#Good thing the dress covers her stomach because otherwise it would be obvious that i drew this before the cleave was released

[shadowthedragoncat]

Women pretty..

Pretty fuzzy woman....

[aesthyuckic]

🎃🔮 halloween! ┊͙✧˖*°࿐

based on ‘drunk on Halloween’ by the wallows! angst and mentions of cheating i love Halloween so enjoy!! (hopefully)

Halloween was always your favorite time of year. You loved dressing up, so much so the 1st you’d start planning your costume for next year. You loved the candy and going trick-or-treating when you were younger. The autumn leaves crunching under your feet once they fell into a warm hue was comforting to you. You enjoyed the Halloween movies, all of them something about felt like that nice feeling warming up after being out in the cold. It was the perfect season for you… Until it wasn’t one year.

Last year made you become numb to your favorite season and holiday because being sad and angry wasn’t enough. Your boyfriend, Jisung cheated on you last year on your favorite holiday, even worse it was one of his friend’s girlfriend. You and him were never the same and no one understood why you continued to be with him.

You loved him though, unconditionally and wholeheartedly. You came to realize he was no one the same level as you when it came to love. He may have been a man but he was still a boy mentally. You loathed him for what he did and eventually no love or hate was left for him. Truthfully, you didn’t understand why you stayed with him now. Maybe because you were holding on to something long gone.

You both walked into Johnny’s, a friend of Jisung’s, annual Halloween party he threw for everyone he knew. It doubled as a birthday party for Yuta and Sicheng some other friends of his. He closed the door behind you and silence between the both you was deafening as the music could be heard around the both of you.

You were shocked when the boy took your coat off of your arms and hung it up near the door.

“Thank you.” You mumbled to him.

“Yeah…” He nodded.

It didn’t even feel like you were dating anymore. The conversations shared were incredibly awkward to the point it caused discomfort in the both of you.

“Why don’t we find my friends?” He asked as he came to wrap an arm around you waist to guide you along with him.

Johnny saw the both of you near the entrance and came to great the both of you.

“Y/n!” He smiled as he hugged you. “It’s been forever. This kid never brings you around much anymore! How are you?”

“Busy with college, you know how it is.” You laughed, dryly.

He didn’t know about what happen. There was only four people what knew what happened a year ago and it was you, Jisung, Haechan and Yoona. You all wanted to keep it that was otherwise things would end badly and everyone wanted to move on. It was hard to when you stood in the exact same house your boyfriend hook up with another woman a year ago. That anger began to come back in the pit of your stomach.

“Well good luck. Don’t do anything you’ll regret tomorrow.” He winked. “I’ll see you all later!”

Jisung bid goodbye to his friend both he moved the both of you into the kitchen. Most of the counter was covered in various alcoholic beverages. The boy was about to pick up a beer but you were quick to grab his wrist to stop him.

“Please don’t drink.” You pleaded. “You promised me you wouldn’t drink ever again after last Halloween.”

He saw the sadness in your eyes and retracted his hand, “Alright, I won’t.”

Instead, he just grabbed a cup full of soda. One for you and one for him. The both of you were about to walk out of the crowded kitchen until you bumped into some other people on the way out. Of course it just had to be Haechan and Yoona.

“Oh, hey!” The other girl seemed so chirper in her voice.

How odd was it that she was dressed as a cat and your boyfriend was a mouse that Halloween. A part of you felt like they planned it. They promised no contact with each other again after last year so it couldn’t be. Deep down you knew it could be even if probably wasn’t.

“Long time no see…” Jisung spoke up before taking in a deep breath.

You were uncomfortable and it was obvious the tan boy that stood across from you was as well.

“We were just getting some drinks.” Haechan cleared his throat and swiftly moving passed you two with the girl practically attached to his waist.

You would be dumb if you hadn’t caught that shared gaze between the ex-lovers. Haechan was too busy trying to hide his own anger and jealousy to notice. Though you did and you knew the two of them were much happy with one another… It was obvious even before just the way they smiled and acted around each other before.

You just sighed at the sight before you walked out to the porch. Jisung caught up with you once he was done looking at the girl noticed you were gone. He found you leaned up against the railing outside, looking at the stars that he once remembered were your favorite. Your expression under the moonlight slightly hidden by the witch’s hat you wore yet a somber expression still poke out.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you, quietly against the muffled music.

You took a deep breath in, “Is there a reason we’re together still?”

“What are talking about?” He scoffed.

“You haven’t told me you loved me since last year… I don’t think you love me.”

“You haven’t let me touch you since last year.”

“It’s not about sex, Jisung. Love exists with out.”

“And sex exists without love, what’s your point?”

“Is that the reason you slept with Yoona for fuck’s sake? Because I wasn’t psychical enough with you? You know I was busy with midterms then. You couldn’t just wait? You’re that much of a whore?”

“What else was I suppose to do?! It’s like we weren’t in a relationship anymore!”

“Are you kidding me?! That’s what you say?! Is that the only reason you were with me?! You didn’t have to ask me out, you could get hook-ups if you wanted. You didn’t have to date me to get a vulnerable part of me when you get that with someone else!”

Everything went silent. The boy’s expression had yet to soften and you had grown tired of the push and pull with one another. You finally sighed and just gave it.

“You know that? I’m done with you. Feel free to do whatever you want at least you don’t have to cheat anymore. Pick up your stuff in the morning.”

You were about to walk back inside before he grabbed your arm. You looked up at him. He saw there’s a plead behind your eyes. One that just begged him to let you go after all this time. It was painful.

“Please, don’t keep doing this to me.” You whispered on the verge of tears

His grip finally loosened and you were free. You went straight for the kitchen looking for liquor. Something that would help feel okay that moment and you found a tequila bottle you i used to fill a shot glass up with and wash down your throat. One shot, two shot, three shot before you filled up a red solo cup with a little more before you sat down on the couch in the living room full of people.

You saw multiple people hooking up with one another and another sense of hatred for this holiday was found for you. Tipsy, you sipped off the plastic cup with your arms crossed.

“What’s up with you?” A soft, soothing voice asked.

You turned to see Haechan in his vampire costume standing there, looking at you. He had the same red cup in his hand. Though obviously probably with soda or juice judging by his composure.

“I broke up with Jisung…” You confessed to the boy.

“You should’ve awhile ago.” He shrugged.

“Why do you care?” You huffed. “I didn’t think you’d want me around since the last time we were around or talked to each other you saw your best friend in bed with your girlfriend.”

“Not your fault. You also saw your boyfriend in bed with his best friend’s girlfriend so… I don’t I’m a positive reminder either.”

“Who cares? It’s finally over. For me at least.”

You took another sip from your drink that you held in your cheek before you looked at the people in front of you. You saw the bleach blonde in the crowd of people. He stood out a bit and you saw him walk up the stairs before he took someone’s hand. Of course it was Yoona, who else would it be? You chuckled bitterly before swallowing the liquid. The boy in the vampire costume had his back turn to the scene since he was talking to you. Unaware that your ex and his girlfriend went up to an empty bedroom.

“What do you think he’s doing now?” He asked you.

“You probably don’t want to know.” You answered.

“Why do you say that?” He huffed.

“It involves your girlfriend.”

“I kinda figured they never stopped seeing each other honestly.”

He sat down next to you. His expression was rather sad but again who’s wouldn’t be? Seemed like just a painful memory from last year… You quietly offered him the rest of your alcohol. He stared at it for a moment before he took it and chugged it down. You didn’t need much more anyway as you were already starting to feel out of it. The feeling was something that relieved you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, genuinely curious about your well being at the moment.

“I’m relieved and I feel free…” You answered. “It’s not just the alcohol talking. A lot of people say love is a choice at one point and I kept trying to force it on someone who didn’t want to make that choice. I don’t know how to phrase it but I feel much better.”

“That’s good.” He chuckled with a small smile that was warming to the heart.

“Are you okay though?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve felt the same way as you.”

A softer song started to play. The type of song you could feel during a melancholy evening when you were out of it. You actually like it and was a different pace from the last few songs and everyone was too busy to complain.

“Do you want to dance with me?” You turned to ask him. “I think we deserve to enjoy the night too.”

He seemed rather shocked but the abrupt confidence he didn’t see previously. His expression was just blank as he blinked a few times.

“Okay…” He mumbled.

As soon as the letters left his lips you were up and yanking on his hand to pull him up. He trailed behind you to the middle of the living room. He expected for you to let go but you didn’t. You faced him and grabbed his other hand just to move him along with you. Your hands were cold while his were quite warm. It made for that comfortable feeling you loved about the cooler weather. His hands were soft… and pretty which were just bonuses you happened to notice when your hands held each other perfectly.

You had a goofy smile plastered on your face as you felt a little less alone. Your face a bit flushed from the alcohol but it kind of just made him smile in return. With a concept of lost time, the both of you dance with each other (not well but for the sake of good fun) like no one else was like even around you. But in fact you were getting weird stares from other people, maybe it was the uncoordinated moves or maybe it was the fact everything still thought you both had significant others that weren’t each other.

It was clear you both were having the time of your lives though. That’s all that truly mattered in the end. You started laughing and Haechan followed shortly behind you. You leaned on him trying to cover your mouth in an effort to stop but the more he laughed, the more it infected you and the more you laughed the more it got to him…

It was a shocked when Jisung and Yoona had come downstairs from their rendezvous to see you both clear as day under the lilac light in the center of the living room. The tanned boy had his arms wrapped around you as you continued to giggle on his shoulder as you swayed with one another. The look of pure happiness has become almost unknown to the blonde boy… Something in him dropped with that knowledge. It didn’t help that the vampire with the witch looked so much better than the mouse with the witch.

He looked over at Yoona who had her nose scrunched up. It was obvious she was pissed, it seemed like jealousy even. She seemed even more appalled at the face that you and her (ex) boyfriend had walked out of the party arm in arm as she just watched from the stairway. It wasn’t long after she received a text from Haechan breaking up with her.

The next morning you woke up with a hangover. You were still in your costume but in a very unfamiliar bed with the sheets bunched around you. It was only when you looked at the floor and saw the man in the vampire costume curled up on the floor that you realized where you were. He was sound asleep and dare you say cute as you heard little snores from his lips. You looked over at the night stand to see two glasses of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on surface with a note. You took the pills before you even picked up the note.

‘Thanks for giving me the courage to break up with Yoona, finally. Maybe we can be friends.’

You found yourself smiling before you looked over at the boy. Maybe. For some reason you loved that. You got your stuff, ready to go and get home so you could finally clean yourself up and get rid of things. Before you could, the boy woke up with a groan.

“I didn’t even drink much last night but my head hurts still.” Haechan moaned.

“Poor baby.” You mocked with a snicker.

His head popped up as he looked at you through his puffy eyes, “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“I woke up not to long ago.”

“Hmm.”

“Thanks for dancing with me last night even though we barely know each other.”

“It was fun…”

You nodded in agreement. You came to him and crouched down next to him.

“And thank you for making me like fall and Halloween again.” You confessed before you left a quick, sweet kiss on his cheek.

He was shocked once again, in a good way though. You were out quicker than he could’ve responded. Perhaps he shouldn’t feel such a ping in his heart if you were two were going to be friends…

[scuttling]

Long Time Coming

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,664 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch, Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, Reader has a few one night stands, Semi-public sex, Unprotected sex, Blow jobs/Face fucking, Hairpulling, Fingering, Praise and degradation, Dirty talk, Accidental reveal of feelings, TW blood/cut Summary: You have been in lust (and love) with Aaron for a while, but his new look sends you off the deep end, and it's enough to make you do some pretty crazy things. *Inspired by @ssamorganhotchner and these three pics. Link to A03 or read below! You are fresh off yet another unsuccessful first date when Aaron wears the new suit. You, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are standing by the coffee maker, complaining about the pitfalls of online dating and how people are never they way they seem when you actually meet in person; you have the carafe in your hand, filling your mug, and when he walks in, face in a case file, his pants so tight you can make out his hips and thighs as clearly as if he were naked… You kind of lose your shit. And your grip.

The carafe shatters when it hits the tile floor, spraying shards of glass and hot coffee everywhere; Emily gasps, Penelope jumps back to avoid the splatter, JJ runs for a broom, and you just stand there, staring at Aaron—at his tight slacks, at his belt, at his shirt, tucked neatly inside, then at his dangling tie, and finally, his worried face.

“Are you alright?” he asks, because you have literally not moved a muscle since he arrived; your boots are covered in coffee—you are thankful you dressed casually today and aren’t wearing heels, or you’d be in a lot of pain—and your heart is racing, but otherwise you feel frozen, unable to move or look away.

You’ve wanted Aaron for a long time, and everyone knows it but him. It’s part of the reason you’re smothering yourself with online hookups and blind dates and one night stands: because he is off limits, and you’re desperately horny for him, and you need to have him fucked out of your mind one way or another.

The new suit further complicates things.

“Fine,” you say after a few more seconds, and JJ comes back with the broom and dustpan, so you bend down to help her clean up your mess. It wasn’t your brightest idea, because you are now at eye level with the tight crotch of his pants, and all you can think of is working the zipper open, pulling him carefully past the fly, sucking him off until those big hands slip into your hair and tug roughly when he comes.

God. You’re going to have to go on another bad date. Or ten.

“New suit?” Penelope asks conversationally, as if you aren’t having a sexual crisis about it three feet away. “Looks good, boss.” Aaron runs his hand down his body self-consciously, but all you see are thick fingers and stomach and hnnngg…

JJ pinches the back of your arm hard, makes a face that screams get it together!!, and you take a deep breath.

“I took some of my old ones in for alterations and the salesman convinced me they were severely outdated. Do you like this style better?”

For some reason, it feels like he’s looking right at you, and you nod, dreamy-eyed, sweep your tongue over your lips.

“Better,” you rasp, and Emily and Penelope agree, probably to take the emphasis off of your slack mouth and dopey one-word answers. You try to help JJ clean up, picking up the larger pieces of glass and dropping them into the dustpan despite her protests—because you are very unfocused, shouldn’t be messing with sharp objects—and when you cut your finger on a piece, she just sighs. Such a mom.

You wince, and Aaron frowns, comes toward you, putting you not only at dick height, but a manageable dick distance, if you were so inclined; really, it’s more if he were so inclined, because you are actually fully prepared to swallow his load right here in front of your friends—all he’d have to do would be snap his fingers and point to his crotch, and the FBI would be suing you for mental distress and using the money to pay for therapy for Emily, Penelope, and JJ.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” he says, snapping you out of your very elaborate fantasy (typically your fantasies don’t involve court costs, but this is Aaron, so anything is possible.) He wraps his hand around your injured finger and pulls you up to standing with the other, and you just follow along as he leads you over to the sink, turns on the tap to let the water run over your cut. The way you’re looking up at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen has to be painfully obvious, but he just reaches over for the first aid kit, takes out a bandage, and wraps it carefully around the tip of your finger. You sigh.

It may have started out as lust, but you’re pretty sure you’re also in love.

You have got to find a way to get him to notice you as more than just an agent, a teammate, a friend, and so: Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ begins. You fill the girls in on your master plan, and they fill in Derek and Spencer just so there are more people to laugh at you when you crash and burn, probably. But you’ve got a plan, will be pulling out all the stops, so you might not fail horribly after all. Hopefully.

God, you absolutely cannot fail. You can’t go out with another software engineer with the personality of a peanut or another investment banker who thinks buying you an appetizer means you owe him a blow job in the front seat of his Tesla. You will go fucking insane.

Today’s plan is T for tits, because yours are pretty awesome and almost no one who is attracted to women can resist them. You wear your usual white button down top, but you leave the top two buttons undone, and you add a red, lacy bra for a little additional temptation.

“Here are those consults you asked for,” you say after knocking lightly on the doorframe; Aaron waves you inside. You set them down on his desk, then glance over the open folder in front of him, make a curious noise. “What are you working on up here?”

You walk around his desk, so you’re standing next to him, and lean forward to look over the case file with one hand on the back of his chair and the other pressed against the desk. If he would look over, he would see right down your top, your breasts high and smushed together thanks to the lacy push up… but he looks straight down at the file, taps his pen against it.

“Murders in Detroit. I don’t think we’ll go—they look like mob hits to me, so I’m going to refer the case to Organized Crime.” You hum, turn the file toward you and lean in a little closer, letting your hair spill over your shoulder, the neck of your blouse fall open. Boobs and perfume are usually a one-two punch that is capable of bringing any man to his knees, and while he does turn to look at you, it feels entirely too respectful for your liking. You sigh softly, give up for today, and turn the file back.

“Well you know best, boss. Any time I don’t have to go to Detroit is alright by me.” You flash him a smile, and he reciprocates, and you head back downstairs for a cup of coffee and maybe a stale shame pastry.

The team looks up at you when you approach, and you shake your head.

“No luck,” you mutter, and Derek laughs, crosses his arms over his chest.

“Maybe you’re not very good at flirting. What did you do?” You roll your eyes—your flirting is not the problem, it’s Aaron’s morals and manners or whatever—and walk over to Spencer’s desk, demonstrate with him what you did to Aaron; you put your hand on the back of his chair, toss your hair over your shoulder, lean in, and Spencer swallows hard, licks his lips, and looks abruptly down at his hands. That reaction, you would have gladly taken.

Derek clears his throat, and so does Emily. Hmm.

“I’m good at flirting,” you say, straightening up; Spencer is blushing, and it’s super cute, so you pat him lightly on the head. “Maybe he’s an ass man. I’ll wear a skirt tomorrow and we’ll see if that gets the job done.”

“Good idea,” Derek says, and when you walk past him, he gives you a once over that makes you feel pretty damn good. “In the meantime, why don’t you come and demonstrate on me?”

There’s no denying he is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and earlier on in your career you might have taken him up on it—it would have to be better than Marty McTesla, that’s a given—but you know he’s mostly teasing, even if there is a thin layer of actual desire beneath it all. You just fluff your hair and take your seat and mentally flip through your closet to try to come up with an outfit Aaron can’t refuse. You decide on a pencil skirt, because that’s got to be every boss's fantasy, right? You have one you never wear to the office because it’s a little sexy, tight on your hips and ass, with a zipper up the back that you can open a little and use to your advantage. When you walk into the bullpen that morning, JJ whistles, and you grin, do a little twirl.

“Thank you, thank you. This has to work, right?” You turn to face Emily, then turn away from Emily, butt right in her face. “Emily? This will work, right?”

“That’s... definitely going to work,” she murmurs, tapping the cap of her pen against her teeth, and you have to admit you have a good feeling about this one. For as great as breasts are, your ass is your best asset, and if the open top and red bra didn’t work, this has to be your ticket to some sweet, dirty loving, it just has to.

You all head up for the morning meeting, filing into the briefing room, and you give Aaron a soft greeting and a smile just like every day, and then offer to help him pass out whatever stack of papers he’s holding in his hands—fire drills and emergency protocol, or something boring like that. He accepts the help, and you take the fliers, but instead of walking around and handing them to each member of the team like he would, you bend over the table, reach across, and drop the pages in front of everyone.

JJ is the furthest away, and you practically have to climb onto the table to reach her; you grin and wink when she takes the papers out of your hand, and she shakes her head like you’re too much, but when you stand back up to hand Aaron the extras, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested.

He thanks you for your help, and you take your seat and listen to him go on about emergency exits and fire extinguishers and seriously start to contemplate moving to Europe to start a new life, or something else equally dramatic.

Because you don’t give up easily, you orchestrate one more attempt to get him to show some interest in you. You know he usually goes downstairs to the cafeteria for lunch, and that the elevator is a jam-packed nightmare because the main stairwell is currently under construction (which is probably why you needed to go over safety protocol, now that you think about it; shutting down the stairwell seems very unsafe.) You usually pack your lunch, but you can go buy an overpriced salad for the sake of your sex drive, so you wait for the elevator when he does, making small talk about your mornings until it dings and arrives on your floor.

He tries to let you in first, gentleman that he is, but that won’t work with your plan, so you insist, earning eye rolls from the other passengers on the elevator. You give Amy from Forensic Accounting a dirty look and then step in after him, lean back against him because there’s really no fucking room to even take a breath.

He’s taller than you, but with heels on your ass still fits pretty nicely against his thighs; a little too nicely, you think, as you get wet just from standing near him in the elevator, the heat of his body through your skirt. You really are a mess.

There are two more floors to go before the cafeteria, and no one gets off, but more people manage to cram into the elevator, which means you press more tightly against him to make room. Someone bumps into you roughly, which makes you unsteady on your feet; Aaron puts his hands low on your hips to keep you from wobbling, and your eyes literally roll back in your head, but he just leans in to mutter, “sorry” into your ear. You say nothing, because you’d probably moan if you opened your mouth, but you shake your head so he knows it’s not a problem.

When everyone gets off downstairs, you hurry to the restroom and don’t look back, turn on the faucet and splash some cold water against your overheated neck and chest. So much for that plan. All you managed to do was work yourself up into a fury.

While you’re in line to pay for your overpriced salad, you open up your dating app and secure yourself drinks with a hot lawyer for tonight. Seduction is clearly not working with Aaron, he’s clearly not interested, and you have to find a way to move on before you have a spontaneous workplace orgasm and get fired from the job you love—all of his tight new suits have been dark so far, but if he shows up in gray, you’re not going to have the will to survive anymore. You have to plan for the worst.

