spring together. To read previous pieces chronologically, refer to the masterlist of this collection's pieces.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You look up sharply at the sound of your name. “Mmm?”

“You seem distracted, my love,” Steve says, his brow furrowed in concern.

You shake your head slightly. “I am sorry, it was perhaps a longer day than I anticipated it would be.”

“We can dispense with the dessert course if you are too weary,” Steve suggests.

You scoff. “Dare not speak of such a thing!”

He chuckles, and you smile broadly at him. “I withdraw the proposition,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mirth for a moment.

But as you both savor the exquisite chocolate mousse presented a few minutes later, you notice his frequent gaze on you is more scrutinizing. You do your best to engage again in the conversation.

Truthfully, you have been distracted, but you did not wish to draw his concern. In part it is because you do not want him to worry about you, but more so you yourself do not want to dwell on the issue that has begun to encroach on the edges your thoughts these past weeks. But the exquisite taste of chocolate and his striking blue eyes do serve to draw you back into the moment.

You do your best to gracefully scrape every last bit of mousse from the small crystal goblet, and once the service is cleared away, Steve stands and extends his hand toward you. You stand and go to him. This is familiar now.

He draws your hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of your fingers, then tucks your hand in the crook of his arm. “May I escort you to your chambers to retire for the evening?”

“Yes, of course, my king,” you respond warmly and fall into step with him, leaving the dining room behind.

You have fallen into certain routines after dinner, and while the two of you do not do the very same thing each night, you do spend nearly all your evenings together, the only exception if he must be away on royal business. This evening you read while he sketches before darkness seeps through the windows and you two begin to get ready for bed.

Once you’re both fully freed from the entrapments of your elaborate day wardrobes, you catch Steve studying you again through the reflection of the mirror as you stand in front of your vanity.

“What is that look?” you ask, frowning at him.

“You are very quiet tonight.”

“Again, I am sorry, I must be tired.”

You can see in his eyes that part of him wants to press you further, but he chooses not to. At least not about that.

“Too tired for a little adventure?” he asks.

You turn and fix him with a playfully scrutinizing look. “Pray tell what adventure a king thinks he can get up to in the twilight hour when he’s in his bedclothes?”

“Come with me and find out.”

His eyes are full of mischief, and there is no way you could resist him with that look on his face.

He picks up your velvet cloak and hands it to you before donning his own.

You reach for some boots.

“No,” he stops you, “no shoes.”

“Barefoot?”

“Slippers should do.”

He grins and reaches for your hand. The two of you go hand in hand as you sneak out of your chambers. Steve gives the men standing guard a look that says they are not to appear to know the two of you have left or which way you have gone unless the situation is dire. As king and queen, you can only be so discreet on this adventure as you pass enough guards and servants that your movements cannot in any way be a secret. But it is still a bit of a thrill to skirt through the castle swiftly in the dark, fingers twined together, escaping out onto the grounds. You wind through the gardens as dusk turns starts to turn to darkness, beyond the stables and more gardens, past the royal orchard, and across even more ground until you ultimately reach a thicket of trees. This, you know, is the south side of the royal grounds, and if not for an eventual stone wall to secure the castle, it could have been any common forest you were ambling into.

The moonlight is just beginning to cast its silvery glow across the night, and it only adds another layer to the novelty of the moment. The two of you follow an almost-path into the trees, and it continues further than you expect it to go. It is clear Steve is familiar with this path, his steps through the trees and the brush steady and sure.

As you move along, your steps hadn’t been rushed once you’d escaped the castle proper, but Steve starts to slow significantly, and you step closer to him with the relaxed pace, able to walk with him rather than follow through this part of the landscape that is new to you. Steve brings your hand up to press a kiss to the back of it and smiles down at you.

“When I was young, my ma used to try and find ways to lift our spirits. We were so poor, but she never wanted us to want for reasons to be happy. She thought it important to make any occasions special as they came our way with our own rituals and traditions.”

Married less than a year, you are still learning much about each other in this relationship – there were so many things in the present, you had spoken of some hopes for the future, and much of the vast troves of the past lay behind you to explore. You knew his father had been killed as a soldier in a war between kingdoms when he was still a toddling child, and his mother had been lost to a plague just before he’d come of age. The few times he’d spoken of his mother, it had always been with such warmth that it made your heart swell and grew your affection for him even more.

“I don’t remember how old I was when she started this tradition, but one night instead of having me get ready for bed, she bundled me up enough to keep me from catching cold in the March evening air, put on her own cloak, and we ventured out into the night, just outside of the village, and into the forest. It was the spring equinox, and she said if we walked into the clearing, left an offering, and made a wish, then the magic that came with the awakening of spring would make that wish come true.”

He'd stopped at some point during those words, and as you look around, you see you are in a very small break in the trees – not quite big enough to be called a clearing.

There weren’t big festivities and royal duties around the equinoxes in the kingdom as there were for the solstices, but there were still rituals and traditions in the days leading up to and following, so you knew the significance of this day, and tonight was the last night where darkness held equal balance with the day, and then daylight would take the reigns for its share of the year.

“I love that you’ve kept that tradition in her remembrance,” you say, running your other hand up and down his forearm. “What sort of offerings did you leave?”

“It would depend on the year,” he responds, plaintive in thought, “sometimes whatever small token we could scrounge, others perhaps a specially baked good or honey if we could spare it. When I began to draw in earnest, sometimes I would leave a sketch for those forest sprites, or fairies, or deities, whatever you would believe ruled the trees.”

“And your wishes came true?”

His gaze lifts to the starry sky for a moment, then he looks down into your face. “Perhaps one or two, but some of the wishes were too foolish and did not need to be granted.” He laughs softly, and you grin and press closer to him. He then turns fully toward you to envelop you in his arms. “I think her wishes probably came true – she always wanted more for me, happiness, a good life. I have so much of that now.”

You reach up and gently cup his face in your hands. “I never planned on an unhappy life, but I think fortune granted us more happiness than either of us anticipated.”

“Indeed,” he says resolutely, bowing his head to capture your lips with his.

You kiss him back fervently. One of his hands moves down your spine, coming to stop at the small of your back, pressing you into him. You hum into the kiss, relishing the closeness and connection between the two of you.

Steve draws his lips away just before you’re at the point of breathlessness, but he presses his forehead to yours, and you continue to breathe each other in.

“I think I have something that would work for an offering,” you pipe up after a few moments of the tranquility in his embrace.

He doesn’t say anything but loosens his hold as you shift your arms back down and tug at the silk ribbon at the cuff of one of your sleeves, drawing it out of its casing.

“A fine token from my beautiful bride,” he remarks.

“And what are you giving up to the wood?”

“A piece of my heart,” he says with a grin.

You tsk at him and roll your eyes, but you do feel a small rush of heat in your cheeks and the butterflies stir in your belly because even though his tone was playful, there’s an undeniable intention in his eyes.

“No, what did you really bring, husband? I know you well enough to know you came prepared.”

He draws a small, folded piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, holding it up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Come,” he inclines his head over his left shoulder, turning and stepping toward one of the nearby cedar trees. One of the branches hangs near shoulder height to you. Steve places the folded drawing onto the branch, holding it in place, and you step up to tie it to the branch without him needing to explain.

“I don’t get to see what you drew?” you ask as you arrange the loops for a bow and work the silk with your nimble fingers.

“If you tell a wish – or show it in this case, then it might not come true.”

You know he is not one to believe in silly superstitions, but you have your own wish you hope this ritual might help along, so you just smile and nod. “Fair enough.”

The two of you step back, and you admire the simple beauty of the ribbon and think you could very well tie many more ribbons to this tree in the coming years together. You hope that is the case.

Steve takes another few steps back into the open space between the trees, draws his robe off his shoulders, and spreads it out over the ground. You pull off your own robe and join him as he lays back and holds his arm open for you. He assists as you drape your robe over your lower halves. The air is crisp but not cold, but the warmth of his body against yours is wonderful, and you nestle into him.

The stars dotting the heavens are bright skirting around a full moon, and as the two of you gaze up at the night sky, you twine your fingers with Steve’s at your shoulder. You have maintained who you are, who you were raised to be, strong and steady, noble, regal, with your own sense of purpose and fulfillment, but the wholeness you feel when you are with Steve enriches your soul. You are not empty without him, but more full with him. Laying with him right now is a balm you did not know you desperately needed tonight.

Steve begins to speak again. “After she passed, I kept the yearly tradition for the equinox, but especially after I inherited this kingdom.”

