#(instead of turn down all thermostats

[primelinchen-the-second]

TIL that our living room heater isnt (as) broken. The smart thermostats my boyfriend insisted on installing because they're soooo much easier and more convenient just cant connect to the internet so it never received the signal to heat up. And it cant be manually set because it will try to confirm every couple of minutes and without connection just. Turn off.

But hey. It isnt like this is the room i soend most of my time in and have set up my art corner in or anything

[skzdust]

Hotel Showers

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

This fic was a request from @chanchansgirly (here) and part of my 500 followers celebration! The request was prompt #1, only one bed, with Chan, NSFW!

I hope you all like it!

Summary: Y/n and Chan get stuck in a very cold hotel room together... and there's only one bed.

Pairing: Bang Chan x Flustered!reader

Includes: only one bed trope, handcuffs, fingering, cumming inside (PLEASEEEEE USE A CONDOM IRL)

Word count: 1.9k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz, @jeonginsleftcheek

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

“Seriously?” You blinked at the desk attendant.

He smiled back at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid the blizzard’s got us more crowded than expected. The only room we have left does just have the one bed.”

You sighed. “Just give me the key.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walked back over to Chan, key card in hand. “Sorry, it looks like they’ve only got one room left, and it only has one bed.”

Chan smiled. “Oh, no worries. It’s just one night.”

“I can sleep on the floor if you want. Or in the chair. Those hotel chairs are surprisingly comfy sometimes. I mean, sometimes they’re just not, but, like, this one will probably be fine.” You found yourself rambling.

Chan laughed. “Y/n, if you’re okay with sharing the bed, that works for me.”

“Oh—okay.” You could feel your cheeks reddening.

He turned towards the elevator. “Lets’ go.”

You went upstairs to your room, and you pulled a book out of your bag to read while Chan was in the shower. You tried to stop yourself from thinking about that shower, about the water running through his hair, down his shoulders, over his abs, and lower…

You closed your book with a sigh, opting to doomscroll instagram instead.

The water turned off, and a few minutes later Chan opened the door. Thankfully for your sanity, he was wearing a shirt. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

You smiled. “Okay, I’ll just be a few minutes.”

You went into the bathroom. It felt strangely intimate, erotic, almost, to be in a bathroom filled with the steam from Chan’s shower.

You started your shower before you realized you’d left your body wash in your suitcase. You resigned yourself to hotel soap before seeing Chan’s little blue bottle on the shelf. He must’ve left it there.

He probably wouldn’t care if you used it, right?

You carefully squeezed some into your palm. It smelled good, masculine and clean.

You got out of the shower, dried off, and put on a T-shirt and sleep shorts. You regretted your decision as soon as you stepped out of the now even steamier bathroom. “My God, it’s cold.”

Chan laughed from where he was sitting under the covers. “I was just messing with the thermostat, doesn’t look like it’s getting any warmer in here.”

You gave a short exhale. “Of course.”

Chan patted the sheets beside him. “Here, it’s warmer in bed.”

You got in bed with him, burrowing under the blankets. “I guess a little bit.”

“Can I help?”

“Can… can you help?” You were confused.

“Can I touch you?” Chan’s smile was soft. “Just to help warm you up.”

“Oh… um, yeah, please.”

Chan reached towards you, pulling you into his arms and cuddling you close to his chest.

You were sure he was able to feel your heartbeat, because you could feel it all over your body, especially between your legs.

“Are you comfortable?” Chan whispered.

“Yeah, I’m really comfortable.” You pushed your head into his chest. “You’re warm, Channie.”

“Channie?” He laughed.

“I— sorry, I just, like, a nickname, you know, like, how, like, friends call each other nicknames. You know, like friends do?” You rambled.

“Y/n, calm down. You’re allowed to call me Channie. I would even go so far as to say I like it.”

“Oh.” You could feel your cheeks going hot.

He paused for a moment. “Wait.” He helped roll you over, so your back was flush against his chest. You could feel yourself growing wet at the manhandling.

He pushed his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply. You took a shuddering breath of your own at how his lips brushed your skin.

“Did you use my body wash?”

“Um… I forgot mine, I didn’t think you’d… mind.”

“I don’t… mind, exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I think it’s hot more than I think it’s a problem. Which is, in and of itself, a problem.”

“Why?” You breathed.

“Because we’re sharing a bed… catch my drift?”

“I think you need to spell it out for me.” You shifted, angling your hips against his crotch. You could feel a bulge forming already.

He hissed. “Y/n, don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing.” You whispered. “I mean it.”

You squeaked as Chan flipped you around again, and you were met with his piercing gaze. “You mean it?”

“Yeah.”

His hand drifted up the inside of your thigh. “How do you want it?”

You were a little taken off guard. “Want it? I— uh, inside me, I think.”

He laughed, then brought his lips up to your ear to whisper to you. “I mean, do you want it rough? Want to worship me? Want me to put you on a leash and choke you like a dog? Do you want me so bad you’d do anything for me?” He nibbled on your earlobe, and you shifted with a whine. “You know, if you’re into that.”

“Yes, Chan.”

“To which one?”

“All of it.”

He smiled, and you were caught off guard by his wide, ray-of-sunshine grin. “We’re gonna have fun. I’ll be right back.” He got off the bed, and you shivered at the sudden loss of his heat.

He shuffled through his luggage before pulling out a pair of leather handcuffs.  You didn’t even want to question where he’d gotten them or why they were in his suitcase. “You want these?”

Your eyes widened. “Ye-yes, Chan, I do want those.”

“Good girl.” He murmured, climbing back onto the bed. “I’m gonna tie your hands to the headboard, okay?”

“Yes, Channie.” You held out your hands. He guided you to lay back, and he fastened the cuffs around your wrists and then clipped them around the headboard. You tugged a bit at them, and you moaned when they didn’t give.

He just sat in front of you for a moment, watching you watch him.

“Beautiful.” He eventually mumbled. “Lift up those hips for me, and we’ll get your shorts off.”

You nodded, lifting your hips so Chan could slide your shorts and underwear off. You were soaked, and Chan dragged a finger through it before licking it clean. “Damn, all this over me just touching you a bit?”

“I— I mean, before, the shower, I was just thinking about— um, about nothing.” You stopped before you could make a complete fool of yourself by admitting to picturing him naked in the shower.

It was too late for that, though. Chan raised an eyebrow. “Were you thinking about me in the shower?”

You swallowed. “Uh… maybe.”

He shook his head, smiling. “You want me more than you’ve been letting on, don’t you?”

“Uh… maybe.” You said again.

His eyes raked over you. Once, then again. “Can I finger you, sweetheart?”

You felt a wave of heat rush through you, and you were hyperaware of your heartbeat again, pulsing through you. “Yes, please.”

He circled one finger around your entrance for a moment before beginning to press inside. You whined.

He paused. “Something wrong, baby?”

“No!” You squeaked. “Nothing’s wrong! Keep going, Channie, please.” You breathed the last word, and you were unsure for a moment if he’d even heard you until he hummed.

“Please sounds so good coming from your mouth, baby.” He all but purred, pushing his finger in all the way.  Your eyes rolled back, and a broken moan fell from your lips. “Say it again.”

“Please.” You whispered. “Another finger, Chan, please.”

“You’re asking so nicely.” He added another finger, as requested, and you arched your back off the bed.

“Fuck.”

“Can you take another?”

“Yes.”

He added in a third finger. You felt so deliciously full of him, and you absently wondered if his cock would fill you up as good.

He pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. His tongue lewdly lapped at his long fingers, making wet noises.

You moaned. “Please, Chan.”

He paused to raise his eyebrows at you. “What are you begging for, hm?”

“You.” You said honestly. “Want you, um, deep— deep inside me.”

“Shy all of a sudden?” He dropped his hand to your pussy, rubbing at your clit. “I’m gonna be deep inside of you in just a second, sweetheart.”

You pushed your hips into his hand, and he laughed. “Greedy little thing.” He pulled away to take off his shirt and pants, leaving him completely naked on the bed in front of you.

“Fuck.” You whispered. You’d known he was muscular, but he was absolutely gorgeous like this, sculpted like he’d been made by Michelangelo.

And his cock… he was big, and he was hard, and you wanted him so badly you were practically salivating.

“Can I fuck you now?” He whispered, his hands hovering over your hips, waiting for your consent.

“Yes, Chan, please, yes.”

You watched as he lined himself up with your dripping hole. “Ready?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

You put your attention to his face as he pushed inside, at the way his expression went slack as he went deeper and deeper inside of you. You tried to reach up to touch him, but the cuffs rattled loudly.  Something burned inside you. The restraints were turning you on.

His eyes snapped open. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just… it’s hot, not being able to touch you, while you touch me all you want.” You said shakily.

He smirked. “Good, that’s the goal.”

“Can you fuck me now?”

He pushed your hair back from your desperate expression, gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Yes, sweetheart.”

He started to rock back and forth, and it took a bit of adjustment before you found a position that was comfortable, but when you settled into it, it was heavenly. Chan’s cock hit spots inside you you didn’t even know existed, and you were soon seeing stars. You gently moaned with each of his thrusts, the sounds of his skin on yours and your moans and his strangled noises filling the room. Chan was so good at this, so good at figuring out exactly what your body needed.

Chan changed angles one more time, and you were suddenly crying out with every motion inside you. “Fuck, Channie, that’s so good, don’t stop!”

“I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart.” He grunted, his hands beginning to feel up your chest. “I’m not gonna stop. You feel so good around me, so warm, so nice and tight, fuck.”

You whined, glad you were being good for him.

Eventually Chan’s movements grew animalistic; his thrusts shorter, tighter. “I’m gonna cum, sweetheart.”

“Inside!” You moaned. “Cum inside, Chan, please, please, Chan, please— oh!”

You could feel him cum inside you just as your own orgasm hit, and you twitched through it while Chan collapsed on top of you.

Both of you were drained. Chan unclipped the handcuffs and took them off, and you cuddled under the blanket. “So cold.”

“It is.” Chan wrapped himself around you. “What do you say we take another shower, together, to warm up and clean off?”

You nodded, snuggling into his chest. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“That means we actually have to get out of bed, you know.”

You gave a long-suffering sigh. “Fine.”

[steddiealltheway]

It’s a cold Wednesday night in January that has Eddie turning the thermostat up and allowing the government supplied heat to fill the trailer. He glances up at the vents and gives them a quick middle finger, wondering if they bugged the place to observe him or make sure he isn’t spreading their secrets.

He doesn’t really care at this point if they’re watching though. They already held him at the hospital for long enough, poking and prodding as if he wasn’t even human. But he didn’t turn into a vampire or some shit because of those damn bats. No. The jagged, ugly scars littering his body served as a lovely reminder that he was ultimately human.

Eddie glances at a nearby mirror and cringes at his face, taking a look at the long scar running down his cheek, jaw, and neck. The Corroded Coffin guys all said it made him look metal, and he would throw in a, “Hell yeah,” before smoothly changing the subject to something that didn’t involve him for once.

He takes a finger and slowly trails it over the pale pink skin, wondering if there will ever be a day he won’t notice it.

“Eddie,” Steve calls out gently from the room down the hall.

Eddie jumps back and glances toward him, hand falling to his side and flexing uncomfortably as if he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“You okay?”

Eddie smiles and gestures toward the thermostat. “Damn thing wasn’t working for a minute there. You’d think with the amount of hush hush money they were able to pay all of us, they’d be able to give me and Wayne a better trailer.”

But Steve only crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, eyebrows raising gently. It’s not entirely accusatory, but it’s clear that he doesn’t believe a thing Eddie’s saying.

Although they’ve grown close while going through the same treatment and tests in Owen’s new secret facility, it still surprises Eddie how easily Steve can read people. More specifically, how easily he can read him of all people. “Just got lost in thought,” Eddie confesses while making his way back to his room as he sees Steve squint at the lights in the living area.

Steve steps out of the way as Eddie brushes by him and closes the door. He hope it’s enough honesty to end the conversation.

“What were you thinking about?” Steve asks, ignoring the signals Eddie is giving him.

Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face and climbs back into his bed, quick to pull up the blanket around himself in an attempt to get some much needed warmth while simultaneously covering his scars from Steve. “Stuff.”

Steve rests his hands on his hips for a second and stares, mouth opening and closing for a moment before deciding against whatever he was going to say. Instead, he climbs into the bed with Eddie and joins him under the blanket, keeping enough distance so they’re not touching, but they can still feel each other’s body heat.

Eddie glances over at him, noticing the way the one lamp turned on in the room gives him a nice golden halo. He looks gorgeous and untouchable - exactly how Eddie used to think of him through high school and sometimes even now. The perfect golden boy. But despite the name Eddie gave to him years ago, he can’t ignore the flaws that Steve possesses, yet they somehow make him even more perfect to him. Or maybe just human.

Eddie shakes his head and glances away. He wishes Steve came over to smoke so Eddie could blame the drugs on the way his thoughts race when he’s next to him. Instead, he has to face up to his enormous crush on the perfect golden boy.

“Have any plans for Valentine’s Day?” Steve asks out of the blue.

Eddie snorts and glances at him, only to laugh harder when he sees the adorable look of confusion on his face.

Steve’s brows furrow but the edges of his lips quirk up. “What?”

Eddie pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to try to hide his wife smile. “Kind of random, don’t you think?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I never said I was great at starting conversations. But I was just thinking about what holiday is next.”

“The worst one,” Eddie complains.

Steve turns toward him. “And why’s that?”

Eddie sighs and let’s himself go on a tangent. “It’s the one day of the year where people feel like they have to do all this shit for their partner, and the rest of the year, they think they can just get by doing the bare minimum. And people are left realizing what it would be like if their ‘other half’ actually put in an effort day to day. And then for all the single people, it’s a day where love is shoved in their face, and they have to feel bad and sometimes disgusted by all the public displays of affection going on around them and… I just hate it all. The stupid chocolates in the red heart boxes and the teddy bears and big heart shaped balloons and roses…”

“I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about Valentine’s Day,” Steve says with a laugh.

“Well, now you do.”

They both sit in the silence for a few moments, Eddie thinking about all the other things he didn’t even touch on about Valentine’s Day that he hates, while Steve is probably taking in everything he just said.

Steve bumps his shoulder and asks, “So, I’m assuming that means you have no plans.”

Eddie laughs. “That’s what you got out of that?”

Steve shrugs and looks away with a smile.

Eddie glances at his clock and notices it’s technically Thursday now, and in these early hours, Steve will usually either silently fall asleep or he’ll lay awake in the silence until one of his thoughts has to make itself known.

Either way, Eddie knows he’ll be up for a few more hours, but he’s never regret the sleep he’s lost since they’ve made this silent arrangement.

The bed shifts, and Eddie follows Steve’s lead, laying down fully and staring at the ceiling, trying his best not to reach out for the hand laying beside his. He wonders if he should add something to the ceiling like some type of mural with stars and whatnot.

He tilts his head to the side, envisioning how it would look in the lamplight since he and Steve refuse to sleep in the dark. Or maybe it’s just Steve and Eddie’s picked up on the habit of leaving the lamp on.

“Do you think you’ll make plans?” Steve asks quietly.

Eddie turns to look at him, at a lost for a moment before realizing he’s still on the Valentine’s Day subject. He smiles sadly, “No.” Steve glances over at him and holds his gaze, expecting more. Eddie sighs and gestures at himself. “I mean, I’m not exactly what people want to bring home to their parents at the moment plus with the,” he gestures to his face and drops his hand quickly, averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

He hopes Steve will let it go and not connect the dots back to earlier.

A silence settles between them, but Steve’s gaze burns into the side of Eddie’s face. Then, he finally asks, “Is that what distracted you earlier?” When Eddie doesn’t answer he continues, “I saw you looking in the mirror, and I know you usually go out of your way to avoid them.”

Eddie wants to question how Steve noticed, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up about something that was just passively rather than intentionally observed. “Yeah,” Eddie states simply.

The bed shifts as Steve turns on his side to fully face him. “And you really think you can’t get a date because of them?”

Eddie sighs and rubs both of his hands over his face. “Steve, who is ever going to love me like this?” He turns and continues, “Privately, yes, someone could maybe get past the scars. But in public? You really think someone is going to be proud to say, ‘Here’s my boyfriend,’ and show off me?”

“Yes,” Steve says instantly as if he has no doubt in the world.

Eddie turns away, trying not to get choked up about it. Because how can he explain to him that while it’s nice that Steve has that confidence in him, Eddie wants Steve to be the one to be proud of him. To want him like that.

“Do you think my scars make me unlovable?” Steve asks.

“No! Jesus, Steve,” Eddie rushes to say and turns to him. He reached out and lays a hand over his side, feeling the way the skin puckers under the thin t-shirt. “These are metal as hell. Hot even. They make you more lovable if anything.”

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and slowly pulls it off his side to hold it up, the scar on it being presented out to Eddie. “And this doesn’t make you more lovable?”

“Steve…” Eddie protests quietly as Steve pulls his hand close to stare at it.

“The scars you got protecting us. You think those make you less lovable?” Steve asks, pulling his hand close enough that his lips ghost over the skin.

Eddie lets out a breath that sounds like Steve as Steve presses a soft kiss into the tough skin. He stares at Eddie with a worried look in his eyes as he whispers, “Too much?”

Eddie shakes his head, too stunned to get the words out.

Steve intertwines their hands and pulls Eddie’s arm toward him. “These scars,” he says kissing the next one on his forearm, “Are beautiful on you.” He moves on to the scar on his elbow stretching to his bicep, lips trailing against the sensitive unmarked skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “How could anyone hate these?” He asks leaving three soft, lingering kisses before shifting on the bed to hover above Eddie, still holding his hand but now against his stomach so he can press a kiss against his shoulder. “These scars show everyone what you were willing to sacrifice for us.”

As Steve moves to the scar on his neck, Eddie’s head drops back, giving him more access as he groans out, “Steve.”

“These scars,” Steve says, kissing up his neck over and past the scars, “Are exactly,” he murmurs as he kisses past his jaw and peppers kisses up his cheek, “Why I love you,” Steve finishes by pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth near where the scar that Eddie traced earlier ends.

Eddie glances up at Steve as he hovers over him, trying to make sense of everything he’s saying until it finally clicks. “You love me?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and squeezes his hand before letting it go so he can lightly caress his cheek. “I have since you decided to be a hero and sacrifice yourself. Which was exactly what I told you not to do by the way.”

“I’ve never been great at following rules,” Eddie breathes out and reaches a hand up to run through Steve hair. “Steve?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you, too,” Eddie confesses.

Steve smiles and asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He pauses before adding, “You know, one time when I was little, I captured a squirrel and it may have attacked me and left a scar on my lip.”

Steve laughs. “Is that so?”

Eddie smiles and nods.

Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s lips and he moves his thumb to swipe over his top lip. “You know, I think I see it.”

Eddie debates telling him that it was actually his bottom lip, but instead he just breathes out, “Steve.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks with a teasing smile.

“Steve.”

Steve keeps smiling as he hums, “Hmm?” When Eddie huffs, Steve fakes surprise with a gasp, “Oh. You want me to find the picture for you!”

Eddie groans, “Steve!”

“Uh huh?”

Eddie huffs and cups his face. “You are infuriating.”

“Is that s-”

Eddie interrupts him by taking matters into his own hands and leaning up to kiss him. He feels Steve smile against his lip before finally kissing him back.

Steve pulls away and breathlessly asks, “So, do you think you’ll have plans for Valentine’s Day now?”

Eddie’s head thumps back on the pillow. “Oh my god.” Steve laughs. “Oh my god!” Eddie says and shoves Steve off of him only to roll over so he hovers above him. “You were trying to ask me out this whole time?”

“No, I just wanted to know your opinion of Valentine’s Day.”

Eddie gives him a light punch to the arm and smiles wide as he stares down at Steve, lying beneath him in the golden lamp light. His perfect golden boy.

“I still hate it by the way. Even if I have plans now,” Eddie comments seriously.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put in the effort year round for you and make sure to keep you away from the public that day,” Steve says running a hand through Eddie’s curls before tracing it down the scar on his cheek in a way he thought no one would be able to do - lovingly.

Eddie leans down and gives Steve a quick peck. “I’ve also got some scars on my hips I might want you to check out.”

Steve laughs loudly and pulls him into a kiss that truly makes Eddie breathless, all while tracing his hand over the scar on his cheek. And for the first time, Eddie learns to love the scars adorning his body.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Let It Snow

Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: When the power goes out at the Facility, Pietro makes sure you’re keeping warm.

Note: Takes place in an “Everybody is alive and lives at the Avengers Facility” AU. Wanted to kick out one more Christmas/Winter imagine before getting into the New Year’s stuff.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1.5k

Reader Is: Gender Neutral, an Avenger.