The lawyer is nice enough, but he’s too short, too thin; it’s hard to imagine Aaron’s body weight on top of you when he’s fucking you, but you’re nothing if not resourceful, so you move your hands to his head of thick, dark hair and focus on that—that, and his hot breath against your throat when he comes a little too soon and mutters “sorry” into your ear.

“It’s okay,” you pant, reaching between you to rub your clit. You close your eyes, tip your head back, clench around him; you imagine it’s Aaron inside you instead, and bury your face in his shoulder when you come.

He’s willing to stay, but you explain why it’s better if he leaves, and then you fall back into bed, fumble for your vibrator, and get off again so you’re not too distracted by reality to really enjoy your fantasy.

It’s a little twisted, but it is what it is. You’re standing in the breakroom a few days later, swiping through the dating app and bullshitting with Derek and Penelope, when this guy pops up on your screen. He’s not your usual type, younger and blonder than you prefer these days, a pilot, but something about his profile makes you pause; when it hits you, you blow out a breath and look up at your friends.

“So you guys know Operation ‘Get Hotch Out Of His Tight Pants’ is officially dead in the water,” you begin, and they nod, “and now I’m focusing my energy on trying to get over him. I went on a date with a guy that kind of looked like him, and that didn’t really help, but what if…” You turn your screen to face them; Derek nods like it might be crazy enough to work, but Penelope grimaces.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to work. It might actually be crossing a line,” she says with a frown, and you look to Derek for his input.

“It’s more of a coincidence than anything, right? It’s not like he’s unattractive and this is the only reason you’re going out with him. He’s a good looking guy,” he admits, and you’re really grateful he’s willing to help you rationalize this probably terrible idea into a potentially decent idea.

You send the pilot a message, and he wants to meet up; he suggests a bar near the both of you, and you know it’s risky, but you tell him you happen to make a great gin and tonic and that you have everything you need at home, if he’d like to meet you there instead.

He does, and you don’t even make him that drink, just take off his clothes, get him into your bed.

“That’s right, babe—wanna hear you lose it for me. Say my name, gorgeous,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you from behind, and you close your eyes, fist your hands in the sheets, and give him what he wants.

“Oh, fuck, Aaron. Fuck me harder.” His thrusts are already rough and punishing, but this is the best you’ve felt in a really long time, so you’re eager, desperate for more. “Yeah, Aaron, just like that.”

“Tell me my big cock feels so good in your pussy.” He slaps your ass, and you moan involuntarily, press back against him, panting.

“Your big cock feels so good, Aaron, so good in my pussy. Fuck me, Aaron, destroy me.” He grunts, tenses, and moves his hands to your shoulders, slamming your body tight against his as he comes. “Yes, don’t stop, Aaron, don’t stop,” you plead, hips working together, and when he smacks your ass again you come gasping his name, collapsing against the bed with a breathless sigh.

You feel a lot dirtier than you expected you would, even though it was kind of awesome, and ultimately Penelope was right; it was fun while it lasted, but it didn’t do a damn thing to help you forget about the only Aaron you actually want in your bed. Monday morning, Aaron comes into the office wearing a tight navy suit with a striped white shirt and a navy tie, and you follow him with your eyes from the glass double doors all the way up to his office, mouth open a little. Your eyes get heavy and your breathing picks up, which is the dumbest biological reaction to a man’s ass you’ve ever had—but god, it’s a perfect ass—and JJ has to actually lightly slap your cheek to get you to snap the fuck out of it.

“Are you horny right now?” she asks, a little grossed out. “I can’t handle you.”

“I know you guys all call him a tightass, but I mean, if the pants fit… and god, do they fit.” You pick up a case file and fan yourself with it. “He’s so fucking hot. What am I supposed to do? Getting railed by fake Aaron didn’t do shit; I think I might actually have to transfer.”

“You’re not transferring. You just have to get over it.”

“Are you kidding? She’s like a cat in heat when he’s around,” Derek says with a smirk. “I think I’m getting horny just because she’s horny.”

“Okay, so why can’t I have that effect on him?” you ask with your arms open. “Do you think it’s the pheromones? Maybe they’re incompatible. Smell me—does it turn you on?” you ask Spencer, presenting your neck, and he looks like a deer in the headlights, then leans in to sniff you.

“Uh… you smell nice?” he says with a shrug and a half smile. “I think it’s just your perfume, though.”

“Put your face near her boobs,” Derek says, and Spencer starts to lean in again. “I think the pheromones are stronger there.” He pauses about halfway to your chest.

“Actually, they’re stronger near the genitals, but I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

“What’s going on down there?” You freeze and then turn to look up at Aaron’s office, where he leans against the doorframe; Spencer stands up comically fast, and you take a step back, clearing your throat. Aaron’s scowling—it’s really sexy and it’s making your heart beat in your stupid, traitor pussy—and then he sighs visibly. “We have a case, come on.”

The case is only a half hour away, so you drive, which is horrible, because you are with Aaron and Derek, and Derek lets you sit in the front just to watch you squirm.

It gets bad before you even pull out of the parking garage, because Aaron puts his hand on the back of your headrest to look behind him and reverse the SUV, and you look over at his body—his stomach, his lap, his thighs—and then quickly face forward when he puts the car into drive. You’re flushed, breathing heavily, and when he looks you over quizzically, asks if you’re alright, you just clear your throat and nod.

“Allergies,” Derek supplies from the back, and you mentally thank him for the save, but you kind of also want to smack him for putting you in this position in the first place.

You’re practically turned on the entire ride, even as you go over the details of the case, because his legs are spread and your eyes keep moving to his crotch; at one point, you think you notice his already unfairly tight pants getting a little tighter, but it’s just a trick of light.

By the time you arrive at the precinct, you are more than ready for fresh air, to put some distance between yourself and Aaron. You’re out of the car almost as soon as he turns off the engine, which probably looks weird as hell, but for your sanity you can’t give it too much thought.

The head detective and a junior detective give you a run down on the case while the other half of your team meets with officers at the crime scene. The head detective, a tall, handsome man in his forties, is looking at you like you’re a juicy steak and he hasn’t eaten in months; Derek notices, turns to you with a raised eyebrow and mouths ‘pheromones,’ Aaron is clearly unhappy about the detective’s lack of professionalism, and you couldn’t really care less about the attention. You just want to do your job and go home and touch yourself to thoughts of your boss… as one does.

The local police already have a board made up, so the three of you travel to speak with some witnesses, head back to the precinct, work the tip lines. Aaron seems to be looking at you more than usual, and when you get up to stretch your legs, he’s right behind you, following you out into the hall.

“Are you sure you're alright today?” he asks with a serious expression, hands on his hips. Your mouth waters. “You’ve been acting a little strange.”

“Stranger than normal?” You try to smile, to lighten the mood, but as oblivious as he’s been about everything else, he’s always been able to tell when you try to hide your emotions with humor.

“The last couple weeks? Yes.” He moves a little closer, and you try your best not to let it affect you—or at least not to let it show when it does. “You know by now that you can come to me anytime, for anything.” He doesn’t present it as a question, but it’s clear on his face that he’s looking for an answer.

“I know. I’m going through something… stupid,” you say with a shrug. “Something I should be able to handle, but it’s harder than I imagined.” He frowns, flicks his eyes over your face.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t; trust me, you can’t,” you say, pleading with your voice, begging him to drop it. “I’ll get through it.” You shut your eyes briefly, exhale, and he reaches down to take one of your hands in his.

“Are you in trouble?” This is the most intimately he’s ever touched you, and it’s not just your body that sings; you know you’re in love with him, have been for a while, but focusing on the horny feelings is easier. It makes it feel like you have less to lose.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I just need some time. Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and then Derek pokes his head into the hall behind him.

“We got a tip about the unsub barricading a house downtown; the detective is mobilizing SWAT,” he says; when he glances down at your hands, you pull yours softly out of Aaron’s grasp.

“What do you want us to do, boss?” you ask, effectively ending your conversation, and he tells you to get suited up with comms and Kevlar so the three of you can head to the new scene. Aaron is, unsurprisingly, a complete badass, storming the house along with SWAT, you at his side; it’s his way of reminding you that he trusts you, that it can and should go both ways—he is so perfectly predictable, reassuring with gestures over words even in a situation like this one. It does nothing to help you stop wanting him.

He’s a little rough with the unsub (and that doesn’t help either,) looks ruffled and kind of pissed when you climb in the SUV to head back to the precinct. Spencer, JJ, and Emily meet you there, and you take the opportunity to vent about how indescribably good Aaron has looked all day—Spencer bows out of the conversation early, but JJ and Emily are kind enough to listen to your insane, horny ramblings.

“He’s just so hot—he always has been, but the new suits? They’re so tight, and his shirts show off his tummy, and his pants show off his thighs… You guys will never understand the things I want to do to him.”

“Okay, he’s handsome enough, but you’re nasty about it—I can’t handle you,” JJ says, not for the first time. You groan in response.

“How can you say that? Have you fucking seen him? I’m not supposed to think nasty thoughts when he walks around looking like that?”

You feel yourself getting a little out of hand, and Emily and JJ look like they’re trying to shut you up, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like the floodgates have opened.

“He’s never going to know what I want to do to him… what I want him to do to me. I tried so hard, and he didn’t even look at me. All I wanted to do was get on my knees for him and grab his ass so he could fuck my throat as hard as fucking possible—is that so much to ask for?” You pause, but neither of them say anything, just look scandalized. “I guess I’m going to have to name my vibrator Hotch now, since that’s clearly the closest I’ll ever get to him giving me an orgasm.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You jump a fucking foot, spin around, almost knocking Emily and JJ over in the process; Aaron is in front of you, his brow furrowed, arms crossed over his vest (he hasn’t taken that thing off yet? You threw yours on the table like the minute you got back), and your mouth opens and your eyes close at the same time.

Oh fucking fuck.

“We’re gonna… go,” Emily says awkwardly, and you open your eyes abruptly when Aaron speaks again.

“No, we’re going to go; come with me,” he tells you, and he turns and heads down the hall; you look back at Emily and JJ, swallow hard, and follow him, your heart beating fast.

He steps into a small room with a copy machine, table, shelves of paper and envelopes and other supplies, and closes the door behind you, engages the lock. You are torn between being very worried he’s going to fire you and super turned on, because this is definitely a fantasy you’ve had before.

“Aaron,” you begin, running a hand through your hair. “I’m sorry. I think it was the adrenaline; it makes me run my mouth and I can’t stop it, you know that.” He’s facing away from you, his hands on his hips again, and you can see the way his body moves when he sighs.

“Did you mean it, though?” When he turns to look at you, he doesn’t look angry, he looks… nervous. “Do you want me?” His reaction is unexpected—not great, but not necessarily bad—and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah. So fucking bad. And I’m sorry—” That’s as far into your apology as you get before his mouth is on yours, his hands on your face, lips pressing against you for a rough, eager kiss. Your hands move to his waist, pulling him closer by the vest, and he lifts you up onto the table, tugs down the v-neck of your t-shirt, mouths at your throat.

“You think I didn’t look at you?” he says when he pulls away for a breath, tipping your chin down so you’ll look into his eyes. “You think I didn’t see that lacy red bra, your perfect ass bent over in the tight skirt? You think I didn’t feel it pressed against me in the elevator, that I didn’t want to push that skirt up and sink inside you and take you there in front of everyone?”

You moan, chest heaving, twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another kiss, dripping and trembling at his admission.

“I would have let you,” you murmur against his lips, and there’s no doubt in your mind that you would have, if that’s what he’d wanted. “I would let you do anything: not just let you, but I’d want it, beg for it. I meant what I said—I’d get on my knees for you, anytime, anywhere, do whatever you want me to do. I want to be yours.”

He catches your mouth in another rough kiss, then puts his hands on your waist, guides you off the table, and flips open his belt, the fly of his pants.

“Oh god. What are you doing?” you ask, and he slides down his zipper, pulls you with him until his back hits the door.

“I’m giving you what you asked for,” he rasps, staring into your eyes, his gaze smoldering. It’s so fucking hot your pussy clenches.

You lick your lips, drop to your knees on the tile floor so hard it hurts, tug his pants open and pull out his thick, hard, veiny cock.

Your dreams and fantasies did not do it justice.

“Fuck. Thank you,” you mumble, looking up at him, and he wraps his hands in your hair, pulls tightly. You moan just from that and the heft of him in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Shh.” He scrapes his fingers over your scalp, hums as you start stroking him, licking the head. “Don’t thank me—I should be thanking you, beautiful, perfect girl. In what world do I get this?” There are lots of things you want to say to that, but you’ve waited long enough, will have to say them later.

You lick your lips, collect lots of saliva, and take him into your mouth, get your hands on his ass and dig your nails in. Aaron groans, tightens his fingers in your hair, and when you look up at him it feels like a fever dream, like it’s not real but a delicious figment of your imagination.

For a minute or two, you stroke him with a tight, wet mouth, and it’s got you aching between your legs, but he’s supposed to be fucking your throat, technically, if he’s giving you what you asked for. You pull off, tell him that, and he tugs your head back roughly, guides you back onto his cock and starts thrusting into your mouth, earning vibrating moans around it.

“God, you’re so perfect. How long have you been thinking about this? How long have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking your pretty face?” He picks up the pace, pushes deeper when he sees you can handle it, and you squeeze his ass, feel your eyelids flutter as he uses your mouth, pulls your hair. “Are you a whore for me?” he grinds out, and the moan that rips from your throat is inhuman, embarrassing, and absolutely accurate. “Yes you are, baby, yes you are. My pretty whore, on your knees, mouth stretched wide and filled with cock.”

You’ve never been so turned on from a blow job, but this is Aaron, hot and dirty and forceful, everything you imagined and more. You squeeze him tighter, encourage rougher treatment, and he presses his hands against the back for your head, slams his dick in so deep it aches; you don’t gag, but it’s a near thing, and when he pulls you off you gasp for breath and whimper at the loss at the same time.

“Enough of that, baby. You were perfect, so good for me, almost choking on my cock, but I bet your pussy is wet and aching. Do you want me inside it?”

“Holy—yes, fuck, please. Please,” you breathe, and he helps you to your feet and then pushes you against the door, gets your pants down. His rough treatment has you whining, gripping the hair on the back of his head, and you kick off your boots and socks so you can step out of your pants completely. “Keep all this on,” you tell him, pants and shirt and tie and Kevlar vest and all, and he nods, kisses you deeply, presses two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans when you receive him easily, soft and wet and open, and he uses his free hand to sweep down your top, slipping the buttons loose so he can get a better view of your tits and black lace bra that’s holding them. “So beautiful, and finally mine,” he mutters against your throat, and you whine, let your head fall back against the door, and give in to the pleasure of his thick fingers moving inside you.

“Finally mine,” you murmur, tugging his hair, slamming down against his hand, and when you come it’s like a miracle; you cry out, clamp down, and wrap your free hand around his bicep and squeeze until you’re lightheaded, dazed, desperate for another.

You kiss, deep and passionate and filthy, and Aaron slides his fingers into your mouth, pumps them a few times, then kisses you again.

“Good girl. Are you ready for my cock now?” You pant, gasp, and nod your head, and he pushes your shirt off your shoulders, lifts your legs so you’ll wrap them around his waist, and pushes inside you. You both moan, kiss, moan again, and then you wrap your arms around his broad back, hook your fingers in his vest, and hold on while he pounds your body roughly against the door.

“Oh, Aaron, fuck. Yeah. Want you to slam your body against mine; want to feel it, want to feel all of you.” He looks into your eyes, breathing hard, fucks up into you, hands on your ass, his hips and torso pinning you in place.

“Sweet, pretty, slutty girl,” he pants, spreading you open and shoving himself inside your pussy. “You tried tempting me, and oh, did it work. I might not have shown it…” He ducks in to kiss the base of your throat and you cling tighter, rock against his hips. “But it worked. You dressed like a whore just for me, just so I’d notice you; do you I know went home and stroked my cock and came with your name on my lips?”

“Holy shit. That’s so hot.” You move a hand to his hair again, can’t not thread your fingers there now that it’s allowed. “Could have fucked me like this then. Could have come in my pussy, not your hand.”

“We’ll make up for lost time,” he promises, and he thrusts up with his whole body, so you can feel it pressed against yours—shoulders, chest, stomach, all the very best parts of him. “I’m not too much for you? Can you take it?”

“Perfect for me,” you gasp, holding tightly to his vest at his shoulder and his shirt at his hip, bouncing into his thrusts. “So perfect, want you. I can take it. I can take it, Aaron.” Your mouths meet for a messy, hot kiss, lots of tongue, and you groan. “Give it to me, give it all to me.”

He bends his knees a little more, fucks you so rough and hard your mouth falls open and all you can do is whimper, clutch him, gracelessly kiss back when he presses his lips to yours.

He comes first, holds tightly to your hip and pumps inside you, fills you and then some, so it drips out while he’s still inside. It feels sinful, even after everything, and with a few rough drags of his palm over your lace covered nipple, you tighten and grip him and gasp out his name.

You both slow, and then he turns you, leans back against the door for a little relief after holding you up for so long. He nuzzles into your hair, and you bury your face in his neck, and you kiss soft and sweet until you’re feeling stable enough to hop out of his arms and put your clothes back on. He rights his as well, and when you’re both put together he wraps you up in a hug, kisses you, holds you with soft hands on your cheeks.

“I really have waited so long for this.” He brushes his lips over yours, and you sigh. “You never indicated… I was trying to be professional. Then out of nowhere you were leaning over my desk and bending over the table, and I was a little blown away.” You nod, can see that, pull him down for a kiss.

“It’s the goddamn suits,” you say with a half smile, and he gives you a curious look. “Your new, better fitting suits? They fit you so fucking well it’s almost illegal; I’m thinking of pursuing charges against your tailor for reckless endangerment on behalf of my libido, and the coffee carafe, and my poor, worn out vibrator.” He chuckles, hugs you closer, squeezes you so tightly against his body you almost pass out from all the good things you feel.

“Maybe we can strike a deal,” he murmurs, pushing your hair back behind your ear, and you bite your lip, nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll think of something you can do to make it worth my while.” After a little more hugging and kissing, the two of you figure it’s time to emerge from the supply closet; you don’t see your team anywhere, which surprises you, but when you get to your phone and pull up your texts, it all makes sense.

Derek: Congrats on the sex. The four of us headed home because no one wants to ride with the two of you and your pheromones.

Emily: Yay, you did it!! Drinks on me next time we go out!

JJ: You guys are loud; don’t make a habit of that.

Penelope: I hear congrats are in order! And by hear, I don’t mean hear. There’s NOT an audio clip or anything, so don’t worry about that!!

Spencer: Emily took an audio clip. Is it normal for girls to enjoy being called a whore? You don’t have to answer that.

You take a very deep breath, give him the gist of the messages—you’re on your own, they heard at least part of it, there is some potentially damning evidence that needs to be destroyed—and you leave the precinct to head home in a better mood than you’ve been in in a very long time.

Aaron takes you out for a late dinner, and he spends the night at your place, falls asleep warm and solid and very naked in the middle of your bed.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[handsomelyhiddleston]

The Nanny - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader - PART 2 (smut)

“How long has this been going on?” Elsa asked, the two of you lounging on the couch while the kids were napping.

“I wasn’t aware anything was going on until yesterday” you answered, blushing as you told Hemsworth’s wife about your plans to stay with Tom over the short break.

“Well, if you ask Chris he’ll tell you he’s always known, but I was the first one to call it.” She gave you a smug look.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?!” you threw your arms up. “Would have been nice to know I actually had a chance.”

“You didn’t tell me you fancied him!” Elsa laughed. You both heard India start scooting down the stairs one by one.

“Doesn’t everybody?” you smirked, standing to go grab India. “Half the time I’m certain your husband has a crush on him.”

“Oh, he does.” Elsa laughed, following you up the stairs.

You and Elsa got the kids fed and dressed so she could visit Chris with the kids on set.

“You may as well bring your bag now” she suggested. “You can just go home with him when he’s done filming.”

You took a deep breath, thinking through what you should even pack.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, telling India to put her shoes on.

“I’m…I don’t know. This doesn’t feel real.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’ve been watching it happen for over a year, Y/n. It’s real. Now, living with someone makes you privy to certain details about each other that you otherwise wouldn’t know…I don’t snoop, but our laundry has crossed paths a few times…so when I tell you to wear the black lace lingerie, take my advice.” She winked, going to put India’s shoes on the correct feet.

When you all arrived at the set, the guys were in the middle of filming. You and Elsa sat back and watched them work through the choreography of a scene for about 20 minutes before a break was called.

“Do you mind watching the boys while I take India over to Chris?” Elsa asked.

“Not at all” you smiled and waved her off. You were sat on a bench and the twins were sat on the floor at your feet, so they could play with their blocks.

When Chris saw Elsa, his face lit up like a child’s. He ran off of the sound stage to meet her halfway. You spotted Tom looking around the room until he made eye contact with you, smiling and waving. When he passed Elsa and Chris, Elsa pulled him into a hug. It was obvious she was talking about you because she literally pointed while Tom ducked his head like they were teasing him. Tom continued towards you, joining you on the bench by the boys.  