His voice was another comfort. You loved hearing more of what made up this man who held your heart.

“I never sought the crown,” he continues, “but after I suddenly found myself king, I held onto anything that kept me grounded. Bucky has been a constant, but I spent much time in these woods to clear my head, work out answers I needed to sort through on my own, or simply sit with feelings or difficulties I could not suffer in the palace in front of anyone else.”

Given that admission, the semblance of a path and his familiarity navigating to this glen in the trees made perfect sense.

This man was strong and stoic, and your husband had the heart of a lion, but you could only imagine what it must have been like to inherit a kingdom and all the royal duties of being its king overnight. You had grown up as the second-born in a royal family, able to learn and prepare, with parents, governesses, advisors, tutors, and your royal siblings being brought up alongside you to prepare for a life of duty and the unique difficulties it would present for the entirety of your life. Steve had been plucked out of obscurity by fate with no training, orphaned, only a soul who had always worked hard and possessed a deep-rooted a sense of duty and desire to serve those around him in any way he could.

He speaks again, an abundant warmth in his tone. “In you I have found yet another boon and have had fewer occasions where I needed to seek out the solace of this place.”

You shift to your side to lean up and look into his face. This was not a surprise revelation. His words and actions have demonstrated consistently how much he values you since that night you had pledged your true love and affection to each other so many months ago, but him vocalizing this sentiment still means so much and makes your heart soar because your relationship is still so new.

You move down to kiss him, and he lifts his head to meet you halfway. He holds your face in his hands, and his thumbs brush gently over your cheeks.

He pulls back, presses another brief kiss to your mouth, then traces a finger over your parted lips. His blue eyes connect again to yours.

“I don’t know if you are holding back the thoughts that trouble you because I’m king and you think I have royal matters to occupy my thoughts, but something is on your mind,” he says quietly.

Your heart stings a little at his accusation – but he is not wholly wrong.

“Please,” he presses, “we said we would be husband and wife to each other, we vowed a true and unfettered love. As your husband I can see it, I know it, and it’s eating at me that I can’t share whatever is burdening you. Do not hold matters so important and worrisome back from me.”

Your throat feels thick and though you are still unsure of the words and the feelings yourself, you cannot deny Steve’s fervent plea to open up to him, and you trust that the foundation you’ve been building together will guide the two of you through however this conversation will go.  

Carefully, you settle back down against him, wanting to feel his closeness. You press the side of your face to his chest, over his heart, and drape your left arm over his torso. His hand trails up and down your arm tenderly, while his other arm holds you, patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath and then let your thoughts flow into words. “Are you at all worried that we have been married three-quarters of a year,” you begin, “time enough for me to be with child, and yet we have no heir on the way?”

He hums in thought, not immediately answering.

You know the silence is short, but it feels long because you anxiously await his thoughts.

“No,” he finally answers.

He does not elaborate, and though when Steve chooses to speak and when he chooses to keep his thoughts to himself is something you have noted and admired in his character as a king, on this matter you crave every word of his thoughts.

“No?”

He sits up and pulls you into his lap, arms encircling you entirely.

“I am realizing we have never spoken about this with each other,” he says.

“And?”

“And I imagine we have spoken about it or been spoken to about it with others before our union.”

You nod.

He furrows his brow slightly, studying your face.

“Steve,” it’s you ushering the conversation now.

“Is anyone pressing you on the matter?” he asks, tone serious.

“No,” you reply.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Truthfully,” you reassure him.

“Then truthfully, you asked if I am worried – but I had not realized so much time had already passed. The longer we are married, the more it feels as if I’ve known you for ages, but it also feels as if it has been no time at all.”

You nod. “I think that is one of the reasons I have been hesitant to broach the subject now since it has been many months and we had never once spoken on the matter. It had never crossed my mind, and I didn’t know if it had yours.”

You had wondered why. You wondered if it was a mark of selfishness, or merely a mark on how devoted the two of you had been in building your bonds as husband and wife in your time as newlyweds – newlyweds in a cordially arranged marriage that turned out to be a true love match.

He remains quiet for another moment, and you place your hand on his cheek, relishing the feel of his beard against your palm.

His tone is soft when he finally continues. “I want children, not heirs.”

Your melt into his embrace, heart skipping a beat. Why had you let yourself worry at all?

“But what do you want, my love?”

“I-“

His question gives you pause. You know the most vital duty of a queen is to produce an heir, but the way Steve looks at you in this moment, so intently, you want to give him the true answer, not merely the answer you were raised to give.

And it’s in those fervent blue eyes of his that you also seem to find the truth of it.

“I want to have children with you.”

He does not ask for you to clarify or repeat the sentiment because he knows you do not speak to placate him in any way, the same way you know he does not try to placate you now.

“You know that I was not raised to be a king or with all the expectations that come along with it. Since the time the crown was bestowed upon me, I did learn the import of all the duties that were suddenly expected. Bring peace and stability to the kingdom, serve the people, and much of that was tied to expectations that I take a wife to give the kingdom a queen, and ultimately produce an heir to secure the line of succession, so I can only imagine what the duties and obligations felt like if one had been shouldered with them from birth.”

You sigh. “I suppose it is a different kind of weight as it’s all I’ve ever known, and it wasn’t thrust upon me as it was you.”

“But that does not minimize its weight, nor am I saying it was an unbearable burden for either of us. But I did feel the weight of it for all the years I ruled alone before you, and yet I stood firmly against any pressure to rush me into matrimony. Call it patience or obstinance, but I was rewarded for my waiting beyond anything I hoped for in that wife being you, and I know I was not your first proposed marriage contract either.”

“You were not, but you were the first I felt confident in, even when it was an arrangement that was amicable, not one with romantic notions or intent.”

“With that,” Steve continues, “I can do nothing but trust that there is no need to rush fulfilment of any of our duties. If and when children come into our life, it will be precisely when providence deems they should.”

“How is it you always say such wonderful things?”

He tilts his head, and the look on his face turns so soft it makes your heart ache. “Your heart inspires my heart.”

You close the small gap between you and kiss him fiercely. This man continue to show he is more than you could ever have dreamed, worthy of anchoring your soul. Your tongue teases the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth to you immediately.

His hands are a little cold, but you do not mind the chill of his fingers as one of his hands moves under the hem of your nightdress, lands on your knee, and begins to move purposely up your thigh.

“Now, we ought to give providence every opportunity to send a child our way, should we not?” he teases.

You laugh and tug at his shirt. “We should, my king.” He lifts his arms to allow you to pull off his garment. “My love,” you add more tenderly before kissing him again.

He eases back to the ground, pulling you with him, lips locked together. The sentiments shared between you, the always enticing closeness, the novelty of having Steve outdoors, the magic of the spring equinox, all of it comes together to drive the two of you quickly into a frenzy of immediate need and want. You shift to straddle Steve and reach down to tear at the front laces of his breeches. The places where your naked thighs tuck in on each side of his bare torso relish the warmth and the beauty of the skin-to-skin contact. He hitches up your nightdress and his hands caress up and down your thighs as you reach for his cock. Steve hisses at your cold fingers wrapping around his hard length but bucks up into your hand as you stroke him.

“Inside you,” he insists. “Need to be inside you, filling you, planting my seed inside the cunt of my queen.”

You gasp at his desperate words as he moves your hands away and lines up his cock with your entrance, slamming your hips down to take him in the space of one heartbeat. You were not as wet or prepared as he usually took care to take you, but both of you groan as he slots in to the hilt, and you throw your head back, a broken groan escaping your throat. The pain is surged with pleasure, and you rock eagerly against his pelvis. The friction sends a shiver down your spine, and you close your eyes.

Steve’s hands move from your thighs to gripping your hips. You lean back just enough to plant your hands on his sturdy thighs, as he drives your hips back and forth with more vigor. The grind as his cock shifts it angle inside your pussy has you panting quickly. He squeezes your hips. “Just like that, my love, take your pleasure, let me give you what you need.”

Your movement grows more frenzied, and you whimper, not quite able to achieve the release you crave. But he knows this, has made a study of your body since your wedding night, and he knows you need more. One of his hands moves up to palm your breast, while his other hand moves to your core, and his thumb quests for your clit, applying tight, insistent circles to the pulsing nub. The waves of pleasure build even more quickly now, and when your fingers curl against his thighs, he tweaks your nipple, pinching, and it pushes you over the edge. You cry out, and every muscle in your body seizes to absorb the ecstasy of your orgasm.