To be honest, you didn’t notice it at first, the slight chill in the air. You continued your work, typing away on the loud, typewriter-style keyboard on the fancy, expensive computer Bruce had built for you (with Tony’s money, of course).

And then it got…worse.

Your toes were numb and you were shivering, despite the long sleeves you were wearing.

You slid your feet into some slippers and walked out into the hallway, arms huddled around yourself as you wandered from your room, down the hall to where the thermostat was. You gave the up button a cursory press, waiting for the screen to blink to life and tell you what it was set to, but it didn’t.

Huh. Well, that was something, wasn’t it?

“(Y/N). Hello.” Vision materialized beside you, causing you to jolt in shock. “My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine, Vision. Do you know what this is all about?” You asked, shivering and motioning to the busted thermostat.

“It appears the furnace is broken. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner are attempting repairs now, but it may take quite some time.”

“Oh. Gotcha.” You nodded, “Thanks for the info.”

“Of course. I do recommend you bundle up. It seems your body temperature is steadily decreasing.”

“Will do.” You saluted and pivoted on your heel, just in time to catch a face full of Pietro as he sped down the hall, sliding to a stop.

You ever so gracefully fell on the floor, staring up at him, disgruntled. “Nice one, Sonic.”

He chuckled, offering a hand, but you got up on your own, dusting yourself off. “What is the problem?”

“Furnace is busted.” You explained, patting his arm as you began walking away.

Pietro started walking backwards, keeping pace with you. “Where are you going?”

“To get into something warmer. Might be a while.”

One of his eyebrows quirked up. “Well, you know, I’ve heard skin to skin contact is the fastest way to warm up, if you need some help with that. I do have ‘improved homeostasis,’ as Banner puts it.”

“I’m good, thanks.” You deadpanned, shutting your door in his face. You could feel him lingering there for a moment before running back down the hall to his room, you presumed. You chuckled and rolled your eyes. Pietro was a flirt. Always had been. But things like this never worked out with people like him. Not in your experience, at least.

You changed into a cozy, zip-up onesie, feeling a lot warmer than before, especially with the hood over your head. You got back to your tying for a while. A few hours at least…until the lights went out.

“Great!” You threw your hands up, rolling away from the desk in your dark room.

In a huff, you stood up and walked to your window. It was a blizzard out there, inches and inches of snow on the ground. There was a knock on the door and whirled around to answer it. Part of you expected it to be Pietro standing there, but instead, it was Steve with a flashlight.

“Oh, hey. Is this because of the blizzard?”

“No, Tony says he snipped the wrong wire.” Steve shook his head. “Or something. Might be a while before it gets fixed.”

It was already getting late, and you were planning on going to sleep soon, but now, you weren’t so sure you should if you didn’t want to wake up a popsicle. “Okay, thanks for letting me know.”

You said, turning back to grab your phone and your water bottle to refill it before you figured out exactly what it was you should do in the meantime.

***

About an hour later, Pietro found you on the couch in the living room, shivering and reading a book by the light of a tiny, battery powered reading light. You were bundled up and, due to the lack of windows, you were pretty sure it was the warmest room in the facility. But as the temperature continued to drop, it didn’t seem to matter where you were.

“(Y/N), what are you doing in here?” He said, concern etched deep into his accented words. You met his eyes, wrought with worry and only offered a shaking shrug.

“I don’t want to g-go to sleep until the h-heat comes back on.”

He shook his head, crossing the room slowly for once, taking his time with each step. He sat beside you, not even bundled up beyond a hoodie and some sweatpants. For the first time in your life, you envied his powers. Carefully, giving you every opportunity to shove him off of you, he gently lifted your blanket, guided your book to the coffee table, and crawled on top of you, settling his body atop yours and sandwiching you between himself and the couch. He pulled the blanket back on top of the both of you, adjusting his head into the crook of your neck.

You were stiff at first, but at his warmth, you all but melted, eyes closing in bliss, your arms relaxing around him as you chased that feeling. His warmth. His scent, that sharp, woodsy cologne he was so infatuated with.

“Is this alright?” He asked, voice low and raspy.

You nodded, relaxing further into his hold, letting him warm you up. You pulled him closer, relishing in the feeling of your shivers slowly stopping. “Pietro…”

“I won’t say anything. The others don’t have to know.” He assured you, meeting your eyes before settling down again.

“I’m not too worried about that.” You whispered, suddenly overcome by it all. His proximity, his voice, the way his body felt melded against yours. It was right, what they said. Fitting like puzzle pieces.

“You’re not?” He asked, mischief at the edge of his tone. “Who are you and what have you done with (Y/N)?”

You scoffed. “You know, contrary to popular belief, I don’t dislike you, Pietro.”

“I don’t dislike you either.” He replied with a chuckle. “Kind of the opposite, in fact.”

Your heart picked up a quicker rhythm, cheeks flushing. You were kind of thankful the two of you were cuddled up in the dark. You hoped nightvision wasn’t one of his secret powers, or you were sure you’d never see the end of it.

“Please say something.” He murmured at the silence.

“You…”

“I thought it was obvious.” He muttered, words quick, flat at the edges.

You let another moment pass, choosing your words.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to—”

You touched his face with a cold hand, guiding his chin so you could attempt to look him in the eyes in the silvery rays of light streaming in the window. “I like you, too.”

He grinned, breath catching in his throat. “You mean it?”

“I have for a while.” You confessed. “Since that first training session when you bulldozed me on the track.”

“I did not bulldoze you!”

“I don’t know, I felt pretty bulldozed, laying there, flat on my back, feet knocked out from under me.”

He chuckled. “I was trying to impress you.”

“Mission accomplished.” You laughed at the way frustration crept into his words. “I could never forget about it. My very first week on the team and already, someone was out to get me.”

“Oh my God.” He rolled his eyes, the words sounding unsure on his tongue. He shook his head, gaze softening as he reached up, a careful hand brushing the hair out of your face. “Are you warmer now, drága?”

“Much.” You nodded, brushing the tip of your nose against his. “I do have another idea for warming up, though…”

He smirked. “Such as?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Please do.”

You rolled your eyes, and looped an arm around his neck, tugging him down to you and crushing your lips to his. He hummed in agreement, calloused fingers hooking your jaw, keeping you close as his kissed you tenderly, passionately, lips soft and perfect and experienced. He was the perfect distraction from the freezing room around you.

Then, suddenly, there was a loud thrum and the power kicked back on, bathing the room in light. You squinted, the appliances in the kitchen all beeping as they came back to life.

Pietro shielded his eyes with a hand, still hovering over you. You stared up at him for a long, quiet moment, still not entirely sure it had happened until he dipped back down and pressed a long kiss to your cheek, his stubble tickling your skin.

“Now let’s get you to bed, hmm?” He asked, helping you off of the couch as the facility gradually warmed back up. The two of you walked down the hall together and you yawned.

“What were you two doing down there?” Bucky asked, standing in his doorway. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“I was just letting (Y/N) know the heat was back on.” Pietro shrugged. “I am the quickest, you know.”

“Uh-huh. Right.” Bucky nodded, suspicious, but backing away into his room anyway.

You got to your door and stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Pietro. His hand grabbed at your waist, tugging you in for a kiss that you gladly returned. When you parted, you watched him speed down the hall, hoping that when you woke, it wouldn’t all be some sweet, winter dream.

[marasmadness]

Only Need You For The Oxytocin- Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

CW: season 17 section chief Emily💋, stripper!reader, erm not everything Emily does is very legal but let us all close our eyes for the time being, interrogation, enemies to less than enemies. everybody is very flirty in government buildings where they should not be! handcuffs, smut, rough sex, power dynamics (dom!emily), bondage, thigh riding, light degradation, oral sex (em receiving), choking, semi public sex

Rossi tapped his fingers against the windowsill of an interrogation room, turning to face Emily beside him. “Some of the most psychopathic men have sat in the room and started to squirm after thirty minutes. She’s been sitting in there for two hours, unphased.

“She’s not a man,” Emily mumbled, watching the woman on the other side of the glass with squinted eyes. ”I’m going to talk to her.” Emily perked up, finally growing impatient. Grabbing her jacket off the chair behind her, she slipped it on, knowing that Rossi had already turned down the thermostat in there.

"Prentiss, wait, we already drew up a profile. We won’t get anything out of her. She’ll just try to play with you.”

“Let her,’ she replied, leaving Rossi with a half-open mouth as she dipped inside the interrogation room, shutting the door behind her.

“Oh, you’re a new one.” You smiled at the older woman who had finally walked into the room, alluding to the three other agents who had entered hours ago and quickly left. “Shame, Agent Jareau and I were having a grand old time. You could be fun too,” you commented, eyeing her up and down as she introduced herself.

Emily cleared her throat, choosing to ignore your comments. “I’m SSA Emily Prentiss with the BAU. Do you know why you’re here today?”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “Because your team wanted to have a little chit chat?”

“Bullshit, you’re too smart for this. You know why you’re here.” Ignoring the chair across from you, she opted to sit against the edge of the table. I’ve already talked to just about everyone else in your club and every other one in the city, for that matter, and they all came to one conclusion. If I needed information, you would have it. She explained calmly yet sternly as she swept her arm toward the door.

You sighed as you rested your tilted head on your palms. “You speak like this is an expectation from me, yet your men dragged me in from the parking lot on the way out of my shift and didn’t tell me anything until I was sitting in your interrogation room, like I’m the one running around committing crimes,” you said pointedly. “And don’t think I didn’t realize your old friend out there was lowering the thermostat, thinking it would get me to tell you whatever you wanted; I’m barely wearing any fucking clothes; of course I’d notice when it drops a few degrees.”

A sense of unease flashed across Emily’s face as she felt slightly guilty. She had come in headstrong, and you were right, without knowing how you ended up here in the first place. She was still standing in a room across from you, who was already on edge, so instead of rewinding, she doubled down. “So now what? You’re not going to give us the information we need to stop a serial killer because you’re offended,” she scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

You just stared, watching the woman. She wore a gold watch, its face sitting on her inner wrist, which clinked against her belt buckle lightly every time she dropped her hands to her side. Underneath a long red coat that you desperately wished to be under right now, her outfit was sleek and simple: black pants, thin gold jewelry, and a black blouse with newly undone buttons. Your eyes froze on her shirt, your lips pressing into a smile."Really? Two hours of you and your team of profilers brainstorming, and the best you could come up with was that I would spit out all my information if you sent a woman twice my age in to what exactly, seduce me?” Emily looked caught off guard, and you tipped your head toward her chest. “You’re wearing three fewer buttons than when I watched you walk by this room earlier when Luke left, and a fresh coat of lipgloss.”

Emily held up her hand, leaning in closer over the table. "Okay, I get it—not the correct strategy.”

“No, you had my weaknesses spot on; just use them in a bar or a date, not an interrogation room. I’m not that gullible.” You smirked, enjoying watching Emily’s panic level rise, and then her eyes narrowed as a giggle escaped you.

Emily finally took the seat across from you, resting her forehead in her palm. “You’re giving me a headache.”

She heard you shuffle, reaching underneath the table, and eventually looked up when you tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in front of her. She suddenly snapped up in attention. Where did you get those?”

You shrugged, picking one up. “I had them on me.”

“They didn’t search you when you came in?”

You shook your head, going to light one until Emily snatched in from between your fingers. “Stand up,” she directed, dragging two fingers upward through the air as she made her way around the table. You heard her mumble something under her breath, unable to distinguish any of it other than something about doing everything herself around here.

Her hands slid delicately down your sides and along the side seams of your clothes. She hesitated at the sensation of her hands brushing against your bare waist. Clearing her throat, she removed her hands. “Moving on, I need the list of Claire Demont’s regulars; I know she handed the list down to you.”

“I don't feel entirely obligated to help you. Claire has done a lot for me. Men have done a lot of shitty stuff to her. I’m not saying murder is ever the answer, but I don’t doubt that there's a reason for her rage. Can I go home now? Last time I checked, I wasn’t guilty of anything.” You stretched back over the metal frame of the chair, waking up your stiff muscles.

“No yet, but we do have a 24-hour hold because my team is under the very strong impression that you have information regarding the case.” Emily began to trail off upon seeing your disinterested demeanor and knew she wouldn’t be getting through to you. “Look, I can’t get you out of here; the best I can offer you is that we talk in my office instead, but I better be leaving with the list of names, no exceptions, got it?”

“Fine,” you got up slowly, demonstrating restraint to hide your eagerness. Before you could breathe deeply about your new slight ounce of freedom, the agent’s hands were enclosed around both your wrists, swiftly moving them behind your back. A short gasp of shock left your lips as you recognized the cold metal rings that clicked around your wrist. “I thought you said I was under arrest,” you muttered, irritated.

Emily’s chin hovered just above your shoulder as she whispered slowly in your ear, “You’re not; that was just for my entertainment.” A soft chuckle escaped her as she pulled away. Looping her fingers around the chain connecting your wrists, she tugged lightly, directing you toward the door.

Emily stepped outside much more composedly than you when you came face-to-face with three security guards outside the room. Emily knew they would be the only ones left in the building; no other agents remained, and they did not alarm her.

You heard a soft noise from over your shoulder, something you couldn’t make out but clearly Emily had. Turning your head, you found a man’s eyes roaming down your skin, almost greedily. Within seconds, Emily had dropped her coat off her shoulders and draped it over your shoulders. Pulling it closed around you, it hung down almost your entire body. Without a comment, her hand naturally fell down by her badge, and she gave a soft nod as she passed by the remaining guards, giving them no reason to question her authority.

Your heart rate sped up the farther you made it down the hallway; its loud beating suddenly became very evident beneath your chest. Peeking a glance over at Emily, she seemed collected and undeterred as she led the way to her office.

Stepping into her office, you immediately opened your mouth to speak. Before you could get a word out, Emily’s hand was over your mouth as you were pressed up against the wall beside her door as she locked it and pulled down the blinds. She eventually dropped her hand, narrowing the space between you slightly with the tilt of her head. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” She smirked before reaching over your waist to undo the cuffs, then looped them back around her belt. “Sit down,” She tossed her hand out across the office as her eyes scanned the rows of shelves lining the back of the room. You took a seat on the edge of her desk, right across from her chair. She pivoted around on her heel, setting a pen and piece of paper next to you. “Names,” she said, tapping the blank sheet with her nail.

You sighed under your breath but picked up the pen anyway, twirling it in between your fingers. Emily slid herself between her chair and your legs, dangling off her desk, before sitting back. ”Just so you know, I never knew all of Claire’s clients. When she left, she only gave me a handful of regulars' names to pass on to me.”

“That’s fine. The more she interacted with them, or the bigger impression she made on them, the more likely these men were to be targets. Do you know if she slept with any of them?”

“No, she never slept with clients, and despite contrary belief, neither did I,” you clarified, narrowing your eyes into a warning glare.

“I never said that,” Emily corrected, her voice remaining low and even throughout every interaction. “Sometimes it's just helpful to know because a man’s sex life can often tell you a lot about him.”

“If that's the information you need, you don’t need a profiler to find that out. You just need a little attention to things other than the physical act of sex.” You flipped the piece of paper in your lap around so the names were facing Emily as your pen rolled down the list. “These three are married and always want to give up control. They crave attention from the dancers but don’t do anything to draw it to themselves. They don’t demand anything; they want you to come to them. And the next handful of names have been single almost their entire lives. Most of them are possessive, and they want to spend the most time with you. They’ll tell you exactly what they want from you. Those men are typically the ones who will pay for a lap dance or two.”

Emily looked up at you, curious and slightly impressed. “You can tell me all that from a few minutes of interaction?” She asked skeptically. Your eyes skipped to the slight movements of her body, her thighs tensing against the tight fabric of her pants, and her ringer fingers closing against her palms as they rested at her side.

“Almost always, it's quite straightforward to discern if a partner is going to be possessive, controlling, desperate, or possessive.” You selected your words carefully, letting them hang in the silence between the two of you almost tauntingly.

Clearing her throat, Emily shook her head softly, causing a strand of silver hair to fall from her shoulder. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

Without thinking, you slipped off her desk with languid movements, finding yourself hovering over her with knees on each side of her body. You leaned away from her, back arching, so you were suspended over the air in front of her. Within seconds, Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, pulling you farther into the chair. It wasn’t an act of politeness to keep you from falling; it was lust-filled, her bruising grip not lessening or pulling away like two strangers should. Lifting your fingers, you brushed the collar of her shirt out of the way, pressing two fingers to the warm skin beneath her collar bone. Smirking, you felt her skin pulsing against you rapidly—the telltale sound of her racing heart. Tucking her fallen hair behind her ear, you whispered softly and sweetly. “ Just proved it.”

You lifted yourself off of her, starting to climb back down, before her firm grip pulled you forcefully back onto her lap. Her hands slid up her back, fingers playing with the zipper that held your top together teasingly. “Ah, finish what you started, doll.” She positioned you how she wanted to, her thigh between your legs with your hands draped over her shoulders. Her nails trailed down your legs, leaving light red scratches as she tore through your thin fishnet stockings.

Her lips latched to the side of your neck, sucking bruises of red and bluish hues down to your collarbone. Her sudden tightening grip made you suck in a gasp midway through ridding her of her own shirt. “Ride.” With one hand on your waist and the other clinging to the curve of your ass, she started the rocking motion. She flexed her toned thigh, holding you roughly down on her thigh, so every slight movement initiated by her stimulated your clit through the thin fabric between you.

The fact that your breathing was already breaking into stuttered sharp inhales simply from riding her thigh had your face burning. In an attempt to hide the fact, you buried your face against her shoulder, turning away from her unwavering gaze.

She brought your rocking to a halt, stopping to rest a hand on the base of your neck until you had to pull back upright to breathe deeply enough for the stars in your vision to disappear. “Eyes on me,” she corrected without additional comment before continuing her motions.

Sensing you were close to falling apart for her, she tugged your panties to the side, pressing the pad of her thumb to your clit. “Fuck,’ you trembled against her strong frame. The older woman’s eyes suddenly darted over your shoulder, and she quickly brought her hand from between your legs up to your mouth, pushing two fingers coated in your arousal past your lips.Sensing a noise behind you, your eyes widened in fear, realizing she had given you her fingers to keep you quiet.

There was a knock on the door, and Emily didn’t appear to be as alarmed as she should be, in your opinion. “Get under my desk and stay quiet.” She husked directly in your ear, nudging you down onto your knees in front of her, and she called out. “Come in,”

Anderson entered, swiping his badge to unlock the door. “Hey, Agent Prentiss. I just noticed your light was still on and wanted to make sure everything was okay. It’s getting late.”

“I’m good, Anderson, thanks.” She smiled softly as she thanked him. Her eyes fell coolly to the papers you had scattered across her desk from sitting on it. “I’m just finishing up some case files. I’m a bit behind at the moment.” Emily shuffled forward in her chair in an attempt to hide you if Anderson stepped any closer.

Sensing that he seemed to want to linger for a moment, you reached towards Emily’s zipper, her belt already on the floor beside you from your flurry of undressing earlier. Her hands engulfed your wrists, but after a minute of protesting, she had to lift her hand back up to avoid looking like she was fighting something under the table. The opportunity for payback was being handed to you on a silver platter.

Her voice spiked up an octave as her legs clenched over your ears. Unperturbed, your tongue traced along her slit as she kept up with Anderson’s casual conversation about work and what she did when she wasn’t at the office. Her hands dropped lightly into her lap and beneath the view of her desk, but unbeknownst to the man rambling to her, she had her hands gripping at your hair, tugging harshly as your tongue swirled around her clit. She resisted the urge to look down just briefly to catch a glimpse of her arousal smeared across your mouth, hair mussed from her touch.

You picked up your pace as you heard Ansderson start moving back toward the door, which left Emily’s legs quivering as she climbed toward an orgasm with every lap and flick of your tongue. The second the door was locked behind the security guard, Emily’s hands found the back of your head, nudging your mouth into her cunt. “Fuck, you better let me come on your mouth after that little stunt, sweetheart.”

You grinned up at her from the floor, a mischievous look in your eyes as you delved back into her cunt, wrapping your lips around her clit as she moaned while orgasming on your tongue. She panted as she came back down from her high, slouching back into her chair and spreading her legs. She helped you up off the floor, fixing you up before yourself.

In the middle of it all, you picked up a pink sticky note and pen off her desk, scribbling something down. Emily’s eyes narrowed as you held out the sheet. “What is this? You were supposed to give me all the names already.”

“I did,” you said, rolling your eyes at her assumption. "This is the club address, and when I work, Stop by sometime; you do still owe me an orgasm,” you pointed out with a grin.”