“How is filming going?” you asked, resting your hand on his thigh.

“Today has actually been a lot of fun” he answered, putting his arm around your shoulders. “I am, however, incredibly sore from all of the choreography. We’ve been shooting fight scenes all day and I think every bit of me has been whacked or stepped on at least once.”

You ran your hand up and down his thigh, looking up at him. “You sound like you need a massage.”

“Are you offering, darling?” Tom’s voice sounded a tad husky and his eyes dropped to your lips for a split second.

“Oh, I would love to get my hands on you” you teased before he dipped down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Come on, boys” Elsa called as she walked towards her twins.

Chris teased the two of you. “Really? In front of the children?”

“Be nice” Elsa scolded him.

“Or what?” he laughed, throwing the boys blocks into their bag and picking up Sasha. Elsa turned and gave him a knowing look. Chris nodded and replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“You are officially off duty” Elsa said, picking Tristan up.

You snuggled into Tom’s side a bit and sighed before hearing him say “I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

When it was time for Tom to head to the make-up trailer to get out of costume, he grabbed your hand and took you with him. When they removed his wig and handed him make-up wipes, you started pulling out the bobby pins and combing your fingers through his hair. Dragging your nails gently over his scalp had him practically purring in your hands. “Better?”

“That feels amazing” he replied, his eyes shut and the make-up wipes forgotten.

“Finish up” you said, kissing his temple and grabbing the dirty make-up wipes from him to throw them in the trash.

“Eager, are we?” he teased, continuing to remove the stage make-up after the make-up artist left the trailer.

You watched him scrub the last bits of Loki away, a soft fond smile on your face. “For you?” He turned to face you. “Let’s just say I’ve probably been thinking about it a lot longer than you have.”

Tom stood up and threw the rest of the dirty face wipes away. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“I don’t know, I think everyone fell in love with you in Thor.” You replied.

“It doesn’t count if I hadn’t met you yet.” He laughed, gathering his things.

Picking up your bag, you turned to leave the trailer. “We met like, what? A year later?”

“That Christmas, actually.” Tom answered, following you out of the trailer. “You had already moved in with Chris and Elsa. She was just starting to really show her baby bump.”

“The party.” You said, nodding in agreement. “I remember. I felt like a massive fangirl when Chris introduced us.”

“Far from it” Tom answered, pulling your bag’s strap off your shoulder to carry your bag. “First, you looked incredible. You had on black and burgundy and I’m certain I spent an inappropriate amount of time looking at your ass.”

You laughed, remembering the dress. You felt like Morticia Addams with more cushion for the pushin’.

“Second, you were so confident. Every other person I met that night just wanted to talk about gossip or getting Botox or they’d ask me to do an impersonation. You asked me questions. Meaningful questions. You actually had opinions of your own when I asked about your favorite writers and films and such.”

You could feel yourself falling more and more the longer he went on. “I didn’t know you had such a high opinion of me.” You said, watching Tom put the bags in his car.

“Admittedly, I should have told you sooner.” He replied, coming around the car to open your door for you. When he climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up, he continued. “But I am absolutely looking forward to making up for lost time” he said, leaning across the console to kiss you.

You stopped and grabbed food to take back to Tom’s. The two of you ate and had a few beers while lounging on his couch. It all felt very…normal? Comfortable. You were snuggled into his chest listening to him talk about how Hemsworth had broken three separate props today when you remembered what he had said about being sore.

When you went to pull away from Tom, he tightened his arm. “Darling, if you’re standing up to clean up the dinner mess, I will personally see to it that I find some way of punishing you during your stay.” You watched Tom lick his lips as he awaited your reply.

“While I know that I would enjoy every second of whatever you consider punishment, I was actually going to tell you to take your clothes off.” You smirked, watching his lips part and his eyes widen.

You stood and grabbed the trash from dinner, swaying your hips as you walked towards the kitchen trash can. “Hey!” Tom laughed, sitting upright on the couch. “Were you just trying to distract me?”

You walked back in the room with a bottle of lotion in your hands. “Why are you still dressed?” you teased him.

“I’d be at a disadvantage if I were the only one undressed” he replied, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get me naked soon enough” you laughed, kneeling by the couch. “Lose the pants and lay down on your stomach.”

“I’m never going to catch up if you keep spoiling me.” Tom stood and unbuttoned his jeans.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, your eyes glued to Tom’s body.

Tom loved that you seemed to get just as distracted by him as he was by you. “Y/n, you’re always the one taking care of everybody. Constantly.” He tossed his jeans to the side, standing in front of your kneeling form.

“Well, isn’t that just the pot calling the kettle black” you said, patting the couch and telling him to lay down. After warming some lotion in your hands, you ran them slowly but firmly up Tom’s back. “Tom, you’re always the first person to help.” Tom moaned, pressing his face into the cushion to quiet the noise. “You are always checking on me or helping with the kids or…”

“Well, I’ve been trying to show you how I feel, but it’s hard when you don’t need anything, and you don’t accept anyone’s help.” Tom interrupted you. “Oh, fuck me” he moaned, turning and laughing into the cushion. You were working on a knot in his muscles near his shoulder and you just got it to loosen up. “It’s really hard to have a serious conversation while you’re eliciting very sexual noises from me.”

“I’m actually enjoying this.” You smirked, starting to work on another knot.

“Well, what I’m trying to say…*moan*…is that I don’t want you feeling like you HAVE to do anything for me…*Oh god, whatever you just did felt amazing*…I want you to feel taken care of too.” Tom’s very heartfelt sentiment was spoken between groans, moans, and swear words.

“Sweetheart, I do things for people because I want to” you said, moving down his back towards his ass. “Just like you do and just like Elsa and Chris do. It’s not a competition. I’m not keeping score.” You were kneading your thumbs into Tom’s hip and thigh muscles.

Tom tried to sneakily adjust his growing issue between himself and the couch, but you saw. With your hands all over him, he was having a hard time not letting his mind wander. “If that’s true then you just have to accept that I want to do things for you too.”

“I think I can allow it.” You started working your way back up his thighs, when he reached back and grabbed one of your hands.

“This feels incredible, but if you keep touching me, I’m just going to get more and more turned on.” He turned to sit on the couch with a throw pillow covering his lap.

“And?” you said, still kneeling by the couch. You ran your hands up Tom’s thighs, your finger teasing at the band of his briefs.

Chucking the pillow to the floor, he leaned forward and pulled you into a rough kiss. “Take your clothes off.”

“Gladly.” You stood, pulling your shirt off and unbuttoning your jeans. Turning around so that Tom got a great view, you bent over and slid your jeans down your legs. When you turned around, you saw Tom palming himself as his eyes took in the black lace bralette and thong.

“Wherever you bought that set…we’re getting more of them.” Tom said, stripping off his last item of clothing before leaning forward and slipping his fingers into the waist of your thong. “You look unbelievably sexy.”

Tom made you feel like a goddess. He dragged your panties down your legs, letting you step out of them. When he leaned back you saw just how endowed Tom was. He saw you lick your lips and smirked.

Leaning back on the couch with his legs spread, Tom patted his thighs and started stroking his manhood. “Come here, gorgeous. That is, if you can handle me.”

While you were slipping out of your bralette, you teased back. “Are you sure you can handle me?”

“Sweetheart, I know that you’re a lot of woman…I know what I’m getting myself into” he said, still admiring your body… “and I am going to lick, touch, or suck every part of you before you leave this apartment.”

Placing your knees on the outside of Tom’s legs, you straddled his lap, letting him pull you into a rough kiss. His hands found their way to your ass, and then your breasts, and then your hips as he pulled you tight against his torso. “There is a condom in that drawer” he pointed to the small table by the couch.

“I’m on birth control…” you said, waiting for his response.

“Then it’s up to you” Tom answered, still wanting you to set that boundary.

You connected your lips in another kiss. “We don’t need it.”

Tom slid his hand between you two and ran the tip of his hardness up and down your dripping slit. “Jesus Christ, Y/n.” Tom brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. “Mmm, so sweet. Glad to know I’ve got you as hot and bothered as you have me.”

You dragged your tongue along Tom’s bottom lip, asking permission to deepen the kiss. When his tongue ran over yours you could taste yourself in the kiss.

“I can’t wait anymore. Please.” You said, your hands roaming Tom’s perfect chest.

Tom pushed into you in one smooth motion, digging his fingers into your hips, “Ride me.”

You put your hands on the back of the couch and started moving, feeling him move his hips in rhythm with you. “Oh, fuck” you moaned, throwing your head back.

Tom buried his face in your chest, sucking love marks into the tender skin there. “God, you feel incredible.”

When Tom shifted a bit and hit your G spot, you could have sworn you saw stars. You grabbed his face and begged him to do it again.

Tom looked cocky, absolutely obsessed with making you fall apart. “Like this?” he said, roughly hitting the same spot a few times in a row.

“Tom!” you moaned his name, your fingers finding their way into his hair as you crashed your lips against his.

Tom could feel you clenching around him, your legs starting to shake. “Can you cum for me, baby?” He was ready to burst, himself.

You couldn’t form words. Your hands moved to your breasts, absentmindedly playing with your nipples as your orgasm built.

“You look luscious, y/n.” Tom gripped your hips, holding you in place as he franticly thrusted into you. “I’m gonna…”

Tom’s snap into overdrive tipped you right over the edge. Your bodies glistened with sweat and Tom’s hair was mussed from your idle hands. As you came down from your temporary highs, Tom kept running his hands up and down your sides, kissing your temple and then your shoulder and then your cheek.

When he pulled out of you, you groaned and tucked your face into his neck.

“Don’t worry, my sweet. There’s plenty more where that came from.” Tom held you against his chest, feeling both of your breathing level back out.

When you thought you could actually move again, you sat up and pulled him into a gentle kiss. “Mmm…thank you.” You said against his lips.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, darling.” Tom held your hands as you stood.

“Lead the way.” You smirked, waiting for Tom to walk ahead of you. When he did, you couldn’t help but smack his amazing ass.

“Is that your way of telling me you want to be spanked?” Tom quipped, grabbing a stack of towels and taking them to the bathroom.

You laughed and then stood there thinking about what he had asked. *mmm Tom’s hands* *I mean, he did tell me he would punish me for cleaning up dinner* *Oh god, thinking about him being rough is turning me on all over again*

You were thinking it through when he popped his head back around the corner. “Might I suggest you have your dirty thoughts in the shower so we don’t run out of hot water.”

You shook your head, ending your daydream and looking at the adorable face staring back at you. You walked towards him, going on your tip-toes to give him a quick kiss. “Spanking is a yes.”

Tom laughed, walking with you to the shower. “We should probably try a bit of everything, if I’m being honest. It’s good to try new things.”

Your eyes went wide. “You only have two days off work.”

Tom pulled you to his chest, under the water. “My sweet, we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

[pedros-mustache]

convenience

summary: he was within arm’s reach. that’s all.

warnings: suggestions of harassment, alcohol consumption, language, innuendo

a/n: no thoughts, frankie morales and his broad shoulders only. poorly edited so forgive any mistakes you find. i’ll go back and fix soon.

you rarely come to the bar alone. tonight is an anomaly.

grabbing drinks after a long work week is more enjoyable with friends by your side, and you frequent this particular watering hole what feels like every friday but can’t be more than twice a month. life is busy for you and what friends remain from your college days. babies and partners and jobs—it keeps everyone running to and fro like chickens with their heads cut off. (for you, of course, it’s just the job that’s got you strung out. no husband, no babies. that shouldn’t matter, but sometimes it does.) still, despite hectic schedules, there’s a standing date a few times a month: friday, eight o’clock, the booth with the cracked-plastic seat coverings in the far right corner.

you like the noisy atmosphere of this place, and it’s easy to lose a few hours while gossiping over cheap margaritas, a whitney houston song thumping over the tinny loudspeakers. the air smells like cigarette smoke—that’s your only qualm—but the drinks are cheap, the food is passable, and it’s a chance to let loose and really enjoy yourself after a five days of business boredom. 

of course, that’s what “the hot bird” is like most of the time. today is different. today is tuesday, it’s six-thirty, and you really shouldn’t be here alone.

you twirl the thin plastic straw around your drink and risk a glance over your shoulder. there’s a guy in your regular booth—red-faced with alcohol, tie loosened, dress shirt two sizes too big. you know he’s staring at you because you can feel his eyes on your back, your hips, your ass; he’s anything but discreet. his stare hurts like a healing sunburn: itchy, uncomfortable, hard to ignore. even from across the bar, his focus is unyielding, and you doubt he’s one to be easily dissuaded, not with the rabble-rousing friends at his booth, jostling drinks and shoulders alike. you imagine he’s biding his time, waiting for you to feel comfortable so he can strike. which is exactly what you need after being passed up for promotion (again): a drunk asshole bent on making your shitty day worse just for the hell of it.

the bartender—josh—says your name and sets a cocktail down on the counter in front of you. “here,” he says. he jerks his chin forward, indicating the back of the room. “it’s from the guy in the back.”

“oh god.” you resist the urge to look over your shoulder again. the muscles in your neck twitch, scream at you to turn and appraise the self-satisfied smirk on this guy’s face, but you hold still. you are nothing if not resolute in your determination to mind your on business, wallow in self pity, and get home without much of a fuss. “what the fuck is this thing?”

josh cringes. “it’s a b-52, our least popular drink.”

“it looks like spilled motor oil and congealed grease had a baby.”

to your right, in the barstool two over from yours, there’s a snort of amusement. your eyes snap to the side, but don’t register the other patron before josh is tapping your wrist. you hold your breath, stomach clenching at the conciliatory look on his face.

“don’t look now. i think he’s coming over.”

“of course he is,” you mutter, dropping your forehead to your palm. fuck, you really do not want to cry right now, but tears prick the corners of your eyes anyway. traitorous bastards. it’s been a long day, and you aren’t sure you have the mental fortitude to tactfully tell some guy to piss off without causing a scene or bursting into a blubbering mess.

“i can tell him—”

a smooth, unflustered voice cuts josh off mid-sentence. “no, let me.” 

a half-filled pint of beer and a plastic basket of fries slide across the counter, and then a man, shoulders broad and trucker cap pulled low, drops to the stool beside you. you gape at him, jaw hanging. the guy from two stools over—eavesdropper.

“unless,” he continues. “you want to tell him to fuck off yourself. i’m sure you can—you look like a capable woman—but i know men and sometimes...” he trails off, but you catch his drift well enough. you know men too, and the men who frequent this bar are often of the seedier variety.

except maybe not this guy... he seems nice enough, willing to lend a hand, and after the day you’ve had, you’ll take any help you can get. plus he’s easy on the eye, and it’s been awhile since anyone with such a handsome face paid you any mind.

you twist slightly in your stool, turning your body to face him. you open your mouth to offer your name, but he beats you to it, sliding his hand over the low, curved back of your stool. his presence—so masculine yet so gentle—crowds you, and you fight the urge to suck in a sharp breath. mouth hovering over your ear, he lowers his voice, and his opposite hand, long fingers splayed outwards, settles on the counter. you’re boxed in, an arm on either side of your body, but, strangely, it feels... good, safe even.

“i’m frankie,” he says. “just follow my lead, and we’ll both be out of your hair in no time.”

you turn your face to meet frankie’s eyes. he’s so near you can feel his breath on your cheeks, could kiss his plush lips if you dared. his smile, small but encouraging, eases the clench in your stomach. your gaze drifts from his warm, brown eyes to the thumb-sized spot on his chin absent the fine layer of scruff otherwise covering his jaw. god, he’s handsome.

“uh—excuse me? i couldn’t help but notice you ignored the drink i sent over.” the man from the back of the room leans against the counter, his gaze tight on your face, elbows poised casually on the bar. his voice belies none of the uncertainty he should probably feel when confronted with your obvious disinterest and frankie’s breadth. “picked my favorite for a sweet thing like you.”

gritting your teeth, you turn your head. “thanks, but i don’t think—” your resolve wavers when the man’s fat lips spread into a grin. shit, he likes this doesn’t he—how uncomfortable you are? he reminds you of richard, the guy who got the promotion you deserve: smarmy and entirely too good at weaseling. your stomach sours.

“you can’t turn me down until you at least take a sip of the thing.” reaching over his chest, the man picks up the cocktail. the three distinct layers jostle in the small shot glass.

perhaps he sees the fine sheen of tears that rush to your eyes or perhaps it’s just to make a point, but frankie’s hand drops to your thigh. the warmth of his palm filters through the mesh of your tights. without thinking, you twine your fingers through his and squeeze. 

“she said no, man.” 

for the first time, your would-be-suitor’s stare slides to focus on frankie. he arches a thin eyebrow. there’s no mistaking the way his chest inflates as frankie straightens his spine. “yeah? and who are you?”

frankie speaks without hesitation. “her boyfriend.” 

the man huffs, incredulous. “well, you didn’t claim her before now so i’m just taking my shot. free pick, ya know? first come first serve.”

frankie slides from the stool to standing. he’s near the same height as the other man, but there’s something about the clench in his jaw and the way his fingers tighten around yours and the way he moves to grip your shoulder than has you leaning into him despite the anger rolling off him in sharp waves. your shoulder pushes against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and you hold your breath.

“say that again and i’ll crack your skull open on the counter.”

the man blinks, stunned, then laughs. it’s a harsh, nervous bark. his eyes flit to the back of the room then return to frankie. “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. what are you? some macho man?” 

“no—retired special forces. i can and i will make your life a living hell if you don’t crawl back into the hole you came from. leave my lady alone.”

“shit.” the man shakes his head before tossing the rejected cocktail down his throat with a cringe. “ain’t fucking worth it anyway.” he slams the glass down on the counter and, heeding frankie’s advice, returns to sulk in the back booth, tail tucked between his legs.

frankie waits until the asshole is sat snug in his booth before returning to his stool. he pops a now-cold fry in his mouth then tags a long swig of his beer. you watch him and decide you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly in your entire life. 

“thank you,” you breathe. “i—fuck, i didn’t realize you’d be so... intimidating.” 

frankie shrugs, eats another fry. he avoids your eye. “hate to see you treated like that. least i can do.” 

you hum in approval, tracing the curve of his nose with your gaze. “i got passed up for a promotion today,” you offer. “put me in a real tailspin. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week.”

fry dangling between his pointer finger and thumb, frankie finally returns his eyes to yours. “i’m sorry to hear that. if it makes you feel any better, i got stood up. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week either.”

“guess we’re just a couple of losers then.” when frankie’s eyebrow lifts, you visibly cringe. you grab his forearm and squeeze your eyes shut. “no, wait—that’s not what i meant. i meant that... in the grand scheme of things, we aren’t... i mean...” squinting, you risk a peek at him. “shit, i’m sorry.”

after a moment, frankie smiles—and your heart leaps to your throat. he motions to josh at the other end of the bar. “what drink do you like?” he asks. “we can make it a real date, if you want? you know, to keep up appearances.” 

“a real date?”

he nods. “yeah. i’m not big on fate and shit like that, but... well, maybe i’m big on fate tonight.” his eyes roam your face, and you wonder if he’s drinking you in, memorizing your features. unlike before, his stare is kind, appreciative, reverent. your cheeks heat under his gaze, but you don’t look away.

the corner of your mouth pulls into a grin. “okay.” you smile at josh when he appears. “i like mojitos.” 

“really?” at your nod, frankie’s smile widens. “me too.” 

you reach for a fry in his basket. “must be fate then,” you say with a shrug.

“yeah.” his hand falls to your thigh again, squeezing the flesh around your knee. you look from his hand to his face, and anything you once thought shitty about the day turns rosy with possibility. “must be fate.”

.

.

.

taglist:

@ezramando @frannyzooey @spvce-cowboy @writings-of-a-hufflepuff @sofsoftheloaf @salome-c @aphr0d1te5 @anu-simps @softermina @spideysimpossiblegirl @mummifymecaptain @sleep-tight1 @thewayofthemandalorian @greeneyedblondie44 @darthpapi @salome-c @just-another-fangirl-22 @stevie75

if your handle is crossed out, tumblr would not let me tag your blog.

[kafka-ish]

richie tozier gets off a good one | r.t.

“This was not to say Richie could not be very funny from time to time; he could be. When referring to verbal zingers and farts, Richie’s terminology was the same: he called it Getting Off A Good One, and he got off Good Ones of both types frequently...” -- Stephen King

word count: 3.3k

warnings/included: nsfw (explicit smut, oral -- male receiving, male x female, mentions of masturbating), fem!reader

a/n: pls enjoy ! 

-

It was a cold shower kind of afternoon as the thunder from outside Richie’s bedroom window roared loud enough to be mistaken for a dragon. Dragons don’t exist. Richie, however, ignored the booming sounds of nature from outside—his thoughts lost in a certain someone; and his ears muffled by the pillows encasing him.  

y/n was coming over for a study session at two p.m. sharp, per Wentworth’s request, but Richie still had time as his left hand traveled to the zipper of his orange, corduroy trousers. It’s not like Richie knew y/n. This afternoon, this shameful afternoon where if his dad were home right now, he’d be caught with his hand in his pants and a name he’d rather not talk about in between his lips, would be his first time meeting the girl.

Wentworth Tozier was the one to suggest she come over on this grey Sunday afternoon during Thursday’s family dinner when he noticed Richie’s recent report card.