Steve smooths his hands up and down your sides, then moves them around to the small of your back and coaxes your body back down to his chest, his cock still inside of you. He presses kisses along your collar bone, up the column of your neck, and along your jaw, letting you catch your breath. His hands continue their sensual and soothing movements over the expanse of your back, and he cradles your shoulders in his hands when you finally adjust your head to meet his lips once more with your own.

When you suck on his bottom lip, his cock twitches inside of you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Can I have more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You manage to nod and mewl in assent, rocking where you’re still joined together.

Using his gentle strength, Steve rolls you beneath him, keeping you on the plush velvet of his cloak, settling in the home he loves between your thighs. He cups the side of your face in his hands, and his kiss now demands, belying his eagerness. Though his lips move against yours, tongue licking into your mouth, entangling with yours, kissing, kissing, kissing until neither of you can breathe anymore, when he draws away, your mouth chases his. He grins, and his eyes dance with satisfaction as he presses his forehead to yours.

You’re his, you have been his, but the way he reverently gazes at you as he trails his hand down your neck, over your chest, cresting over your breast, down your ribcage, circling over your hip, and then coming to rest over your stomach, it’s filled with a fervent fire. His hand splays out fully over your womb, and he slowly draws his cock out halfway before giving an even slower thrust back in, clearly wanting you to feel every inch of his thick member and the action has him groaning and you keening beneath him.

“I’m going to fill this womb with my seed,” he vows with another thrust. “Going to keep you full as often as I can.”

“Please,” you beg.

He has never been shy with you, but neither spoken so directly of the physical or biological in your intimate moments as he has tonight, and it adds a new level of pleasure to the experience that fuels a primal part in your core. You thread your fingers in his hair and tug urgently as his thrusts begin to pick up speed. His kisses turn fierce bruising, and you welcome it. But when he can’t seem to keep kissing and breathing and thrusting inside you, he abandons your lips and buries his face in your neck, grunting as he presses on and on. The angle of his pelvis drags just perfectly across your clit as he adjusts and speeds up. Your walls flutter around him, and he rasps, “Go on, give me one more before I fill you up, my love.”

And his rough thrusts laced with his tender words, the way he grasps at your hip, his belabored breathing at your neck, it all overwhelms, and you release a debauched, shuddering moan when your second orgasm washes over you. Steve does not relent, and follows you over the edge with only a few more thrusts, the way your channel squeezes his cock giving him the final push, and he groans, satisfied, as he empties his hot spend inside of you. You don’t scratch, but you draw your fingers forcefully down his back, wanting to feel the tautness of his muscles. You knead his ass, holding him joined into you as he ruts slowly against you, wanting to deposit every last drop your insides milk from him in the aftershocks.

You feel deliciously spent and welcome his weight as he relaxes his body on top of you. He lays his head on your chest, and you hum and press a kiss to the top of his head, drawing your fingers back up to lightly stroke his hair, his shoulders. He caresses your sides, your legs where they are still wrapped around him, anywhere his fingers can reach, but now it’s all languid and soothing touches between you. The weight of him is so grounding in the afterglow, and it begins to lull you to sleep.

You are vaguely aware as somewhat later Steve lifts you up from the ground to carry you in his arms back to the castle. Your body was sated, and your mind as well. You have more to share with Steve soon. You should have had your monthly bleeding last week, and so the possibility that you were already with child before tonight was a very real prospect. Tonight served to quell any doubts you may have had about the prospect of you two becoming parents – that he wanted it, and so did you, and that you were both ready to pursue that journey – but you would wait a few more weeks to ensure it wasn’t a fluke before you told Steve.

And in the meantime, you knew there would continue to be more pleasurable opportunities to put a babe inside you if there wasn’t one already.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS NEW PIECE OF THEIR STORY!

READ THE NEXT PART: THE SILENCE OF THE HUSHED SUBLIME read more of the Cedar Trees AU

As ever, I'm always eager for any morsel of your thoughts as to what you thought and questions about where they may go next...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[alotofpockets]

Out of reach | Mary Earps

Pairing: Mary Earps x Reader

Request: Mary x taller R where they have to keep helping her reach for things

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

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You were browsing your local supermarket for dinner inspiration after a long work day. The day had been filled with important meetings, and you were still dressed for the part. You ended up in the pasta aisle where you saw a woman trying to reach for a jar that was slightly pushed back on the top shelf. Without a second thought you walked towards here, “Let me get that for you.” You say and reach for it. 

The moment you hand the woman the can, is the first time you see her face. You were mesmerised by her beauty. “Thank you, it was just out of my reach.” The woman said with a beaming smile. Her words snapped you out of staring, “Of course, no problem.” The woman in front of you looks between the two of you and starts laughing. “Look at us, full suit versus full tracksuit.” You hadn’t realised the stark contrast in your outfits until she pointed it out but laughed with her once she explained. “Your outfit seems a lot more comfortable, and I definitely switch to something similar when I get home once I figure out what to eat tonight.”

You weren’t usually one to talk to strangers in a supermarket but something about the woman in front of you made it feel like you weren’t strangers at all. She was easy to talk to, and you felt yourself not wanting the conversation to end. “Well, I was going to make some spaghetti bolognese, would you like to join me?” You were intrigued by her offer but also didn’t want to impose. She seemed to notice your hesitation in answering, “Please, let me thank you for helping me.” She managed to get you to set your doubts aside. “Okay, let’s do it then. I’m y/n by the way.” The woman holds out her hand for you to shake it. “It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Mary.” 

“Great, I just need to get something for dessert.” She hadn’t let go of your hand, so she used it to guide you towards the dessert section. “Since I chose dinner, you can choose dessert.” You head to the front of the store once you’ve picked out desserts, and after Mary made sure you didn’t need to get anything else at the store. With a bag full of groceries, you walk out of the store together. “I live like two blocks away from here, my friend dropped me off at the store, so I was planning on walking home. Are you okay with walking there?” You nod over to your car a few parking spots over, “Or we can take my car?” Mary smiles, “Perfect.” 

You get into your car and look down at your outfit, “Do you mind if we stop by my house? I would love to get out of this suit.” Mary buckles up, “Or I can lend you some trackies and we have a cosy date.” Her eyes widened, “Wait, sorry, I never clarified it as such.” You shake your head and laugh, “A cosy date sounds lovely.”

After setting down the groceries in Mary’s kitchen, she leads you upstairs to get you a comfy outfit. She opens her closet, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen that many sports clothes together outside of a store. You notice the Manchester United, and the England crest on many of them. “You’re a big football fan then?” You let your eyes go over the many jerseys. 

Mary smiled at your comment, it was a nice feeling that the stranger at the grocery store liked her for her and not because she was a fan. “You can say that.” She says with a laugh. You turn to face her with a furrowed brow. “They’re my jerseys. Mine as in I wear them when I play for United and for England.” She pulls out one of the jerseys showing the back. “Earps, that’s me.” She says proudly. “Wow, I had no idea. That’s really cool. So you get to wear comfy stuff for work every day then, maybe I should consider a career switch.” You both laugh.

Your first date with Mary was a big success, she was easy to talk to, and while your careers differed immensely, you had a lot in common with her. She walked you back to your car, where you shared your first kiss. Mary was standing on her tippy toes, with her arms around your shoulders. The kiss was short and sweet, with a promise to more since you had already planned your second date.

After a few dates, Mary had asked you to be her girlfriend, which you had happily said yes too. 

One month into your relationship you found yourself amongst the crowd at Leigh Sports Village, where you watched Mary play for the first time. She had explained the basic rules of football to you while watching a match on the tv together one night. Now that she wasn’t by your side to explain what was happening, it was harder for you to follow but that was okay. Whenever you didn’t understand what was going on, your eyes went to her in the goal. 

Mary met you in the family and friends lounge when she was done, she introduced you to a couple of her teammates before taking you back to your place. Since your first date was an at home dinner that you prepared together, you wanted to create the tradition to do the same for your anniversaries. So, starting off with your first month anniversary today, you went to the store you had met each other in to pick out the ingredients. 

Ever since you started dating, you would get everything from the top shelves for Mary, but now you turn around from the pans on the stove to find Mary climbing on top of the counter. “Baby, what are you doing?” You laugh. “I’m just getting some wine glasses.” She said innocently. You take the glasses from her, before you help her down from the counter, and spin her around a couple of times. “You know I couldn’t easily grab those, right?” She pecks your lips. “Yeah, just a habit I still need to break.” 