“Mhm,” her eyes widened at your boldness as she held one knuckle to her lip, hiding her soft, sly grin. ”Well, I risked my job because you're a desperate little thing, so I think you owe me about three. I thought you didn’t sleep with clients.”

You shrugged and started heading for the door. “Well, there's a first time for everything, or maybe I’m just making an exception for you,’ you teased," she said, pivoting around to return her coat on her arm that you had forgotten about for a brief second.

She gave you a small head tilt. “Keep it; I’ll see you shortly anyways,’ she suggested, and you just dropped your head slightly, smiling on your way out.

"Have a good night, Agent Prentiss.”

[valkyrieromanoff]

God bless your dad's genetics… Dilf! Anakin x son’s girlfriend!reader

PREVIOUS LAST

CHAPTER NINE: BED CHEM

synopsis: Finally, you and Anakin surrender to your true feelings and share a night of intense lovemaking.

warning: 18+, age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, sex, oral sex (female receiving), cowgirl position (ride him), missionary position, multiple orgasm, unprotected sex (cum inside, no condom)

w: 3.7 k (probably the biggest smut I've ever written lol)

a/n: hello there, It took me a while but I'm finally back, I had such a hangover of ideas, so I took the opportunity to read the novelization of Revenge of the Sith, and gosh, the best book ever, Anakin is such a babygirl!! Anyway, I hope you like it, and fell free to tell me what you think... I can't believe this is the penultimate chapter, I thank again those who have been following since the beginning, kisses 💖💗 

And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time  And I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine  And I bet it's even better than in my head

“I didn’t want things to escalate that way,” you murmured between kisses, your breath hitching with the emotion behind your words. Your lips, already swollen and red, pressed against his with a desperation that only deepened as you spoke. “It’s not like I regret it, because I don’t. I just…” Your voice faltered as your hands cradled his face, your thumb brushing over the faint, soft stubble growing along his jawline. “I’m afraid of losing Luke’s friendship. We’ve been through so much together, good and bad. I don’t want him to hate me.”

Anakin pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes soft and steady. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice like a low hum that vibrated through you. “He could never hate you.” He turned his face slightly, his lips brushing against your palm in an affectionate kiss that sent warmth blooming through your chest. “And if he’s angry, he’ll aim that at me. I’m his father, after all,” he added softly, his lips trailing kisses down your wrist.

The gentleness of the moment melted into something lighter as a small giggle escaped you, your body shivering involuntarily.

Anakin paused, his brow arching as a knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Are you ticklish?” he asked, his tone playful, the heat in his gaze momentarily replaced by mischief.

You bit your lip, your cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “Your stubble tickles me,” you admitted shyly, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Does it now?” he teased, the smirk growing as his eyes sparkled with amusement. Without warning, he slid one arm securely around your waist and lifted you with ease, the motion effortless but deliberate. You gasped, clinging to his shoulders, but the sound dissolved into laughter as his hands found your sides, fingers lightly brushing your skin in a purposeful assault.

“Anakin, stop!” you managed through peals of laughter, wriggling in his grasp.

“Stop?” he repeated, feigning innocence, his grin widening as he carried you to the bed. “Why would I stop when I just found your weakness?” His voice was low, teasing, but there was an unmistakable warmth beneath it, his affection for you shining in every word, every touch.

He set you down gently, his weight shifting over you as his hands stilled, cupping your face instead. “You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he murmured, his voice softening again, his thumb brushing along your cheek.

The teasing dissipated, replaced by a quiet, intimate stillness as his lips found yours once more, slower this time, savoring every moment.

“You’re always beautiful,” Anakin murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. The soft graze of his stubble sent shivers down your spine, and when he nibbled lightly, your breath hitched, a warmth spreading through you.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his stormy blue gaze, the intensity there stealing what little composure you had left. His face hovered above yours, his elbows propped on either side of your head as he held himself steady. A silly, passionate smile played on his lips, but it didn’t dull the hunger in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with reverence. “You’re so beautiful. Too much.”

His words hit you with the weight of his sincerity, and you looked away, suddenly overwhelmed, heat rising in your cheeks. “Stop,” you murmured, your voice shy, one hand coming up in a half-hearted attempt to push against his chest.

He caught your hand easily, his fingers sliding between yours as if they belonged there. Bringing your hand close to his mouth, he pressed a string of tender, pitying kisses to your knuckles, his lips warm and soft against your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, his voice low and fervent, each word infused with the weight of his love.

Your eyes darted back to his, and the intensity in his gaze sent your heart racing. It wasn’t just desire—it was love, raw and unfiltered, shining in those deep blue eyes.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, his tone pleading now. His free hand slid to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your heated skin. “Stop doubting it. Stop doubting me.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and you felt the sting of tears threatening at the corners of your eyes. His stubble brushed against your jaw as he leaned closer, his lips skimming your skin like a whispered promise.

“Let me love you,” he begged softly, his breath warm against your ear. His lips moved against your skin, planting a trail of kisses that left you dizzy, his passion igniting a fire that settled deep in your chest.

Every touch, every word, wrapped around you like a cocoon of safety and adoration. You surrendered to the moment, to him, your fingers tightening around his as your heart finally let go of its hesitation.

Your fingers threaded into his blond hair, soft and unruly beneath your touch, pulling him closer. His face descended, and your lips met in a kiss that was more than passion—it was a silent answer, a request, and a promise all at once. It was your way of saying yes, of asking him to move forward, to let his love envelop you, to let his devotion wash over you like the waves crashing against the ship outside.

His kisses trailed down your face, each one featherlight, like the gentle caress of sunlight breaking through the clouds. They warmed your skin, chasing away every doubt, every shadow that lingered in your heart. Your cheeks flushed, not from the heat of desire, but from the overwhelming flood of emotions his touch stirred within you.

His hands glided down the sides of your body, his fingertips barely skimming your skin as though you were something sacred. There was no urgency in his movements, no rush—only reverence, as if he were tracing the lines of a masterpiece he could scarcely believe was real. His touch was a prayer, his devotion tangible in the way his hands trembled slightly, afraid that if he pressed too hard, you might break beneath him.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your temple, his voice soft and filled with awe, like a hymn spoken in the quiet of a sacred place. His lips lingered there, his breath warm, as though he needed the moment to ground himself in the miracle of your presence.

The tenderness in his touch, the purity of his gaze, left you breathless. This wasn’t just love—it was something transcendent, something that felt almost otherworldly. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the quiet intensity of his affection, letting yourself be carried by the waves of his devotion.

His fingers calmly opened the buttons of your dress, revealing every inch of your skin as Anakin undressed you, his lips pressing sweet kisses, humming in appreciation as he revealed your chest, the white bra supporting the expanse of your breasts, the soft curve highlighted by the lace. "Beautiful," he murmured against your skin, kissing your covered breasts, you gasped beneath him, he traced your nipple through the seam of your bra, feeling you harden under his touch.

When your bra finally fell to the floor, a genuine smile spread across his lips as he drank in the sight of you, you were a goddess beneath him, one of those sculptures the Greeks so esteemed, pure and undeniable beauty, your beautiful pink buds perked up at his touch. Anakin's mouth closed on one, his tongue swirling and savoring the delicious sounds that escaped your lips, his hand kneaded your other breast, he kept caressing and caring, enjoying every second until you became impatient, your hands finally participating, trying to get him out of his shirt.

His hands paused, fingers splaying across your breasts, thumbing your nipples as he pinned your wrists above your head. "Patience, my love," Anakin growled, husky voice with desire. "I'm savoring every curve, every inch of your pretty body." He washed attention on your breasts, sucking and nibbling, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through you.

You arched into his touch, a wanton moan escaping your lips. "Please, Anakin," you pleaded breathlessly. 

He released your wrists and sat back, quickly removing his shirt to reveal his chiseled torso. Your eyes drank in the sight of him, muscles rippling as he moved.

Anakin smiled confidently as he took off his shirt, fuck, he knew he was still hot even twenty years later, and that confidence he exuded so naturally made you even more excited, you bit your lower lip, your fingers going down his abdomen, feeling his heat warm your hand.

"Do you like what you see, little angel?" He teased you, purring against your ear, you practically moaned, his voice was husky and mature, shaking you and warming you in all the right places. "Let me take this off you."

You lifted your hips to help him pull your dress off, leaving you in only the mismatched panties you were wearing. "Little hearts?" he teased you mischievously, his finger tracing the colorful designs on your panties, you blushed.

"I, I wasn't expecting, well, this," you admitted shyly.

"Well, I found it extremely sexy, little angel," Anakin hummed, moving his fingers up to play with the seam of your panties, he lowered his head pressing a kiss to your clothed mound. Your breath hitched, and instinctively you lifted your hips upward.

“Someone is in a hurry,” he teased, pressing kisses up your belly, his hand splayed across your waist to still your movements. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Anakin assured, two fingers rolling over the damp spot growing on your panties. He smirked smugly, his ego boosted by how wet you were for him.

You settled back into the bed, your golden curls fanning out across the pillow as the older man hooked his fingers into your panties and slowly peeled them away, revealing your most intimate place to his hungry gaze. The intensity in his eyes nearly made you close your legs in embarrassment, but the way he licked his lips, practically salivating, stopped you from holding anything back.

Anakin looked up at you one final time, seeking your consent. As soon as you nodded, he dived in, burying his face between your thighs and devouring you like a man starved. He groaned against your sensitive folds, the sound reverberating through you, making you arch off the bed.

Your fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. You weren't sure what you wanted, what you needed, only that he couldn't stop, because if he did, you would be incomplete. His nose brushed against your clit and you gasped, the sensation electric. Like the experienced lover he was, Anakin wasted no time in doing it again, this time with intention, pressing harder as he lapped at your slit, driven by the desperate sounds spilling from your lips.

He needed you to come undone on his face, in his mouth, needed you like the air he breathed, like sunflowers looking for the sun. With a low growl, he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your back bowed off the bed as pleasure swan through you, your thighs trembling against his cheeks, your hands fisting in his hair.

"Anakin…" You whimpered his name with a need, a sweetness, that threw him off track. He nearly forgot how to breathe, so lost in the melodious cadence of your voice.

He forced himself to summarize his mission, his destiny, and with the masterful strokes of his tongue against your pussy, you came undone, your eyes fluttering closed, tears streaming down your rosy cheeks. Your fingers tightened in your hair as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, your body trembling in your arms.

Anakin lapped at your quivering flesh, savoring every drop of your sweet essence like a precious cargo, an addictive elixir that left him eternally dependent on you. He didn't want to miss a single taste, needed your delicious flavor to linger on his tongue.

As you came down from your high, you murmured breathlessly, "Wow." Your chest rose and fell with the intensity of your orgasm, and Anakin looked up from between your thighs, his eyes filled with adoration that made your heart skip a beat.

"Kiss me," you begged, and his mouth was already on yours, his hands cupping your face tenderly as your tongues tangled, sharing your sweet taste. You could feel the echoes of your pleasure in the way he kissed you, the way he held you close, like he never wanted to let go.

"Anakin…" you whispered against his lips, your hand sliding down to cup his straining erection through his pants. He groaned into your mouth, the feel of your fingers on his sensitive skin sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. How could such a sweet, petite creature like you reduce him to a desperate, needy mess so easily?

In one swift motion, Anakin shoved his pants and boxers down, freeing his throbbing cock. You wrapped your hand around his impressive length, gently stroking him as your eyes locked with his, drinking in the ecstasy you were coaxing from his body. The knowledge that you were the cause of his pleasure filled you with a heady sense of power.

Just as you were about to kneel before him, Anakin's hand on your arm stopped you. "If you keep this up, I don't know how much longer I can last," he admitted hoarsely, his blue eyes glazed over with thick clouds of desire. "Fuck, I want to cum when I'm buried deep inside you."

His blunt admission made your knees go weak, and you could only shake your head, overwhelmed by the intensity of his need. Rising up on your tips, you captured his lips in a searing kiss as he guided you back onto the bed, his strong hands mapping the curves of your body with reverent touches.

Your hair spilled across the pillow as you lay back, hips raised by the thick cushion beneath you. Anakin's lips trailed hot kisses up your calf, along your inner thigh, as he positioned himself between your spread legs. You flexed your thighs, wrapping them around your hips as he rubbed the swollen head of his cock against your slick entrance.

The first touch of his thick length against your sensitive folds made you gasp, pleasure coiling tight in your belly. "Ready?" Anakin murmured, his husky voice with desire. You shook your head, pushing your hips forward, urging him on. With a low groan, he guided his cock inside, inch by torturous inch, stretching you, filling you in the most delicious way.

"Oh fuck," you moaned as he hilted himself fully, your walls clenching around his throbbing hardness. For a moment, he held still, letting you both savor the exquisite sensation of being joined so intimately. The way your heat enveloped him was almost enough to make him come undone, but he held back, wanting this night to be about your pleasure, about driving you to the heights of ecstasy.

Gripping your hips, he began to move, his powerful thrusts driving him deep, his pelvis grinding against yours with each stroke. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall as he took you with wild abandon, chasing your pleasure with a single-minded focus.

Your nails raked down his back as you met his thrusts, lost in the delicious friction, the building pressure low in your belly. "Yes, Anakin, just like that," you cried out, your voice ragged with need. "Harder, please, I'm so close."

He obeyed, pistoning into you with deep, forceful strokes, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Reaching between your bodies, he found your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles.

Anakin could feel your body tensing beneath him, your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock as he drove into you with deep, powerful thrusts. He redoubled his efforts, grinding his pelvis against yours, hitting that sweet spot inside you with each stroke.

"That's it, baby, let go for me," he growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "Cum on my cock, I want to feel you coming apart in my arms."

His words felt a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you cried out, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you, your vision whiting out as you clenched around him like a vice.

Anakin groaned, his spasming walls milking his cock, threatening to push him over the edge. But he held back, wanting to prolong your pleasure, to make you come again before he found his own release.

He slowed his thrusts, gentleling his touch as you started to come down from your high. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting the sweetness of your pleasure.

"You're so beautiful when you cum" he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with adoration. "I want to see you come undone again and again."

Still buried deep inside you, he rolled you over, so you were straddling his hips. Reaching up, he cupped your breasts, thumbing your nipples as he guided your hips in a slow, sensual grind against him.

"Ride me, little angel," he encouraged, his hands gripping your hips, steadying you as you found your rhythm. "show me what you got”

You obliged, rising up on your knees before sinking back down, relishing the delicious stretch, the marvelous fullness of having him so deep inside you. You braced your hands on your chest, your hips rolling and undulating as you rode him with wild abandon, your hips rising and falling, your slick walls gripping him like a tight, velvet glove. 

Anakin's hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of soft skin, igniting sparks of pleasure with every touch. He could feel another orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, your nails digging into his chest as you lost yourself to the primal rhythm of your bodies joining.

"Yes, just like that," Anakin groaned, his hips snapping up to meet your downward thrusts. "Fuck, you feel incredible."

You could feel his cock twitching inside you, growing even harder, if that were possible. The thought of him losing control, coming undone because of you, pushed you closer to the edge.

Your head fell back, your hair cascading down your back as you lost yourself to the pleasure, chasing your release. Anakin's thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles around the sensitive nub, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through your body.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice guttural, primal. “I want to feel you melt into me, little angel”

His words were your undoing, and with a keening cry, you shattered, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashed over you in intense, mind-numbing waves. Your walls clenched around him, trying to take him to paradise he seemed to so easily bring to you.

Anakin's hips were still moving, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he neared his own peak. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, the head swelling, growing even harder. "I'm close," he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Fuck, I'm going to cum."

His words feel a fresh wave of desire through you, and you clenched around him, eager to feel him come undone, to have him fill you with his essence.

"Do it," you urged, your voice breathy, needy. "Cum inside me, Anakin. I want to feel you."

With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep, his hips stuttering as his orgasm hit him like a supernova, a stellar explosion so powerful that it knocked him off his feet, as if he had been transported to a magical realm, leaving his mind with an explosion of sensations and colors.

His cock pulsed inside you, his hot seed spurting against your walls as he came with a force that left him shaking. You moaned as you felt him filling you, his release triggering another small orgasm of your own. Your walls fluttered around him, milking every last drop as he emptied himself inside you.

Anakin collapsed back against the bed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled you down on top of him, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close as the aftershocks of pleasure rolled through you both.

You could feel his heart pounding against your cheek, his skin slick with sweat. He nuzzled into your hair, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your forehead, your cheek.

"That was…" he started, his voice rough, emotion thick in his words. "Fuck, little angel, that was incredible. You're incredible."

You hummed in agreement, a satisfied smile curving your lips as you snuggled closer, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking. His softening cock was still nestled inside you, his release still warm and wet between your legs.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a sweet lullaby against the steady rhythm of his heart. Your fingers traced lazy circles where his heart beat steadily beneath your palm, a testament to the love that flowed between you. The intensity of your shared pleasure had left you boneless, your eyelids growing heavy as you drifted on the waves of satisfaction.

"I love you too, my little angel," Anakin murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your hair, his lips lingering in the softness of your strands. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if you were the most precious treasure in the galaxy.

As you both drifted off to sleep, entwined in each other's arms, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you in a muffle of love and contentment. The moonlight streamed through the window, casting a soft glow on your intertwined bodies, a heavenly blessing on the love you shared.

In the stillness of the night, your heartbeat syncopated with his, a beautiful melody that spoke of a love that transcended time and space, a love that would endure, no matter what challenges the future might bring.

[fruitjoos]

what are you thankful for?

pairing: patrick zweig x reader

contains: the normal angst, mentions of cheating

note: that one holiday special ep where the couple argues for the entire duration and realizes they aren’t as happy with each other as they think lol

You both walked through the door, fresh from dinner at the Donaldsons’. You hated how pretentious that sounded—‘dinner at the Donaldsons’. Worse, you wished you’d thought to turn the heat on before you left. Now the cold air creeping through the drafty windows painfully pricked at your skin.

Patrick let out a frustrated sigh behind you, but you ignored it. The click of your heels rippling on the hardwood as you made your way to the thermostat in the den before heading for the bedroom.

“So, we’re just gonna pretend like everything’s fine?” Patrick called after you, his voice pressing. “Like you didn’t notice it?”

He’d been picking at this since you left dinner, his words distinct the second his seatbelt clicked into place. The drive home had been a gauntlet of accusations—did you remember what he said to you during dinner? Did you even care? It wasn’t that you hadn’t been listening; it was just simply a lot. Too many questions, too much wine, too much of whatever was emerging slowly.

You sighed, unclasping your earrings as you stood by the dresser. “Notice what, Patrick?”

“Dude, don’t do that.” He followed you into the bedroom, standing just inside the doorway, his hands on his hips. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

You caught his reflection in the mirror as you placed your earrings down, his face knotted up, fighting the urge to spill whatever bitterness he was holding.

“I really don’t have the energy for this right now,” you muttered, reaching behind you to unzip your dress.

Patrick scoffed, stepping forward. “Of course you don’t. Convenient, isn’t it? You didn’t have the energy to sit through dinner without staring at Art like he hung the damn moon either.”

Your hands froze on the zipper. “I was not—”

“You were,” he cut you off, his voice rising. “The way you were looking at him. Laughing at his stupid jokes. You don’t even laugh like that with me anymore.”

You turned to face him, dress half unzipped, the tension already fraying your patience. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” His arms crossed, his tone sharper now. “And at the table—when I reached for your hand? You pulled away. What was that about?”

You laugh, almost in disbelief, kicking off your heels. “That's what this is about? I let go of your hand? You’re mad over that?”

“It’s not just that, and you know it.” His voice was much louder now, breaking slightly. “It’s everything. You’re distant, distracted—”

“Oh my God,” you interrupted, shaking your head as you walked toward the bathroom. “You’re such a crybaby. All this over me not holding your hand? Grow up, Patrick.”

“Crybaby?” He followed you, his voice cracking with frustration. “You think this is some game? You think I’m just being dramatic?”

You grabbed your face wash, intentionally avoiding his gaze. “I think you’re looking for a fight, and I’m not giving you one.”

“You already are,” he responded abruptly. “Every time you brush me off like this, every time you act like I’m the problem for noticing—”

“Noticing what?” You whirled around, water dripping from your hands. “That I didn’t laugh at your jokes? That I didn’t hold your hand? God forbid I exist for five minutes without catering to your fragile ego.”

His jaw clenched, his face flushing. “It’s not about my ego. It’s about respect. About the fact that I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, but half the time, I feel like I’m just there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, brushing past him to grab a towel. “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.”

“Am I?” His voice followed you as you moved back to the bedroom, his frustration growing with every step. “Tell me I’m wrong, then. Tell me you weren’t staring at Art tonight like you wished you were with him instead of me.”