“A C in chemistry?”

“The C stands for Chemistry,” Richie said with a smirk on his face. It didn’t seem to work because Mr. Tozier’s frown didn’t budge, and Maggie Tozier only sipped her coffee which had to be cold by now.

“You know we expect better from you.” He was right. His parents weren’t used to anything other than a line of A’s on the weekly transcript he brought home. Richie wasn’t either. But lately, something had taken a toll on his grades—or someone.

“You know what might help him, dear?” Wentworth looked up from the chicken he was currently cutting through. “A tutor.”

“I do not need a tutor.” Richie dropped his fork which was being used to play with his green beans.

“Your grades say otherwise, kid,” Wentworth countered. “You know, Maggie, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Not you too, Dad!” Richie cried out, exasperated at the scene playing out in front of him.

Ignoring his son, Wentworth continued, “In fact, I think my buddy back from Catholic school has a kid who could tutor him.” He took a bite. “Last I heard, she was fairly good at the sciences.”

“You should think about calling them after dinner,” Maggie said without looking up. Which was how Richie ended up with only an hour left to get himself off rather than the rest of the day.

Although his hand was no match for any of his previous hookups, it was faster, and it got the job done. He was just about to finish when the doorbell rang and a knock on his door startled him from his position and kept him from finishing.

“Coming!” Richie yelled; certain that the outsider wasn’t going to hear him. He stood up from his position on his bed, pulled up the trousers that hung from his ankles and trekked his way downstairs. His feet made a thumping sound as they padded their way down the stairs—roughly at that. He was surprised the house didn’t shake at his footsteps. “We don’t want your Girl Scout cookies,” Richie said, half annoyed that his session was cut early.

“I’m not a Girl Scout.” y/n held open the door with her hand before Richie could close it. She wore a white button down that was haphazardly tucked into a blue-green, plaid skirt. Her already see-through blouse was even more see-through, as the rain from standing outside for so long had drenched it from the outside in.

“Oh.” Richie didn’t say anything for a moment. “I didn’t order a pizza, either.”

“I didn’t bring you a pizza, either.” y/n was growing just about as annoyed as he was. “Can I just come in?”

“I don’t know about that one, toots.” Richie made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Pops said I’m not allowed to let strangers in.”

“Richie, please, just let me in,” y/n seethed. She didn’t have time for his bullshit and quite frankly, he didn’t either. If Richie let his grades take another blow to the one-inch margin, his C would threaten to turn into a D. “Your dad called mine on Thursday… I’m here to… tutor… you.”

Richie noticed how her voice had lowered and he could tell she was just as ecstatic as him for their study session. Wordlessly, he stepped away from the front door, allowing y/n some space to walk in. His eyes inadvertently glued themselves to her backside, watching as her skirt’s pleats swayed against her hips and the rain’s water trail against her long legs; a sight he’d swallow at and feel himself grow semi-hard to.

If all the girls at Catholic school looked like y/n, he might just have to transfer because just one glance at her made Richie forget all about the reason for his tragic C that stood for Chemistry.

“Where are we studying?” y/n asked. Her eyes darted around the place like it was foreign. It was foreign. Her hands clutched the book bag she held onto tighter, anxious by the new atmosphere.

“Is my room okay?” Richie asked, already starting up the stairs. His tone had gone soft, like when you microwave butter. He almost felt bad for protesting against the idea of being tutored just a few short days ago.

“Yeah.” y/n followed him, making sure to leave an appropriate amount of space between the two bodies.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” Richie said, not trying to cover up the obviousness in his voice; that he was obviously looking at her covered chest each second she spent turned away from him; that he had an obvious hard-on that he hadn’t bother to conceal under his ridiculous corduroy pants.

“No,” y/n said with a bit of uncertainty. Sure, she was soaking wet from her hair to her toes, but she wasn’t about to borrow one of Richie Tozier’s ridiculous band-tees that would wear like a dress.

“What’s with the get-up, anyway?” Richie smirked. Before he sat down, he pulled out an extra seat for her. Usually, it would be used to discard his dirty clothes on. Luckily, Maggie Tozier had taken the liberty of cleaning up before their guest got here.

“Laundry day,” y/n sighed while sitting down her bag next to her. She brushed out her skirt as she sat down so it’d cover as much of her bare legs as fabric would sparingly allow. Her skirt was drenched, and she was sure it would leave the chair just the same as if she stood up any time soon.

“Don’t have to wear that thing tomorrow?” Richie couldn’t help but think about all the other girls who’d be wearing the same outfit on Monday. Of course, their blouses wouldn’t be overly exposing, but their legs would still be bare and long—longing for Richie’s stare if you catch a drift.

“Aren’t you failing something?” y/n snapped back.

Richie swallowed the rest of the words lingering in the back of his throat.

“I was thinking we start with the basics.” y/n bent down, searching for the green folder she had marked ‘Science’ in thick, permanent ink. Richie couldn’t help but steal another look at her figure—outlined by the white shirt that clung to it.

“Basics?” His voice cracked, but he was too caught up in her to care.

“Well, what do you need help with?”

“Nothing.” Richie scoffed, not letting some girl he barely knew deflate his ego.

“Then why am I here?” She countered. Her eyebrow raised, unimpressed, and her fingers started to drum anxiously against the wood of his desk.

“Right now, we’re going over stoichiometry,” Richie shrugged, not bothering to meet her eyes—her bright, keen eyes he’d find himself lost in if he weren’t careful. “It’s not the math part I need help on it’s the—”

“Concentration.”

“Yeah.” Richie let out a heavy sigh. He already knew what y/n looked like—beautiful, while water droplets kissed her neck that he itched to touch. It wouldn’t hurt to steal yet another glance, he thought, while turning towards her. “It’s like I can’t focus,” he said, finally making eye contact.

“And you need help with that?” She questioned. The familiar feeling of anticipation welled in the back of her throat but there was no telling why.

“I guess.” Richie’s eyes left hers to stare at the wall. The view was less impressive, but it let him form a cohesive thought.

“I think I know a way.” y/n’s demeanor had completely changed by now. Richie was about to mutter out a how or what the hell are you talking about but the words in his mind scrambled together like the eggs his mother made that morning when he felt her hand travel down to his knee.

y/n’s touch was light and delicate—almost nothing as it grazed against the fabric of his jeans. But it was there. He felt it, and if he didn’t, his imagination must’ve been pretty goddamn realistic for running at a hundred hertz a minute. Her thumb ran circles against the corded pattern making his breath hitch.

“Uh, what’cha doin’?” Richie’s eyebrow rose at the hand on his pants which was making its way to the zipper.

“Helping,” she insisted, “if you’re having trouble focusing, you’re probably stressed, right?” Richie could only nod. “So, this will help you unstress.” He gasped at the sound and sight of y/n undoing his zipper. His eyes widened and she found herself smiling at his movements from such little touch already.

Richie was quick to roll his jeans, and the underwear underneath, to his ankles. His eager length stood hard and erect against his stomach and if it weren’t for his lack of social awareness, he’d be embarrassed to be seen bare in front of a girl he just met.

y/n’s right hand—timid but daring—wrapped itself around the base of his cock, eliciting a groan from Richie’s now parted and perfectly pink lips.

Surprise wouldn’t even begin to describe the swirl of emotions that found themselves in the pit of Richie’s stomach and began to bubble in his throat—another groan. Though, as surprised as Richie was, he couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of pleasure and yearning for more as he harshly swallowed at the feeling of friction and tightness y/n managed to spring upon him in one firm jerk.

She was on her knees now, the feeling of hardwood against bare skin didn’t seem to faze her. All her attention was on Richie. The sound of unsteady breaths from above had y/n’s cheeks flushed and panties in a heat. The only cohesive thought in her mind was wanting to hear those pretty little noises coming from Richie’s pretty little mouth again.

y/n didn’t need a mirror to know her pupils were blown, the sight before her that she couldn’t quite look away from and the uncomfortable feeling between her legs was enough, letting her realize what she was doing. What was she doing? Her grip on his length loosened as she moved her hand up and down, allowing for enough space for her mouth when she connected her lips to his dick.

“God. You feel great, toots.” It only took a few motions for Richie to already come lax at the feeling of y/n’s mouth. He wished it were another part.

y/n chuckled to herself. Having this much power over a boy made her feel… confident. No guy at her school would give her the time of day, it seemed—not even Jeremy Fields. But Richie Tozier… Richie Tozier was practically falling apart at the sight of her and y/n loved that. Richie felt her pace around him speed up and y/n felt herself grinding on her palm to meet his same high. The sight of her alone was enough to have Richie on edge.

“Sugar, if you don’t stop I’m gonna—” His heavy pants were enough to cut him off, but y/n took her chance to interrupt further.

“—You’ll what?” She pulled apart from him, a string of saliva connecting them. Richie almost whimpered at the warm feeling of her mouth provided—gone.

“I’m gonna bust before I can take care of you,” he admitted somewhat bashfully. His face was red, and y/n couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or the fact that he had been worked up.

“Oh.” Back at her shy state, y/n ducked her head and felt her cheeks heat in a similar fashion to his. “Well, in that case…” y/n didn’t have to finish her sentence for Richie to get a grasp on what she was saying. She began to undo the buttons of the thin, white button up at an unbearably slow pace. She managed to peel the wet material that stuck to her skin gracefully even though she’d been itching to take it off as soon as she put it on.

“Wow.”

“Shut up,” y/n mumbled mindlessly, not daring to make eye contact. Part of her was embarrassed enough at the fact that she was on her knees for the boy she was supposed to teaching qualitative chemical reactions to. Her skirt was next to come off. The plaid fabric fell helplessly fell to the ground as soon as she unzipped it.

“I’m serious. You’re like… hot stuff, hot stuff,” Richie said as soon as she stood up, giving him a perfect view. Her underwear was a scalding red with embroidered flowers that decorated the side of her breasts and hipbone. The matching set was far from innocent, far from what Richie would imagine Catholic school girls to wear.

y/n didn’t say anything—her stomach too full of butterflies and a lump still caught in her throat. Richie could sense her nervousness and pulled her into him. To think, a girl he had met only thirty minutes ago was now engulfed in his arms and half-bare for him.

The rough pad of his thumb drew circles on her shoulder. The slow, sensual movements against her skin was electric and had the two riled up even more as Richie slotted his thigh in between hers for her to buck up against. The feeling of her clothed clit on lace as she dragged herself back and forth on his leg at an uneven pace was indescribable.

“Fuck.” It wasn’t unexpected that Richie broke the silence and occasional gasps. “You’re soaked… so… fuckin’ soaked.” He could feel the wetness from her panties that dripped onto his bare leg and he groaned at the thought that it was because of him.

y/n giggled but the sound of her breathy laughs in his ears didn’t last long as she pressed into him further and latched her lips onto his. It was like no other kiss he’s had before. As for y/n, she’d be ashamed to say it was her first kiss. That is, her first kiss where she felt something.

y/n swallowed the moan from Richie as their lips still locked and their tongues swept over each other.

“You’re like—”

“You are, too,” y/n breathed quickly, not bothering to hear the rest of the words. Her attention was now focused on him—or the lack of him inside her. She grabbed his throbbing length once again, taking barely any time to admire it. “Do you have any?”

“Yeah.” Richie swallowed. He opened the top left drawer of his desk, revealing a box of Trojans which he quickly took a foil packet from.

It was weird. Although y/n knew this was just a one time thing she couldn’t help but feel jealous as the small hairs on her neck stood to attention.

Effortlessly, Richie tore open the foil and slid on the condom. “Ready?”

y/n nodded and bit down on her cheek as she sunk down on him. Patiently, Richie waited for her to adjust to his size and a sign for him to move.

A quick kiss to his lips was it. It was different from the first. Swift, sweet, teasing. Richie wanted more. He wanted more as he thrust up into her and he wanted more as he felt y/n’s fingertips dig into his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt.  

“Unfair that you have more clothes on,” y/n managed to speak through a whine. To which Richie opened his eyes and through hazy lids and lust-blown pupils he saw her panties that were pulled to the side as his dick met her entrance and the bra strap that was making its way down her arm.

Richie stifled a chuckle. “You want this off?” He gestured to the graphic tee that was basically draped over his slim figure.

“God, yes. Take a hint much?” She tugged weakly on the sleeve of his shirt and he pulled away for a second so he could remove it, revealing his smooth chest and delicious collarbone.

Another whine left y/n’s lips as he pulled her in closer again. His speed picked up as he bottoms out, reaching a spot no guy has ever found before. Her left hand his in his hair, gripping at his long locks that only a Rockstar would dare wear and her right hand is clutching his cheek—his freckle-sprayed cheek that relaxes under her soft hands and delicate fingers.

Richie’s hands, however, are in a much more intimate place he realizes as he moans yet again, this time at the feeling of his roots being pulled on. One is on her ass, keeping her from falling off, though it might be impossible seeing as how close the two are. The other is playing with her folds, using the same circular motions from earlier to coax her closer.

“You feel so good,” Richie says as his eyes roll back to his head. “Fuck.”

y/n hums. Her lips can’t help but curl into a smile once the words reach her ears. “I’m close,” she whispers and Richie nods in agreement.

It’s dirty and the total opposite of what Richie would expect from the girl who walked in his door a short hour ago, but they reach their highs together, while the filthiest noise Richie’s ever heard leaves y/n’s swollen lips. He watches her as she cums. Her hair is moussed and sweat shines across her furrowed brows. But Richie Tozier swears he hasn’t seen a prettier sight.

“Fuck, doll,” Richie says in amazement.

y/n’s still smiling as she opens her eyes, but she can’t help but be embarrassed at the same time.

“What?” The question is small, but there’s a certain weight on her shoulders that Richie notices.

“You’re hot.” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin and y/n wants to smack him right then and there. But she doesn’t. She only smiles back, quickly removes herself from him, and redresses herself with the same pace. Her shirt is only slightly less damp and slightly less uncomfortable, but it’ll do. y/n supposes she could just change into her pajamas once she got home. “What, don’t tell me our session’s over already,” Richie tries to joke.

“Sorry,” y/n sighs. Her backpack is already slung over her shoulder, she didn’t even need to ask Richie for help with her stuff.

“Hey, is this because…” Richie’s large palm finds a home on y/n’s shoulder which she tenses up at.

“No!” y/n’s barely able to choke it out. “But the session was, like, supposed to be an hour, you know? And I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” She’s back to her nervous self again.

“God.” Richie realizes what this is about now. “You’re not overstaying anything, toots. You can stay for dinner if you’d like,” he offers. “Hell, stay forever.”

y/n resists the urge to roll her eyes and opts for the dead skin on her lip instead. “I really have to go. Sorry, Rich.”

The last he sees is her half-smile from her all perfect lips before she slips out the door and into the rain again.

[writer-panda]

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 3/Leaps in logic (and over the edge of the rooftop)

Chapter 1  -|-  Previous -|- Next

---------

Adrien’s day wasn’t good at first. Okay, it was straight-up terrible. For most, their wedding is supposed to be a happy day. Or at least a reason for celebrations. Adrien? He couldn’t even hope for a cake since it would ruin his model body.

For the last several months, his father was working him into an early grave. The extra photo sessions, harder classes, new exercise regime… and Lila. The last one was terrifying. 

Adrien tried to hold onto hope that his father would in the end cancel the whole affair. That he would drop the ridiculous notion of wedding or at least push it back. The young model wasn’t sure exactly why was his father so insistent on pushing for the wedding. He repeatedly asked himself if Lila was blackmailing his father, but it was hard to think of anything that his father possibly could be blackmailed with. Adrien spent countless hours wondering if his father had some dark secret, but it didn’t fit the man. 

Did the designer have an affair with Nathalie? No… he already got angry about the suggestion once. And even if so, it wasn’t something that he would be so ashamed about. 

Was his father doing some illegal business dealings? It was somewhat possible, but what? It would need to be something big. Something extremely big. 

Thinking rationally, he had no idea what could it be…

What could be so big that it was worth more than the happiness of his only son?

--------

When one looks at all that, being kidnapped right at the altar was almost… nice. Sure, Adrien had been dragged by a sentient pile of mud into the sewers and then carried to some unknown location. Sure, his beautiful suit was ruined and all the hard work Marinette put into her work was irreversibly wasted. 

But, he was not married to Lila. 

The pile of mud dragged him deep into the sewers until they found a ladder leading up. It appeared to be grievously damaged, with several steps in the row removed. Adrien didn’t protest much when he was lifted up and into the place above. 

The place turned out to be a quite comfy flat. It was overall smaller than Adrien’s room back in Paris, but it felt more welcoming. It only had one big room, divided in half with a plywood panel. In the first ‘room’, there was a couch, a small table with three chairs, a tv on a cabinet, and two armchairs. It all appeared to be old and worn out. The second part held two beds (one without any mattress), a desk with an old computer, and a kitchen annex. It was… nice. Adrien almost liked it better than the big, sterile manor. 

The pile of mud seated him on one of the chairs before condensing into humanoid form. Slowly, his body turned human and in the end, he looked almost exactly like the wedding officiator. The man pulled his phone and sent some text before turning to Adrien. 

“Do you want something to eat?” He asked, walking over to the kitchen annex.

“Um… anything would do.” Adrien hesitantly spoke up. He was only slightly scared. Honestly, first, he is saved from the wedding and now he is given free food? Yes, purr-lease!

“Vegan or non-vegan?”

“I would kill for a fat, juicy steak…” Adrien remembered his last photo session, which was advertising the summer collection. One of the photos had him standing over the BBQ grill. The smell of the food being prepared almost made him salivate back then. 

“Ah… The actor’s diet?” His kidnapper/savior asked, giving him a knowing look at the same time.

“Yeah… I’m a model, but I heard it’s the same” Adrien corrected. 

“I’ll get you something. We need to wait anyway.” 

Adrien chose not to speak to the man while he was cooking. It was still a bit awkward. He was being kidnapped.

It didn’t matter. The meal was too good to complain. Who cares about kidnapping when one is given some meat. It was a light meal, probably not to upset his stomach, but it was still more than he hoped for that day. 

Of course, it couldn’t be that pretty.

The moment Adrien finished with the first piece of meat and was reaching for another, the doors were violently kicked and a man entered. He was dressed in a red bodysuit with silverly metallic elements. His helmet had one eye replaced with a red… monocle?

The explosion was quickly followed by a single gunshot. The moment it sounded, Clayface (because that was the name of the ‘pile of mud’) became frozen in place. Literally. He was covered head to toes in ice.

“My steak!” Adrien cried as he was being dragged away by the newcomer. 

They were already away when Clayface managed to break through the ice. He wanted to pursue them, but his phone rang suddenly, giving him a pause.

“Who is this?!” He snarled, irritated at the interruption.

“I was led to believe you have what I wanted.” The voice on the other side growled and Clayface paused. It sent shivers down his figurative spine. His employer sounded dangerous. 

“Ah… Yes… There’s been a… complication.” He stuttered, hoping it wasn’t too apparent. Whoever was on the other side made a terrifying first impression.

“What do you mean ‘complication’?” They hissed. Clayface stumbled and almost dropped the phone. He knew the employer was someone powerful, but it was a whole new level of scary. Sure, he was technically a mercenary, but until today his biggest job was some light security gig. This was supposed to be his way of reinventing himself into part of the major league. But this was being much more overwhelming. 

He quickly got to the point where his employer should’ve been somewhat satisfied and hanged up quickly. He had to get the boy before he became the target himself.

----------

Elsewhere, Adrien was starring into a pair of curious sea-green eyes.

When his new kidnapper brought him to the apartment and tied him to the chair, Adrien was still bemoaning the loss of his steak. He disliked the lack of freedom, but he was still feeling safer than with Lila and his father. Objectively looking at it, he knew it was wrong, but he preferred to be kidnapped. 

To his surprise, the kidnapped tossed him and the chair into some spare room of the flat they were in when the doorbell rang. There were also some curse words, but Adrien chose to disregard them.

It took a very energetic girl (about two years younger than him) all five minutes to figure out he was in that room. Not that the man made it particularly hard, leaving the doors half-open and all that.

She leveled her head so that they were on an equal level and stared into his face with an inquisitive glare.

“Daddy! You promised not to work on our day together!” She turned to the man and complained. “You clearly kidnapped him!”

“I’m really sorry, cupcake. I didn’t plan it. The time zone changes can really mess up with the calendar.”

“If it helps, this is better than the alternative.” Adrien smiled shyly.

“How is being tied to the chair good?”

“It’s better than being forced to get married.” The boy deadpanned.

“Fine.” She then turned to her father “But you will untie him. He can join us in our board game evening.” She declared imperatively.

“You won’t try anything, right?” The man glared at Adrien, who shrugged (as much as the binds allowed him). 

“I quite like it here. I could do with some water, but it’s really better than how the day was supposed to go.”

The man sighed and walked over to the boy. The rope fell to the floor and Adrien could move freely. Yet, he didn’t immediately move. He did try to get up, but the world swirled and blackness consumed his consciousness.

----------

When he woke up, he was once again faced with a set of sea-green eyes. The girl apparently liked to stare at faces in close quarters. Not that Adrien complained much as long as she didn’t actually touch him. He was used to the attention. 

“You must’ve been really tired. Daddy said he almost wanted to get you to a hospital.” That woke Adrien very quickly.