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1maryearps just posted

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1maryearps: Creating traditions.

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fan1: Omg mearps is dating someone??

ellatoone: Cuties

fan2: they are so cute!

fan3: who is she with?

alessiarusso: Finally someone else that can cook a proper meal

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[akkaweo-akkaweo]

Taste Test

Kim Jennie x Irene/Bae Joohyun x M!reader

Tags: threesome, blindfold, facesitting, edging(?)

WC: 4.5k

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Working at a bistro in Gangnam-gu had two quirks that didn't need explanation: first, the money, obviously; and second, the frequency of being around Korea's rich and famous. It's even come to a point where seeing awarded drama actresses or show hosts was less interesting than seeing some more interesting figures come by: chaebol hierarchs, mid-level politicians, and the like.

Tonight, the bistro is restless; busy, but not packed. And as you wait a table of some tech company management, you're called to the front to escort another set of customers.

"Hey, Table 27. You're assigned to Ms. Kim and Ms. Bae."

Those last names may be very vague at first glance, but you were all too familiar with this duo: K-pop royalty Jennie and Irene. This was not the first time you've breathed the same aromatic-filled air as them in this space, but in those times they had patronized the joint with different sets of guests. This would be the first time you spotted them together, much less served either of them.

Quickly adjusting your collar and trying to swallow the fanboy-sized lump in your throat, you meet them at the receptionist's area.

"Good evening, Ms. Bae, Ms. Kim. Please follow me to your table," you say, as rehearsed a thousand times by now. Nothing to freak out about. The two are busy with their respective phones, but are noticeably missing their usual entourage of managers and bodyguards. And as you lead them to a more secluded and closed off portion of the bistro, you catch them putting their phones away completely. You didn't think idols could be autonomous to this degree, but you set aside the thought as you pass menus to them.

"There's no need for that, dear, thank you," Jennie said with a smile. "I'll just have an espresso please."

"Right away, miss. And how about you?"

"Do you have any teas? Just a pot of whatever you have tonight," Irene replied.

You note their orders and head to your station. The location of the console where you prepare the coffee is just close enough to catch their conversation, but a glass divider mutes it enough that the clinking of spoons on ceramic distracts you away from it. Doesn't seem like anything particularly interesting though; both just seemed to be catching up from a break in their respective tour schedules.

Upon finishing their orders, you bring them over, with the usual pleasantries to exchange. "Is there anything else I can get you, miss?," you ask.

"If you don't mind me asking," Irene chimes in, "are you new here? I don't recall your face."

"Actually, I've been working here for almost a year, miss, maybe almost two," you respond. Staff normally aren't supposed to talk to customers so casually, but you decide that it wouldn't hurt to do otherwise being out of view from the rest of the crowd.

"So why here then? You have quite the face, why not anywhere else?," Jennie asks.

You try to charm your way out of an obligatory, potentially shameful monologue, saying "Well, short answer is, I do it for the money. Don't we all?"

The two giggle, and inside you're running a football victory lap for nailing a perfectly executed quip. You leave them to it and attend to other tables, but you swear you could catch them glancing at you time to time. They call you over a second time about thirty minutes later.

"Good evening again. Did you enjoy the drinks? Anything else I can get for you?," you say.

"It was great, I don't actually think I've tried the tea here. You have good taste," Irene replied., "but yes, we would like some dessert as well."

"Alright, what would you like?"

"How about you put that taste to the test and surprise us. We trust you," Jennie butted in, with a little smirk. While you would normally be fawning over the gesture, you also felt a growing fear of embarrassing yourself. You swallow the feeling, responding with a half lie, saying "I think I have just the thing."

You walk back slowly to the counter as you ponder on what the pair would like. After a few seconds, you had an idea: Jennie might like a light cream-based pastry, and Irene would probably prefer a sorbet or anything with fruit. You find the closest approximations in your menu and bring them over. To your relief, it seems you've delighted them once again.

"Spot on with the choices, I love it," said Jennie. "How about you Joohyun, what's your verdict?" Irene, however, seemed too busy savoring the treat. "Well, I guess that speaks for itself. Three points for you."

"Thank you, miss. I do believe that's all orders complete, anything else I can do for you?"

Irene, having finished her plate, replies, "How about the bill? We have some other plans tonight."

"Certainly, miss. Just a moment."

As you leave, you can overhear them bickering and exchanging whines and banter. Probably fighting over who pays, as is custom. By now the bistro is taking its last set of customers, so the discussion isn't as hard to overhear. As you return, though, it seems an agreement had been settled; you resolved to keep this interaction short to avoid getting told off.

"Here," Irene said as she handed back the holder. "Please hand this to your manager, there's special instructions for how to use the credit card in there. He'll know how to handle it."

"Of course miss. Thank you," you replied, walking to the cashier.

A part of you felt a bit sad that your interaction with the two was coming to an end. Nonetheless, work is work, and you call your manager.

"Sajangnim, I was told to hand this payment to you."

Your manager looked puzzled at first, but opened the receipt anyway, followed by a quick furrowing of brows. Was something wrong? You try not to overthink it, considering he processes the payment in a few moments. He hands you back the receipt, with the same half-puzzled, half-concerned look, adding, "Did you talk to the customers that much? Move to the front end when you're done with this."

Uh oh. Were you in trouble, for casual conversation no less? The struggle to not overthink is getting difficult at this point, but you have no choice but to stomp it down. As you reach the table, however, you notice the pair are missing already.

Panicked, you rush to the front end to ask your colleagues, and it turns out they were just about to ride their car. You rush out and call for them, hoping to return Irene's credit card before you cause a nationwide scandal.

"Miss! Please don't forget your credit card!," you call out.

The next 10 seconds are a blur. You reach the vehicle right as Irene steps in, and before you could try and call for her attention again, a cold hand grabs your wrist and pulls you inside the van. When your brain has processed the situation, you find yourself inside the black van, facing Irene and Jennie.

"I'll be taking that," Irene said, breaking the silence and swiping the credit card you were still holding in your hand. "You've been such a wonderful server tonight."

"That's why you're here with us," Jennie added. "Don't worry, your manager already knows. The whole credit card thing was a lie."

"Hey, it wasn't a complete lie. It's still a special credit card that I absolutely cannot afford to lose," Irene interjected. "Good thing we had you, right?"

The two started teasing each other, probably hinting that they both had a role to play in what just happened. You, on the other hand, are still evidently puzzled trying to process what had just happened.

"Relax. Consider this an early clock out," Jennie reassured. "Because you've been such nice company tonight, we have one last series of tests for you."

"How exactly is kidnapping me and testing me an act of gratitude?," you blurt. The shock starts to subside and you piece some things together, but try not to assume too much nor think too highly of yourself.

"I mean, would you like us to leave you back in there? You could go back to waiting tables, that's fine with us. But," Jennie pauses, placing a hand on your shoulder and leaning in a bit closer, "where's the fun in that?"

You pause for a second, looking straight into both idols' eyes for a few seconds. They looks seem as sincere as their words.

Without hesitation, you reply, "Well, if you trusted me, I'll trust you as well. Please take care of me."