You froze, towel twisted in your hands. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Tell me.” He stepped closer, his voice low and insistent.

“Enough, Patrick.” You tossed the towel onto the bed, your movements conscious. “And I’m done with this conversation.”

“Well, I’m not!” he shouted, and the force of it filled the room. “Because this is what you do. Every single time. You brush me off, call me dramatic, and then go on like nothing’s wrong.”

You turned to him, your patience snapping. “What do you want from me? An apology? Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t perform some perfect version of a girlfriend for you at dinner tonight. Happy now?”

“No, I’m not happy!” His fists closed, his voice bare. “Because it’s not just tonight. It’s everything. I’m here fighting for us and you’re just letting everything slip away.”

For a moment, the room fell silent, his words sinking in. You stared at him, your heart thumping loud inside your chest.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you said quietly.

He shook his head, the fight draining from his posture. “I just want to feel like you still care.”

You didn’t answer, and after a minute, he turned and left the room.

When the door shut behind him, it didn’t slam. But the sound of it carried louder than anything else.

You sank onto the bed, hands trembling as you pressed them to your face. Somewhere in the apartment, a door slammed.

You stayed there, not moving, letting the blaring silence surround you. The fight replayed in your mind, each word as clear as it had been when screamed, each accusation sticking the landing.

You thought it was over. You thought the slammed door was his way of drawing the line, of letting the tension dissipate somewhere else in the apartment. But then you heard his footsteps again, heading back toward the bedroom.

You didn’t look up when he stopped in the doorway.

You slipped your rings off, placing them carefully into the gold bowl on your nightstand.

Patrick lingered, his presence evident as you tugged your sleep mask into place. The room was faint except for the warm radiance of his own bedside lamp.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

You didn’t answer, refusing to rise to the bait.

He let out an angered breath, the tension in him coiling tighter. And then, like a wire snapping under too much pressure, he said, “Maybe I should’ve just slept with Tashi when she asked me to.”

Slowly, you pushed the sleep mask back up, sitting up on your elbows, just enough to meet his gaze. “What the hell did you just say?”

“You heard me.” He crossed his arms, the only readable expression being the bitterness that twisted his mouth. “Maybe I should’ve. At least then, I wouldn’t feel like this—like I’m invisible to the person who’s supposed to care the most.”

Your jaw tightened as you straightened fully. “You’re insane. Trying to make me jealous over something that didn’t even happen? What’s the point, Patrick? What are you trying to prove?”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” he said, stepping closer, his tone defensive but laced with s bit of vulnerability. “I’m just saying maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’m begging for scraps of your attention if I had someone who actually gave a damn.”

You felt his words, the intention behind them, but you refused to let it show. “If you think sleeping with Tashi would’ve solved anything, then maybe you should’ve. Rewrite history if it makes you feel better.”

He let out a sour chuckle. “You don’t even care, do you? You’re sitting here acting like none of this matters, like I’m just making this up.”

“Because you are,” you bit back. “You’re picking a fight over something that didn’t happen, over a feeling you can’t even explain. If cheating would’ve fixed your issues, then maybe the problem isn’t me.”

“Don’t twist this,” he said, his voice cracking at the edges. “You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” You swung your legs off the bed, arms crossed. “That you’re so desperate for attention, you’d throw this in my face just to hurt me? Congratulations. It worked.”

His anger faltered, replaced by regret. “I’m drowning here. And you don’t care. You never care.”

You stood your ground, unwilling to give an inch. “You want me to care? Then stop acting like a child throwing tantrums to get a reaction.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. Instead, he shook his head, his shoulders slumping.

“Forget it,” he muttered, voice low, almost resigned. He turned, grabbing a pillow from the bed, and walked out.

From the hallway, his voice came again, quieter this time but still carrying desperately. “I don’t know why you do this. You act like nothing I feel matters. Like it’s all just a joke to you.”

You let out a long breath, finally dropping your hands from your face. “Patrick,” you said, softer now, but tired.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He didn’t respond, his silhouette disappearing into the living room as he tossed the pillow onto the couch.

[kitashousewife]

sakusa yawns as he opens the front door to your shared home. he’s been gone for five days. five days of games, practices, clinics, trainings, and travel. he hasn’t had a second to himself and he hasn’t slept well at all.

“welcome home kiyoomi,” you smile with your arms out wide, and he comes crashing into you. he holds you close, ignoring the scattering of his belongings on the floor for now.

“did you have fun?” you mumble into his chest and he shakes his head.

“too long,” he yawns once more and you chuckle.

sakusa has decided he cannot live without you.

“is that so?” you pull away and ignore his rather emphasized pout, opting to grab his bags instead. “do you want something to eat?”

“m’good,” his words are mumbled as he slips off his jacket and shoes. “ate on the plane.”

you nod and shut the lights off in the kitchen while sakusa locks the door. he then begins to follow you as you walk through the house like a puppy. shuffling behind you while you set the thermostat, padding down the hallway while you separate his clothes into the laundry piles for the next day, and stopping once he finally enters the bedroom.

“do you want any tea?”

“not thirsty,” he grabs some pajamas from the closet gently as his limbs are feeling heavier by the minute.

to someone on the outside, sakusa would seem cold and distant in moments like these. but you know better than anyone that he’s exhausted. normally after short trips, sakusa can hardly get a breath in as he tells you everything he did while he was gone. this trip in particular was especially grueling though, and his body is feeling the effects.

you can tell in the look in his eyes, how he pulls you close and strokes your back, how he follows you around without a word just to be close to you that he loves you more than word could say right now.

“i’m sure you’re sore, i could run you a bath? i just got more of those bath salts at the store today that you like,” you grab a towel for him and hop up on the kitchen counter. he comes to stand in between your legs, resting his head on your shoulders.

“not tonight, too tired. a shower would be good,” his eyes are closed as he speaks, messy curls falling every which way over his forehead. you brush them back before planting a kiss to his lips and slip off the counter.

“you’re in luck, i picked up that body wash we liked from the store today. it was finally in stock,” the shower flicks on and you adjust the temperature for him, just how he likes.

“oh, thank you,” he throws his laundry into the hamper. and slips inside the shower just as steam fills the bathroom in warm embrace.

you leave him to it and fill your time with things to make his night a little easier. you plug in his charger for him, set his freshly cleaned and filled up water bottle on his nightstand, and put his bags away. by the time you slip into bed, sakusa walks out of the bathroom with pajamas on, hair dripping wet, and very tired eyes.

“god i missed our bed,” sakusa sighs as he nestles in behind you and pulls you close. “thanks for putting everything away,” he kisses your head. you turn around to face him and wrap yourself around his torso. he chuckles. “someone miss me?”

“a little,” your cheek is pressed up against his chest while your arms wrap around his torso, legs intertwined. “sounds like a rough trip.”

sakusa scoffs. “absolutely ridiculous. nothing professional about any aspect of it,” he huffs, and even though the room is pitch black you can sense his eyeroll. “i’ll tell you more about it in the morning though, i’m so tired i can’t think straight,”

“get some sleep omi,” your voice is a whisper as your body finds comfort in your lovers embrace at last. his eyes are heavy and his breathing becomes deeper in a matter of seconds.

typically, sakusa tells you multiple times how much he loves you before the two of you even shut your eyes, and once or twice more as he begins to fall asleep. but tonight there wasn’t a peep between either of you.

the two of you fall asleep, tangled together under the blankets and immersed in the safety of each other after five long days.

[gyubakeries]

❆ 𝐠𝐲𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 : 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬! ❆ | 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 <𝟑

❆ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 10: making hot chocolate | x.mh

a/n: hi! welcome to day 10 <3 need me someone to make hot chocolate with 🙏 also yes i totally used my username for minghao here in my text imagine too (i wrote this first) - IT WAS TOO GOOD NOT TO

word count: 936 contents: minghao x gn!reader , established relationship , fluff , christmas fun , minghao is silly in this one , bro forgot to meditate , but its bcs hes a simp fr , making hot chocolate , cuddling

you (20:30 p.m) :

hao hao

when are you getting off workkk

its so cold and lonely here without my bf.....

xiaolong-hao💗 (20:35 p.m.) :

ur so dramatic

be there in 10

you (20:38 p.m.) :

hahaha ur so funny

wdym be there in 10

ur office is 30 mins away?

u better not be breaking any traffic laws xu minghao

(read at 20:38 p.m.)

—

turns out, minghao wasn't breaking any traffic laws, because he didn't drive his car home.

instead, he did in fact show up at the door ten minutes later, panting heavily. he simultaneously looked like he just finished the most exhausting workout and like he was two seconds away from freezing into an icicle.

"hao? what the hell!" you exclaim in concern, dragging your boyfriend into the house immediately. you steer him over to the couch and sit him down, rushing over to the thermostat to turn up the heater.

"are you insane? what happened? were you getting chased by the cops?" you fire one question after the other, grabbing blankets to swaddle him in warmth.

once he was wrapped in blankets and his shivering stopped, he spoke up.

"you said you were lonely at home," he says. "and i did say i'll be back in ten."

"are you cra- did you run back home?"

"yes," he gulps. "i ran back home."

you can only gape at him in shock, eyes nearly bulging out of your skull.

"my car's in the shop, so it was either the train back or mingyu dropping me off. but i thought it'd be faster for me to walk-"

"you ran," you correct him. "you're such an idiot, i was just joking! what if you got frostbite or something?"

you don't give minghao any warning before you tackle him into a hug, plopping into his lap. your embrace fills him with warmth, even with the hundreds of blankets (there were only two) separating the two of you.

"i made it alive though," he smiles sheepishly, and you sigh, feigning annoyance.

"you're lucky i love you," you roll your eyes jokingly, now curled up against his chest in an effort to bring him back to a normal temperature.

"i sure am."

—

after you both ate dinner and minghao was showered and warm, he comes out of the bedroom to see you in the kitchen, sitting on the kitchen island and watching tiktoks.

"hey, what you up to?" he asks, coming to stand between your legs and taking a look at your phone.

"i wanna make hot chocolate," you sigh. "i've been craving it for so long but i'm way too lazy to make it."

"you're so silly," minghao nags. "what do you have me for?"

"you'll make me some?" you gasp, eyes lighting up.

"of course i will, love," minghao smiles, his smile only growing wider when you lean in to hug him and press several kisses of excitement all over his face.

when you were done with your kiss attack, minghao grabs a saucepan, and you grab the milk, cocoa powder, dark chocolate and some vanilla extract for him.

the ingredients are set next to the stove, and minghao pours some milk into the saucepan, enough for the both of you. you busy yourself with hugging minghao from the back, watching the milk come to a slight boil before he adds cocoa powder and stirs till the mixture is smooth.

he then adds the dark chocolate and a bit of the vanilla extract. you inhale contentedly when the rich aroma of chocolate fills the kitchen. soon, minghao is pouring the hot chocolate into two mugs, when you remember the most important ingredient.

"marshmallows!" you exclaim, going to the pantry to get the big marshmallows you had bought at the store earlier that week for this exact reason.

you add a generous amount of marshmallows to both the mugs, smiling cheerily as you add a few extra to your mug.

"all done?" minghao asks you, and you nod, so he places both the mugs on a tray and carries it out to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table. "let it cool for some time, or you'll burn your tongue."

"yes, grandma," you tease minghao, and he simply raises an eyebrow at you, his expression saying, 'really? grandma?'

while you wait for the hot chocolate to cool a bit, you both share stories of what happened in your day. you told minghao about the annoying receptionist at your office keeps sending you flowers and won't accept the fact that you're taken, and minghao has new gossip about a love triangle forming between his colleagues.

as you catch up with each other, the mugs of hot chocolate warm your cold palms, and its contents slowly start emptying out. soon, it's just you and your boyfriend, snuggled up against each other, finishing the last bits of your hot chocolate and enjoying each other's presence.

"i'm glad we get to spend another christmas together," your voice is barely louder than a whisper, but with how close you are to minghao, he can hear everything.

"i'll spend every christmas i have left with you," he replies, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "i love you."

"i love you too, hao," you hum.

(minghao eventually has to pry the empty mug out of your hands when you fall asleep in his arms, just to avoid any accidents.

he decides that he'd walk through the coldest of nights to get to you, as long as it meant that his heart would feel this warm just with your love.)

- fin.

divider made by @bernardsbendystraws !

main taglist: @min-imum @sousydive @k1eev @livelaughloveseventeen

series taglist in comments!

@unlikelysublimekryptonite @theidontknowmehn @baseball-dokyeom @wonuwrites

@t-102 @aaa-sia @cixrosie

comment on this post to be tagged on the upcoming fics!

head to the series masterlist - here <3

head to the masterlist for more!

[queen-of-the-avengers]

After All This Time

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: Car trouble puts you and your boss in an awkward position, especially when you two have so much history together.

Squares Filled: car trouble (2020) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

It’s a straight shot from your house to your job. Instead of taking the main roads and confronting traffic, you take the back roads which takes an extra ten minutes, but you make up for that with your speed. The windows are down, your hair is blowing in the wind, and your music is on full blast. You pass the halfway point when the thermostat goes from the neutral position to the big bolded H. Smoke immediately starters pouring out of the engine, and you slam on your breaks to prevent the car from blowing up.

“Shit! No, please don’t do this to me,” you beg to no one.

You get out of the car and pull your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your face while you inspect the damage. You pull the hood up and a cloud of smoke bellows in your face. You quickly turn and cough violently.

“No, no, no, this isn’t happening now,” you gasp. “Not today of all days.”

You don’t have time to wait for an Uber or Triple A, so the only other thing you can do is walk to work… in heels… on a dirt road. The time it will take to walk to work will be the same time or more waiting for an Uber or Triple A. Not only are you going to be late for work but you’ll have to apologize to your boss about it. Normally, that wouldn’t bother you but your boss just so happens to be your high school boyfriend.

Steve was the perfect boyfriend. He treated you with respect, didn’t undermine your values, supported you through everything, and loved you unconditionally. Everyone in school thought you two would be together forever and there was a point where you thought that, too. Right before graduation, you got an incredible opportunity to go to a different country and do a study abroad in Russia.

Steve got into Harvard for business and wanted you to go with him. You two applied for Harvard and you both got in, but you really wanted to go to Russia to study for a semester. To spare the sad details, you two broke up. It was one of the most difficult things you have ever done because you were still in love with him.

After coming back to the States, he was already in another relationship with someone. You never thought your story would end the way it did but you forced yourself to move on. For years, you thought you did. You had a few boyfriends but none of them had an impact the way Steve did.

Then one day, you got an amazing offer to work for Captain Industries as a sales director for the entire sales department. One of the job duties as a sales director is to report everything to the CEO, and luck had it that Steve was the CEO. You often had meetings with the different department directors who touch base with Steve so he knows what’s going on with his company.

The first day on the job, you and Steve locked eyes in the first meeting of the day. It had been years since you two have spoken much less seen each other, so you didn't want to make a big deal in front of everyone. You thought he would have said something after the meeting but he left like you didn’t mean a damn thing to him. Maybe he didn’t remember you, but how can someone forget the person who was their first for everything--first kiss, first date, first time you two held hands, first time you had sex, and the first time you ever gave anyone a promise ring. He was the love of your life but maybe you weren't his as much as he was yours.

When you finally reach work, you immediately head to the bathroom to fix yourself up. You must look like a sweaty mess, and your reflection confirms it. Despite the headache forming from how high your ponytail is, you keep your hair up. If you were to put it down, you’ll look worse. You look at the time and curse when you realize just how late you are for your morning meeting.

Forty-five fucking minutes. Steve is going to chew your ass out. You leave the bathroom and interrupt the morning meeting with an embarrassed look on your face. Everyone turns to look at you including Steve. He looks at your hair before locking eyes with you. Time seems to slow down the longer he looks into your eyes but you break eye contact.

“Sorry I’m late. Car trouble,” you mutter.

You quickly take a seat, and the director of marketing slides her notes over to you. You look at her gratefully and look over the notes just as the meeting resumes.

“As I was saying,” Steve says, peeling his eyes from you, “statistics show a slight decline in demand for products. Frank, have you hired two more manufacturing engineers?”

“Yes, we’re training them right now. We have been working hard creating more product.”

“Good. Y/N, how is your department doing?”

You snap your head up to look at Steve and sit up a bit straighter.

“We lost Marissa since she went on maternity leave but we won’t let that stop us from not picking up the slack. Her duties have been spread out throughout the different managers to give to their employees. I have seen a rise in sales by ten percent.”

“Make it twenty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Meetings only last an hour since Steve is so busy so the next fifteen minutes go by easily. Jules lets you keep her notes to look over and copy if needed. Most people filter out immediately but you’re one of the last ones in so you can apologize to Steve directly.

“Listen, Steve, I’m sorry for being late. My car stalled on the side of the road on the way to work. I had to walk the entire way here.”

“I need your reports on my desk by the end of the day.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

He must not be over your breakup because this isn’t the Steve you knew. You gather your things and head to your office. You almost cry from how stressed you are because you still have to deal with your car. Not to mention your headache is getting worse and you don’t have a brush to fix your hair.

It takes all day to work on the reports for Steve so you’re one of the last ones in the office even though you still have two more hours until the end of the work day. You could leave since you’re salaried but you need to make up time for being late. You walk to his office and knock once on the door, entering when he gives you permission.

“I have the reports for you.” You walk over to his desk and place them there but you don’t leave just yet. “Again, I’m sorry for being late.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. It happens.” Steve looks up and sees you squeeze your eyes tightly from the headache you have. “Come here.”

Steve stands when you approach him, and he gently takes the elastic out of your hair. He threads all ten fingers into your hair and starts massaging the area, and you close your eyes in relief. You open your eyes and look at Steve to see him already looking at you, and he sees the question in your eyes.

“High ponytails give you headaches.”

You’re shocked he remembered that. You were on multiple sports teams in high school and instead of putting your hair in a ponytail like the rest of the girls, you put it in a tight bun at the base of your neck.

“You remembered,” you whisper.

“There’s a lot I still remember.” Steve takes his hands away but doesn’t step back from you. “Go to my personal conference room and take a nap on the couch. You’re overworking yourself.”

“Steve--”

“I don’t want to hear it. Go take a nap and then I’ll drive you home. I’ll pick you up and drive you home until your car is fixed.”

He must not be in a relationship if he’s offering to do this for you. You’re not sure how you feel about that--scratch that you do know how you feel but you’re not sure if he feels the same about it. You slowly walk to the door but pause before you can leave the room. You look at Steve who is already typing away on his computer.

“Now, Y/N,” he says without looking up.

You jump and immediately leave with a smile on your face. The time for you and Steve wasn’t right back then but there’s nothing stopping you from making it right now.

x

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[junedenim]

everything is romantic

an island getaway

warnings: smut, fluffy fluff, blowjob, eating out, & the p goes in the v

word count: 6.6k

"Get off the computer!" Alex yelled from the other room.

"I'm not on my computer!" You yell back as you continue to type on your computer. 

The air was hot in the rented house. Alex had spent the past 20 minutes trying to figure out how to turn on the AC that the lessor advertised the place as having but had remained to be found. You weren't supposed to be working. That had been part of the rules set but it felt like emails hardly qualified in that category. You could easily be getting an email from your mother so is there really a difference, even if you are answering an email from your boss?

"Get off the computer!" His voice was nearer this time, closer to the bedroom, but still in the hallway.

"Shush!" You sound back.

You hear his feet padding into the room and you don't try to hide what you're doing. You both knew what you were doing. "What do I see here? You're on your computer."

You momentarily pause to turn around in your chair to look at him. A trickle of sweat lines him, which doesn't help cool you down by any means. His hair is messed about meaning he definitely did not find the thermostat and was pulling his hair out over not finding the thermostat. "I'm just emailing Coco and then I'll be done." Coco, your insufferable boss. You didn't mind her, you quite liked her compared to previous bosses. Alex hated her guts. You might as well have been handcuffed to your laptop these past months.

"Why didn't you just ask Coco to come with us if you were going to email her the whole time?"

He's annoyed. You're a bit annoyed too but responding to an email is nothing, especially since you weren't planning to do anything today anyway. To Alex, doing nothing today was kind of the point. 

You roll your eyes and turn back to the laptop. Alex moves closer, he leans his arms down onto the desk, trapping you in your seat. His mouth slides up against your ear. "No emails."

"Just this one. Okay?" You promise. Well, lie.

"I don't believe you." He kisses your neck. It's slow and teasing. He's messing with you—creating an itch that needs to be scratched. He itches his way down. "You're not even out of your airport clothes?" You're still dressed in jeans and even Alex has changed into shorts. He kisses your collarbone before reaching down to the ends of the white blouse you're wearing and pulling it up. Your arms block him from taking it off all the way but that doesn't prevent him from squeezing your bra-covered boob.