“No hospital!” He launched himself to sit straight up and almost crashed with the girl. Luckily, she moved out of the way. Otherwise, her father might’ve actually sent him to the hospital. Probably in pieces too. 

“Don’t worry.” Speaking of the devil, the man entered the room with a platter full of fast food and a glass of water. There was a hamburger there!

“Zoe. Please leave us alone for a moment. I need to discuss some things with Mr. Agreste.”

“Sure. But remember you promised not to hurt him. And we promised him board games.” She reminded her father before happily skipping out of the room. 

Once she was out, the man handed him the platter and Adrien practically leaped to devour the food. 

“So…” His kidnapper/temporary caretaker started awkwardly. “If it’s any help, I’m sorry for kidnapping you.” 

“Dot wowwy” Adrien dismissed him with a mouth full of burger. His father would lock him up for months if he saw him, but the boy was way past caring about it. He gulped before continuing though, as it was a shame to waste anything of the tasty goodies. “Seriously, you guys are making me a favor.” 

“Huh?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah! If not for this,” he gestured vaguely around the room, albeit it was clear he meant kidnapping, “I would’ve probably been married already.”

“Ah… And I guess the wedding wasn’t your idea.” It wasn’t a question. Deadshot (because he was the kidnapper if it wasn’t yet obvious) had some experience with runaway brides. Grooms escaping arranged marriage were rarer, but not unheard of. He used to take those tasks without remorse. At least until one time, when he tracked the bride, instead of an adult woman like usual, he found a pre-teenage girl. She couldn’t have been older than his own daughter at the time. 

Let’s just say that he failed to deliver that contract. Or any similar in the future. 

“Sir?” Adrien asked once he finished the meal.

“Yeah?”

“Could I get some more?”

“In a moment. Let what you ate settle down first.” He scolded him lightly, his parental instincts kicking in. “So, do you have any idea who might’ve wanted you kidnapped?”

“Not really… Only Marinette and Gerard cared about my opinion on this matter. And neither is the kind that would arrange a kidnapping.” He did his best not to think about his past as Chat Noir. No one but Ladybug knew, but his Lady wasn’t someone that would get involved with criminals. And even then, he doubted she could afford mercenaries. He always thought they were expensive. Could someone else figure out he used to be Chat Noir?

“Hm…” Lawton focused for a moment. “And what about The Seamstress? She is a completely new player that came out of nowhere. I suspected she might’ve had a personal connection to you. What about your father? Could someone want to get back at him? Especially someone with that name?”

“You do know what my dad does for the living?” Adrien deadpanned. 

“Yes, but did he anger someone? Enough that they would want to ruin him?” The man pressed. 

“It would be easier to list people he didn’t anger. My father is not… not the easiest to be around.” The light that was in the boy’s eyes just moments ago dimmed slightly. “Why are you asking all this?” He suddenly perked up and met the gaze of the mercenary. 

“Honestly, I really dislike the jobs involving kids. I thought that you were just another bratty teenage star that got his way with the wedding. A kid wanting to be treated like an adult. Now… now I can’t with clear conscience return you or deliver you.”

Adrien held back any witty remarks about hired gun having a conscience. “So… I’m living with you?”

“Sadly, no. I’m not around often enough and there is still a price on your head.” Lawton pulled out his phone and carefully read through something. “The more I think of it, the more it looks like you are not the most important part.”

That got Adrien’s attention. His own brain started to work overtime to get the meaning. “What?”

“The wording of the contract. ‘Grab from the wedding’, ‘possibility of further assignments’, ‘very public’… and the price is unreasonably high for such a simple task. It appears as if whoever The Seamstress is wanted a show. Like she wanted to recruit whoever brought you in. It appears as if she was setting up some sort of competition over who brings you to her.”

“But why me?” Adrien ran through ideas, but only him being Chat Noir would make sense in the long run. 

“Publicity. Your old man made sure the wedding was the event of the decade.” The merc simply shrugged. “If they wanted to announce their entrance to the big league, they would pick the biggest, most prominent target.” 

“Figured father is to blame…” Adrien grumbled before reaching into his pocket. “I… would like to call a friend of mine. To reassure her I’m safe.”

“She won’t run to the police?” Lawton was hesitant to allow it but also didn’t have the heart to tell him no. The kid was emotional wreck. And if his appetite was anything to go by, it was possible physical abuse was also there.

“Marinette wouldn’t do anything dangerous. She… I think she was trying to stop the wedding. Or delay it.”

“The girl that stood up shortly before the panic?”

“Yeah… She used… She’s a friend of mine. Probably the last true friend I have left.” 

“I see… Okay, call her. But make sure not to mention anything about me. Just in case.”

There was a moment of tense silence while Adrien waited for his friend to pick up. Finally, after the fifth signal, there was a rustle on the other side.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng speaking. Who do I have the pleasure with?” She spoke almost mechanically. To someone who never met her before, it might’ve sounded sincere. To Adrien, it sounded like she was exhausted both physically and emotionally. He almost blamed himself, but at the last second shifted it all onto Lila and his Father. 

“Marinette!? Are you okay?” He asked, wanting to make sure there was nothing truly wrong.

“Adrien!? Adrien!” She immediately seemed to cheer up. “Where are you!? Are you okay? What happened? Did they hurt you? Are you safe?” She finally paused to take a breath. 

“I’m okay, Marinette. I might’ve sorta gotten myself kidnapped,” he realized how bad that sounded as the words left his mouth, “but it’s all okay! It’s better than it was!” He rushed to reassure her, albeit his method was not a hundred percent successful. 

“Are you safe?” Was the question she repeated. It sounded almost… guilty. To Adrien’s tired brain though, such subtle details were second to the question. 

“I’m probably good. Someone put a bounty on me, but it’s all about me being alive. It’s like whoever did it accidentally saved me from the wedding.” He chuckled a bit darkly, thinking about how much of a temper tantrum Lila must’ve been throwing since his disappearance.

“Call me back later, okay?” There was a sudden urgency that Adrien did pick on. “I have something that needs to be sorted out.”

“What’s happening?”

“Just my Maman is coming. She is knocking right now.” With that, she hanged up. Adrien relaxed. There was no danger. And even if there was, it probably just ran away to hide as Sabine Cheng came to town.

“Kid, you done?” Deadshot walked back into the room with another hamburger.

“Yeah. I feel much better now. Thanks for the opportunity.”

“Don’t sweat it. Listen… I can’t just keep you, but I called some friends of mine. They’re willing to help you. Well, she is. Her girlfriend is just going with it for her sake.”

Lawton carefully studied Adrien to see his reaction to mentioning the couple, but there was no visible reaction. He just watched the hamburger with a hungry gaze. 

-------

Elsewhere, an exhausted kwami flew out of the jewel. Hawkmoth was one step from tossing the jewel at the wall. 

“I don’t understand! He should be terrified by now! He was kidnapped! They wouldn’t kill him after going so long to kidnap him!”

“Maybe your powers aren’t as good as you’ve thought?” another voice spoke from the shadows. Lex Luthor walked into the center to join Gabriel Agreste.

“They didn’t have time to move him out of the city before I started the search. Not without magic and he said there was no magical travel to or from Gotham so far.” Gabriel paced around the room. 

“While you were playing with your precious jewels, I actually used some of my contacts. It appears that someone ordered a hit on your son. They wanted him kidnapped from the wedding.”

“What?!” Gabriel paused and glared at the other man.

“While I can’t stop it or even try to outbid them, I do know of one person I can convince to take this task. And she just happened to be coming to Gotham this very moment.”

“Fine. I want my son back, or our deal is off, Luthor.” 

“Don’t worry. He will see the Light soon.”

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (4/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

Found on Ao3: Beginning | Current

Found on Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

-/-

Emma has this thing about the summer tourists in Martha’s Vineyard. There are several types, but they can be categorized into two main groups: the annuals versus the one-timers.

It’s pretty self-explanatory. The annuals come back every year. They usually have a family home on the island or in Cape Cod or Falmouth, and they come back year after year to do the same things – from taking out the same boats to eating at the same restaurants. Then there are the one-timers. They get an opportunity to come and spend a week or two taking pictures, eating food, spending time by the ocean, going on hikes, and then they never, ever come back. They’ve seen enough.

The annuals pay for Emma’s life. The one-timers, though, keep her entertained.

If she never has to see them again, there are no consequences, no attached strings. It’s the perfect distraction, especially in the past few years, and she will not be ashamed of the choices she makes.

Not at all.

Except, right now, she’s seriously questioning her choices because sometimes Emma can be pretty damn stupid.

But then Killian’s hand slips down the back of her thigh, fingertips pressing into her skin, kneading it in the places that bring her pleasure, and she forgets how stupid this is and remembers how good it feels. His voice is deep with his teasing, his mouth soft, and when he uses his knee to nudge hers to the side, Emma complies and arches her back as he slowly guides himself into her. Her heartbeat speeds up, sweat already forming at the nape of her neck that not even the breeze from the open window can fix, and she continues to adjust her hips as Killian finds his rhythm.

It’s a damn good rhythm, one that only takes a little instruction on her part, before he’s leaning over her, sucking the skin at her neck, and building her toward a higher and higher pleasure as he whispers filth into her skin.

And for the minutes that it takes, ones that seem to fly and drag on all at once, Emma forgets how monumentally stupid she’s being by sleeping with him. It was a moment of weakness, one where she was lonely and he was there with his stupidly handsome features and charming stories, and it seemed like the obvious thing to do.

Even though she really did simply intend to invite him in for coffee, but how many people truly believe that offer to be taken at face value?

Emma thinks he’s an obnoxious flirt, but at least it’s nice to know he can back his words up with actions.

Emma scratches her fingers down his back until she’s tightening them around the muscles in his arms. He’s fitter than she imagined, which is always a bonus, and his muscles twitch as he continues to move in her, over her, until his hand reaches between them and Emma finds the subtle bliss she doesn’t often find from arrangements like this.

So, she’s stupid, but at least she’s satisfied.

Killian hovers over her as his thrusts become more erratic, as he finds his own release, his forehead pressed into hers, and then he’s rolling over, taking a breather next to her, before getting up to dispose of the condom and put his briefs back on. Emma does the same, using the bathroom to pee and wash her face, before putting on a t-shirt and pair of underwear.

“So, that was,” Killian begins when she comes back from the bathroom. He’s sitting on the end of the bed, body still on near full display as he presses his hands back.

“You’re only staying here this summer, right?” Emma interrupts.

He raises one brow, then the next. “Aye. I don’t imagine I’ll return next year. My life should be…less complicated then.”

Okay, good. Maybe she’s not so stupid after all.

Because he may be friends with Ariel and Eric, which isn’t the clean break she’s looking for, but it’s clean enough.

She wonders how his life could be complicated. She doesn’t know much about him, but she knows enough. He’s rich, can take months off from work to vacation, and there’s little chance he actually knows what complicated is.

“Why do you ask?” he continues, scratching his neck.

Emma shrugs. “Because this wasn’t…this was casual. I’m not into having a relationship, especially with someone who has an expiration date.”

“Trust me, love,” he laughs, “neither am I. I do fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me, but I know what this was. I’m not under any impressions otherwise.”

Emma nods and grabs a pair of sleep shorts from one of her drawers. “Well, good. That’s good.”

This is always the awkward part. Do they stay or do they go? Emma votes go, but she’s unsure how to ask without coming off as a total bitch.

Especially since this is a man who already knows her more than he should.

“Yeah,” he smiles, “it is good.” He leans down and picks up his jeans, standing to slide them on. Why the hell are his pants that tight. “But I have the feeling you’re waiting on me to leave, so I can do that for you.”

“Oh, I - ”

“Perceptive, Swan.” He points to his head. “I told you I’m actually quite perceptive, and I meant it. Have a good night, love. I’m sure I’ll see you around the island.”

He finishes getting dressed as Emma stands in the corner and crosses her arms, watching him. Not five minutes ago she was watching him move in a completely different way, and the memories nearly tempt her to ask him to stay.

She’s stupid, but she’s not that stupid.

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, “I’ll see you around.”

-/-

July

“Can you work Saturday, Ashley?” Emma asks as she pulls up next week’s schedule. “Heather apparently can’t, and I have to have someone cover her shift. You’ll get good tips.”

“I can work then, but I need next Thursday morning off. I have an appointment.”

Emma adds Ashely’s name into the chart and looks up as Ashley rubs her hand over her stomach. “I’ll cover you. Are you finding out the gender?”

“I am. I’m excited.”

“Good.” Emma closes her laptop and stands from behind her desk. “I’m glad you’re excited. How are things out there?”

“Busy. I’d expect nothing less from the holiday week.”

Emma inhales before breathing out a slow exhale. “I wouldn’t either. I’ll come and help out. Make sure you’re taking enough breaks and drinking enough water. I don’t want you exhausting yourself.”

“I’m not,” Ashley promises, but Emma knows how tired the girl is, “but I really appreciate you.”

They walk out of Emma’s office, and while Ashley goes back to her section, Emma starts doing her rounds, checking in with her servers and cooks, making sure everything stays up to the standards she needs. This is one of their busiest weeks of the year, and she can’t afford for anything to go wrong. They had a hiccup last week with the bread order, and with how many burgers they’re selling, she really can’t afford for that to happen again.

Once she’s done checking inside, she walks to their outside area. It’s such a pleasant day out with the sun shining directly over them. The boardwalks are full of people, the beaches the same, and she sees more boats out on the water than usual.

She also sees a familiar mop of black hair sitting alone at the end of their outdoor patio. She hasn’t seen him since he left her house a few days ago, headlights of his Jeep fading in the distance.

Go figure that he’s here again. He seems to be fond of the place.

“You really like the food here, huh?”

“That and the manager.”

Emma laughs and leans against the railing as a family boards a boat a few feet away, their voices carrying over to Emma. It’s four of them, mom, dad, brother, and sister. It’s the picture-perfect New England family, and she imagines all the brochures in the tourism office look just like this.

And not at all like her.

“Laying on the charm a little too thick,” Emma sighs, shaking her head. “But I have a feeling that’s your thing.”

“I like to think it’s just the right amount.” He spears a bit of his omelet and pops a bite in his mouth. “What are you doing out here?”

“My job.”

His brow arches and he reaches out his arm, moving it around to the railing. His skin has tanned since she first met him, and she must admit, at least to herself, that he looks good. “You check in on all your customers like this?”

“Just the ones who keep coming back.” “To be fair, I figured I could avoid you seeing me if I sat out here.”

Emma rolls her eyes as the family’s boat starts and begins to stutter away. “Look, you can come here all you want. I know I - I didn’t make it seem that way, but I don’t care what you do or don’t do as long as you don’t expect anything from me.”

“Not a thing, love.”

“Good.” Emma stands, tightening the knot on her Blue Dog Tavern t-shirt. “But, you know, if you did happen to be up late at night, and I happened to be up, I wouldn’t oppose you stopping by for some coffee.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Well, some nights, of course. When I feel like it.”

Killian chuckles and leans back in the chair, the front legs coming off the ground. “When you feel like it. And how would I know that?”

Emma pulls her phone out of her back pocket and holds it out to him. Without a word, he types his number in and hands it back to her. “That’s how you’ll know. I hope you enjoy your meal, Jones.”

Emma taps him on the shoulder and walks away, shaking her head. She’s stupid. So damn stupid, but as she walks back into the main dining hall and sees how crazy it is, she thinks she deserves a bit of a break, a bit of fun. She’s an adult. She can make stupid decisions sometimes.

Especially hot, British stupid decisions who are here on a time limit.

Her life is messy already. What’s one more thing?

-/-

Emma pops open a beer bottle, throwing the top away and settles on David and Mary Margaret’s pool lounge chair, pulling her legs up to keep them out of the sun. Ruby, meanwhile, is on full display on a pool float, as is David. Mary Margaret is joining Emma in the no sun club.

“So, how are you lately?” Mary Margaret asks, sipping on her lemonade. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in a week.”

“That’s because you haven’t.”

Mary Margaret laughs and puts her drink on the table between them. “Well, you have to tell me what you’ve been up to. I don’t know how you deal with months without - ”

“Oh my God,” Ruby screeches, nearly flopping into the pool before she paddles her way toward the two of them, “I totally forgot.”

“What’d you forget, hon?”

“That I saw Emma’s hot British friend running yesterday, and I nearly passed out.”

“Why?” Emma asks, sipping on her beer again. “Were you running too? I told you to stop doing that when you haven’t had water in ages. You’ll legitimately pass out.”

Ruby kicks and some of the water splashes onto the side of the pool. “Hey, careful!” David yells. “I just cleaned this grout.”

“Yes, Dad,” Ruby mocks, kicking more water before paddling to the edge of the pool. “Anyway, I meant to say that I saw him, was reminded of just how attractive he is, and Emma, my darling, I must say that there is no harm in having a little summer fun. In fact, I encourage it. It’s good for the soul. And the vagina for that matter.”

Emma spits out her beer, the alcohol spilling onto the tile, and she swear David gives her murder eyes even though he’s gone back to lounging with his eyes closed. “You need a filter, Rubes.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Emma laughs and stretches her legs out, letting her toes peep out of the shade and into the brightness of the sun. “I will have you know, though, that he doesn’t plan on returning next summer. He has an expiration date.”

“So you fucked him?” Ruby asks, a little too gleeful.

“You can fill in the blanks.” Emma pulls her feet back under the shade and closes her eyes.

She’s not shy with her friends, especially Ruby. they know enough about each other’s lives to fill books about, but some things, Emma keeps under wraps unless she absolutely has to share them. Or unless she’s in the mood. Right now, with David nearby and with Mary Margaret totally judging her.

The woman is kind and fun and supportive, but she also met David a decade ago and knew he was the one on the first date. Personally, Emma thinks that is bullshit, but she’d never tell anyone that. You can know someone for years without truly knowing them, so how could anyone be so sure on a first date?

David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard somehow were.

“You know, Emma,” Mary Margaret begins, “that wall you keep up may keep out pain, but it may also keep out love.”

Emma laughs and presses the cold bottle to her lips. “Marg, I’m sleeping with a guy for fun. It’s not a love match. Let me have this. In September, I’ll go back to being the Emma Swan who doesn’t do stupid things like this.”

“I didn’t - ”

“It’s fine.” Emma finishes her drink and pulls her hair into a high bun before standing and walking toward the pool, quickly submerging herself in the water to get used to the chill. She swims over to David and pulls on his float. “Hey.”

He lifts his sunglasses. “Hey.”

“How goes the job? Still seeing a bunch of cats and dogs be cute?”

“Cute and gross. What’d Mary Margaret say to make you leave your cocoon of shade?”

“Nothing. Just thought I’d come say hi to you. I do like you from time to time.”

David chuckles and slides his glasses back on. “I only believe half of that, but it’s alright. I won’t push.”

“And that’s why I love you.”

Emma stays with the Nolans and Ruby for the rest of the afternoon, and no one bugs her about her dating life, thank God. They all mean well, truly, but sometimes the last thing Emma wants to do is listen to them. On the spectrum of how they approach love, Emma is somewhere in the middle. She’s not David and Mary Margaret with their love conquers all attitude, and she’s not Ruby with her casual, carefree approach to simply seeing where the wind takes her. She’s...well, she doesn’t know what she is. All Emma knows is that while she’s experienced the highs of what love can bring, she has also experienced the lowest of the lows.

It’s safer in the middle. If you don’t fall in love, you can’t get your heart broken. But you can have some fun when you need it.

Hence, Killian, even if he is not the someone she expected to be having her summer fun with.

God, when she thinks like that, it sounds like she’s narrating a beach movie where all the colors are too bright and no one ever sweats despite spending their entire lives outside.

Speak of the devil, a group of young girls ride down the street on bikes, laughing, their hair falling behind them, and then two minutes later, they’re back again. What the hell?

That’s when she realizes they have a friend with a camera standing on the sidewalk, taking pictures of them, and Emma rolls her eyes before turning to grab her purse and her keys. “I’m going to head home,” she yells out. “I want to beat all the drunk drivers and the illegal fireworks home.”

“Wait, don’t go,” Mary Margaret insists from her spot on the couch. “Let me get you some leftovers.”

“Marg, you don’t have to feed me.”

“I know, I know.” She stands from the couch and heads toward the kitchen. “But you so rarely cook, and it’s good for you to have real meals. And since you’re alone without - ”

“Oh my God,” Ruby squeals, king her leg out. She nearly knocks over the vases and books Mary Margaret keeps on her coffee table. “Holy fuck. Like, fuck.”

Emma drops her purse. “What?”

Ruby raises her hand and folds her fingers, beckoning Emma to come closer to her. Emma rolls her eyes, but she does it anyway, plopping down next to Ruby.

“Okay, so, I couldn’t stop thinking about your new boy toy,” she starts.

“Not a toy,” Emma corrects. “He’s fine with the arrangement too.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I wanted to know more about your little sex buddy, not that I think he’s little in any way, so I went to Ariel’s Instagram, searched through her followers, and found him. And, well…”

Ruby shoves her phone into Emma’s hands, and Emma looks down, scanning through the photos. It’s a lot of group shots of men in soccer uniforms, and she thinks that’s weird but okay. He’s a member of a little soccer club back home. That seems like something rich people in England would do. It’s probably more interesting than her extracurricular hobbies which consist of eating, going to the gym, and sitting in David and Mary Margaret’s living room. It’s not like she has any room to judge someone over what they do in their free time.