Irene claps her hands before pulling out a black cloth. "Okay," she adds, "let's start with this."

~~~~~

Blindfolded, your ears are a little more sensitive than normal. In the 15 minutes you gave up your sense of sight, you got off the car, were escorted slowly and carefully by the duo across a bunch of corridors, and brought to what sounded like a medium-sized room (on account of how much their giggles seemed to fill the space easily).

You try to ask a question to gauge your surroundings. "Any chance this blindfold is coming off soon?," you ask.

Someone put their finger over your lips, replying, "Shh. Don't think about that just yet." The voice was a bit higher in pitch, maybe that was Irene? Seemed likely.

"So, are you ready for our little game?," a deeper voice asked. That must be Jennie then. "We're not gonna stop you from saying no." The aforementioned sensitive hearing was most obvious as you felt two different breaths whistle from each side of your face.

Nervously, you try and crack a joke. "Hey, as long as neither of you are serial killers, I think I'll be fine."

"Like I said," the deeper voice chuckled, "you're way too cute to be a waiter." Suddenly, a pair of lips peck yours. Now, your sense of hearing might be a bit stronger, but trying to identify a pair of lips from a kiss? That would almost be a superpower — one you wished you had as a softer voice started to talk.

"I guess that's your first test then. If you can successfully guess which one of us is kissing you three times in a row, you get a step closer to removing the blindfold."

Before you could interject with a "But that's impossible!," another pair of lips meet yours, this time kissing you deeper than the last. After a few seconds, you're asked, "so who do you think that was?"

You took a second to try and think, but the mere shock of what happened in the past few minutes alone blinded your intuition even more than the cloth over your eyes. You take a shot in the dark. "Uhh... Irene?"

"Nope. Try again."

Another pair of lips, this time her tongue meeting yours. They feel a bit less plump this time, and after the kiss ends, you're asked the same question. "What's your guess this time?"

"No, that's Irene. I'm sure."

"Please," a different voice replied, "just call me Joohyun. And yes, that was me. Two more guesses to go."

Another pair of lips meets your cheeks, moving down your neck. The sensation shocks you too much to make a more educated guess other than "I think that was Jennie?"

"Oops, guess you're back to square one," a voice taunted. You couldn't explain it, but the two voices started to match each other, yet were somewhat distinguishable. You could tell the one who just spoke was Jennie, so maybe it was Irene that time?

The test proved to be much harder than you thought. The two alternated between light pecks all over your face and neck, deep make outs, or some mix of both. At different points, their kisses sank deep into your skin, causing you to tremble and moan. And for every instance of that or any wrong answers, a couple of giggles follow. It was never actually long enough to catch any hints right away, but about 6 tries later, you actually make it to a second correct answer: you figure that Jennie tends to be a little bit more aggressive, while Irene was softer, but still playful.

"Last chance," Irene taunted. "Ready?" You give a simple nod.

This round's pair of lips go straight for your neck, but move lower to your collarbones as your dress shitt is slowly unbuttoned off you and exposing a bit more of your upper chest, at least what wasn't covered by any undergarments. Without warning, a second pair of lips meets yours, and starts making out with you. Fuck, both of them at the same time? Did they even want to do anything else except play with you?

Both lips stop at the same time, and Jennie asks, "So, who kissed you that last time?," which threw you off guard. You tried to give it serious thought, trying to think of whose lips you felt on your chest.

With a bit of hesitation, you reply, "That was Joohyun. Jennie was the one all over me."

A short bit of silence freaked you out, before being broken by Jennie. "Finally. We thought we'd have to let you go too soon."

"How about you show us how you kiss this time?," Irene says, as she grabs one of your hands and places it on her cheek. You try to hold back, scared of shocking the delicate woman, but another hand – Jennie's – turns your head the other way. "Don't hesitate. You're good," she adds.

They take turns guiding your hands to their cheeks, to signal whose turn it was to have a taste of you. After a few turns, both of them start working your undershirt off you, taking turns on your chest and neck. You weren't the most buff, but you could feel their soft lips cover you little by little. The past however-long-it's-been of teasing has most definitely gotten you hard. A hand glides over your groin ever so slightly, which is enough confirmation for them to continue.

Jennie giggles, breaking the silence. "Looks like you're ready for the second test."

"What makes you say that?," you reply nervously, your breath still rushed.

A hand guides you to what felt like someone's shoulder, down to their chest. You feel a soft handful of skin and cloth fit into your palm; instinctively, you squeeze, and you hear a soft, low moan. That's what that was. When did they even remove their dresses?

"I see you get the idea," said Jennie. "Same thing: three consecutive tries to guess who you're touching, and this time we'll actually remove your blindfold."

"Feel free to do whatever you want to figure it out," Irene added. "You're doing great."

This time, your other hand is guided to a bigger, softer handful. You guess Jennie, and you're correct. The second time however, your hand touches something warm, and your fingers are squeezed tightly inside wherever it currently is. You try to feel around, and you hear a louder moan just as deep as the last.

"Was that still Jennie?," you try and guess.

A voice whispers in your ear, "Nope. But that was good." Irene.

Just like last time, the two take turns having you touch their breasts or through their panties. You never realized how similar their bodies were; with every guess, each groin you touch is hotter and wetter, each nipple poking into your palm more sharply than last. It takes you less tries this time to get to two in a row, about 4, and by then the room felt much hotter – or perhaps it was just you, extremely flustered by the nonstop moaning in your ears that most definitely left you a little bit wet as well.

"Okay," Jennie huffed, since she was the last one you touched. "Another twist."

You feel your pants finally come off slowly, and both of them sit on either one of your thighs, slowly rubbing themselves against your legs. Their hands make their way all over your back and your neck, and you try to respond by reaching out for both their chests to play with their tits. Their moans are a bit too similar now, both louder than before.

You try to even the playing field by trying to remove their bras, and making your way to suck on their nipples. Whoever you were doing that to, their moans got louder. You could feel Irene's more toned body and firmer breasts on your left, paired with a deeper, more throaty moans. To your right, Jennie's higher pitched moaning matched her softer features pressing on you: her thighs, her breast, her arms grasping you.

Struggling to get a word in from the overwhelming amount of pressure, you gasp, "It's... Irene... I mean Joohyun... on my left, and... Jennie on the right."

Moans turn into pleased giggles. "Fuck, you're good," Jennie said under her breath. A pair of arms wrapped around your head, and you could feel the blindfold come off.

After being glared by the single lamp in the room, you can see both idols in full view: both their dresses and bras on the floor, and a pair of frazzled heads of hair and deep lustful gazes staring back at you. You proceed to take turns making out with them again, as you try and stand up to get them off. You find a bed right behind you, and you take them there.

Jennie and Irene are now both spread out on the bed, each trying to catch their breath. "You took care of me, how about I take care of you next?," you said.

You slowly work the panties off Irene, and Jennie sits up to kiss your chest. Irene comes in with a kiss to Jennie's lips, distracting her enough from you to get her panties off next.

"Don't worry, you'll definitely get to do that for this last test," Irene replied.

"Haven't I proven myself enough, miss?," you respond sarcastically.

"Not with tongue of yours, you haven't," Jennie added. "Here's the deal: one last round of being blindfolded. Three correct answers, not consecutive this time. Just three."

"The catch?"

"Just guess who's tasting you," cooed Irene.

"And the reward?"

"I think you know that already," Jennie teased.

Any sense of inhibition has left you at this point. "Surprise me," you reply.

Jennie grabs the blindfold from the floor and places it over your eyes once more. "One last thing," she adds, "if you cum, you lose."

Once more, before you could muster a "Wait, what?", you're pushed down on the bed and a different pair of lips meet yours.

Jennie's warning makes much more sense when you feel two pairs of lips start to work on your dick. Just the sensation alone of both of them working their tongues along its length, giving it light kisses and occasional licks, was enough to get you throbbing.

The pussy on your face is warm and wet, and you feel your cheeks and chin drenched. Every entry of your tongue deeper into it brings out a moan, which while being sucked off brings more pleasure-filled vibrations down to your base. The challenge is getting the one you're licking to make a recognizable sound, but your own stimulation makes it hard to focus. You catch a lucky break however, and you hear Irene's moan with a flick of her clit. "That was Joohyun!," you rush to say, trying to get the two to give you a break.

"Good job," Irene replied. "Two to go!"

You can feel the pair getting off the bed and walking around, likely to throw you off from assuming they'd just switch places. Your face gets sat on once again, while someone rides your thigh like last time. This time, a pair of hands meet at your cock, taking turns to stroke either head or shaft. You could hear their moans, but this time it seems they were making out with each other, because they seemed to be coming from the same area. You reach ever closer to the edge, and you try to focus on the pussy you have to taste. However, you don't find anything in particular to make an educated guess, so you blurt, "Is that Jennie?"