"Alex, come on," you urge.

His non-boob-squeezing hand reaches around you and shuts the laptop. "It's vacation time." You sigh and give in then. He pushed the cup of her left boob down and started playing with its nipple. It's a weakness. He fiddles with it. You often joke he is trying to turn the volume up by the way he turns it and by the way you moan louder from it. He mouths away at your neck, slowly, teasingly, skillfully going at it.

"Aren't you hot? I'm hot," Alex says. You quickly oblige to what he's hinting at and raise your arms for him to pull off your blouse all the way. He takes his shirt off too, something he probably would have done eventually because of the heat. 

His chest has a sheen of sweat over it that makes you want to lick him. Is that crazy? To picture him as some human popsicle? He is what you need to quench your thirst. The cold beverage in this boiling bungalow. You both want to take a bite of him and watch him melt. You figure he's too tasty to be ignored, so you rush out of your chair and down onto your knees.

The perk of him changing out of his airport outfit and there is no need to work a belt off of him. You're quick in your unbuttoning of his blue Bermuda shorts. You don't bother to push down his shorts or underwear, instead electing to reach into his underwear to grab his cock. You're wrapping your hands around it when he quips, "I'll give you a job to do."

You start giggling at his penis before looking up to see him peering down at you with a chuckle. It makes you laugh more. You duck your head into his lower stomach to hide your laughter. It redistributes it into Alex's body, vibrating its way up his spine. 

His fingers thread through your hair in a shared reassuring matter but also slightly urging you to attend to his hard dick, still in your hand. You lift your head and gaze up at him with a slight remaining giggle before kissing his tip slowly. The remaining smile you have turns him on more and with his hand still in your hair, he pushes the back of your head urging you forward more.

You accept his request and wrap your lips around his cock. You take all of him in, wetting his cock, so you can easily rub your hand up and down. You stare up at him. You like doing it when you're blowing him and he really likes it when you do it. Each time you place him in your mouth, his eyes flutter making you wetter with each blink. When he hits the back of your throat, your eyes close tight before you pop off of him, you open your eyes wide, and bat your lashes. Then, you do it all over again.

His hand tightens and releases around your hair several times with each moan that he can't help but utter. Alex is soft with you, not wanting to hurt you in any way. You gag around his cock and he pulls you off him and wordlessly bends down to kiss you.

He lays you down and follows you down onto the floor. The kisses get heavier as he lies on top of you. His hand grabs the side of your waist and yours are on the back of his head, keeping his lips on yours. 

Alex's hand travels down your side to your right leg. He urges the leg up and you wrap it around his back, pulling him into you. His hard cock rubs against the rough denim material covering your center. 

There's an urgency to this. Foreplay suffers in the need for completion on both of your ends. He unbuttons your jeans and begins to push them down. You break your kiss to help pull them off your legs, your panties following in tow. He lifts himself to pull them off your feet, turning the jeans inside out in the quickest rush to get them off. 

You pull Alex back on top of you at the first sign your jeans are off. Your lips are back on each other like they are attacking one another. You curl your left hand around the back of his neck, toying with the ends of his hair. 

He raises himself, halfway into a plank, and reaches down to line himself up. He enters slowly, just his tip, but you're in the need for haste. You curl your legs around his waist tightly and pull him close to you, therefore having him plunge deep. 

The quick sensation has you slamming your hands onto his back, hugging him down onto you. Alex lets out a deep moan right next to your ear. He bucks into quick, understanding what you both want. You're tight around him and it feels like he is in another world, lost in the feeling of being in you. 

He wasn't sure if it was you squeezing around him or the thought that you were on an island vacation that meant endless amounts of sex for a week. It wasn't a honeymoon, no matter how much your friends kept joking it was. There was a time, deep in childhood innocence, that you thought you would save yourself for marriage, mainly because boys were icky and if you had to do it at some point then your husband would probably be okay for that. You told him all this the first time you were together. Generally, it scared off men to know the women they picked up at a bar was talking about the sex that they would have on their wedding night, but it only endeared Alex to you. The cute way you had laid on your back, the white sheets tangled around you making you look like a bride. Your hair—short back then—scruffed up on the pillow. You talked with your hands, dancing them around the air, and telling a story with just them. Nothing was told in an expected way. 

You had no plans to spend a life with the guy from a bar you hooked up with. Then, he told you about how during the summer before he started secondary school he used to hide under his covers reading encyclopedias because he was nervous he wouldn't be smart enough. He had a buzzcut and laid on his stomach when he talked. He had looked restless at the bar but peaceful beside you. His arms were tucked under his pillow but later on, after all the sex when you were just telling stories, he draped an arm over your stomach. Warmth, Alex had always brought that.

The sex you were having now. This was the sex you dreamt of losing your virginity on your wedding night too. So, if it had to be your "honeymoon" sex then it was well-suited. You felt weak under him, like a shaken leaf from his branches. It sounded vaguely misogynistic when he said it, like you were Eve coming from Adam's rib even though that didn't make much sense because didn't Adam have to have a mother? Don't all children come from their mother's ribs? Alex liked thoughts like this that you had. He called them "sex thoughts" because you'd whisper them to him after the act. Most men would be offended by the thought that the woman they were fucking had the ability to think about Biblical figures during sex. Alex saw it as inspiring you.

He thrust deep, hitting the ridge in the back of you. "Fuck," you muttered. You tended to do that too. The babbling during sex. Your eyes roll back when he hits it again, another "Fuck" drops from your lips.

Then, he's teasing, taking himself out to his tip and then slamming back into you. "Holy fuck." That was always a good sign. 

Alex takes himself to the tip again. He holds himself there too long. You're whiny and desperate and reaching the end, orgasm in sight. You buck your hips up. It causes him to stumble, his elbows bend. His chest lands on you, suffocating you down. His cock deep, his heavy breathing and moans against your ear, his chest to your chest. You wrap your arms around him again and hold him to you. 

You roll your hips up making him moan a "Fuck" of his own. He raises himself up again to thrust deep into you. You stick two fingers into his mouth, tasting of the strawberries you made him stop to pick up on your way to the house. You slink your hand down to the space between his stomach and yours. He could feel the curve of her knuckle moving against him as you touched herself. His pace is getting messier. A clear sign of the impending finish.

"Alex," you whine.

"Yeah," he responds. He knows you're close. You're getting messy too. Your hips keep shuffling around and he tries to pin you with his own to keep you straight. Then, he lets out, "Fuck. I—uh, god, fuck."

He manages to get in a few more pumps, feeling you clench up and squeeze around him before he finally allows himself to release into you. You would throw your head back if it wasn't rested against the floor. Alex buries his in the crook of your neck. Instinctively, you grab a hold of the back of his head, clutching his hair roughly. 

He sinks deeply into you, out of breath, and tired from holding himself up the whole time. You love holding him back, but he's worried about squashing you to death. He pulls himself out of you and lies beside you. You're scattered toys on a child's playroom floor. You feel his cum leaking out of you, something you used to find gross, but now feels weird when he doesn't finish inside you. Sometimes, if it's his birthday or you're trying to cheer him up, you'll let him cum on your tits. He tells you he isn't sure if he enjoys it because you rarely do it or if he actually likes doing it. 

"I didn't even take my bra off." One of your bra cups was pulled down, exposing your boob, and, on the other side, the strap was pulled down, barely hanging onto your body.

"I didn't even take my shorts off." His shorts lay in a tangled blue puddle around his ankles, his underwear hanging an inch off the rest. 

"Well, you had a job to do." You both burst out laughing. The sun leaking through the windows feels nice.

*

Alex tied the knot in the back of your bikini. Why did he tie the knot in the back of your bikini? You're putting sunscreen on. The cream kind all over your arms. He's waiting for you to ask him to do your back. You already did his. Before he even stepped outside. He burns like a tomato and you seem to always get this golden tan that he will admit he'd be jealous of if you didn't look much better with it than he would.

You're talking about the email Coco sent you but he tends to tune out when Coco is mentioned these days and you're dressed in that white bikini. "Can you do my back?" Ding, ding, ding! 

He must look like a lunatic the way he jumps up from his chair to grab the lotion bottle out of your hand. You're not oblivious. Alex has confessed to this turn-on of his when you first started dating and you went to some Malibu beach together. His slowness in rubbing the lotion in made you ask him what was taking so long and he had answered, "I'm savouring it."

Alex is savouring it now. He was bordering on giving you a massage, which you can't complain about as he gives special attention to your shoulders. Then, he's placing kisses on her shoulder.

"I'm not having sex on the beach with you, bunny." Another confessed fantasy.

He whines, "Come on. Isn't that the whole reason why we picked this house? There's nobody here." The house was only a few yards from the beach and you were nervous at night that the tide might sweep the house away. True, you hadn't seen a single person since sitting out on the beach. However, sex on the beach was reserved for cocktails only.

"I thought we picked it for the balconies." That was your fantasy. Too many readings and watchings of Romeo & Juliet. If Alex could climb the pipes up to the balcony, you would cream yourself.

Alex stops his sunscreen rubbing and turns into your eyeline. "No, honey, you picked it for the balconies. I picked it for a week of naked you. Indoor, outdoor, house, ocean, sand, I could go on."

You laugh and shake your head. "I am not having sex in the sand. I'll be finding it up there for months."

"I'll do a good job."

"I don't doubt you would."

You had generally been against public sex ever since one night, early on in dating Alex when you got caught in a club bathroom. Alex was spared any embarrassment, having all his clothes on. You had your bare chest exposed. It had generally been kept in houses since then. Although, you did seem to cover most surfaces. Bed, bedroom floor, kitchen counters, kitchen floor, shower, bathroom counters, you could go on. Never the bathroom floor though, maybe you'll do that here. The bathroom is pretty big.

*

Alex's shirts are your generally preferred vacation outfits. He wasn't much bigger than you but his shirts hung loose and were breezy in the summer air. They made good cover-ups for swimwear. This one, blue and white striped, was your favourite. You wore jean shorts with it and cheap sandals as you strolled into the little town just off the way of the beach.

"I'd like to grow old in a place like this," you say. It's quaint and foreign. A little seaboard town. A place where no one knew them. Alex's fame wasn't much of a problem. You adjusted easily to it once you found out the level of it. Something that had surprised him, though he never told you that. You were young but past the point where you were worrying about zits and fake IDs. Settling down felt far away and close at the same. If Alex wanted to, you would. As long as you got to pick where you lived. 

Alex swings your hands in between you two. You both walk in short steps, taking in each piece of the town. You have a bounce in your step as you cheer about the town. "It seems like a place that would add 10 years onto your life," Alex adds. He had the thought that he was 10 years older than you. Does that mean he'd die first? He'd be fine with that. He thinks you have much more strength than him and could probably survive his death. If you were to die, he'd curl up into a ball in stay there. You'd probably grab martinis with friends after his funeral and he supports that.

"Fountain of youth. Although, isn't that supposed to be in Florida?" You wonder aloud.

"The fountain of youth is definitely not in Florida."

"Aren't I your fountain of youth?" You tease him. You did this often, teasing him over the age gap. It made him uncomfortable early on. Like he was taking advantage of you in some way. It made him feel particularly icky over a dinner where you had said, "Am I your sugar baby or something?" It was a joke but he was caught up in what you thought of him, what others thought of him. You had only been going out for a few weeks, not even officially dating yet. Then, when the check came around that night, you insisted on paying. Then, he felt ridiculous for ever taking your jokes as actual blows against him. They were more often than not just jokes about how old he was, which he could accept (most of the time).

No quip was returned before you dropped his hand and jumped up and down. "Ice cream!" Yeah, there might be a 10-year age difference but even Alex might jump up and down for ice cream. Well, ice cream with you licking the ice cream. He's horny first, human second.

Later, Alex and you sit in the ice cream parlour each equipped with an ice cream cone. The place has a singular small fan going, every 30 seconds you feel a slight gust of wind, which soothes your burning skin. "Ice cream is much better here than in America."

You had an impassioned hatred for America, which he never understood. You were American—well, mostly American—you had lived there your whole life—again mostly—your friends were America—again, again, mostly—you had met each other in America, fucked in America, fell in love in America, lived together in America, and, eventually, moved away from America. He thinks it has something to do with your mother.

He hums in agreement and settles at watching your tongue swish around the ice cream's tip, imagining scenes from earlier this morning. He is already biting into his cone. 

Alex leans closer, up against your ear, whispering, "You want to go to the bathroom?"

You pull back to look him in the face, gifting him an eye roll. "I may be younger than you, Alex, but I was potty-trained."

His hand, resting on the curve of your waist, yanks you toward him. "There's no one in here. No one to walk in."

"Yeah, except the one employee who is going to notice his only two customers go into the bathroom together. We're 5 minutes from the house, if you want to go back and have me suck you off we can do that." The 15-year-old boy at the counter looked harmless and would likely be too afraid to prevent them from doing anything but he would concede that you had a point.

"You're so romantic."

"You're the one who wants me to do you in the bathroom."

*

He watches you in the pool. When you returned to the house, you didn't do each other. With the same enthusiasm that you had for the ice cream, you shed your clothing racing for the pool. Your shirt of his lay at his feet, disappointingly not leading to a naked you. He grabs a fresh towel for you and watches you splash around. Cheering for him to watch, here's my front flip, back flip, handstand, front flip into back flip into handstand.

He watches 5 minutes of this before it becomes repetitive and he turns to the book he brought out to read. The sun shines perfectly on his book and perfectly on you. 

3 pages in something lands at his feet. A wet white bikini top. If this wet white bikini top is at his feet, then where is yours? His gaze moves slowly to the pool. You're acting oblivious, underwater, avoiding his eyes. When you come up, your back is to him. Turn around, turn around, turn around. 

You're slow. You've always been a teaser. His breath is slow, hitched in his throat. He has made a point not to move, not wanting to distract himself with the flick of his own wrist.

Then, suddenly, you turn quickly, slingshot a bunch of white fabric flying toward him. Plop! At his feet again, your swim bottoms. By the time his eyes have lifted from the bunch of clothing, you've already dove back underwater. His eyes trail over the blurry curve of your skinny-dipping body. This is vacation.

You know what you're doing. You come up on the side closest to him, propping your arms up on the pool's edge. Your nude body is completely blocked. Your hair is sleeked back, giving him a detailed drawing of your face that he only quite gets when your hair is wet. Pet back in the shower, sleeked back in the pool.

"What are we having for dinner?" You smirk at him. A siren. 

"Whatever you want." He can play along. Try his best to act uninterested despite the object hardening in his shorts.

"Do you want to eat out or in?" Your smile is a beam. A sight that happens often but not for more than a second before a burst of laughter. You've held it for 30 seconds now.

Alex looks down on his book. His eyes skim but he is pretty sure he can't even read the English language at this point. "Whatever you want." He prays for you to say in so they can order it, fuck, pay the delivery guy, fuck until the food is cold, reheat the food, fuck, eat, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'm tired. Let's eat in. There should be takeaway menus in one of the kitchen drawers." You better not be tired.

"I'll go grab them after I finish this page." It should take about a decade for him to get through this page.

He hears a splash and looks up. You're back underwater, kicking your feet loudly. When you first got together, back during that rough buzzcut season of his life when he was in the perils of a near-mental breakdown and you were supposed to be a girl in a series of other girls until you weren't, Alex and you spent entire lifetimes out in his pool. You were relatively poor by comparison, sharing an apartment with 2 other people. No pool, no privacy. You joked with Alex sometimes that you'd never be together without those two things.

In those first few weeks, when the title of your relationship rested in the firmly sexual position, you'd do what you were doing now. The difference was Alex was usually in the pool with you, with equal nude-ship status. You fucked in the pool, multiple times. You fucked in the hot tub, multiple times. Now, he'd like to fuck in this pool or near it, he doesn't have to get wet, only you do.

"Water girl!" He yelled out. At the far end of the pool, you look behind your shoulder. The waves of the water shield any good view of your body. "Come here."

You push off the wall in his direction. Your hands wrap around the edge of the pool, hanging off of it. "Yes?"

"Come here." Alex gestures you out of the pool.

You bite your lip and sit your chin on the pool's edge. With a slight shake of your head, you say, "Too hot. Did you decide on dinner?"

"I didn't get the menus yet."

"Well, why don't you go do that?" You're manipulative and exploitative, dangling your body in front of him and snatching it away. 

Thinking the dinner menus might get you out of the pool, he shuts the unread book, and heads to the kitchen. It takes him about 3 drawers to find the stack of menus tucked in the back. He thinks tomorrow you both should go to the grocery store a couple of streets down and he'll cook dinner. You're a rotten cook. You lived off fruit, McDonald's, and the kindness of friends before you met him. If there is any time he does feel like a sugar daddy is when he is servicing you with meals. You attempted to cook a meal together once and you had sliced your hand within the first 5 minutes.

When he turns around, a blur passes through the kitchen. He glances down at the puddles of water across the wood-paneled floor. He abandons the menus in favour of chasing that blur. You're easy to catch up to, you've made your way to the living room. Alex stands at the archway, blocking you in.

You stand, dripping, in the corner of the room. Your arms are covered over your boobs. Your legs are slightly crossed at your ankles. "What's your next move here, Turner?" You ask teasingly.

He stands back, trying to remain intact and undeterred. He crosses his arms. "I'm the one with the exit. You, my friend, are trapped in."

You bite your bottom lip and shake your head. "I'm the one with the advantage."

"How's that?"

"No clothes weighing me down and you are a man with the inability to focus on anything when boobs are present." You drop your arms to your side. Boobs with water droplets running down the sides and perky nipples staring at him. 

Yes, he totally does get distracted by the boobs for a split second, but he is determined to stay resolute. He dashes across the room, eliciting a squeal from you before he even comes close to you. He reaches out trying to grab your slippery limbs. 

You're both laughing messes when he manages to curl an arm around your waist. Alex's stumbling and your weight makes you fall onto the couch. You scream. "We can't get the couch wet!"

His back lands on the couch preventing you from soaking the couch. Your wet hair lands in Alex's mouth as he says, "You want to do it on the floor again?"

"Can't we ever just do it in a bed?" His tight grip on you doesn't allow you to stand up, still stacked on top of him, despite your wriggling. 

"Not when you're running around wet and naked."

You're able to wriggle out of his grip and sit beside his lounging body on the couch. She smirks. "Why don't you hurry up and take your clothes off then?"

He shoves his shorts off pretty quickly after that command. With little hesitation, you straddle him, sinking onto him. That divine stretch has you unleashing a moan. He shivers from the chill you bring. You engulf him completely and lean down, scattering light kisses down his neck. 

You sit up, lifting yourself slowly and then dropping down quickly, similar to the way he slams into you when he's in control. You grind on him, back and forth, making him let out a growly moan. 

You place your hands on his upper chest. Your movements quicken and he places his hands lightly on your waist. He squeezes your skin when he moans. The sex itself is blurry like you running through the kitchen and his chase for his orgasm is short, already worked up from your teasing. Riding him often leads to a quickie. 

"Where do you wanna cum, huh?" You're sneering and flirty taunting smirk.

His eyes widen from their previous tightly shut state. "You're gonna let me cum on your tits?"

She nods. "Just don't get it in my hair." You say this every time. He never has but you still have this great fear of a drop getting into your hair.

After a few more bounces of friction, heat, skin-to-skin, and whimpering gasps, Alex urges you off of him. You promptly go down to your knees on the floor. Alex swings his legs onto the floor and reaches his climax too quick to stand up. A couple of pumps and ropes land on your chest. His aim is still on point. He throws his head back, resting it on the couch. You run your hand up his inner thigh in both a teasing and soothing manner. 

A beat passes before you stand up and peck his cheek. He blindly touches your elbow with a soft touch, trying to urge you to lie back down on top of him, chest-to-chest. 

You disconnect from him. "I'm gonna order dinner now!" He's completely spent and you're energetically scurrying back over to the kitchen. At least, he can admire your back as you leave. And your ass, he doesn't appreciate your cute little butt enough.

*

You've got his shirt on again, except now there's no bra underneath. The first few buttons have been left open allowing him to see that sacred curve. The two of you sit, eating at a little table on the patio that overlooks the ocean. Your hair has grown lighter in the sun, bouncing rays off of it. It's messily dried from its former wet state, making it look like a light aura surrounds you.

"I'm going to bring out the bottle of wine," you announce, rising from your chair. It doesn't help matters that you're only wearing your underwear underneath the linen fabric.

His dressed state isn't much different than yours. His own loose-fitted, casually unbuttoned shirt. His sunglasses covering his eyes. That chain of his catching the sun. His hair was fluffy, always fluffy. You started calling him bunny after his hair had grown back. The way it flops around now reminds you of a bunny's ear.