Still, she continues scrolling, careful not to like anything, and it’s not until she comes across a picture of him with his shirt off that she stops to really think.

Not because he has his shirt off. She’s seen that in person. She doesn’t need to see that in pictures.

But because of the number of likes on the picture.

And the number of followers he has.

And then the little blue checkmark next to his name.

Holy fuck indeed.

“So, that’s how he has money to rent one of the big houses over in Edgartown.” Emma closes out the app and hands Ruby back her phone. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“Interesting?” Ruby scoffs, getting loud enough that David finally looks up with his own phone. Mary Margaret remains clueless in the kitchen. “You’re sleeping with a literal professional athlete, and that’s your reaction?”

Emma shrugs and stands from the couch as David asks Ruby to see what she was showing Emma. “David obviously finds it more interesting than me. I don’t care who he is or what he does or doesn’t do. That’s none of my business.”

Ruby gapes, David does too, and while Emma does have a bit of a weird feeling in her gut, she truly does not care what Killian Jones does. She’s got a few questions, sure, but much like the other men she’s been with lately, all she needs to know is if they’re clean and if they have condoms.

A little crude, but it’s the truth.

“Holy shit, Emma,” David whispers, but Emma is already ready to go, making her way into the kitchen to get the tupperware from Mary Margaret before this becomes a thing and she gets home too late.

It’s not a thing.

And she wants to go home.

-/-

It’s definitely not a thing, but she does think about it the next time he comes over. Not for long, though. Just when she notices a noticeably defined muscle she’s a little jealous of, but then he does this particularly delicious thing with his tongue or his hips that makes her completely forget about it.

And it’s not a thing when she thinks about it when she sees him running along the sidewalk outside the Blue Dog. She can run. She’s fit. She hates doing it, but she can. He just seems...graceful or something that she isn’t always. It’s difficult for her to articulate in her mind.

It continues to not be a thing each time she sees him, even when he invites her to his place for a change of scenery. The house, surprisingly, isn’t overly big compared to some of the other houses in the neighborhood, but it’s definitely not a place she could ever afford.

Not if she worked her literal ass off for five lifetimes and never spent any of her money.

All of the finishes are new, the design that modern coastal feel Emma sees on all the HGTV shows, and she can’t say she minds it. Her taste has always been a little more eclectic, but it’s nice, clean. And maybe one day when she’s not living in someone else’s house, she’ll actually decorate where she lives to her taste.

One day.

“Nice place,” Emma says, craning her neck so he can run his lips in just the right spot. He’s a quick study, which she appreciates, and he always remembers whatever she tells him.

“I like it,” he mumbles, his voice vibrating against her skin.

“Is this your style? Do you live in a big coastal home back in England?”

She doesn’t know why she asks, but she does.

He pulls back and raises his brow, which is this thing he’s always doing. At first it was annoying, like he was always questioning her, but now she realizes his brow likely has a mind of its own.

“Why do you ask, love?”

And much like the brow, that word seems to slip off his tongue without much thought. It has also become less annoying.

“No reason. Just curious.”

“I thought we didn’t ask personal questions.”

“You,” she corrects, tapping his chest, “don’t ask personal questions. I never said I couldn't ask.”

“I don’t think those are rules I agreed to.”

Emma ducks from underneath his arms, making her way into the open space of the living room. She unbuttons her shirt until her bra is exposed, and Killian’s eyes immediately glance down. Men are so easy.

“Okay, fair,” Emma sighs, running her hand over the back of a very well-made couch. “If I ask you a personal question, you can ask me one in return. But I have the right to veto. It’s a tit for tat situation.” He opens his mouth, and she already knows what he’s going to say. Again, men are so easy, and this is one that never passes up the opportunity for an innuendo. “Don’t say it, Jones.”

“Wasn’t going to.” He strides toward her, his movements fluid, and he puts his pointer finger in the empty belt loops of her jean shorts to pull her closer to him. He’s ridiculously warm. Then again, that could just be the flush in her cheeks. “And to answer your question, no, my flat in England doesn’t look like this. The colors are darker, but I do have a lot of blue and a few nautical pieces.”

“So you like the ocean then?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he corrects, tugging on the loops again, “you’ve already asked your question.”

“Asking if you like the ocean is not a personal question.”

“Anything can be a personal question depending on the person.” There’s a flash of something in his eyes, but Emma can’t decipher it. She’s usually a little better at reading people than that. “That can be your question for tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” she asks as his hands sneak around to her ass.

“Yep. One personal question a day. Keeps things interesting while separate.”

“And we keep the veto rule?”

“Aye, we keep the veto rule, Swan,” he smiles, dipping his head down to kiss her. That’s the entire reason they’re here, after all.

“Good.”

Tomorrow, she’s totally going to ask a better question than if he likes the beach or not. He left England to hang out in Martha’s Vineyard for a few months. He obviously likes it.

“So,” Killian begins as he skillfully snaps the hook on her bra off. Emma lifts her back from the couch to give him easier access. “Tell me, darling, do you like seafood?”

His mouth grazes over her nipple, and Emma yanks on his hair, hard. “Is this your one personal question?”

“Aye.”

Emma rolls her eyes at the same time that she rolls her hips, and she thinks there must be some kind of metaphor for her life choices there.

“Love it.”

“Good,” he whispers as his warm hands run down her bare stomach and underneath the waistline of her shorts. “Then I insist you stay for dinner.”

And because Emma has been all into making stupid decisions over the past month, she does.

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion​ @dramioneswan​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @wefoundloveunderthelight

[mercy-burning]

I Felt A Burning (Songbird Chapter 3)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: As it turns out, distance makes the heart grow fonder. Reader finds herself missing Spencer while he’s away, so the two of them find unique ways to spend time with one another. Rating: 18+ Warnings: Smut (penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, male and female masturbation, squirting), Language Word Count: 6.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST SERIES PLAYLIST (new songs added with the release of each new chapter)

NOTE: Sorry this is a little late.. This series is giving me a rough time at the moment, so I’ll probably need a little time to work out some of the kinks (pun intended?) but I’m still very excited to share the rest with you, because I do think it’s going to end up being one of my favorite things I’ve ever written!

So, this month I’m going to take some time to work on requests for my 1k celebration (More info on that here if you want to check it out and send in some requests), and once they’re all complete, I’ll come back to Songbird! It’s not technically on hold, but chapter updates will probably stay pretty spread out while I try to make each one the best they can be 🥰

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

***

"I've never seen him this attached to his phone, it's almost like he's a whole different person."

I don't think JJ realized I could hear her, and she probably thought I wasn't paying attention. To be fair, I wasn't paying that much attention. But I had to be cautious; As much as I loved texting with Y/N, I knew what my friends would do if they found out the nature of our conversations. Or that I was texting a woman outside of a professional setting... Or that I was texting a woman at all.

"I wonder who could have him that caught up," I heard Emily say.

Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I spoke up, keeping my eyes locked on my screen. "Her name is Sudoku. It's something to do to pass the time."

"Oh, so he is alive," Emily quipped, and everyone laughed. I even let out a little smile. "Why invest money in a smartphone when you don't even like the technology? I mean, you can buy puzzle books for like a dollar a piece, anyway..."

The first time Y/N texted me a... rather scandalous photo of herself, I'd ended up having to wait until I got home, transferring and downloading the file to my computer there because I couldn't get it on my phone. And then she called me and said that if we were going to do this properly I needed to be able to see the photos while I was away, otherwise there wouldn't be a point.

And the funny thing was, I didn't hesitate to purchase a smartphone immediately after we hung up.

I have to say, it was really handy. Sure, it was still taking some getting used to. And I much preferred my old phone, but getting to experience these rather adventurous text exchanges with her made it all worth it.

"Endless puzzles on the free app is much cheaper than buying a new book every few days. It's not bad," I finally said.

Just as Derek mentioned something about Penelope finally 'bringing me to the dark side', my phone buzzed in my hand and my heart buzzed in my chest.

The rest of the team talked amongst themselves, leaving me to 'my game' and I was glad to have a cover.

But when I opened the message and saw the photo Y/N sent me, I felt like the most obvious person in the world. Surely there was no way that no one else didn't know what I was looking at, right? Because I felt my face get hot, and something equally warm stirred in my lower stomach.

Shifting my bag over my lap just in case, I swallowed and examined the photo further.

The camera framed her body from the top of her mouth to her chest. She was completely bare, her bottom lip formed in a pout and saliva leaking out and down her chin. My eyes followed the trail down to her exposed breasts, where a round, red lollipop was covering her right nipple. I could barely see her piercing from behind it.

My phone buzzed again with another photo attachment, this time revealing a different angle. The lollipop was positioned right above her clit, just barely touching it, and looked like she was dripping wet. Immediately I wondered whether or not she'd touched herself with the lollipop, and if so, had she tasted herself on the candy? What did it taste like? Would she be willing to let me try when I landed and could finally see her again?

My phone buzzed a third time, and it almost scared me. This time it was just a text: I hope you appreciated those. It was far less sexy to take them than you'd probably think. Definitely more sticky, too. Gonna take a shower. Might send you some more, if you can handle it. —Stranger

I tried not to smile too hard, fully aware of my friends on the other side of the jet, and texted back as discreetly as I could: I always appreciate the effort. As for what I can handle, you'll come to find I'm full of surprises.

It didn't take long for a response to show up: Well, I'll just have to test that out when you come back to me, won't I, Doc?

My breath caught, and I don't think I'd ever wished for the plane to land faster than I did at that moment. I thought about asking when we were expected home, but figuring that might be a little more suspicious, I thought better of it and decided to wait it out.

I messaged her back: Text you when we land, and then pulled up the Sudoku puzzle app to keep myself busy until I could see her in person.

***

Maybe it was a little ridiculous dressing up for someone when they were just going to take it off of you almost immediately after walking through the door, but for one thing, I needed to wear something while I waited for him to get here.

And for another, it made me feel sexy, and in the end that's all I needed to know.

I wore a matching white lace bra and underwear set with high stockings. It was simple, but as I'd learned over the past month, Spencer really liked white on me. So I knew this was a good option, even if ultimately he didn't care what I wore (or didn't wear). To leave it a little surprise, I threw on a robe and read on the couch until he would text me.

But even as my book was open in my lap, my eyes didn't scan the pages. Instead I stared off into space, thinking about what a month it had been.

A whole month, and everything was going great. Not that I expected it to be awful or anything, but over time, even though Spencer and I had strictly been sleeping together without any strings, every time he was gone I felt like something was missing.

It confused the hell out of me.

And not because he wasn't worth missing—that actually wasn't the case. It was the fact that I was the one missing him at all that confused me. I mean, it was obvious from the beginning of our sexual relationship that I was willing to break a few rules of mine just to be around him, but... Feeling these things so soon? Missing his presence when he wasn't near me?

It was all so unfamiliar and completely different from any relationship I'd been in before, and a large part of me wanted to stop it all together. But really, I knew that was ridiculous, because nothing was wrong. He always respected my wishes, he made me feel good, and he was always kind and reassuring. He even bought a brand new fucking phone just so we could sext while he was away. It was obvious that he would have done a lot for me, and for the sake of keeping our arrangement steady... And from the little I did know about him, he seemed like the type of person who would be totally understanding about any issue I had, whether it was of a sexual nature or not.

Simply put, he was perfect.

So why did I not want to let him in? Why was it so fucking hard for me to believe that I could actually date him like a normal person and be okay?

Maybe I just needed to take things slow. I could do that, right?

Yeah. I totally could.

When he got here, the first matter of business, of course, would be to have sex with him. Because he'd been away for almost a week now, and the whole time we texted back and forth about all the things we wished we could do to each other. And his job was stressful, so whenever he came back he liked to relieve some of that stress, which I was more than willing to give him. No matter my conflicted feelings, our arrangement was so solid that I had no doubts about what would happen the second he walked through my door.

And then, when it was all over, he would leave. He always did, even if I sometimes asked him to stay until I fell asleep. But maybe tonight I could tell him to stay and fall asleep with me instead. That would be a good first step, right? I could explain how he must be exhausted from work and travelling, so he should just rest and I would be willing to let him sleep in bed beside me.

Yeah. That was a good plan.

Except, what would I do in the morning, then? Would everything be awkward? Would he get up before me and leave before I even woke up? And if that was the case, would he leave another note? Maybe he would still be asleep when I woke up, and then I could make him breakfast or something. Mayb—

My phone went off beside me, snapping me out of my excessive thinking. Thank God...

I read the text with a smile forming as soon as I saw his name at the top of the screen: Be at your place in 20 minutes.

After sending back a winking-face emoji, I set my phone on the table and put the book next to it. And then I took a deep breath and reminded myself to take it easy. Everything was going to be just fine.

Everything was going to be just fine.

I must have repeated it to myself over and over until he actually showed up, because it felt like only a minute had passed before a knock sounded at the door.

"It's me!" Spencer called out, and my heart raced.

Even as I strode over to the door, I couldn't seem to slow the fast pace of my heartbeat. And when I opened the door to see him with a brighter-than-the-sun smile, I thought it might completely burst out of my chest.

"Hey, Stranger," I whispered, stepping aside to let him in. As soon as the door closed, he leaned in to kiss my cheek, and I couldn't resist. I grabbed his face and pulled his lips to mine, kissing him deeply and with as much care as I could convey. He dropped his bag and melted into me completely, wrapping his arms around my lower back and pulling me closer to him. In turn I melted into him, sighing into his mouth.

I couldn't tell you how long we stayed like that, standing at the front door and making out like he'd just come back from war. It felt like it could have been forever, but however long it was, I couldn't have cared any more or less. It was perfect.

His hands slid down my back and splayed over the curve of my ass, making me laugh against his mouth. I felt him smile before he pulled away just a little, just enough to keep our noses touching.

"I missed you," he said simply, though with those three words alone it felt like it was complex and enduring enough to chip away at the walls I put up.

And strangely I didn't mind. When he was here, touching me, smiling at me, speaking to me, I felt... serene. It was like the stillest water you could imagine—no ripples, no waves... Just clear water, so still it was like a horizontal mirror.

"Missed you more," I drawled out, running my hands through his hair and rubbing my nose against his. "I even wore something special."

"You did?" he mused, running his hands back over my back and then around to the front of the robe I'd put on over my lingerie. He probably already noticed the stockings, unless he was just as blindsided as I'd been by the fact that we were finally together again that he didn't actually notice. But either way, his whole body went still when he pulled my robe away and took me in. I anchored myself to him by holding his hands, studying his face as it looked me up and down and grew stronger with desperation with every passing second.

"You like it?" I finally asked.

The mood almost completely shifted when he met my eyes. I could have sworn they grew darker.

"I like you," he breathed, right before he reached forward, grabbing my face with both his hands, and kissing me again. This time it was primal, every nerve in my body going numb at the way he practically consumed me. It was all hands and tongue and teeth and warmth.

I clutched onto his shirt, pulling his body closer to mine as I was desperate to be connected to him on every physical level. A gravelly moan slipped my mouth when he reached behind my head and lightly tugged at the roots of my hair, to which he tugged a little harder. I returned the favor, using my other hand to mirror the hair pulling he was performing on me, and he groaned almost as intensely as I did.

I didn't even know we were at the kitchen table until I was sitting on it, my legs instinctively wrapping around Spencer's waist and my arms doing the same to his neck. His tongue slipped into my mouth with ease, just like it had a million times before. And it was just as intoxicating.

He moved his hand to my back, sliding around the clasp of the bra before he paused and pulled away, studying my face. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but with the way his hands slid over my body like they were merely exploring, I had a feeling it was going to work out in my favor.

"You got all dressed up just for me, I'd feel bad to make you take it off," he mused, finally letting his eyes roam the length of my body.

"Whatever are we going to do about that," I mused right back, biting my lip when he met my eyes again.

His lips twitched into a smirk for a brief second before he moved his hands to unbuckle his pants. "I guess you'll just have to keep them on while I fuck her right here on the table."

I couldn't help the excited whimper that came out of my mouth as I leaned back on my hands and waited for him to get situated. My hand drifted to my panties, sliding them aside and dipping my middle finger through my pussy. "Did you like the pictures I sent you?"

I knew his answer was yes, but I wanted to get him more excited, and it seemed to do the trick—I could have sworn I saw his hands move faster, finally pushing his pants down as he took a step closer to me.

"Y/N, I have an eidetic memory, which basically means that I remember everything I see. Those pictures? They've been burned into my brain since I saw them, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about how badly I wanted to be with you again."

Each and every word fell heavy with this burning desire that set my whole body aflame. Added to the way he looked at me with the same intensity, it was practically the perfect formula for my destruction. And the fact that he could just vividly remember everything I sent him? Every picture, every time he saw me in the flesh—desperate for him... God, it was all so fucking exciting. And that was putting it lightly, because no words could ever have been beautiful or poetic enough to describe the way this man made me feel.

It all must have been written all over my features, because Spencer stared down at me and hummed amusedly His hands reached out to spread my legs by my knees, his touch sending shivers all throughout my body.

I reached out to grip his dick, slowly stroking it as I bit my lip and blinked up at him. "You have no idea how much I missed you this week," I got out, barely above a whisper.

"Oh, I think I do," he answered, right before he stepped forward and slid my panties aside. We both moved together then, me leaning forward to meet him as he brought his hips forward and ran his dick slowly along the opening of my pussy. He slapped it gently over my clit a few times, making me whimper out again which in turn made him smile a little. "How bad do you want it, pretty girl?"

"I want it bad," I answered simply, my voice low and on the verge of begging.

He seemed happy with that answer, a low hum coming from his throat in approval as he ran the tip of his dick through me again. And when he pushed it in just slightly, I wiggled under him in anticipation."

"Eager, are we?" he mused, stilling and bringing his thumb to gently circle my clit.

I threw my head back with an exasperated sigh that I only slightly truly meant in earnest. "Hell yeah, I'm eager. You promised to fuck me on the table, so when are you gonna deliver?"

Without another word, he slammed forward into me, and I gasped out, already falling apart at the burning I felt throughout my whole body.

"You're gonna regret being impatient, you know," Spencer grumbled, though the way I knew I had him practically wrapped around my finger told me that his threat was nothing more than a string of words that would fray and unravel into nothing once I got a tug on it.

And tug on it I did. Because he may have been the one currently obliterating me on my kitchen table, but the second I started talking, I knew he'd be just as ruined—maybe even a little more, though at the very least it would be an even playing field.

So I clenched around him as he continued fucking me at a brutal pace, spreading my legs wider and moaning out maybe a little too dramatically. "Oh, you've missed this tight little cunt, haven't you, baby boy?"

His arms wrapped around my legs and he scooted me closer, giving him a deeper angle inside me as a strangled moan rolled past his lips and his eyes almost rolled back. "Fuck, Y/N, I..."

As the words struggled to come out, I laughed, puffing my chest out and tilting my head to the side. "That's right... That's fuckin' right..."

It really didn't take long for either of us to reach orgasm, between our banter and the sheer force at which he drove into me while I clenched around him every so often, matching his rhythm perfectly despite how staggered everything was becoming with every passing second.

"Fuck, Spence, that's it," I breathed, reaching a hand out to graze his stomach with my fingertips. "I'm gonna cum..."

"Me, t— shit..."

Feeling him spill over inside me as I came around him reminded me just how much I missed having him with me, because no matter how good I made myself feel with a vibrator while he was away, nothing ever compared to that feeling; How full he made me feel, how tingly I felt when he moaned out my name, how warm his hands were as they gripped my skin to keep himself steady as he just fucking gave it all to me until there was nothing left... It was all so intense that I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to recover.

Which was why, even after he pulled out of me, I laid back on the table completely, letting my legs dangle off. My eyes closed as I tried to catch my breath and eventually I let out a breathy laugh.

"Fuck, man, maybe we should spend time apart more often, because that was..."

The weight of what I'd said didn't even really hit me until his phone started to ring, and I remembered my plan, that spending time apart was actually what I didn't want and I was supposed to tell him to stay...

I sat up and watched as he grabbed his phone from the pocket of his pants, which were on the floor. He pulled them up with him as he stood up again, murmuring a quick 'sorry' to me before taking the call.

I could see his ants were struggling to stay up, so I reached out and grabbed him by the belt loop, pulling him to me and buttoning his pants up for him as he spoke.

"Yeah, Hotch?" he said, smiling down at me because of what I was doing. I smiled right back with a wink, fixing up and straightening out his pants before I saw his smile falter.

A ball of disappointment started to roll in the pit of my stomach as I heard Spencer say, "Oh..." rather sadly. If I had to take a guess, he was probably being called into work again so soon, and once again I would be left alone.

"O—Okay, I'll be right in," he said, confirming my suspicions. Once he said goodbye, He put his phone back in his pocket and smiled at me apologetically. "Sorry I have to leave so soon, I was hoping to spend at least a little more time together before I left."

And I was kind of hoping I'd ask you to stay... "Oh, it's okay... I guess... absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

We both laughed a little, though it was clear the mood was still a bit dismal. So to lighten it I sat up a bit straighter and smirked, spreading my legs a little and feeling his cum slowly drip out. "Well, why don't you take a picture or two? Something to remember me by?"