"Nope," she replied, with a light tap to your dick, as if to mock you. "Though Joohyun here is loving all the attention."

The girls get off the bed again, and you notice the one sitting on you this time is facing the other way. No one is at your dick fortunately, but you can hear Joohyun moaning. Something does feel different however, from the taste of the fluids drenching your face to Irene's moans sound a bit too distant. You weren't sure however, so you kept going for a few minutes (to also catch your breath), and you notice Joohyun's moans didn't match your pace. You make a guess again. "This is Jennie."

She lets out a deep gasp, as if she was trying to hold everything in. "That's two," she adds.

"One last," Irene chirps. Same routine, but this time it's back to facing the other direction, while another starts grinding along the length of your dick without getting it in. This was the toughest one yet: not only were the moans muffled with them making out with each other, or simply being right up on each other's faces, but whoever was grinding you was really good at it. You feel yourself ready to burst any minute, so you try to fixate on anything: the direction of the moans, the taste of the squirt, now mixed with sweat, anything. No dice, not for the two longest minutes of your life.

Desperate to not lose, you beg, "Let me guess!," hoping to buy time.

"Go," Jennie gasped.

"Hurry... please..." Joohyun added.

The synchronicity of their moans alone was testing your resolve to the fullest. But you think you've got it, from the taste on your tongue to the way your face was ground on.

"Fuck, get off Jennie! It's Joohyun on my face!," you plead, as you feel cum start to well up inside you.

The two get off the bed, and you remove the blindfold yourself. You're all heaving and gasping for air. You check to see who's closest to you: it was Irene, and Jennie, facing you from the farther end of the bed, looks at you. She stares for a few seconds – her eyes were incredibly seductive – and gives a smirk.

"Looks like... you won. You're good," she said.

Joohyun adjusts to meet your eyes as well. "Guess I guessed right when I said you'd be great in bed," she added.

You look up, staring at the ceiling, still dumbfounded at everything that's happened in the past... hour? Two? You've lost track. But you felt the two women crawl closer to you on both sides, starting to make light, tender kisses all over your neck and chest.

"We're sorry if we went too hard on you," Joohyun said. "We don't usually last this long with anyone... and we certainly don't feel as good as with you."

"Too good to be just wait staff," Jennie repeated. "But, I guess it's time for us to serve you then."

Their hands make their way down to your dick again, stroking it at the right spots to give you chills, but light enough to not bring you too close to the edge. They seem much more experienced than you thought – probably since they were a bit older than you as well.

"You can do whatever you want with us now. No more tests," Irene whispered in your ear.

"This is the best aftercare of my life," you joke.

Jennie giggles by your other ear. "How can you still make jokes?," she sighs, before locking her lips with her yours. Irene meets both of you in the middle, and the three of you take turns kissing each other, occasionally meeting all three tongues in the middle.

The two split away from your face and make out with each other, and you sit yourself up to watch them turn their backs to you as they flash their pussies in front of you. You don't see their faces, but you feel them start to work their mouths over your dick again, slow and steady but enough to lubricate your whole length, bottom to top.

You take advantage of your position, and moving up the bed to lean on the headrest, you play with their clits, much more properly now that you can actually see what your doing. Their light moans were enough assurance you were doing the right thing, doing the same process of sending waves of pleasure all over you.

You don't hesitate to try and please them more, moving between using two fingers and going back to rubbing their clits. The moans intensify; Jennie's moans turn into high pitched screams, and Irene's turn into chest-deep heaves.

Joohyun, unsurprisingly, is the first to buckle. "Fuck! I'm gonna...," she trails off, before holding her breath letting it all out in a single squeal. You can feel her cum all over your fingers, coating it thick.

"Please," Jennie begged, "me too." You oblige, and you use a third finger to try to stimulate her. Fortunately, it was enough to send her body trembling, and a bit of her juices sprayed out and all over your arm and the bed.

Both ladies catch their breaths before turning to face you, and resume blowing you, with a last wind of effort to try and fish out an orgasm from you. They take you in their mouths all the way, and you throw your head back, inching closer to actual release.

"I'm gonna cum," you try and warn them, but the pair stare at you while they do their deed, resolved to make you finish. They clasp their hands together with your dick in between and start stroking you fast. You find yourself moaning to a backdrop of Irene and Jennie begging for your cum, and before you know it, you burst all over their hands and faces.

They seemed to have fun licking each other up right after, sucking on each others' fingers and exchanging kisses to suck up any stray strings. They have quite the bond, managing to giggle and tease even after such a tiring night, up until they lie down by your sides once more.

"So," you break the silence again. "Did I pass your tests?"

Irene puts a hand over your chest. "With flying colors."

Jennie, however, props herself up on an elbow. "Though, I think I'll be visiting that bistro more often. Just to see if you've still got it," she added with a wink.

"Is that a challenge?," you tease.

"Sure," Irene replied, "if you don't mind us upping the difficulty."

"Well," you said, thinking hard about your answer for a few seconds.

"Then what can I do for you, miss?"

—————

A/N: much longer than my usual, and honestly a bit fun to write. hope it didn't drive you crazy with the length, though i'm pretty sure there's longer here.

[howmanysideblogscanihave]

If someone happened to have a copy of ACOSF with the bonus chapter, they presumably would’ve read it at the end of the book to not spoil anything.

“Three days passed with no word from Cassian. He’d been replaced in training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn’t even give her a smile.”

This is how Azriel is described after Solstice, after the snowball fight.

How was Azriel during Solstice?

“Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

“I was just checking on dessert,” Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room…”

“…Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn’t go near the fire.

His secret to tell, never hers.

Azriel’s face remained neutral.”

I’ve seen people say Azriel didn’t want to go near the fireplace because he’s afraid of fire. Nesta knows that’s a lie. The other reason I’ve seen is Mor was over there and Elain wasn’t near the fireplace. Elain is also there. The fireplace has two couches on either side of it. One has Mor, the other has Elain, Varian, Feyre, and Amren on it.

“Mor lounged on a green velvet couch before the fireplace; Amren sat in Varian’s lap on the matching couch opposite her, Feyre beside them, a hand on her belly…”

“…Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get. Azriel remained in the doorway.”

Reading that chapter, knowing that Nesta picks up on the charged look between Elain and Azriel and Nesta understands why he doesn’t want to go near the fireplace that Elain (and sure Mor, Feyre, Varian, and Amren are there too) is near, what other interpretation could there be as to why he was aloof and stone faced after Solstice other than it having something to do with Elain?

Then you get to the bonus chapter that gives the real explanation for why Azriel stood in the doorway the whole time: “Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.” We see Elain and Azriel almost share a kiss before Rhys interrupts and orders him to stay away from Elain.

Azriel is angry and self-deprecating afterwards.

“Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.

Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all.

Then he flew to the House of Wind, knowing that if he slept in the riverside manor, he'd do something he regretted. He'd been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight...tonight had proved he 'd been right to do so.

He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.”

He talks with Gwyn in the training pit and later gives the necklace to Clotho to give to Gwyn or any other priestess.

And he’s still angry during the next training sessions. Those scenes didn’t change his mood. SJM could’ve easily left out Azriel being stone-faced and more aloof than usual if it wasn’t meant to describe his mood after Solstice.

The bonus chapter confirms that Azriel was stone-faced and aloof because of the feelings for Elain that he can’t act on. But we didn’t need the bonus chapter to know that, it’s clear even without the bonus chapter. Bonus chapters serve to add the existing narrative, not introduce new or end existing plot lines.

[saylorsaysstop]

Dessert Plans | Jason Todd 18+

↪ Masterlist (Jason) | Masterlist (Dick)

pairing: Jason Todd x female!Reader

The scent of rosemary and garlic fills the space of your apartment, causing your mouth to water and your stomach to grumble. A long day spent confined to a classroom teaching a bunch of tired and grumpy 7th graders had you summoning for the bell to ring and for the day to be over. Luckily, it was also Friday, so you had a long weekend ahead. 

But back to that delicious scent. Your mouth continues to water as you slip out of your shoes and put your bag down by the door. The sound of singing echoes from your kitchen. A grin plasters your face as the speaker plays Anti-Hero. 

Jason, at first, would never admit that songs belonging to a world-renowned popstar would escape his lips but you caught him red-handed one too many times until he realized that he couldn’t hide it from you. 