You returned with the bottle, refilling the glasses you had been nursing. Alex had lit a cigarette while you were inside the house, the smoke exhaling from his lips in a spin that made you feel a lustful dizz.

You pluck the cig from in between his fingers, taking a drag of your own. He felt guilt that he had gotten you into the habit but you used to be one of those annoying people who carried around a vape and constantly hit it (god, he sounded old). He guesses taking a couple of drags of his cigarettes beats the damage that would have done. 

You stick out your hand toward the setting sun, tracing the horizon as the cigarette billows smoke from it. "I wish we had this view all the time." The sky was a blue fading into a purple disappearing into a pinkish orange. It felt like a painting before you.

"Yeah, me too," he says. Your eyes dash over to look at him. His sunglasses are off and his eyes are on you. His irises looked honey-coloured with the way the remaining golden light hit them. 

You give him a crooked smile. "You get me all the time," you point out.

"Not as much as I want," he wishes. He lifts his hand and motions to you. "Come here."

You giggle. "Me or the cigarette?"

He chuckles. "Both of you." 

You hand the cigarette over and he takes it away from you and grabs your hand. You stand up, pick up your wine, and follow the tug from that hand. You land on his lap and his arm, once holding your hand, curls around you.

You sit peacefully watching the sunset. Alex takes slow puffs of his smoke and you wrap your arms loosely around his neck and rest your head on his chest. The air is quiet. You don't think you've ever been in a place this quiet, the only sound being Alex's heart beating against your ear. 

He drops the cigarette into the ashtray. With his newly freed hand, he runs it down your sternum into the shirt's opening. He goes up the hill and holds the soft skin of your left boob. "You feeling me up already?" You question.

You admire his profile. You think people should chisel statues out of it. Like David or atop Mount Rushmore. He's more good-looking than any dead president or Biblical king. His head shifts over to you, not able to fully look at you due to your head being on his shoulder. "Just keeping it there for warmth," he whispers. You giggle and tilt your head to kiss his jaw softly.

He doesn't make any moves to move things further, instead, he just sits there with you watching the setting sun.

*

You're in bed when he gets out of the shower—still, dressed in that shirt and that underwear. Good. Easy access. You've brought your computer to bed though, which doesn't help matters. He tries to mask a groan at the thought you're emailing Coco.

You turn your laptop around showing a map. "I was thinking tomorrow we could go for a hike. There's a little trail a short drive away." 

Hike? You want to hike? Your athletic activity had generally been limited to sex and playing mermaid in the pool. When he met you he was probably at his fittest and you joked that he was a gym rat with a particular focus on the rat part. You'd be in the middle of sex, riding him, his hands would be on your waist, guiding you, and you would reach down and wrap your hand around his biceps. He had smirked thinking a compliment was coming when you jabbed, "Are you on steroids?" 

It had all been jokes. You liked working out. Well, you liked watching him work out. Sweaty and spent looked good on him, not on you. You're happy to play cheerleader.

"Sure," he agreed, slipping on boxers. You rapidly clapped your hands delightedly, pulling the computer back onto your lap.

Alex turned the overhead light off and the room was dark beside your bedside lamp and the glow of your laptop. You had left the window open a crack, the ocean breeze drifting in, making the curtains blow around. 

He carefully crawled into bed beside you. He is almost certain his back got sunburned, despite the copious amounts of lotion you applied to it, multiple times. He looks over at your screen, no longer on a map, but emailing Coco. "Come on, no work!"

"I saved it for the end of the evening," you reason.

"If you're going to email on vacation they should have given you paid leave." You conceded he had a point. But you were still going to finish this email.

You type away and Alex disappears under the covers. Suddenly, you feel a kiss on your ankle. You suppose you were too distracted to notice him inch his way down to the foot of the bed. "Alex," you say in an attempt to deter him, even though you don't really want to deter him. 

He kisses the side of the knee, creeping up closer and closer and closer. Then, your inner thigh. You shake with anticipation at his next move, but he stops there. He kisses the same space again. Then, your other thigh. "Alex," you say more as a plea than your prior attempt.

He seems to give a little then, kissing your center over your underwear. He's delicate with it. A soft kiss, slowly making his way up your cunt. Your toes curl in wanting and waiting. He dances around your clit. "Alex."

He slides your panties over to the side, kissing your clit directly making you moan. "You're wet," Alex notes. His voice is muffled under the sheets. "You're emailing Coco while you're this wet. Is there something I should know?"

You roll your eyes. You're eager. You went down on him today, you rode him today, you let him cum on your tits. Usually, Alex is better than you in the pleasing department. You're selfish and he worships pussy. "You should know that I want you to get on with it."

"Close the laptop." A haggler. You give and shut the laptop, placing it on your bedside table.

You lift the covers off his head to reveal his grinning face. "Your turn, Turner."

"Good one," he says and then he's sucking on your clit and you're clutching the bedsheets. His tongue showing your clit special attention tonight. You tug on the sheets and to prevent them from ripping, you switch to rooting them in his hair.

He starts humming against you, which vibrates through you. You would hate that he knows your body so well if he wasn't so good at pleasing it. He licks down and his tongue pokes at your entrance. His nose hits your clit, another thing that has you moaning. You wish you could fuck his nose. It's a weird thought but it makes sense when it hits your clit. You buck up into his face. It makes him smirk but he doesn’t let up. Only quickens.

Alex starts strongly fucking you with his tongue. You think he should worry about hair loss considering how hard you're yanking his hair. He hugs your thighs, pushing against your hips that keep rutting relentlessly.

It's easy for him to tell that an orgasm is on the horizon. Your legs start to shake and you're moaning, "Fuck, Alex, fuck." Your favourite expletive. You bring your legs to the back of his neck, crossing them, keeping him locked into your cunt. He doesn't let up for a moment, even if you weren't there pushing him down, he wouldn't let up. 

Your back arches up and you're gasping and moaning and he might cream his own underwear from the whole thing. You squeeze him to you tightly and he doesn't let up, leading him to overstimulation. "Alex, no more. Too raw."

Alex doesn't stop but turns soft. Little kisses around your clit that causes random rutting of your hips into his face. He fixes your panties, covering your cunt back up. He gives a kiss to the tiny bow on the top of your underwear. A little pink thing in the middle of the lace. He starts to kiss your body but you just feel utterly spent. You stop him when he attempts to unbutton your shirt. You tell him, "Too tired. We'll fuck tomorrow."

He kisses your belly button, then your shirt-covered boob, then your cheek, before rolling over to his side of the bed onto his back. You adjust your pillow and turn to lay on your stomach next to him. "I'll wake you up with a blowjob or something."

Alex grins. "A blowjob wake-up? You know how to please, woman." His hand snakes down your back and squeezes your ass. He toys with the lining of your underwear but makes no attempts to move it. "You've got a cute little butt, you know."

[daengtokki]

Warm

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 2.5k

rating: fluff/explicit/18+ (contains oral sex) ಇ

contains: domestic idol!Seungmin — oneshot written as a continuation of Blind Date! ૮ฅ・ﻌ・აฅ

✩彡

The room is cold. The two blankets you have tucked up over your head aren’t doing very much at all. You could get out of bed and turn the thermostat up, but that would require leaving this nest that you worked so hard to warm up.

It can’t possibly be morning though, so why are you awake? It feels like night still. It feels dark and cold and very very quiet.

You run your hand across the chilly sheet and feel for a body. Seungmin’s body. He’s not there. Why wouldn’t he be there? Now you’re forced to peek out and investigate. The room is pitch black, curtain closed tight, tv turned off (you distinctly remember falling asleep with it still on).

But the door is cracked, just a little bit. The faintest glow is coming through, and you can tell right away that it’s coming from the kitchen, possibly the living room.

You yell out his name, but it comes out like a feeble, sleepy groan. Shit, I’ll have to get up.

You try yelling again. This time it echoes through the room, but you’re not sure it made it through the crack in the door and into the kitchen. He doesn’t answer.

Slowly you sit up, keeping one of the blankets wrapped tight around your shoulders and chest. You swing your legs up and over the side of the bed and search the floor for a pair of slippers. None.

The bedroom is carpeted, but nothing else in the house is. Touching your feet down here is no big deal, so you tiptoe to the dresser and pull out a pair of his socks. It takes some work to get into them, seeing as how your joints are frozen, but you manage.

Now to find Seungmin. He doesn’t mind the cold as much as you do, but he can’t be enjoying this.

The floor creaks as you cross the hallway. It’s definitely one of the kitchen light glowing, but the living room is lit up now as well. He’s standing by the kitchen sink, electric kettle in one hand, the other stuffed into his hoodie pocket.

“Minnie!”

He jumps, spilling water hot water onto the counter. “Fuck!”

“Sorry.” You shuffle closer to him, “I yelled for you, twice.”

“Why are you being so sneaky?!”

“I yelled for you!” You whisper it this time. “Why is it so cold? Why are you up?”

“The heat won’t kick on.” He finished pouring hot water into his mug. “And I woke up…couldn’t get back to sleep. Do you want some?”

You look into the mug as he stirs his hot chocolate, “yes please…you know, this never happened at my old apartment.”

“Your old apartment was always a thousand degrees.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

He gets into the cupboard again and pulls out your mug. “Pick one.” He gives you two different hot chocolate options. You choose the mocha one.

“My body knew you weren’t there.”

“That’s cute.”

“I know,” you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He’s still pretty warm. “Are you coming back to bed?”

He mmhmm’s you and hands you your mug, “we will worry about the heat tomorrow, I guess.”

“Good.”

——

You set your mug on the bedside table and crawl back into your chilly pile of blankets. Seungmin finds the tv remote first and clicks it back on before doing the same. The glow in the room makes it feel a little warmer; the hot chocolate helps a little, too.

“Your legs are cold.” He pulls you a little closer when you wrap yourself around him. “Pants would probably help.”

“Yours are warm.”

“You’re gonna suck all of the warm out of me.”

“That’s usually the plan.” You bury your face against his side and relax. He yawns and pushes himself a little further under the covers. It’s comfortable. And it’s warm.

“Seungmin?”

He lets out a soft yeah. It’s almost a whisper, and it sends a little chill down your back. You almost forget what you were going to say.

“I’m not very tired anymore.”

“You just have to get warm again.” He rubs his hand in circles over your back, but that just wakes you up even more. “Close your eyes.”

Instead of closing your eyes, your fingers find the hem of his hoodie and make their way underneath. You can hear his reaction in your head before he even notices what you’re doing.

He flinches and you can feel his stomach flex under your cold palm, “no no no!” His sets his hand over yours on top of the fabric and kicks his feet, but you have him trapped. “You’re so mean.”

You pull your hand back out and push yourself up on the bed a little, just until you’re face to face with him. He’s smiling—you kiss around his mouth until he closes his lips for you. But you only peck them once before moving along his jaw and to his neck.

“Oh, you’re really not tired.”

“Are you? I can stop.” You climb on top of him anyway and work your way across his throat—at least where you can get to with his clothes still in the way.

“I’m good.”

You shove both hands under his hoodie and slowly move your palms up either side of him. His hips shift under you; stomach tightens, a little sound escapes his lips.

“Your hands are so cold,” he laughs and brings you in closer, pulling the blanket up over your shoulders at the same time. “Come here.”

You latch onto his mouth again and kiss hard until he relaxes into his mound of pillows. One of your hands move down from his ribs and along the outside of his waist and hip, kneading gently until you get a handful of thigh. He jumps a bit— he’s ticklish— but settles back immediately when you soften your touch.

He makes more room for you between his legs. You take the opportunity to slide your open palm to his inner thigh and underneath his shorts. Seungmin moans into your mouth when you touch him, and then giggles, “just take them off, please don’t tease me.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” You can’t tease him the way he teases you, you’re too impatient for that. “I mean, I will…” you sit up on your knees and look at him. The blanket slips from your back and piles up behind you, “…take them off,” you finish your thought as you look down at his legs spread open in front of you.

He’s propped up on his elbows, looking down at himself, and then at you. You reach behind for the blanket and throw it over your head, and then disappear under it.

“So I don’t get to wa—” he stops abruptly and laughs. “Oh, be gentle please.”

“I always am,” your voice is muffled between him and the thick blanket. You pull gently at the waistband of his shorts until they come down just a bit, showing more soft skin. You place a kiss there and Seungmin flinches and you can see him hard and twitching beneath the fabric already.

“That’s teasing.”

You sush into his stomach and wrap your hand around him, still keeping his shorts on. He bucks his hips up again, this time much harder, so your hand slides smoothly over him. When he settles back on the bed, you pull down the fabric until the head of his cock peeks out. You put your lips on him and listen carefully for any little sound he might make.

He doesn’t disappoint. His groan comes out husky, and his stomach sucks in as he keeps himself steady. Your tongue slides up and over, and then down the length of him, getting him as wet as possible.

Just as you’re working him as far into your mouth as you can manage, you feel a cold burst of air. You don’t let it distract you, but as you slowly come back up, you sneak a look at him, and he’s smiling down at you. You can just make him out in the glow of the tv.

“That’s much better,” he says it in almost a whisper, “do it again.”

You don’t look at him, but you listen. His cock disappears completely in your mouth again. You hold him in as long as you can manage, and right before you slowly release him, you feel his hand brush the side of your face.

Now you lock eyes as you slide him out, making a mess of spit as you go. His mouth hangs open a little and one corner of his mouth twitches into a grin. You take him fully in your mouth once more before wrapping your fingers around him.

Seungmin lays back and sighs, enjoying the steady grip of your hand and the warmth of your mouth. You listen to the little hitches in his breath as you speed up—slow down—speed up a little more.

Suddenly his hand is on the back of your neck. You didn’t notice him sit up again. Now he’s looking down on you, gripping you tight but letting you keep your own pace.

You moan when he hits the back of your throat, and he holds you there.

“Do you like that?” He speaks softly, still kneading into your neck, but gently, and with just enough pressure to keep you there.

Another moan to answer him. Your eyes start to water, and you pull him in a little deeper even though you know you shouldn’t. You need to come up for air.

He senses it and softens his grip on you, runs his hand down your back until he can reach the hem of your sweatshirt, and pulls it up. The tips of his fingers tickle as he slowly moves them over your skin, and you have no choice but to release him. You put your hands to work so you can catch your breath.

“That’s good,” he wipes at your messy lower lip with his thumb and holds your gaze as you stroke him. His eyes flutter closed and he bites down on his lip to try and stifle a groan, but it comes out like a desperate mmm instead. He laughs at himself before looking down at you again.

“It must be,” you get up on your knees and pull him closer with your free hand so you can kiss him, but all you manage is a few bites at his lower lip. He grabs your hips and pushes you down hard on the blankets.

Just for a moment, you remember the coldness in the room, but Seungmin is on top of you before it matters. He kisses at your neck and pulls at the collar to get to more skin. His hands reach under your sweatshirt and fingers brush over hard nipples, but doesn’t attempt to pull it off of you. In fact, he pulls it back down over your stomach as he kisses further and further down.

“You’re still cold,” he laughs and hooks his fingers in the band of your underwear, slides then down your legs and discards them. Then his hoodie comes off— also thrown to the floor, before he leans forward and sucks at the skin on your inner thigh.

This he does for an achingly long time, because he’s much more patient than you, and so much of his pleasure comes from the wait. Even when you whine his name, he acts like he doesn’t hear—just keeps kissing and licking at his own pace.

Eventually though, he does give in. His hands slide roughly over your thighs and he pushes them even further apart. You feel his warm breath on you first, then his mouth. The contrast of the cold room and the heat of his tongue gives you goosebumps all over.

You know he’s holding himself back, but it’s still enough to get a whimper out of you. He moans back in response, and then the heat is gone. When you peek down at him, he’s looking back, mouth hovering inches above you.

“Minnie…”

“Yeeaaah?”

He goes back down and kisses your thigh again.

“Stop”

“I did”

“You’re a jerk”

“I know,” he closes his mouth over you and runs his tongue up until he hits your clit. His lips close around it and he licks gently until you push your hips into his face. You can feel his teeth graze lightly against you, and it makes you shudder.

You push into him again and reach down to run your fingers into his hair. He lets out a gravelly moan and you feel the vibration run through you, but he holds you down to keep you from moving.

Lips close tight around your clit again so he can suck. You can hear the little kissing noises he deliberately makes every time he releases you and latches back on again. It’s too much, and you feel yourself getting close to coming. You were already halfway there before he pushed you back onto the bed.

He stops again—makes his way back to your thighs—sits up again and looks at you, gives you his best cute, innocent smirk. It would be innocent, if it wasn’t for the wet mess all over his lips and chin. He dives back down and teases…uses the tip of his tongue to just barely touch you. It sends little sparks of pleasure through you, but it’s not enough. He knows that.

You tug his hair again. It gets his mouth moving. He licks and kisses, and you have to focus on not coming yet, because you want it to last so much longer. He adjusts himself for better leverage, and two fingers slide in easily, reaching and pushing at just the right spot. He presses and licks hard, like he’s trying to make his tongue and fingers meet.

Seungmin looks up at you, lips tight around your clit. You can’t hold it off anymore. It rises again, slowly. You’re warm all over, your thighs start to shake despite his grip on them. A smile lights up in his eyes when you buck your hips to his mouth. You let yourself cry out, a mix of fuck and oh god and Minnie fills the room.

He lightens his touch and flicks his tongue across you until your hips lift and you cry out again, loud enough to echo through the room. The release lasts longer than you expect, and he doesn’t slow down until your moans turn into steady, heavy breaths.

But when you settle, he keeps eating, unable to get enough. You reach for his hair and pull again, because now you’re too sensitive and his mouth is too much.

He stops, gives you a moment, then slides his tongue over you once more, just to see your body shake again.

“Minnie,” you breath out, this time a little more coherent. He’s kissing his way up your stomach, but you hear his little hmm? from under your sweatshirt. “Come here.”

You gently tug at him until he pops out and looks at you with sleepy eyes.

He plants a loud kiss under your jaw. “Yes?”

“I wasn’t finished with you.”

“No, that finished me,” he laughs into your ear and tucks his arms underneath you. “Now I’m tired.”

“And cold.”

Seungmin lifts and drops you down on the pillows before pulling the blankets up to his neck. He folds himself around you, pulls you tight against him, and places a kiss on top of your head.

[h4ndwr1tten]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

featuring: roommate!satoru x reader

cw: fluff really, strong language? kinda suggestive.

the sudden, thundering sound of what seemed to be a crash had you jolting awake. you immediately sat upright and reached over to your lamp, switching it on and scanning your room on high alert. glancing over at your digital alarm clock, you found that it was only 1:03 in the winter morning. what kind of asshole would partake in destructing something this late?

the first person to come into mind was satoru, your roommate. he tends to stay up as late as possible doing the most random and stupid shit he could thing of. once, you caught him trying to fit himself into the shared washing machine at 3 am. but you remembered that earlier, you were going to confront him about how he left his used boxers and socks on the bathroom floor after his shower. when you stormed into his room, however, he was surprisingly in deep sleep.

so if satoru was slumped, where did the noise come from?

you debated leaving your bed for your safety or staying there, also for your safety, but ultimately decided on quickly checking the apartment for something unusual. quietly groaning, you forced yourself out of bed and into the hallway.

you hadn't found anything out of the ordinary, making you firmly believe it was an inconsiderate neighbor. nothing felt off and you weren't experiencing any sense of doom, so you returned to your bed and knocked right out.

only, an hour later, you woke up freezing. your room felt like pure ice and your body felt like you had been dipped into an ice bath. when did it get so damn cold? you thought, pulling your blanket higher up your body. it was snowing outside, but the cold shouldn't have been able to be felt with the heater on.

you tried to go back to sleep, but you only found yourself shivering despite the blanket. you rubbed your legs together in an attempt to warm you up, but it didn't seem to work. you huffed, irritated and uncomfortable by the temperature change.

getting up for the second time, you threw your blanket over your shoulders and went into the hallway to check the thermostat. there, you found satoru, also checking the temperature.

"cold?" he asked, his voice raspy from probably having been woken up to the same thing.

you hummed in response, watching silently as he tried to figure out what was wrong. he tapped at a few times, pressed the buttons every second, until he noticed that the temperature of the heater wasn't changing.

"it's broken."

oh.

"what? the thermostat?" you question, a little densely, but to be fair, it was 2 in the morning.

"no, the heater," satoru replied, tapping at his lips in thought.

that made a lot more sense. the weather from antarctica couldn't have just magically moved in with you. but did this have to do with the loud bang from earlier?