I could tell he appreciated the playfulness I put forth, but he didn't take his phone out. "That's the thing about having an eidetic memory, I won't need a picture. Anytime I want, I can just remember you like this. Plus, I won't risk anyone else seeing anything."

I scoffed with a smile. "Please... I would hope you aren't looking at the pictures I send you in a room full of your colleagues."

"I don't. But I do work with a bunch of profilers, all of whom would just love to tease me until the end of time if they ever discovered what I was doing with you in my free time."

I was going to say something, but he cut me off, stepping forward and bringing his hand down to brush against the inside of my thigh. "But, if it'll make you feel better... I can give you something to remember me by..."

"What's that?" I breathed out, looking up at him as his hand travelled to my pussy.

He dipped his middle finger inside of me and felt around, leaning forward until his lips were barely brushing mine. My whole body seemed like it was going to crumble down at any given second, when he spoke quietly. "A taste."

"Of... what?"

He brought his finger out of me and brought it to my lips, and I took it in without even thinking. I groaned around him as he spoke again, his gaze unwavering and downright life-ruining. "Us. This is what we taste like together... A perfect harmony. Don't you think?"

I wanted to tell him that he wouldn't know because he hadn't actually tasted it himself, but the whole thing was so fucking hot that I didn't even bother arguing. I just sat there, whining around his finger as he all but stared into my soul.

His finger slipped out of my mouth and ran along my chin as he tilted it up. "I want you to clean yourself up just like that. You can send me a picture when you're done so I can see, yeah?"

"And... What if I don't?"

Spencer smiled knowingly, taking one more swipe of his finger through me before bringing it to his own lips, sucking it clean like anyone would have with food, and stepping back from me completely. "You will."

He left, and I could have sworn I felt my soul leave my body.

***

I'm not sure where that came from, exactly. But Y/N had brought out this other side of me that was almost jarring as much as it was sexy. She was everything seductive and enticing that the world had to offer, and it fueled me in a way I couldn't explain. In fact, I was almost positive she wouldn't send any pictures, because what the hell kind of request was that? I certainly never would have thought of it before, but she gave me all these filthy thoughts and ideas that I never would have been able to dream up otherwise.

Which, precisely, is why I was second-guessing everything. I focused on what work we had to do, of course, but once we were settled in on the jet and on our way to the next city, I brought out my phone to text her.

But I wasn't sure what I would say. I'd have to find a way to apologize, of course, in case my request had been too weird, and that I definitely should have asked her if she was okay with me telling her what to do like that. I knew about dominant and submissive dynamics in sex of course, but that's not the type of relationship we had. And, to be completely honest, if anyone was going to be the dominant role in that dynamic, it most definitely would have been her. While I could be confident and somewhat in control when we had sex, and while sometimes she took on a rather submissive approach to our sessions and I found myself deeply turned on by that, I was not confident in my dominant side. I never could take full control like that, and with some of the things I've seen and experienced from Y/N, that role was definitely better suited for her than me.

But in the end it all came down to us trying new things. Or... rather, me trying new things. I figured she was way more experienced than me from the beginning, and that still remained true, though by the reaction I've had from her a few times, especially after tonight, it seemed I'd shaken her up a bit.

Whether that was a good thing or not would be dependent on how this conversation went.

I turned on my phone to see that I had three photos and one video attachment. My heartbeat picked up immediately, and I quickly shut it off to compose myself, already having a feeling of what might be there.

About a minute later, I got up to use the bathroom while everyone was catching up on some sleep. This was a bit of a longer flight than we were used to, so it kind of worked in my favor. But just to be safe, I snuck in the earbuds that came with the phone as well.

Once the door was shut, I leaned back against it and plugged in the earbuds, simultaneously trying to navigate through the phone to get to my messages. And once I was situated, I put the earbuds in and looked at the pictures first.

The first one could only be described as a 'before' photo, showcasing her pussy exactly how I left it, and that alone was enough to start a stirring in stomach. I examined the picture intently, feeling myself grow harder in my pants, and I knew this was dangerous. But somehow that made it all the more exciting. It was a good thing I decided to stay in the bathroom.

The second photo showed Y/N's middle and pointer fingers spreading herself wide, everything exposed and glistening. I looked at that one longer, but the third one took me out and made me slump my head against the door with a soft groan. She was pouting slightly, her bottom lip dripping with what was obviously the cum I'd left her with. I didn't even want to watch the video, because I knew once I did I'd be a goner. I didn't even know exactly what it would be, but it didn't matter, because no matter what Y/N did she would tear down every defense I had. Everything I thought I knew, my ability to think straight, all of it would be gone with one word—Hell, one look.

I managed to take a deep breath before opening the video and adjusting the volume. And knowing it was probably going to do some damage to me, I stood in front of the toilet, making sure the door was locked before taking my dick out of my pants and slowly starting to stroke it.

Through the screen, I saw that Y/N had repositioned the camera so that I had a full-body view of her on her kitchen table. I wasn't sure how she was able to keep her phone propped up or where it was, but as she started to move, I didn't really care one way or the other.

"I've already sent you some pictures, which I hope you looked at first, but I figured this would be... better proof," she was saying, her legs spreading wide so I had a perfect view of everything. She brought her hand down to circle her clit a few times, and the longer she went on, the louder and more obscene the sounds were.

"Fuck," I breathed as quietly as I could, taking everything in as my hand worked my dick a little faster. I could have watched her do just that forever.

But she went the next step, plunging two fingers inside herself and pumping them in and out slowly. Every once in a while she removed her hand and cleaned off her fingers, looking into the camera and burning a hole straight through me as she moaned.

"You're right," she said, scooping up more of our mess and spreading it around. "We do taste perfect. I think I'm gonna savor it for a while... Take my time."

Her fingers were torturously slow, and even though she taunted, I knew it was killing her, because it was written all over her face—her whole body, really. As her face contorted and her body seemed to shake, I wanted to tell her through the phone that she could go faster, that she didn't have to make it this hard, but I couldn't. All I could do was watch, and listen as she fingered herself and all of it was burning me up from the inside out.

By the time two minutes had passed, it looked like my cum was gone, but she was still going, determined to bring herself to release another time. Her fingers moved fast and hard, the glorious wet sounds combining symphonically with her moans and whimpers. As I could see her getting close, it was like I was there with her, feeling myself get there as well. I knew it wouldn't be long now, though I wished we could have done this forever. And if I was being honest with myself, I was probably going to do this more than once as long as we were still seeing each other.

What happened next surprised me, because... well, simply put, I wasn't expecting it. And I don't think she was either, because the pure blissful shock that plastered over her features as she tensed and squirted almost sent me into cardiac arrest.

I came then, trying desperately to keep quiet as I took in the image of Y/N coming undone right with me.

I was catching my breath when she sighed out with a smile and a laugh. She looked exhausted, but completely blissful and serene all the same as she spoke. "Fuck, I didn't expect that... But next time it happens, I want you here with me. Got it, Stranger?"

Although she couldn't hear me, I responded with a light, yet truly sincere, "Yes, Ma'am."

***

The studio had been empty for hours, and nothing ever made me happier. Truthfully, it was always my favorite part of the work day, when I went in early, when the sun was still below the horizon and almost everyone was still asleep. That was when I felt most creative, and after about two hours of messing around on the piano and acoustic guitar, I was still going strong.

Maybe I had Spencer to blame for that. For a week now he'd been gone, extremely busy with work, and I didn't get to see him in person, but we sent texts and pictures and videos all the time. Just last night we even video-chatted for a good three hours before he inevitably had to return to his job. And while I missed him, if anything I think the distance was good. Because while we spent time communicating, I was also able to focus on work and myself, and I didn't constantly have to worry about things moving too fast. Things couldn't move fast if there wasn't any physical contact, right?

I mean, sure, At this point I was practically craving his touch and his presence, but I knew that once we did get to see each other again, it would be practically electric. There was so much we'd talked about over the phone that we would probably have enough to keep us busy until he got called away again. And then the cycle would repeat.

But maybe that was wishful thinking. I liked this system, even if we hadn't really been at it for long. All I knew, though, was that it was currently working, and I was feeling incredible about my life in its current state.

I wished it could have stayed that way forever.

By the time Jules walked in, I'd written about two songs and was currently working on a third. The studio was littered with sticky-notes and notebook paper from all the ideas I had, and she shrugged off her thin jacket with a laugh. "How many songs has it been today?"

I set the guitar down and went to pick up some of the notes, organizing them haphazardly. "Two. Working on a third."

"Damn, Y/N, you've been on a roll this week. Hell, all month. So... Who's the inspiration?"

Shoving some of the notes into a folder, I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Jules sat down at the large coffee table in the middle of the room and spread out, shaking her head slightly to the side to removed the auburn bangs from her eyes. "I'm a musician, too, Y/N, I know when inspiration strikes, and I especially know when it's because of a certain someone. So... Who are they?"

I hesitated saying anything, but Jules was right, and there was no way I'd be able to convince her nothing in particular was happening. So, I tried to keep it as vague as possible. "Oh, uh, this guy I met at a bar at open mic night."

She whistled as I took a seat across from her. "Damn... The sex must be pretty good if you're cranking out songs like an industrial machine."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, but I nodded all the same. "Well, you'd be right. It's, uh... it's going pretty well."

"I'll say, you're practically glowing. Good for you, babe."

I could tell she wanted to say more, ask tons of questions (more specifically, when's the wedding?), but she knew me enough to refrain. She knew how I did with relationships, and she knew just how private I was. On multiple occasions she'd ask me why I was a musician if I didn't like sharing my personal life with people, but I'd always retorted with a simple truth: You didn't have to show anything to anyone if you didn't want to. There were thousands of different things to write about, and the beauty of storytelling was that you could create whatever you wanted, no matter how true it was to you.

As the day went on, and more of the writers for our friend's new album came in to work, I was pulled out of the 'relationship' headspace and plunged into work.

Honestly, I was relieved. Not because I didn't like thinking about Spencer, but the exact opposite.

That feeling wasn't something I was used to, and I wanted it to go away. At least while I was working, so I could focus on one thing at a time. I didn't let people in, and I didn't want to let them in if I could help it, and I certainly didn't like when things moved too fast, which they always seemed to do. And this time was no different, only now I think it was me who was starting to feel things too early.

It was searing. It was slowly starting to consume me, burning me from the inside out, and I didn't know what to do.

So I did the only think I did know how to do, and that was ignore it, replacing it with music, the one true comfort I'd ever known. I drowned myself in the cool ocean of work, merely hoping it would be enough to quell the frantic, petrifying, and rapidly growing wildfire that would surely be my downfall. And for a while it seemed like it was working.

And yet, somehow, by the time I left the studio, there was a dull ache in my chest that left me confused and scared.

Suddenly I was glad for that night we'd been interrupted before I asked him to stay, and that I never got the chance to follow through. I don't know what I would have done then. Because if that feeling, when he inevitably agreed and stayed the night, was anything like how I was feeling now, then it probably would have been a lot worse.

All the same, I came to the realization that no matter what I did or didn't do, he would always be there, taking up some amount of space in my being that refused to let go.

Whether I liked or not.

***

“I knew it when you looked my way That I’d be begging you to stay. I couldn’t say it to myself.

I felt a burning in the way I held on when you pulled away. I couldn’t say it to myself.

—Maggie Rogers, Say It

SERIES TAGLIST: @meowiemari @secretsilockaway​

Tags not working: @bluesunrise02 @teenwolfgirl90 

[sleepylixie]

What are friends for?

College! Han Jisung X fem! Roommate reader

Imperium Universe || Jisung || Seungmin || Chan

1.5k words, Fluffy Fluff fluff,College!AU, Roommate!AU

Beware of: None other than teeth-rotting fluff and a teeny bit of swearing. Seungmin is chaotic evil incarnate but we been knew already 😂😂

A/N: the soft feels for Han Jisung hit hard 24/7, you guys. I MEAN LOOK ST THIS CUTIE BABIE I AM SIMPING. i have nothing more to say for myself. Please enjoy my offerings 🥺❤️❤️

Requests are open for SKZ and BTS! || Masterlist

//

Han Jisung wasn’t used to roommates. Him and his law major friend Seungmin had neglected to apply for on-campus housing until the last minute. A freak administrative error had the both of them assigned to a certain Y/N’s room and... safe to say, the two of them had had a bit of a surprise in store for them when they met you.  

It was disconcerting for Jisung at first- to see his first impression of your appearance as a possibly reserved, introverted character dissolve into chaos the second you opened your mouth. You were a force of nature dressed in pastel skirts, a lavender-scented hurricane that had no control over her tongue or hair. You smiled like a fox- sweet and unassuming on the surface, but sharp-witted and deceptive underneath.

Jisung knew instantly that Seungmin would click with your personality. The both of you were freakishly similar, with your innocent appearance melting into sheer devilry whenever the two of you wished so. Of course, he was right.  Seungmin took to you with great interest-the two of you clicked like kindred souls, or possibly reunited twins who were separated at birth. Jisung, on the other hand... 

He was intimidated by you, and that made it slightly difficult for him to settle down around you. While you never treated him with anything beyond familiarity and the niceties of acquaintances, he could never allow himself the same sense of familiarity that Seungmin allowed himself with you. 

He wished so dearly that he could behave otherwise, for he would be lying if he said he hadn’t found you just a little attractive (just a smidgen) from the second he met you. Jisung wanted to be close to you, gain your trust and friendship, but for some reason(him scared of looking like an idiot and possibly having you judge him for the rest of his life) he could never bring himself to do it.

//

The three of you had been living together for a good year and a half, well into your third semester and you’d all figured out how to live with each other. For example, Seungmin would only cook if there was DAY6 music playing in the kitchen. The way you entered the house was a clear indication of your mood that day- and today, it was a loud, resounding slam followed by strings of cursing.

“This is a fucking scam. This entire university is a cesspool of money mongering bastards and greedy professors who don’t deserve a shred of anybody’s fucking respect-

“Woah, slow down there, tiger, what’s got your tail on fire?” Jisung asked you, jumping upright from where he was lounging on the couch. Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you threw yourself onto the side of the couch Jisung had just vacated.

He couldn’t help but let his eyes rove your body as unnoticeably as he could manage. Your hair looked windswept from your walk back to the apartment, one of the guys’ hoodies and jeans covering your frame. How you could look so devastatingly adorable despite having steam pouring out of your ears was absolutely beyond him.

“What happened, is my fucking creative lit professor refused to grade me up for the mid-term assignment, even though I know my piece was one of the best.” You were fuming, stark raving mad, literally one second away from shooting sparks out of your ears as your hands twisted together on your lap.

“He told me that if I worked harder at trying to become a better writer, I wouldn’t have to be begging for a better grade. AND HE SAID THAT I SHOULD TRY NEW METHODS OF BEGGING IF I WANTED IT THAT BADLY.”

Jisung’s eyes narrowed as he took in the words that were spewing out of your mouth. “Did he really-” “YES HE DID I CAN’T WITH THIS UNIVERSITY-” You burst out, letting an angry yell punctuate your sentence. 

“Do you want to go to the Dean? I’m sure they’ll be able to do something about it.” 

At that, you smiled at Jisung, the same foxy smile that had him shrinking a little into himself every time he saw it- it was a thing of rather savage beauty, very out-of-place on a face as endearing as yours.

“Not really, I handled it myself.”

Jisung stared at you, his internal discomposure melting into curiosity. “What the fuck did you do Y/N, I swear if you got one of the varsity jocks to beat him up or something-”

“I’m glad you think I’m capable of that, honestly.” You giggled, anger temporarily forgotten, swatting at Jisung’s thigh. Were those butterflies in his stomach? Gods, he would eat a knife if it got them to stop fluttering-

//

“She had the Dean on call when she spoke to that sleazeball of a professor,” Jisung exclaimed, amidst assorted gasps and cheers from his audience, laughing a little himself as he sipped his beer. “guess who got a new creative lit professor and full marks for the assignment.”

You laughed as everybody around you let out peals of laughter, thumping you on the back in appreciation.

Your roommates had a gang of 6 other boisterous boys from all over the campus, united by a string of unsavory events and narrowly avoided expulsion. You should probably be concerned, sure, but the vibe the 8 of them had with each other was way too nice for you to not be roped in; now you were part of all their weekly parties at Chris and Hyunjin’s frat house. 

You were situated on the armrests of one of the couches in said frat house, red cup supplied with your kind of poison- Whiskey and soda. All of the boys were gathered around the common room, laughing and talking amongst each other when Jisung took it upon himself to recount the story of your creative lit professor’s unfortunate dismissal. 

It was a rather embarrassing pastime of yours, to watch Han Jisung. He was a strange one, alright. Out in the world, he was a loud, boisterous guy with a penchant for words, knowing exactly what to say at any point of time. It earned him his reputation of being a cheeky mood maker in any setting, the kind of guy who had friends all over the campus and beyond. 

In truth, however, the Han Jisung you came to know was reserved, a little more hesitant with his words, the kind who’d allow his friends to speak up for him unless he absolutely had to. He wasn’t a pushover by any means, no. He was just a little more picky with his words when they were meant for the people he was comfortable with.

For some reason, it warmed your heart when he behaved that way around you too- it felt like he’d accepted you into his inner circle. For some reason, your heart honest to god skips a beat when he smiles, this fucking adorable smile every time you and Seungmin tease him around at the apartment because fuck, he doesn’t always smile like that, does he? For some reason, you end up noticing his eyes when he smiled like that, the way his cheeks lifted up in this devastating manner, the way he’d laugh out loud with his whole body, so at odds with his reserved personality-

Yeah, no you definitely had a thing for him. You thought you were being glaringly obvious with it too, with the unabashed way you’d notice and steal glances at him every time he walked into the room. 

Not that you’d ever tell him any of this though, you were fairly sure you’d sent him an impression of mild intimidation with your rather...loud personality.

It was probably for the best if you admired Han Jisung from afar, hoping that your fancy for him doesn’t take the reins on your behavior.

Jisung might not have noticed, but another certain somebody definitely did. Somebody who’s brain was already thinking, well-oiled cogs being put to use.

\\

“Jisung, you should probably know that Y/N has a thing for you,”

“Seungmin what the fu-” you spluttered, neck already burning. This was not fucking happening.

“Is this what the roommate convention was for, you sneaky lil rat?” you exclaimed, doing everything you could to not lock eyes with the third roommate who was seated on your bed with the other two of you, now gawking between you and Seungmin with a rose blush scattered across his nose. 

Seungmin, to his credit, wasn’t fazed for a single second by the way the energy in the room changed, choosing to smile devilishly before continuing with his next sentence. 

“Y/N, you should probably know that Jisung has a thing for you too,”

What the fiddlesticks-

“And now, for my final trick, I shall excuse myself from this room. Roommate convention adjourned.”

Seungmin walked out of your room with a literal skip in his step. You would deal with your snake of a best friend after you were done with.. oh.

Your eyes finally met Jisung’s- warm amber eyes still looking at with a mixture of curiosity, surprise and affection that just knocked the words out of you. “Was Seungmin pranking me again?” He asked quietly, a hint of a smile playing across his lips. You sighed, trying to expel the nervousness. What the hell, might as well say the truth. 

“Not really,” the back of you neck felt like literal lava at this point- “I do like you.”

You were going to kill Seungmin.

“Good to know,” Jisung sighed in relief, his fingers twisting together on his lap. “Because uh.. He wasn’t pranking you either.” The next words seemed to take effort for him to get out, because his blush spread from his nose to his cheeks. “I like you too.”

You were going to thank Seungmin.

And then you were going to toss him into a dark room with Lee Minho and his boxing gloves, but that’s for later. 

[adorablele]

@riothae ♡ to my darling table leg 💞 this is to push the doyoung dream boy agenda. and also i’m sorry for not releasing this on your birthday, please accept this belated birthday gift.

☍ pairing; kim doyoung x reader ☍ genre; fluff, romance, a little bit of angst but mostly fluffy // apocalypse!au, zombie apocalypse!au, strangers to lovers!au, soulmate!au, parallel world!au ☍ word count; 4, 210  ☍ summary; you have your very own dream boy, a literal man of your dreams and he goes by the name of Kim Doyoung ☍ a/n;  don’t be fooled by the beginning, 99.9% of this is just dialogue. also I tried my very best to avoid using the word zombies to describe the people who were affected by the virus because...yeah it has something to do with the characters mindset but i didn’t get to explore that because I wanted to focus on the romance lmao ANYWAYS PLEASE ENJOY AND FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED since this is my first ever apocalypse!au and longest fic (in general and for doyoung)

trigger warning(s); mentions of weapons, use of weapons (doyoung uses a machete, mc also uses a weapon to kill the zombies), mention of blood 

This has got to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. 

“Hey!” you screamed, banging together two pots. 

The growling behind you started to multiply. 

You smirked, continuing to clash up more noise, “C’mere!” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw two rotted figures make their way towards you. The adrenaline in your veins pushed your legs to move faster. You heard the growling behind you grow louder, more shuffling of feet syncopated between your own. Out of either confidence or pure insanity―quite possibly both―you turned around to admire the hoard of creatures that you managed to gather.   

Disgust swirled in your stomach. They were ugly with skin so pale that you could see the infected black veins running through their body. They snapped at you with rotted teeth, blistered lips and blood-shot eyes. 