“Jay?” you call out to your boyfriend. His back turned to you, you make out the outline of pure muscle that strains beneath his gray t-shirt. It clings to him and cuffs around his biceps. You groan softly at the sight of him. Jason Todd is gorgeous. Undoubtedly, you scored quite literally the jackpot of men with his generosity, need to protect, and dangerously good looks.

His head turns swiftly, the last string of the chorus leaving his lips. 

“Baby,” Jason chuckles, spatula in hand. He glances between you and whatever is on the stovetop behind him. He quickly cuts the heat down to a low simmer before making his way over to you. Strong arms engulf you, the smell of leather and smoke crowding your senses in what can only be described as euphoric. 

You lazily tangle your arms around his waist and smother your face against his chest where you lightly kiss the patch of skin that peeks through the V of his t-shirt. 

“How was your day?” Jason asks, kissing the top of your head. He stands much taller than you, practically swallowing you. Dick loved to joke about your drastic height difference, poking fun by asking, “Hey? Where is she? I don’t see her.” when you’re standing behind Jason. 

“Exhausting,” you chuckle in response. “We had an exam review today. I’ve got high hopes they’ll all pass but you know how it goes.” 

Jason smiled and took your hand, leading you to the barstool that sits in front of the counter. “Go on, take a seat. I’ll pour you a glass of wine.” 

“Sounds lovely, Jay. What are you making? Smells amazing.” you breathe a sigh of relief when the ache in your feet subsides the moment you take a seat. Jason grabs a wine glass from the top shelf with perfect ease and confiscates the bottle of wine from the fridge. He pours you a glass and sets it in front of you before returning to his work at the stove. 

“Your favorite. Garlic potatoes and rosemary chicken.”

Groaning with excitement, Jason laughs. 

“No patrol tonight?” You question, sipping the wine. There are many nights when you come home and Jason is getting ready to join Dick and Tim. The early hours of the morning are when you’d feel the bed dip and strong arms wrap around you, bringing you to his chest, your neck smothered with his hot mouth and his large limbs tangling with yours. But nights like this– they were few and far between. But Jason valued romance and wanted nothing more than to keep it alive. He wanted to make up for the moments he missed. It took him so long to find someone worth it, someone to relieve him of his stress, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry his burdens alone on his back. 

A new side of Jason was born when you two came together. A light came on within him and it shone brightly. He was quite the comedian, oftentimes using his death as a means to humor his brothers and Bruce. There have been countless times Jason reminded Bruce and his brothers at the dinner table at Wayne Manor that he had the up on them because he had seen death. Cue the jabbing of your elbow into his side and him bursting out laughing.

“Nope. I’m all yours.” Jason smiled widely at you. “Told the boys I had a hot date.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. “A hot date–really?” 

“Mmhm. The hottest woman in all of Gotham City… Told them I was hoping she could put me in detention tonight…” 

Your eyes widen as Jason saunters back over and takes a sip from your wine, his nose scrunching up. “Shit. That’s horrible.” 

You snatch the stem out of his hand and push him back with your foot.“Stick to the hard stuff, Todd. Leave my poison alone. And detention? Since when did you like role-playing?”

Jason smirks with a sparkle in those green eyes that promises to be your downfall. With two large hands, he reaches out and skims them under the hem of your skirt. Calloused fingertips ignite fires along the skin of your thighs as Jason reaches as far as the fabric will allow him. He digs into the supple flesh and grunts, shaking his head. 

“There’s always room to try something new, baby. You know that.” he leans forward and captures your lips for a kiss. You hum and set the wineglass down so you can give your all into the kiss. His tongue glides with yours. You lay one hand over the back of his neck while the other cups his cheek. Jason hums deliciously, the vibrations sending shockwaves into your lower belly until the floodgates threaten to open. 

“Let’s get through dinner, yeah? Then you’re all mine.” Jason pulls away, leaving you breathless. 

“What’d you have in mind?” You can’t help but ask, eyelashes fluttering at the dizziness overcoming you. 

Jason does that thing you love so much that he slowly undresses you with his eyes. He starts at your face before trailing down your blouse and eyeing your chest before he travels his gaze down the journey of your stomach until his mind is locked on the image of you naked and ready for him, a sight that fits the term glorious. 

“I’m going to clean up this kitchen and while I do so, you’re going to put on that little red lace set you know drives me crazy… I want you relaxed and feeling sexy because, after that, you’re due back in this kitchen for dessert.” 

Your eyes widen as you sink your teeth into your lip. “What kind of dessert?” 

Jason tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and nips your bottom lip quickly. 

“The one between your thighs, baby. My favorite. I’m going to spread you so wide on this table and eat you until you’re begging for me to stop. Until you’re so spent that the only name you’re able to moan is mine… Until my need is satiated. Want you to come so hard on my tongue that every night I’m out on patrol this week, I’ll remember your taste… That’s the dessert I’ve got planned for you.” He winks before kissing you quickly on the cheek and returning to the stove.

“Jason,” You gasp, your core throbbing at his imagery. 

“Hope you’re hungry.” Jason shoots you another wicked smile before grabbing plates and fixing dinner.

[weirdsht]

Longing - LoTCF & Molan! Reader

notes: There's so much I want to include here but it's so long already... I might make a part 2. Also I woke up and decided to change the way I address reader lol. I used to use _____ because it was easier to type but I've decided to go for aesthetics now (disillusioned will still have the same format though so readers won't be shocked with the change).

tags: female reader, death, blood, injuries, angst(?), hurt/comfort

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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[Name] Molan was about to fall asleep when intruders suddenly infiltrated the Molan Estate.

“...Mom I’m scared.”

The 5-year-old clutched her mother’s skirt. Screaming and clashing of weapons can be heard throughout the house.

Her mother said nothing at first. Opting to get her greatsword from underneath the child’s bed first.

“Baby you started learning stealth techniques with your brother right?”

[Name] nodded as she felt her mother squeeze her hand.

“Remember what Dad taught you okay? You might have to use it tonight. Think of it as an exercise to see how well you’ve learned.”

The situation is scary, but despite that [name] feels calm because her mother is smiling at her.

But that doesn’t stop her hand from shaking as she hears their family members’ screams.

Slowly, the mother-daughter duo slithered out of the bedroom. Their main goal is to find Ron and Beacrox before escaping the estate.

Run, hide, roll over, they did everything just to avoid the eyes of the masked people attacking their estate. As they run away corpses of their family members and servants can be seen everywhere they go. The stench of their blood overtook [name]’s senses making her want to puke.

Everything seemed to be going well at first. However, they have been discovered after a few minutes of sneaking around. It was inevitable. With every corner being surrounded by those mysterious people massacring the Molans.

“[NAME]!”

[Name]’s mother just hadn’t expected one of those bastard’s swords to pierce the child’s chest instead.

The Molan Mistress was surrounded. She was trying her best to fend off everyone who dared to hurt her child.

But her efforts weren’t enough.

One of the enemies still managed to slip past her greatsword.

At that moment Beacrox, her first child, entered the room they were in. His eyes were shaking along with his legs as he ran to hide behind her mother.

“Beacrox take care of your sister.”

Her voice was calm. Fitting as the wife of the Molan Patriarch. Her hand tightly clenched on her greatsword. Eyes fierce, their gaze holds a promise of protecting her children.

Meanwhile, Beacrox sat on the ground. His arms cradled his baby sister while also trying to apply pressure to where she was hurt.

“Orabeoni… it hurts… it really hurts…”

“Just hold on a little longer. Father will get here soon.”

Beacrox’s hands are covered in blood. [Name]’s blood. No matter how hard he tries he can’t stop the bleeding. He can’t stop his younger sister’s body from going cold.

“Orabeoni… Orabeoni…”

[Name] tried to lift her small hands, but was too weak to do so. Beacrox shushed her, reassuring her that she’d be fine. That she’ll make it through the night. That they’ll get out of here alive.

She has to. Beacrox doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same if his baby sister dies here.

“I’m scared… Everything hurts.”

Beacrox is scared too. Scared of the copious amounts of blood escaping her little body. Scared of her body slowly becoming colder as the seconds fly by. Scared of her eyes that are slowly fluttering themself close.

“Hey, hey, you can’t sleep yet. We have to wait for Father first okay?”

Despite all of those things, the Molan heir stood strong. He has to. He needs to be strong enough for the two of them.

[Name] tries hard to follow her brother’s orders. However, the task starts to feel impossible to accomplish as time goes on. Sleep tempts her, tells her that if she closes her eyes the pain will disappear.

Her surroundings became more and more hazy and her family's voices grew quieter until she couldn’t hear them anymore. She was fighting to stay awake despite her body desperately shutting down.

“Dad…”

She mumbles as she sees a blur of a person that she thinks she recognizes as her father. 

“It’s okay. Everything is okay now. We’ll get out of here.”

Ron tries to reassure the girl but she can’t hear him anymore. He pressed his fingers on her pulse desperately trying to find one. Once he found it he asked his son to monitor the pulse as he aides his wife.

Bathump

“Baby stay with me. Dad’s here now. Dad will get you out of here.”

Thump

“[Name] you can’t close your eyes. Beacrox try to keep her eyes open!”

thump