"satoru," you begin, "i woke up an hour ago because there was a bang, but i checked and nothing seemed broken inside here."

satoru hummed, turning away from the wall and to you. he opened his mouth to speak and you anticipated it, but instead, you watched as his eyes trailed down your frame, eyes falling onto your body. he was silent for a few seconds, visibly gulping. his face felt warm. could you see his pink-tinted cheeks in the dim lighting?

clearing his throat, satoru turned away and pretended to observe the thermostat, mumbling, "yeah, that might have... that might've been it."

confused, you look down at your body to find what elicited his behavior. it took you a second, but you noticed your hardened nipples poking out through your shirt. you forgot that was a thing. your eyes widened and you quickly folded your arms and blanket over your chest, feeling a tad bit embarrassed.

"what do we do now?" you asked, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

"how many blankets do you have?"

fuck, they're all in the laundry.

"one."

satoru side-eyed you, slowly turning to face you, his face deadpan.

"they're in the laundry!" you raised your hands in defense, effectively dropping the blanket to the ground.

it seemed to have caught satoru's attention because of the way his eyes moved down to the ground. then slowly up your figure, as if drinking in every part of you. your arms were still hiding your chest and you didn't look all that great right now, considering you were only in pajama pants and a baggy tee. but the way he looked at you made you feel like it was more than just the attire.

you shifted your weight onto one foot, warmth creeping up your neck. you had always felt some sort of attraction towards your roommate, but considering how insanely attractive he was, you thought that he would never even think of seeing you the same way.

but gosh, the way he eyed you like the most valuable treasure there ever was. the way there seemed to be a sort of want, desire burning in his eyes. that was enough to make you question his feelings.

"satoru?" you call, growing antsy under his gaze.

"sleep in my room," he suggests casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"what...?"

he sighed, probably wondering if you were stupid, or deaf, or both. "the heating's down, and it's only going to get colder from here. i say that because we are both mature, grown adults, we sleep in the same bed because right now, shared body heat is likely the only thing that's going to keep us from freezing."

you were stunned, to say the least. that's the most and longest sensible thing to come out of satoru's mouth ever. had he thought of this before?

"i guess you're right," you mumbled, face flushed. "but wouldn't it be awkward?"

"it'll only be awkward if you make it awkward," satoru retorted, opening the door to his room and waiting for you to enter. "we're mature, right?"

you walked into his ridiculously messy room, sighing, "i am, but i don't know about you."

"hey!"

you flopped down onto satoru's bed, a lingering warmth around it from before he got up. your heart began to beat a little faster as he approached the bed, the fact that you were actually about to sleep with someone you've dreamed of sleeping with before.

"y/n?" satoru called out, breaking your stare at the floor.

"yeah?"

"that's my side of the bed."

you blush furiously, scrambling to the opposite side, muttering, "oh, sorry."

but once you were there, satoru goes, "that's also my side."

you snap your head at him, glaring. "what do you mean, this is also your side?"

"i sleep in the middle."

"are you serious?" you sigh, growing uncomfortable.

"yep," satoru said, popping the p and sprawling out across the bed like a starfish. his once (and extremely rare) seriousness was gone, and he was back to his irritating antics.

you sat at the very edge of the bed, nearly sliding off, uncomfortable in the silence. satoru's eyes were closed and his breathing seemed to have relaxed, and you wondered if he was asleep. you wondered if he really meant what he said by sharing the bed too.

"satoru?" you murmured, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"mph?"

standing up, you uttered, "i can just go back to my room, i don't wanna bother you. i'll get warm eventually."

you weren't lying. even though sleeping in his bed felt like a really good idea, both for your comfort and desire, you would hate to be a bother to him.

peeking an eye open, satoru reached for your hand and grasped it, pulling you back down.

"i'm joking, y/n," he sighed, slightly muffled by his pillows. "get in here."

he fixed his position, then opened his blanket to beckon you in. you frowned, snapping, "you basically just said there's no room for me after suggesting we share the bed."

despite that, you still found yourself crawling into the warmth of his sheets. you kept yourself at the edge, though, still afraid of taking up his personal space.

it's quiet for a moment again. you raise the blanket just up to the underside of your nose, nervously picking at the pillowcase. his scent engulfed you; a mix of his cologne and natural musk, with a faint hint of detergent. you realize this is real.

satoru sighs, and to your surprise, he throws his arm around your torso and pulls you into him, your back now pressed against his front. he doesn't take off his arm, but instead, gently runs his cold hand along your stomach as if comforting you.

"i was just messing with you," he mumbles, drowsiness in his voice. "but i'm sorry, you big baby."

realizing what he said, you elbowed him in the ribs, but not too hard to actually hurt him. satoru let out a fake whine, both of you laughing quietly after.

silence fills the two of you, the only noises being shared breathing and city noise from outside. it's quiet, but it's comfortable.

you roll over onto your other side to face satoru, finding him with his eyes already shut and brows barely pinched. even in the dark, you can still make out the outline of his perfect features, from his long lashes to his cold-nipped lips. you'd trace them if you could, but you refrained out of fear of waking him up and the fact that you were in no position to be touching him like that.

"i can feel you staring at me," satoru mumbles, fatigued huskiness in his voice.

you blush, grateful for the lack of light in the room, whispering an apology.

satoru opens his eyes, a faint smile sitting atop his lips. "i know i'm insanely handsome, but sleep," he teased.

"i was actually looking at that fat, glow in the dark pimple on your forehead, but okay," you snort, scooting in closer to satoru's warmth.

his hand darts to his forehead, yelping, "actually??"

you giggle, "no. sleep."

"you suck," he sighs, chuckling before bringing his hand back to around you.

you slowly slide your arm under his and wrap it around his torso, your nerves and hesitation fading when he doesn't make a move to remove you. satoru whispers a goodnight, lips ever so slightly brushing against your forehead. you whisper it back, and sleep comes over the both of you.

maybe the heater should stay broken...

note — gave up on my layout D:

m. list

[sweatyracoon]

Poor Seungmin pt1

(a/n): picture not mine! ALSO- Seungmin is a hybrid, but he doesn't share the same features as regular hybrids. He knows, but his members don't. Because he doesn't have ears or a tail, he thought he wouldn't have a heat either. Boy, was he wrong.

Warnings: suggestive, hybrid!Seungmin, smut, Seungmin is shared, dry humping, cringe, lemme know if I missed anything

Pt 2

After a hard day of practice, Seungmin and the others all went to have dinner at McDonald's, one of his favorite places to eat. Everyone was sweaty and tired, but excited to spend more time together.

Lee know ordered first, offering to pay for everyone, but Seungmin wasn't having it. Instead of giving Lee know his order, he ignored him until he paid for everyone else.

"I can pay for myself, hyung. Thank you," Seungmin smiled lightly, placing his order.

Once all of the food came out, try all sat together, conversing lightly.

"So how should we turn, then, Chan?" Han asked his older member, wanting feedback.

The new choreo was proving to be very different from those before, stunting a few of them.

Hyunjin, sitting next to Seungmin, let his head fall to his youngers shoulder, munching on a fry.

"That girl was cute, Seung. Don't you think so?"

Hyunjin had been trying to find out what Seungmin liked and didn't like, but he was finding it hard because of his stoic demeanor.

"Hyunjin. Do you like her or something?" Seungmin decided to play dumb, knowing what Hyunjin was getting at.

"No. But she looked like she liked you," He responded, yawning.

Seungmin, unlike the rest of the group, hasn't shared his preferences when it came to dating. He knew his hybrid side wouldn't allow a normal relationship, which is also another secret he has kept these four years.

"The color of her ears was pretty though. You think shes a cat hybrid?" Jeonjin asked from his place next to Felix.

"Possibly? They looked more like a mouse, though...Right?" Han asked, his cheeks filled with food.

The boys continued to guess, unsure. But Seungmin knew. Its something every hybrid shares.

"Shes a fox hybrid," Seungmin sighed, tired of the false answers.

The boys turned to him, all quiet.

"So you WERE paying attention," Hyunjin teased.

Seungmin guessed the real reason she stared at him for that brief moment was because she also sensed it. Hybrids without physical features were extremely rare.

"Sure," He responded, eating another nugget.

When they reached their dorms, they all lounged for a while longer in the common room.

"I'm tired. I'm going to go lay down, alright guys?" Seungmin said, rising to stretch, showcasing his torso.

"Gonna go dream about that fox?" Changbin snickered, making the others giggle.

"Shes a girl with fox attributes, okay? Don't be rude," Seungmin scoffed, turning to leave.

Before he made it out of earshot, he heard Lee know say, "Why is he so sensitive about hybrids?"

"Who knows?"

Seungmin sighed as he washed before bed. The guys new why he was so respectful to hybrids. Most of his family themselves were hybrids, including his sister, which they all knew well.

All of his family were dog hybrids. What type? He had no clue. His mother and sister had floppy ears, and short, long haired tails. His dad, however, wasn't a hybrid. That's why, for the longest time, he thought he was the same way.

But he wasn't. A blood test came back, telling him he was one of the most rare type of hybrids. He was happy, but confused.

That's why, when he started feeling hot for no reason, he just thought he was getting sick.

Making his way to his and Bangchans shared room, he collapsed onto his small twin sized bed, suddenly feeling weak. Groaning, he took out his phone and checked the time.

One thirty two a.m. Seungmin was used to being up, and he wasn't really tired now that his body was all achy.

But then the heat pushed further, making him pant. How hot was it? He checked the thermostat next to the door, and it was 73 degrees. Pushing the button to make it lower, sweat was forming just above his brow.

He didn't want to take off his shirt, not wanting to expose himself when Chan comes in.

He changed his sweats, putting shorts on instead. Still didn't change the way he was feeling.

Lying back down on his bed, his head started to think of nasty thoughts.

That fox girl came into mind, making him whimper at the thought. But it wasn't her that was making him sound off, it was the look in Hyunjins eyes when he talked about her to Seungmin.

The teasing look that had a hint of lust in them. Was it lust? Seungmin thought it was just his horny brain.

It continued to drift.

He thought of the dance practice a few days ago, when he tripped and landed on Lee know who was right behind him. The older member was quick to help him get up, and make sure he was okay. At the time, it didn't bother him, but now he realized that Lee know was pressed flush against him, his large, firm thighs pressed behind him. Lee knows hands rubbed his shoulders, his face so close to Seungmins neck he could feel his breath lingering.

"Are you hurt?" Lee know asked, squeezing his shoulders.

"No, hyung. I'm okay," Seungmin smiled.

Now all Seungmin could imagine was Lee Knows thighs caging him, his hands all over his body.

And Han! When Han bit him playfully after Seungmin called him a rat instead a quokka. Han bit hard enough to leave his teeth marks, right on his forearm. What if he bit his neck instead?

Seungmin was a full on mess, a tent now forming in his shorts as he was laying on his bed above the blankets.

His breathing was ragged, and his body felt as if it were on fire, making him groan. He couldn't sit still, rocking back and forth as his mind became filthier.

He rocked a little too much, eventually falling off the side of the bed. It wasn't a steep drop, but enough to make noise. That was about the time Bangchan came in, expecting to fall asleep, only to find a disheveled Seungmin that had fell from his bed.

"Seungmin!" Bangchan rushed over, seeing his friend face down on the floor, shivering.

All he could do was moan, hips moving gently against the ground, finding some friction.

"Seungmin, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" Bangchan grabbed at his shoulders, trying to flip him over. Seungmin felt the fire focus where Chan grabbed him, moaning even louder.

Once flipped, Chan saw his younger members state. No longer a tent, but a full on boner in his shorts, straining against the material. Eyes glossy, tears threatening to pour from them, and mouth open, panting moans out, his braces on full display, covered in drool.

"C-Channie-" was all Seungmin could get out before grabbing his hand, and whimpered, closing his eyes.

Seungmin was so embarrassed, but couldn't stop himself.

"He-heat..." He breathed, making Chan freeze.

Chan had always found it odd that Seungmin resembled a puppy more than his family, but his sister once hinted to him that he isn't completely human. After Seungmin said that word, all of it was confirmed.

"Your...heat? Do you need me to call someone? Or..." Chan didn't know how to deal with a heat. Or anything to do with hybrids.

He didn't want to do anything he wasn't supposed to.

"Ah- please- help Channie hyung-" Seungmins back was arching off the floor now, whimpering.

Chan thought for a moment, then stood, fighting the death grip that Seungmin had on his hand. Ignoring the pleading from him, Chan walked to the entrance of their room, closing the door. He wasn't going to leave Seungmin like this.

Walking back to the moaning boy, he used his arms to lift him bridal style, making the boy yelp. Slowly but firmly, Chan placed him safely back in his twin bed, taking a seat next to him.

"Help.." Seungmins tongue poked out, licking his dry lips.

"How do I help you, Min?" Chan wanted to help, but how? He gave Seungmin his arm, letting him guide it to use.

Seungmin grasped it quickly, moving his hips to meet his wrist, grinding against it. It surprised Chan, being used in such a way by someone he saw as a younger brother, but it didn't upset him. It excited him.

Seungmin gasped, letting tears slip as he finally had some relief to the growing pain forming in his cock.

Chan watched, mesmerized by the sight. He never would have guessed Seungmin could be this way.

Whimpering turning into moans, Seungmin grinded harder, egging Chan on.

"Seungmin, I have an idea. Can I touch you?" He asked, wanting to help.

"Please! Just make it go away-" he said, turning his face into the pillow.

Chan nodded, pulling his arm from Seungmin, earning a sob in response. But Chan quickly moved his hand, grabbing his bulge roughly, earning a loud moan. Rubbing, and grabbing, trying his best to turn the pain into pleasure.

Seungmins panting proved that he was doing good. He rubbed faster, seeing the tears in Mins eyes.

Getting bolder, he slipped his hand under the waistband, coming skin to skin with his cock, and Seungmins back arched for the second time, moaning, perhaps, too loud.

"Shh.. It's okay, Minnie-" Chan coaxed, trying to quiet him.

Chan felt him twitch at the nickname, making him grin. He picked up the pace, noticing Seungmins sounds became louder, his breathing more erratic. His hips rutting up, trying to reach his release.

"Ch-Channie!! I'm cumming!" Was all Seungmin could say before opening his jaws in a silent scream, painting Chan's hand white.

Chan removed his hand after helping the younger come down from his high, licking it clean, making seungmin blush.

"Are you feeling alright, Seungmin?" Chan asked, pulling the blankets over him.

"I'm so sorry, Chan. I thought I couldn't have a heat since-" Seungmin blinked at him, embarrassed deeply.

"Don't worry about that, Min. Its natural. I just hope I did it right. I don't know anything about hybrids," Chan smiled softly at him, hoping to comfort him. "You know I have to tell the guys right?"

"Wait, why?" Seungmin sat up, causing Chan to push him back down.

"Relax, Min. If this happens again... The heat, and I'm not there, but someone else is, they are going to have to help you. Its to keep you safe," Chan said, trying to sound reasonable.

Seungmin was already panting again, but out of panic. Fear of being rejected by his members. Four years, and this has never been an issue, so why now?

"But, what if it freaks them out Chan? Wat if they don't want to be near me? I-" Chan quieted him with a hand on his jaw.

"We're your friends, Seung. They'll be okay, I promise. And so will you."

"Promise?" Seungmin flashed his puppy eyes to Chan, making him swoon.

"I promise, puppy."

[suddencolds]

insatiable appetite [1/?]

sooo... this is one of the thirstiest things i have written—and also one of the only times i've written a character with the kink, ever T.T warnings in advance for mess, character getting sneezed on, implied contagion, possible ooc-ness, & me writing this entirely with my d instead of my head

ivan and till are from al//ien sta//ge (a very fun watch which will only take 30 mins out of your life; i really recommend it!!). that said, this fic takes place in a modern au setting, so feel free to read it without any prior context :)

special thanks to @6pmsoup for sending me a very cute alnst doodle of these two which altered my brain chemistry permanently

—

Summary: Till shows up to a dinner outing with a brewing cold. Ivan suffers. (est. relationship, kink!Ivan, ~2k words)

—

For all Till tries to hide it, Ivan can tell immediately.

There’s this: Ivan has been paying attention to Till for most of his life. A full decade before they’d gotten together officially, and some more—this is how long Ivan has had to observe his tells. Always from the sidelines, always with a detached air of indifference that, in reality, was anything but.

All the signs are there the night before. Till, turning up the thermostat a couple degrees higher than he usually keeps it. Spending a little too long in the shower and using up almost all of the hot water. Clearing his throat one too many times in the morning before Ivan leaves for work, his smile distracted, the rasp of his voice nearly indistinguishable—but only nearly.

Now, Till is here for dinner—it’s a dinner they’ve had plans for a couple weeks now, at one of the nicer restaurants downtown, in celebration of Till’s recent promotion. Ivan had booked the reservation a couple weeks in advance.

When Till arrives, stepping out of a taxi cab, he’s wearing a scarf, even though the weather is too warm for it. Ivan steps up to meet him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Till says. “Traffic here was the worst I’ve ever seen it, swear to god.”

“Was it cold outside today?” Ivan asks, a little pointedly, tilting his head towards his scarf.

Till looks at him, his expression unreadable. Then he nods. “Colder than usual, for this time of year.”

“Strange,” Ivan says, just to be difficult. “But the weather forecast says it’s the same temperature today as yesterday.” 

“It’s probably just windier today,” Till says, readjusting his scarf around his neck. His face is a little flushed.

“Your voice sounds a little off, though.”

Till clears his throat with a scowl. “You must be imagining it,” he says. “It always sounds like this.”

No admission, then. That’s fine. Ivan will get the truth out of him at some point. He lets Till guide him into the restaurant.

It’s a nice restaurant—worth the hassle of the reservation, Ivan thinks. Each table is set with flowers arranged tastefully in long glass vases, empty wine glasses turned on their heads. The server—who leads them to their table in a small, private booth—is wearing a suit.

It’s a shame, really. Ivan has a feeling that he won’t be able to pay attention to any of that tonight.

They sit. Ivan looks down at the menu, picks out something at random in a matter of seconds. Truthfully, he can hardly think of anything less worth his attention right now. He turns his attention to Till instead—Till, who’s seated directly across from him, the scarf still around his neck, obscuring the lower half of his face. 

Till sniffles, reaching down to turn the page, and oh. The sniffle is terribly liquid—has he been sniffling like that all afternoon? Perhaps it’s a good thing that they work at different offices—Till at a law firm, Ivan as a senior manager at a consulting company—because Ivan certainly doesn’t think he’d be able to get any work done with Till sniffling like that. 

It’s not two minutes later that Till is reaching up to wipe his nose against the back of one knuckle. All in all, it’s discreet. Just a quick brush of the fingers against his nose, which is still hidden under the scarf. Though, the look of sheer ticklishness that passes over his features for a brief moment there is...

“What are you thinking of ordering?” Ivan asks.

“I can’t decide,” Till answers. He turns the page again. “It’s between the ribeye steak and the… snf! The pork belly. Is this the kind of place that skimps on the portion sizes?”

“Not from their Yelp reviews,” Ivan says. “You know, if you really can’t decide, I can flip a coin.”

“I’ll pick,” Till says. “Why? Hungry already?”

He looks up, now. His eyes are a little watery. There’s a faint flush over the bridge of his nose. Ivan thinks that if he reached out and touched him, he’d probably be running warm. The thought is almost unbearable.

“Your taxi did take forever to arrive,” Ivan says, by way of explanation. 

“Did you really wait that long?”

He looks uncertain, for a moment. Ivan says, “Not at all. But you know, I’m always impatient when it comes to you.”

Till rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “There was a meeting that ran late. I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Is that also a part of your new position?” “I guess so, yeah.”

“I can see why they were eager to promote you, then,” Ivan says. “How productive can late afternoon meetings be, anyways?”

Till snorts. “Not that important. It definitely could have been an email instead. I was about ready to doze off.”

He sniffles again. “Okay. I think I know what I want.” The way he says know betrays the slightest hint of congestion. 

“At long last,” Ivan says, just to be a little bit of an ass. “I’ll call over the waiter.”

He flags their waiter down, waits for Till to order first.

“A spiced apple cider,” Till adds on, at the end, with the slightest of coughs. “Hot, if you can.”

That’s new, too. Till seldom orders hot drinks at restaurants, though he’ll drink tea without complaint if it’s offered. Perhaps his throat hurts, then, from the cold that has clearly started to settle in his system. Subtle, still, but Ivan is familiar with colds like this. He knows it will probably only be a few hours before this deceptively “small” cold turns into…

Ivan orders, too, and thanks the waiter, who leaves with a curt nod. When he looks back over to Till, there’s a… strange something to Till’s expression, a slight distractedness. Irritation.

Ivan swallows hard. He should look away. 

He should, but then, Till’s breath hitches. He pulls the scarf higher over his face preemptively, as if he anticipates having something to have to cover for. The sharp intake of breath that follows is breathy, though Ivan can hear Till’s voice in it. He should really look away.