“Mom! Dad! I- I can’t! I can barely feel her pulse. She’s also not breathing anymore!”

…thump

“Run. I’ll handle it here. Go with your father!”

“But what about [name]???”

“...It’s too late for her…”

…thum…

…

Only then did Beacrox let go of [name]’s wrist. Even after removing his hand, he felt like he could still hear it.

Her last pulse.

The feeling of it lingered in Beacrox’s hand. He clenches and lets go of his hand, but still…

Still, he could feel it.

Even as he runs away while looking at his father’s back. Even decades later when his serving the Henituse family as a chef. 

That feeling never goes away.

Meanwhile, the one left at the Molan Estate is still fighting. Desperately fighting the intruders with all her might.

She knows she’s outnumbered. She knows that she will die at their hands. She knows she has no fighting chance.

But still, she fights.

In hopes of buying her husband and her son time. In hopes of letting them escape and live to see another day.

And as she expected, she didn’t last long. After a few minutes of swinging her greatsword, he had finally succumbed to her wounds. Her body fell on the ground of what used to be their home. Of what used to be a safe space for her and her family.

Luckily, they left her alone after that. Figuring that she’ll die on her own either way. It gave her a chance to crawl over to her daughter. Gave her the chance to hug her one last time before her inevitable doom.

[Name]’s body was still bleeding. It had slowed down considerably thanks to Beacrox’s efforts but it was still bleeding. But her mother didn’t mind. She didn’t mind the puddle of blood gathering underneath her daughter’s body.

She just wants to hug her child one last time.

That’s why she ignored everything. The sticky blood, [name]’s cold body, her own ragged breathing. She ignored all of it and imagined that they were back in her daughter’s room. That she’s just hugging her daughter to sleep after telling her a bedtime story.

…thump

Ron’s wife wasn’t sure if she heard that right.

…thump …thump

She pressed her ears closer to [name]’s heart and heard the faintest of pulse. It was almost nonexistent. 

But it meant that there was still hope for her daughter.

Gathering her strength. She draped over her body on top of her daughter. This effectively hid her and put pressure on her wound.

She didn’t know if her daughter would survive. But she knows that she won't. This is her last ditch effort to make her daughter live. The only thing she can do with her dying body.

Kissing the crown of her sweet baby’s head for one last time, she let her body finally succumb to its wounds after fighting for so long.

Gasp!

[Name] gasped awake from her sleep as she dreamed of that night again. It’s been a few years since then. She has somehow managed to escape with her limited stealth skills at that time. Managed to go outside the borders of the Molden Kingdom in order to live.

For the first few years, she had to live on the streets. It was a sudden change. From having her own room and servants to barely eating one day a meal. But still, she persevered. It’s what her mother would have wanted.

She has nothing on her except the clothes on her back. She can’t even use her real name anymore for fear that someone will recognize it. 

However, she did have her father’s teachings.

It may not have been much as she was just starting out before their family fell apart. But she still practised them every chance she got. Tries to expand what she knows by remembering what she has read and her experience while living on the streets.

“You’re already taking another job? Go out and play or something! You’re too young to be taking job after job!”

Her hard work paid off in the form of her being a mercenary. She used her skills and wits to qualify for such a dangerous job. In turn, she became a full pledge mercenary at the young age of 12.

Every mission was life-threatening. She never knows if a mission is going to be her last one. But it puts a roof over her head and a warm meal on her plate.

“Nalom, why do you take so many jobs? You already have enough money to last you for at least 3 months.”

One of the mercenaries ruffled her hair but she ignored it. Focusing her attention on the name she was called.

Nalom…

The opposite of Molan.

Cheesy. She knows it was cheesy to make her alias just the reverse spelling of her last name. But she feels like she will inevitably forget her real name if she doesn’t do it.

She might have lost everything that night but she promised herself that she’ll take revenge one day. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, she will get it done.

Hence why she takes job after job. Honing her skills and pushing her limits. Trying to discreetly sniff out any information about the secret organization that attacked the Molans.

“Bud I heard we’re going on a war with Arm?“

The now 27-year-old [name] sneaked behind Bud.

“Nalom! How many times do I have to keep telling you that you’ll give me a heart attack if you keep sneaking up on me like that?”

[Name] ignored the Mercenary King holding onto his chest as she waited for an answer.

“Yes, the veterans will attack their secret base in a few days.”

“I’m included right?”

Bud Illis looks at her as if she’s joking.

“Of course you are. You’ve been here for 15 years. There’s no way you’re not a veteran.”

Good.

That way she’ll finally get her revenge.

“By the way. Is the investigation about our first base done yet?”

[Name] could see Bud’s shoulder tense at the question. She honestly didn’t care much. It was devastating that it had been blown up and the directory is now gone but it’s not like anyone from their side died. So it’s not her problem.

Well at first at least.

Until she heard the rumours that the one who attacked the directory was Molan’s last patriarch.

“Not yet. I wasn’t there when it happened and we’re putting all our efforts into the upcoming attack that’s why the investigation is taking longer.”

She could sense that Bud was only telling half the truth but she let it go.

“Say Nalom, did you learn your stealth techniques from someone?“

The Mercenary King asked just as she was about to go out of his office.

“No, I learned during my time living on the streets.”

A half-life. It was only fair since Bud also lied to her.

With that [name] closed the door behind her making her unable to hear the conversation that happened in her absence.

“Her techniques feel similar to Patriarch-nim…”

Bud mumbled under his breath once the stealthy mercenary was gone.

“It’s different but their foundations are similar.”

Glenn agreed from the couch. Both of them wondered if there was a chance that Nalom was somehow connected to the Molans.

“Where’s the kid?”

One of the mercenaries asked as they prepared to attack Arm’s secret base.

“I don’t know, you know how Nalom is. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Another mercenary reassured the guy.

“Nalom? Who’s that?”

Cale asked Bud who was also trying to look for the missing mercenary.

“She’s our youngest veteran, only 27-years-old. But she’s the best among the mercenaries when it comes to stealth.”

Bud checked one last corner before sighing and giving up.

“She was here just a second ago… Well, it’s not like she can’t handle herself. But she has never gone on her own during large-scale attacks.”

The Mercenary King decided to trust the missing mercenary and continued with the original plan.

“Who goes there!?”

Beacrox hears a familiar yet foreign voice ask him as he dodges a flying dagger.

“I should be the one asking you…”

Brown hair that was the same shade as his own greeted him. Her one hand preparing to throw another dagger while her other hand was clutching on a flag that had been drawn on.

22 years. It has been 22 years since he last saw his little sister. His last memory of her was her body growing colder in his arms as he felt her pulse slowly stop.

Even today he could still feel her pulse linger in his hands.

“[Name].”

Beacrox called out. If only he knew that it was the first time in 22 years since anyone had called [name] by that name. 

He could see the mercenary stop in her tracks. Her arm lowered as she processed his voice and the name he called her.

“Orabeoni?”

She asked and Beacrox nodded. Yes, it’s him. It’s her orabeoni. 

[Name] slowly walked towards him. Her steps slow and staggering. Almost falling in his arms once she was close enough.

“It’s you. It’s really you. You’re alive.”

She cried in Beacrox's arms and for one he didn’t mind that his clothes were being tainted. He’ll take as much dirt as he needs as long as he can hug his sister in his arms.

Bathump. Bathump.

Instinctively his hand reached out to her wrist. The same wrist he held onto that night. But unlike that time, her pulse is loud and clear. Full of vitality.

Alive

“What’s taking you so long? I thought you were going to check out who was sneaking around your sister’s room?”

Ron’s voice echoed through the halls as he walked closer to where the siblings were.

“Dad’s alive? It was really Dad who blew up the first mercenary base?”

[Name] heard her brother hummed in affirmation. His chest vibrates against her cheek as they are still hugging each other.

Ron’s footsteps were silent but [name] could sense that he was close. Letting go of the hug, she stepped outside of her room to greet him.

They didn’t say anything. They don’t need to. 

For Ron will be able to recognize his daughter anywhere.

That’s why he didn’t say anything and just accepted his running daughter with open arms. Hugging her tightly, as if trying to make up for the two decades they have been apart.

“Dad I was so lonely. I was so scared.”

She confided in her dad. The veteran mercenary who’s the best in stealth and wields double daggers is gone. In the arms of her dad, she’s simply [Name] Molan. She’s just the daughter he loves. 

The daughter he thought he lost.

“It’s fine now. Everything is fine. You can tell your dad everything that happened.”

Ron stroked his daughter’s hair. His hands shaking ever so slightly.

Tears gathered in his eyes but only Beacrox noticed them. 

The chef said nothing about his father’s vulnerability. He stayed silent even when a lone tear managed to escape his father’s eyes.

His strong father. The same one who bulldozed through everything just to keep him alive. The same father who worked hard to train him while discreetly investigating the organization that attacked them. His father showed no weakness.

That same father of his has been overcome by emotion.

And Beacrox can’t say anything about it for he was the same.