Instead, he takes the scene in, painstakingly, little by little, as Till’s shoulders jerk forwards. As Till presses a hand to the scarf, presses the fabric closer to his face, to muffle a sneeze into his fingertips:

“hhH-Ih!! hiHH-’IESCHH-eew-!”

God. It sounds utterly miserable, the harsh release of it scraping against his throat, the spray tearing into his scarf. It’s the kind of cold sneeze that is undeniably telling: this is going to be one hell of a cold. It’s not very quiet, either, even muffled into the fabric.

For more reasons than one, Ivan is glad they’re in a private corner of the restaurant, not somewhere more public.

“Bless you,” he offers, once he can trust himself to speak. It’s a good thing that Till is too distracted to look up at him right now. Ivan isn’t sure he can keep what he’s feeling off of his face.

Truthfully, he isn’t sure he’s going to be able to endure a whole night of this.

The problem here is that Till—Till, of all people; Till, who Ivan has been pathetically in love with for almost as long as he can remember—has no idea about Ivan’s… relatively niche interests. That is to say, he has no idea what effect it has on Ivan when he does that.

“Thanks,” Till says, a little stuffily. He sniffles again, lowering his hand. 

Ivan can’t help it. He knows he shouldn’t pursue this line of questioning, but he can feel his self-control dwindling by the second. “Don’t you think it would be better to take off your scarf, now that we’re inside?”

Till freezes. “Y-You know what,” he says evasively. “It’s pretty cold in here.”

Ivan tilts his head in question. “And just how do you plan on eating like that?”

“I’ll take it off when our food comes.”

“I can ask the waiter to turn the temperature up, if it’s a problem,” Ivan says. 

“It’s not a problem.”

Ivan rises from his seat. Till watches him, perplexed, as he heads to the opposite side of the table, where Till is seated.

When he gets there, he stops. Stands, unmoving, so he can study Till from above. 

“What are you—”

Ivan reaches out, settles his palm across Till’s forehead. As expected, it’s warm. Not quite feverish, which is a good sign, but warm enough to be notable. 

“Just how long were you intending to hide this?”

Till stares back at him, wide-eyed. “Hide what?”

Shouldn’t it be obvious? “The fact that you have a cold.”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Till says, slowly.

“Hmm.” Ivan drops his hand to his side. He is a little concerned, now. “We could’ve called a rain check.”

This time Till really does roll his eyes. “For the reservation we planned weeks ahead?” he sniffles again. “That just sounds completely and utterly unnecessary. Are you the type of person to call things off just over a little cold?” 

Ivan leans over, tugs down the edge of Till’s scarf. Till bats his hand away just a moment too late, cups his other hand over his face to shield his face from view. For a moment, he looks faintly mortified.

Then his expression settles into something more disgruntled. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

So uncooperative. “Let me see,” Ivan says. Slowly, gently, he pries Till’s hands away from his face, and then—because the restaurant is dimly lit—tilts Till’s face up slightly so that it catches more of the overhead light. 

Till’s nose is redder than usual. He’s probably been rubbing it all afternoon, if the redness that percolates into his cheeks is any indication. There’s  a damp, liquid sheen on the underside of his nose.

“What’s there to see?” Till says, a little crossly.

“Your face, since you’ve been so intent on hiding it under that scarf,” Ivan says, leaning in to get a better look.

Till scowls at him, but there’s no heat to it. “You see my face every day.”

“On the contrary, I don’t see it nearly enough,” Ivan says. “And you hardly ever get sick. Is it so wrong for me to be concerned?”

Without looking, he reaches behind him with one hand to grab a couple cocktail napkins. The other hand he keeps held up to Till’s cheek. 

But then, Till’s breath hitches. “Wait,” he says. Panic flashes through his face. “Ivan, move, I—”

Oh. Well, seeing as there’s no way he’ll be able to get the napkins over in time, it looks like he’ll have to improvise. If Till wants to cover, Ivan can help with that. He moves his hand to cup it loosely over Till’s mouth. Not a second too late, it seems. Till jerks forward unceremoniously, his nose twitching, his eyes squeezing shut.

“hHheh-! HHh’EIITShHh’yYiew!” he gasps sharply. Two? “Hh-! hHiiH’DSSCSSHh-IIew!”  

The jolt of the sneezes is practically electrifying—all of that force, brought to an abrupt halt behind Ivan’s waiting palm. He feels the expulsion of air against his skin, the warmth of Till’s breath, feels the slight dampness behind his hand as the spray mists over his fingertips.

Ivan swallows, hard. Thank god it’s so dark here, otherwise Till might notice what this is doing to him. 

“Bless you,” he says, withdrawing his hand at last to wipe it on one of the cloth napkins. It comes out slightly raspier than he intends it to, though perhaps it’s a miracle that he’s still able to talk at all. “Some cold, hmm?” Belatedly, he hands Till the stack of napkins.

Till practically snatches them from him, turns aside to blow his nose wetly into the top few. The way he sniffles afterwards suggests that his nose is still very much running. 

“Do you have no self preservation? It’s as if you want to catch this,” Till says, drawing back with another sniffle.

Oh, Ivan thinks, fighting back a shiver. That would be far from the worst thing.

[mariposa-writes]

One Day at a Time

Pairing: Simon ‘ghost’ Riley x platonic!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Overview: You tell Simon the truth and he’s more than ready to help.

TW: themes of sexual assault (let me know if there’s anymore I need to tag)

—————————————

It was late, like middle of the night late. Simon had just gotten back from a mission and was ready to pass out in his bed. Although he knew that wouldn’t happen. He was never able to fall asleep straight after a mission. He was always to worked up to sleep and just spent hours, maybe even days staring at his ceiling.

Simon was always on high alert, especially during or after a mission. So when he got out of his car and noticed a faint glow coming through his window he instantly pulled out his gun.

He knew he turned off all the lights before he left. He was always anal about leaving his house a certain way before a mission. Doors locked, lights off, thermostat set at 25 degrees Celsius, and everything had to be perfectly clean and put away so no critters would enter his home and find food.

He turned the knob on his front door, noting that it was unlocked. He slowly and silently pushed it open, so he wouldn’t alarm the possible intruder.

The light was coming from his living room, a small lamp he had purchased years ago. He quickly swept his house, with only his bedroom left. He pushed open the door, expecting to see an enemy waiting for him.

Instead he saw you laying in his bed, sound asleep. He didn’t know why you were here, you’d only come here once before. He knew something must’ve been wrong for you to be here. He quickly put his gun away and took off his mask, not wanting to frighten you.

He made his way over to where you were curled up in his bed. Your long hair was covering most of his pillow along with some stands across your face. He gently brushed them from your face, careful not to wake you.

He noticed the tears stained onto your cheeks along with the slight hiccup in your breath. Simon knew you must’ve fallen asleep crying. He frowned as he felt his heart break.

Why were you crying? You never cried.

He didn’t know whether he should wake you or let you sleep. What if it was an emergency and you needed help? What if someone hurt you? He knew he needed to wake you and find out what was wrong or he’d spiral until you woke up.

He gently woke you up, calling out your name along with a slight shake to your shoulder. When you woke up he could tell you were slightly confused. “Simon?” You asked, as he was crouched down next to the bed so he was eye level with you.

“Yea?” He asked not sure how to respond. Simon was equipped to deal with many things but a girl crying in his bed was not one.

“I thought you were on a mission, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bother you. I just needed a place to stay and I knew you weren’t home” You explained growing more frantic with each word. He could tell you were on the verge of tears again. “I’ll leave.” Your voice broke “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” You said getting out of bed and gathering your things.

Simon didn’t want you to leave. He wanted to help you. He wanted to know why you were here. Why you felt the need to come here and why you were crying. As he stood there frozen you kept repeating how sorry you were.

He didn’t realize it, but he was reaching for your hand. “Don’t cry pretty girl.” He said, wiping the tears from your cheeks despite the new ones replacing the ones he’d wipe away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing” you cried, realizing what a mistake you made by being here. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come.” You said, trying to pull away. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Stop.” Simon said, pulling you into his chest. “It’s fine, you’re fine.” Simon wasn’t one for physical touch, but he could tell you needed comfort more than you cared to admit.

Simon led you guys back to the bed having you drop your stuff on the floor. “Why don’t you lay down again. I can tell you’re tired.” He said pulling the covers of his bed back for you. You nodded, sniffling now that you’d calmed down a tad.

You got back in his bed, as he put the covers back over you. “I’m gonna get you some water and change in the bathroom. I’ll be right back. You can stay in my bed and I’ll take the couch.” you nodded, before he disappeared back into the hall. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the full moon that was out tonight.

Simon came back a few minutes later in sweats and a black tee with a glass of water in his hand. He handed it to you, letting you drink some before putting it on his night stand. “Simon?” You croaked.

“Yes?”

“Will you please stay until I fall asleep? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Simon shifted on his feet, “of course.” He came over to the bed and pulled back the covers sitting down in the bed. He didn’t lay down, just sat with his back against the head board.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for ya.” You smiled, not knowing how much Simon truly meant that. In the time you’d spent with him, you’d slowly craved out a spot for you in his heart. Although Simon had know you for almost two years you guys had only spent a little bit of time together, in between his mission.

You knew he was in the military and that he got deployed every so often, but you didn’t know how lethal he was. You didn’t realize he was a stone cold killing machine. To you Simon was just the guy that you played chess with once a week at the park in between your school and house. That would occasionally leave for weeks or months of end. Never knowing when he’d return.

“Simon?” You whispered, turning to face him.

“Yes?”

“Can I lay on you?” You looked up at with him with those big beautifully colored eyes of yours.

“Yeah.” With that you were scooting closer to him. Head laying on his thigh, arm thrown across his legs.

“Thanks.” You whispered, getting a grunt in return from Simon. You closed your eyes focusing on falling asleep. As Simon stroked your hair. He didn’t even realize he was doing it at first, but you didn’t complain and seemed to like it. Your breathing was growing calmer and he could tell you would soon be asleep.

He originally planned on leaving once you were asleep but he couldn’t bare to leave you. What if you needed him? What if he woke you while trying to leave.

He decided it was just easier for him to stay, trying to tell him self it would be too much work to leave. Deep down he knew he couldn’t leave you cause he cared to much.

He stayed with you the whole night, only leaving once the sun rose. He got out of bed, when Soap texted him he was there. He opened the front door, allowing Soap to enter. “So man-“

Simon shushed him, putting a finger over his lips signaling for Soap to quiet down. Simon went back to check that you hadn’t woken up. He slowly shut the door to his room so Soap could be a little louder. He originally left it open so he could hear if you woke up. “So, why’d you text me, asking me to bring some groceries over?” Soap asked in a hushed tone.

“Remember the girl I told you about? The one that writes me sometimes.”

“The one you play chess with in the park?” Soap asked.

“Yes that one, well she’s currently sleeping in my bed and I wanted to make her breakfast.”

“You slept with her?” Soap whisper yelled. “Dude I thought she was in high school!”

“What? No I didn’t sleep with her!” Simon shook his head. “Dude she’s like a little sister to me! That’s gross you would even think that!” Simon whispered yelled back at Soap.

“Oh good, hand me worried you were gonna go to jail.”

“I tend to make it a habit to not sleep with minors” Simon shook his head, “this isn’t the point, I wouldn’t sleep with her. End. Of. Story.”

“Ok, but then why’s she in your bed?”

“She was here when I got home last night.” Simon explained.

“Why?”

“Not sure, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. But she had clearly been crying and something was wrong. She didn’t wanna talk, but I’m hoping she will open up today.” Soap listened, not sure how to help.

“That sucks man, hopefully everything’s alright and it was just over some stupid boy drama.”

“Yea, I hope it’s that but I have a feeling it’s more than that. But hey, thanks for bringing this stuff over.”

“Anytime man, see ya later.” Soap said letting himself out the front door. Simon got to work, cooking up the best breakfast he’d ever made. There was bacon, sausage, eggs, 3 different types of hash browns, cereal, pancakes, waffles, and a few other things by the time you woke up.

You came out of his bedroom, clearly still tired. “Morning.” You said, sitting on one of the three stools in-front of his kitchen island.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Good, what’s all this?”

“Breakfast.”

You raised an eyebrow, “You made breakfast?” Simon nodded, “but you hate cooking.” You’d learned that little factoid about him in your 4th chess session. Simon never revealed much and neither did you.

That’s why you liked playing chess with him, there wasn’t any pressure to talk. “But I can cook, I’m actually pretty good at it.” He handed you a plate. “Here, get what you want.” He said moving out of the way so you could serve yourself.

“Man, I should sleep here more often if this is what I wake up to.” You mumbled, as you piled the food onto your plate.

“You’re really gonna eat all that?” Simon asked, eyeing the mountain of food on your plate.

“You’d be surprised with how much a can eat.” After Simon got his plate you guys sat down at his dining room table. He poured you both a glass of orange juice.

The two of you just ate in silence for a bit before Simon cleared his throat. “Wanna tell me why you were here last night?”

You frowned, knowing this conversation was bound to happen eventually. “Not really.” You promised that you would tell Simon everything if he was here when you showed up, but he wasn’t. He was still gone and you were hysterical when you made that promise to yourself, so it didn’t really count.

You’d already kept your secret for so long and the last time you told someone they let you down. Now you’re to afraid to have someone you care about let you down that you choose not to tell people

“Well how about you tell me how you even got in here last night?”

“Picked the lock.” You said, despite your mouth being full. That was one piece of information you were comfortable with sharing.

“Why were you crying?”

You dropped your fork, tired of his prying despite him only asking three questions. “Got into a fight with my brother.”

“You fight with your brother all the time, why’d you come over here?” You couldn’t tell Simon how broke down after the fight and punched a hole in the wall in your room.

You shook your head, letting him know you wouldn’t answer that question. “What happened to your hand?” You frowned, you were worried that he would notice, Simon was many things and dumb was not one.

“Punched a wall.”

“Why?” You dropped your fork pushing your chair back, before standing up ready to leave.

“This was a mistake, I should’ve never came.” You rushed back to his room, grabbing your stuff. He followed, placing his fork down too.

“You can’t just show up here clearly upset and expect me not to ask questions!” Simon yelled, not sure how to handle situations like this.

“Why you never asked questions before, that’s why I came. We don’t ask questions!”

You exclaimed throwing up your hands. “Why do you care all of the sudden?” You yelled. Shoving past him since he was blocking the door way, he grabbed your elbow, stopping you.

“That’s not true and you know it.” He said his words growing softer. Did you really think he didn’t care? If he didn’t care he wouldn’t play chess with you every week. He wouldn’t have ever shown you where he lived. He wouldn’t have let you into his life if he didn’t care. How could you think he didn’t care about you? Of course he cared, he loved you. You were the closest thing he had to family outside of the task force.

“Really? Why haven’t you ever asked about my home life? Why don’t you come to any of my games?” You were crying again, eyes red and puffy with tears streaming down your face. “You don’t care. No one cares, not you, not my friends, not even my mom cares.”

“I care.”

You shook your head, clearly not believing him “no you don’t.” You kept repeating it.

“Yes I do!” He said getting on his knees so he could look up at you since you wouldn’t look up at him. “What’s wrong pretty girl? You’ve never acted like this. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

“I can’t tell you.” You sobbed.

“Yes you can, you can tell me anything.”

“No” you kept repeating as you shook your head. “Please, I can’t. You’ll be disgusted by me.”

“No, that’s not true.” Simon pleaded, just wanting you to believe. Simon tried to think of a way he could get you to tell him. “What if you write it down?”

You shook your head. “Draw?” You shook your head no again. That’s when he thought of it. “Morse code? You can tap me and tell me”

You sniffled, Simon had taught you Morse code saying it was good in case you ever needed help or needed to say something without anyone else hearing.

You nodded, as Simon gave you his hand.

..

.-- .- ...

.-. .- .--. . -..

Simons heart broke as he released what you’d just said. He didn’t know what to say. Maybe he’d translated it wrong. Maybe you messed up.

“You were raped?” Simon asked, his voice so quiet he could barely hear himself.

You just closed your eyes nodding. Not wanting to look at him. He pulled you down into his arms, hugging you like you were dying.

He felt like he was dying. This was worse than any pain he’d ever gone through. He’d rather be torture for the rest of his life than ever hear you say those 3 words.

You sobbed in his arms as Simon held you. Simon didn’t even realize he was crying until one of his tears dropped onto your grey shirt. “Who was it?” Simon asked after a few minutes.

“My brothers dad.”

“Your moms boyfriend?” Simon asked, even though he already knew the answer. You nodded into his chest.

“When did this happen?”

“Throughout elementary school.”

“It happened multiple times?”

“Yeah.”

“Does your mom know?”

“Yes.” You whispered. Simon was enraged, you lived with this man. You were about to start your senior year. If your mom knew why was he still living with you. “I told her in middle school.” Simons teeth clenched as he tried to hide his anger.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Simon whispered, not even realizing he’d let the words slip.

He was up and at his closet entering the code in his safe, before you even realized his words. “Simon don’t, he’s not worth it!” You pleaded, as he shoved his gun in his waist band.

“Of course he’s worth it, he hurt you!”

“Simon, he still my brothers dad! You can’t kill my brothers dad, he’s just a kid. He won’t understand.” Simon stood in the hallway, trying to decide what to do. All he could see was red, “please.”

Simon let out one last breath, “are you sure, cause I know over a hundred ways to kill someone and make it look like an accident.”

“I promise, it’s okay. I’ve been living with him for years.”

“You shouldn’t have too, your mom should’ve kicked him out or done something at least.”

“I know, trust me I’ve thought about that. But she’s never going to, she’s too weak.”

“You-“ Simon was cut off by your phone ringing.

“It’s my mom, she’s wondering when I’ll be home.” You explained.

“Never, you’re not going back there. You’re staying with me. I’ll kill him before you ever go back to a mother that couldn’t protect you and a man that hurt you.”

“My stuffs all there.”

“We’ll get it back. I have a spare room you can stay in.”

“I can’t leave her, she still pays for a lot of my stuff and as much as I hate it I’m dependent on her.” You’d thought about leaving plenty of times, but you had nothing. You worked a part time job since you were in school, but it wasn’t enough to pay for everything.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. I have money, I can take care of you. I can protect you.” Simon reassured. The thought of you going back to that house made him want to throw up and murder someone at the same time.

“Simon, I don’t want to be a burden. Plus you’re gone for months on end.”

“I’ll switch to the reserves.” You couldn’t up root Simons life it wasn’t fair. You should’ve never told him, not only was it affecting your life but I was now affecting his too. “Please, I can’t let you go back there. I need to know you’re safe.”

You wanted to say no, but isn’t this what you had been looking for? Someone to keep you safe. A place where you didn’t have to worry about someone coming into your room at night. A place that felt like home, cause if you’re being honest Simon was the only person that gave you any sort of feeling of being home.

That’s why you waited at the park everyday from 2-3 to see if he was back from his mission. You only truly smiled around him. You only felt safe around him. Simon was the only man that you’d truly ever felt safe around.

Being with Simon felt like finally standing on steady ground.

“I don’t want to mess up your life. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You aren’t.” You’re making it better. Simon wanted to add on, but he refrained. The truth was you gave him a reason to fight. When missions were hard, he’d think about playing chess with you. He’d thinking about you guys grabbing ice cream when you beat him and dinner if you’d let it slip that you hadn’t eaten lunch. He’d think about the cookies you made him. He’d think about the new books you’d recommend him. He’d think about the art galleries you’d drag him to. He’d think about songs you introduced him to. He’d think about the coffee shop you liked to do your homework in while he read. He’d think about the libraries you liked to go to after losing to him in chess. He’d think about how you were the only person to have a photo of him. How you were on of the only people he’d take him mask off around.

You were his reason for getting out of those missions alive.

Maybe deep down he knew you always needed him. Maybe it was the other way around and he needed you.

He didn’t know, but what he did know what that you would never be a burden to him.

“If I stay, how does this work?”

Simon didn’t know the answer to your question. He had never been responsible for anyone. He didn’t know how everything would work, but he did know what he’d figure it out. One day at a time.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. But I’ll make it work.”

You took a deep breath. Tears were still falling down your cheeks.

Simon didn’t process your words until you were throwing your self into his arms, crying into his chest again. He held you, he’d hold you for as long as you needed. He knew now as you spoke those words that he’d always be there for you.

“I’ll stay.”

He didn’t know what the future would hold, but he’d make damn sure you had a better life than you’d previously had.

One day at a time, he’d work on mending the broken pieces of you.

One day at a time, you’d work on mending the broken pieces of him.

The two of you would heal each other, even if you didn’t know it in that moment.