You laughed. “You’re so slow.”

Those vicious, viscera eating monsters didn’t seem to like your taunt. With inhumane twists of their bodies, they started to sprint towards you. This was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Still, you shouted at them and banged your pots. Your pace was already outmatched by theirs, but it didn’t help that you were walking backwards. 

“Just a little closer, I know you can do it!” you cheered. 

By now, more monsters have noticed the ruckus that you’ve caused and they decided they wanted to join in on the fun. That’s when you decided to continue running. You could hear their growls growing closer and closer. For a split second, there was a single drop of fear that touched your spine, or rather, a finger. Acting on instinct, you slammed the pan into the head of the intruder. 

You were done for. They were catching up to you. 

And yet, you kept running, faster than you’ve ever ran. Despite the fact that any one of the, probably, hundreds of virus-infected bodies were one step away from tearing you limb from limb, you laughed. 

This was it. This was the end. 

This was where you die.

The maniacal smirk on your face never ceased. You didn’t know how long you’d be able to run for, but you kept going. At least, you tried to until you were suddenly slammed by a body quite larger than your own. The wind was knocked out of your lungs, the buildings behind you a blur until you were pulled into an abandoned convenience store. 

“Are you insane?” the stranger scowled. 

One second, two, three before you gathered up your wits. 

“Let go of me,” you shouted, pushing off the stranger, “and yeah, I am.”

You aimed your gun at the stranger who held his arms up in surrender. 

“A thank you would be nice,” he frowned. 

The tall man was dressed in tattered jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. Around his wrists were newspapers bound by masking tape. He was covered in blood, dirt and grime; chapped lips and sharp eyes; black hair nestled messily on top of his head. Aside from all the cuts and bruises, you would deem him handsome. Although, that’s not of importance right now. 

“What would I be thanking you for?” 

“For saving you,” he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I didn’t need saving.”

He scoffed, “You were about to die.” 

“I’m already dead,” you muttered, “we all are.”

The stranger raised his brows, “Is that so?”

“There’s nothing to live for,” you replied.

He stared you in the eyes. “Then go back out there. Go say hello to your fanclub.”

A brief staredown occurred, his gaze challenging your own. Both of you knew that you wouldn’t walk back out there. At that moment, you wanted to see how close you could get to Death, but when it really came down to it, you didn’t want to die, not to those things anyways, and―as much as you’d like to say otherwise―most definitely not now.  You were on the brink of insanity, yes, but you weren’t completely diving in head first. You also knew that deep-down, you’re relieved that he saved you. 

And he knew that too. 

“Don’t move!” you shouted when he started to lower his arms.

He paused and looked over to the counter, “I’m just reaching for the candy.”

You eyed the counter where a bag of food laid and followed his movements closely as he reached for the opened bag of gummy bears on the counter.

“You’re human, just like me. We’re not like those...beasts out there, but if you really want to become like them, then go ahead.” He reached for the backpack lying on the floor by the counter and slung it over his back, “I already tried saving you once, though your actions aren’t in my controls.” 

He opened the back door of the grocery store and left. 

Your shoulders finally relaxed. You lowered your gun, then glanced out the window at the horde of monsters that roamed around aimlessly looking for the meal that had escaped them. Those soulless creatures were easy to read, easy to know what their intentions were. You turned back to the door where the stranger walked through. Who knows what his intentions were?

Yet, you decided to follow him.

For a block or two you followed him, watching as he slashed through the creatures with his machete. Occasionally, you too, killed the monsters that made their way towards you. Eventually, he entered a building and climbed all the way to the roof. 

You found him sitting at the edge, feet dangling as he stared ahead. His weapon lay next to him and his previous bag of opened gummy bears sat in his hand. You joined him by the edge, and this might be even stupider than attracting a mob of bloodthirsty fiends. 

Rather than shoving you off, he offered you some gummy bears which you accepted. He didn’t turn to look at you once. In silence, the two of you observed the abandoned city in front of you. Rubbled buildings weakly stood, streets filled with crashed cars, various monsters (who were once human) lingered on the sidewalks. The prettiest of all the ruins was the sky. A toxic mix of orange hues. Shapes of clouds filled the sky, providing no rain and no shade. The Sun was half over the horizon. It sent out constant waves of warmth. 

“I’m Doyoung,” he whispered, as if it were sacred to share his name. He turned to you, eyes vulnerable, a soft brown like the fresh soil used to plant a flower, “Kim Doyoung.”

You gasped out your name as you woke up. 

You sat up in your bed, dazed from the dream. Or, was it a dream? Panic slowly tickled your spine and you immediately turned on the news, phone dialing with numbers of your loved ones. 

After constant reassurances from your friends and family, you slumped on the couch. It was all just a dream. It was just a dream! You shook your head and went to wash your face in the bathroom. It was just a dream. A dream that you vividly remember. 

A dream with Kim Doyoung.

-

For the next few months―each month―you had one overly vivid dream that included Kim Doyoung and the apocalyptic, orange skied world. It mostly consisted of the two of you running around in empty fields, abandoned cities and hacking away at monsters. In many ways, it was you and Doyoung against the world. 

“Any updates on dream boy?” Kara, your best friend, smiled, sitting at the bar-counter of the diner you worked at. 

You placed her usual order of coffee in front of her. “You’re still calling him that?”

“Well, isn’t he?” she shrugged.

“Yeah…”

She smiled, “Any updates?”

Your heart thumped slightly at the question, the memory of the dream you had this morning resurfacing. 

The squelch of flesh echoed against the walls of the room as you and Doyoung explored the bakery. 

“Believe it or not, I was a baker,” he shared, slashing at a crazed waitress

“A baker?” you asked, raising your brows, quickly opening the door to the kitchen area. Running towards you was a murderous customer who, you assumed, didn’t receive the food they wanted. After taking care of the virused creature, you frowned at the disemboweled chef on the floor, “Should we bake in this kitchen?” 

“Do you want to?”

“Not with this on the floor,” you mumbled with a pout, “I thought we finally found a place!”

He shrugged, “Let’s just move the body.”

Together, the two of you, while trying not to gag, dragged away all the dead bodies in the kitchen and tossed them out. After another check around the bakery, the two of you barricaded the windows and doors, also checking through them to make sure no more rotted mouths were running towards you. 

Once all safety precautions were taken care of, Doyoung took out a container of sanitary wipes.

You snorted, “Are you really going to clean?”

“I told you, I was a baker, and in order to cook or bake, you need a clean area.”

You didn’t say anything, only smiling in amusement as he started to wipe the counter. 

“Aren’t you going to help me?” he asked.

Your smile turned upside down as you saw the dusty counter, bloodied floors and molded dishes. “Do I have to?” 

Doyoung threw the container of sanitary wipes at you. You caught it with a grumble. After a good three hours, the kitchen was finally clean enough for Doyoung’s standards. 

“I can’t believe you wanted to clean on your birthday. We could’ve just grabbed one of the pastries or gotten a cake from another place,” you sighed. 

“Well, if we did that, then you wouldn’t make me a cake.”

“Aren’t you the baker?” You countered. 

“Yep!” he leaned against the counter, “but you’re the one who promised to make me a cake.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, dragging your feet as you made your way over to the pantry. 

Somehow, you managed to follow the recipe that you tore from a cookbook and not burn down the entire building. You grabbed the cake from the counter, “Let’s hope you enjoy this, Mr. I’m-a-baker-so-I’m-going-to-give-your-novice-attempt-at-a-cake-a-rating-out-of-ten.” 

“Just an FYI, I had my own bakery,” he proudly added.

“Showing off now, I see,” you chuckled, placing a one tier cake with a very messily and unnecessarily large ‘Happy Birthday Doyou’ written on it. “I ran out of space for your name,” you explained as you added a candle, “but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“2 points off,” Doyoung called out, “didn’t complete your decorations, y/n? Not good.”

“No mercy, huh?” you tsked, lighting up the candle, “not even one point for the effort?”

He shrugged. 

“Guess I’ll just have to impress you with my singing skills,” you sighed. 

Doyoung watched with amused eyes, “You can try.”

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Arden- ” 

“Minus another two points.” 

Your jaw dropped, “What, I totally was hitting that high note!”

Doyoung shook his head, “First off, no. Secondly, who even is Arden.”

“Don’t know, maybe it was a classmate of mine whose birthday just happens to be today,” you shrugged. 

He raised a brow.

”Look, I just wanted to say a random name other than yours.” 

“Another point off.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Insulting the judge,” he shook his head, holding back a smile, “another point.”

“Doyoung!” you whined.

He laughed, “Okay, okay. I’ll give back two points if it tastes good.”

“Four if it blows you away,” you bargained.

“Deal.” 

Although you watched with a confident smile, your heart pumped nervously in your chest. You weren’t the best cook, nor baker, so you knew that there was a chance that the cake wouldn’t taste that good. And you were right. 

Doyoung’s face twisted into a sour expression. 

“It’s…”

“Just say it,” you sighed, “don’t hold back.”

“Horrible.”

You sighed and sat down next to him. You took a piece of the cake to taste. Upon the abomination you called a cake landed on your tastebuds, you realized that you deserved a final rating of -54325/10. 

“This tastes like…very salty sand,” you gagged, “did I forget the sugar or something?”

Doyoung got up from his seat and analyzed your ingredients. “My love, I think you did.” He then placed the bag of what you thought was sugar in front of you. 

“It’s salt?!”

Needless to say, Doyoung saved his own birthday cake by making one himself. You insisted that you should help which, reflecting back on it, you weren’t sure was a good idea or not. Multiple times, you got distracted by the way the dim lights of the kitchen seemed to highlight his face, or the way it felt too comfortable with his hand over yours when he would teach you how to do something. It left your stomach flipping, palms a little sweaty, and your heart ready to burst out of your chest. 

“And it’s done!” he smiled, finding the last flower decoration on the cake. 

It was clear who decorated what. 

All the orderly placed strawberries, raspberries and blackberries, along with the prettily swirled flowers and legible font were obviously Doyoung’s expertise whereas the little random patches of unevenly placed blueberries and poorly attempted flowers that ended up looking like dots were your humbly added touches. 

“Wait, I want to add one last thing,” you told him.

You took the piping bag full of royal icing from him and started to shakily draw on the corner of the cake. 

“Is that...a bunny?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you concentrated, “Yep.”

“Why a bunny?”

“You look like a bunny when you smile,” you nonchalantly confessed.

Doyoung didn’t say anything.

“Alright!” you smiled, proud of the animal that you drew. You turned to Doyoung who you were surprised to see already looking at you. “Doyoung?”

He looked towards the cake and cleared his throat, “You uhm, you ready to sing?”

“I thought we were just going to eat it?” 

“Oh…”

“Well, I mean, unless you want to hear my amazing vocal-”

“Let’s just eat,” he grimaced.

You laughed, taking a knife and slicing a piece. You offered for him to take the first bite. 

“No, no, you taste it.”

“You’re the birthday boy,” you countered.

“And as the birthday boy, I want you to take the first bite.”

You frowned, “Pulled that one on me, huh?”

He only gave you the bunny smile that made your knees weak. 

“Fine,” you grumbled, taking a bite of the cake. It tasted a thousand times better than the cake that you made. “Oh my- This is really good! You need to try it.”

You didn’t get a chance to fully give Doyoung a piece of cake because he gently cupped your jaw, turning your chin to face him. 

“I think I’ll try it now.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you. It was quick, unexpected on both sides of the party. That didn’t stop him from kissing you a second time though. This time, it was less hesitant and a little longer. He pulled away, yet again. 

The two of you took time staring into each other’s eyes. His thumb rubbed against your cheek. 

“You’re absolutely breath-taking,” he confessed.

You smiled, “Doyoung…”

“Completely stunning,” he whispered, leaning closer. 

Your eyes started fluttering close as you muttered his name.

“Yeah?” 

“Kiss me.”

Kara’s smile widened, her eyes glinting with mischief, “Oooo someone did have a dream.”

Your face felt hot. 

“Someone had a dream?” Felix asked curiously. He took the seat next to Kara and placed a plate full of waffles in between the three of you. 

Kara stuffed a piece in her mouth, “Dream boy strikesh ahjain.”

“What?” you mused.

She swallowed her food. “I said, dream boy strikes again,” Kara smiled, “perhaps, a little something happened?”

“Maybe a little something.”

“Like…” Felix trailed off. 

“Like… a kiss.” 

“You kissed him?!” your friends both exclaimed. 

Luckily, at the early hour of 6 in the morning, the diner was always empty except for the three of you. You rolled your eyes. “So what, we kissed,” you shrugged, “it’s just a dream.”

“Y/N,” Felix sighed in an exasperated tone, “it’s not just any dream-”

“It’s a dream with your dream boy!” Kara finished. 

“He could be your soulmate!” Felix gasped, “What if he’s having dreams like this too!”

“C’mon,” you gave your best friend a look of disbelief, “he’s not even real.”

“You don’t know that,” Kara told you, “there are people out there named Kim Doyoung.”

Felix tilted his head and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “You know, his name does sound pretty familiar.”  

You shook your head, “You guys are crazy.”

They continued to converse about people named Doyoung and possible suitors for you which you ignored and, instead, focused on continuing to wipe down the counter. The door to the diner then jingled as a customer stepped in. 

“Welcome in!” you greeted, still not looking up from the counter. Not hearing a response from the customer, you looked up. The rag in your hand dropped onto the counter. At your reaction, your friends stopped talking. 

Doyoung.

The man dressed in all black that stood at the door, smiled slightly, “Hello.” 

You felt the eyes of your friends. 

Clearing your throat, you nodded, “Oh uh, hi. Sit where you want.”

He nodded before making his way towards a corner table. 

“Looks like someone likes-” Kara started, but you interrupted her. 

“It’s him,” you told them quietly. 

“He’s the man of your-” they both exclaimed.

“Shut up!” you hissed before they could finish their sentence. 

They both glanced over at the man looking out the window before turning back to you with wide grins.

“He’s the man of your dreams?” they both asked excitedly.

“You two are unbelievable,” you mumbled, taking a menu and walking over to the man.

“Here’s your menu. My name is y/n, I’ll be serving you today. Just let me know when you’re ready to order,” you smiled. 

When Doyoung, or the man that looked like Doyoung, heard your name, you could’ve sworn that his eyes widened slightly, but you shook off the thought and left when he mutely nodded his head at you. 

“It’s dream boy,” Kara immediately said once you returned back to the counter. 

You shook your head in disbelief, looking over at him before back to Kara. “No.”

“What do you mean no?” Felix quietly whispered.

“Just because it looks like him doesn’t mean it is him! He’s just a dream,” you nodded over at Doyoung, “that guy, he’s real.”

While you bickered quietly with your friends, Doyoung spared another glance your way. It was odd seeing you in normal clothing, ones that weren’t tattered or bloodied. You weren’t holding your usual weapon, and you most definitely weren’t bashing heads. Though, he couldn’t help but admire you in the same way he had in his dreams. 

“Completely stunning,” he mumbled. 

When you dropped the rag, he was sure that you recognized him; recognized him as the Kim Doyoung from NCT. When your friends kept whispering and looking back at him, he knew that, not only you, but also your friends knew who he was. Doyoung turned back to the menu.

He doubted you knew had the same dreams as him. He did feel a bit awkward considering the fact that he dreamt of kissing you without knowing that you were an actual person. Maybe he should leave? After all, he was hoping to come to this diner because it was relatively empty, and he just hoped that the people in here wouldn’t know him. 

He glanced once more over to the counter where your friends quickly turned their gaze away from him. 

“Guys, he’s looking over here,” you muttered, “you’re making him feel uncomfortable.”

“You’re right,” Felix mumbled, “we can’t destroy your chances at dating dream boy.”

Kara nodded, “Yes, we’ll leave.”

“What?” you exclaimed, a bit louder than intended. Lowering your voice, you sent a panicked glance at your friends who were packing up, “Where are you going?”

“Well, I have to go to work now,” Kara sighed loudly, slinging her bag over her shoulder, “I’m going to get going.”

Felix followed Kara’s lead and stood up, “Yeah, I have to go walk my cat.”

Before you could process that Felix doesn’t have a cat, they were out the door, leaving you alone, in the diner, at approximately 6:37 AM with a boy that―just this morning―you dreamt of kissing. Your face felt heated again. 

Shaking your head, you looked over at Doyoung who was analyzing the menu. 

For the first time, you could clearly see him. His hair matched the color of his black long-sleeve turtleneck that was tucked into some black jeans. No blood, no dirt, no machete, just him. Just him and the highlight of the Sun on his cheeks. That reminded you of the dream you had and you shook away the daze, turning your attention to the very interesting tile of the counter that looked like it needed some serious scrubbing (not really). 

“I’m ready to order,” Doyoung softly called out. 

You quickly walked over to him, jotted down his order, then ran away to hide in the kitchen. Your body worked on auto-pilot as you prepared his meal. With his drink and food in hand, you started to walk back towards his table. Doyoung was staring out the window and he was humming. 

As you got closer, you realized that you knew that song. 

“Do you remember what the stars looked like?”

In the middle of an empty grass field, you laid with Doyoung. Your head was rested on his chest, and you felt his voice vibrate throughout his chest. 

“Yeah,” you told him, “they look like your eyes.”

You could feel Doyoung roll his eyes, “I’m serious.”

“So am I!”

He chuckled and brushed his fingers through your hair. “Did you ever stare at the stars and see everything you wanted? Did you ever see your ambitions? Your achievements?”

“Getting deep here, aren’t we?”

Doyoung sat up, “Have you?”

You stared at him for a moment before turning to the endless orange sky. The Sun never seemed to move from its place over the horizon. 

“Yeah, I have.”

A pause of silence. 

“When I looked up at the stars, I saw my future. I saw the plans I had, the answers to my problems, I saw hope. However...” you smiled sadly at the orange hues, “they all went up in flames.”

Doyoung placed his hand on yours. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get that deep,” you crookedly smiled, but Doyoung only pulled you into a hug. And the two of you stayed like that for a while. 

“What did you see?” you asked when the two of you were back to laying on the floor. 

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Me on stage, singing.”

“Singing?”

He sighed, “Yep. It was nothing more than a hobby, but my grandmother would tell me that I was a singer in some other life. She told me that if I looked at the stars, they would show me.” 

You chuckled, “Kim Doyoung, a singer.”

“I’m sharing a heart-touching story and you’re laughing.”

“Sorry,” you gave his knuckle a kiss, “it’s my coping mechanism.”

He intertwined his hand with yours, “I’m just kidding, but is seeing me as a singer that funny?”

You shrugged, “A bit hard to believe.”

“Really?” he asked, sitting up, untangling your hands.

“A little,” you admitted. 

He stood up and lent you a hand. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, taking his offer. 

The two of you were back to traversing through empty fields and abandoned streets (fighting zombies along the way) until you stopped in front of a music store. Ripped posters hung from the window, a broken open sign dangled from the door, and a few savage creatures were lingering inside. Using the power of teamwork, you and Doyoung were finally able to do what you pleased.

“So why’d you bring me here?”

He sat a keyboard, “I’m going to play for you.”

“Doyoung, that’s going to attract a lot of noise,” you peeked through the boarded windows, “is this really a good idea?”

“Aren’t you five kills behind me?” Doyoung asked.

The competitive side of you perked at the mention of your kill counter. You were reminded of the little daily game that you and Doyoung decided to play. It was simply just to see who could kill the most virus-infected barbarians you could in a day. 

But, your smarter side still worried about safety. 

“I’ll sing you two lines,” he told you, “just two lines.”

“Fine,” you sighed.

“This is an original, by the way.”

“Wow, an original song,” you teased, “just for me.”

He winked, “Of course.”

“What’s it called?”

“Lost Souls,” you mumbled, “the song is called Lost Souls.”

“You’re actually my dream boy,” you blurted.

“What?” 

You awkwardly placed his food down on the table, along with his drink, “Uhm-”

Outside the window behind him, you could’ve sworn you saw the setting change and a creature run head first into the window. You gasped as Doyoung quickly turned towards the noise. “The apocalypse,” he mumbled. 

Slowly, the blue sky started to change. “Orange skies,” you announced.  

The tables were rusted, chairs torn, walls peeling. “Empty buildings,” he added. 

Doyoung turned to face you, the same warm eyes as in your dreams staring right into your own. A certain dream resurfaced. 

You looked at the familiar looking convenience store, “Is this the building where we met?”

Doyoung didn’t answer you, only saying, “I hope you like watermelon ring pops.”

“What?” you laughed, watching as he reappeared from between the aisles.

He stood in front of you, unwrapping the watermelon ring pop. He then bent down on one knee. 

“Just you and I?” he asked.

“Against the world.”

[kpop---scenarios]

Good Enough

Pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Reader 

Genre: Idol! AU 

Warning: Smut, Mention of Domestic Violence, Miscarriage, Angst, Fluff 

Word Count: 15.4k 

Summary: Ayn (another y/n) and her friends meet Super M from a contest they win. She's a bit of a disaster but he doesn't care. Even when life tries to keep them apart, it never works. 

“I’m sorry…,”you whispered to the man who was supposed to love you, who was carelessly and harshly dragging you along the path to your apartment. You would think by now you would know your limits with alcohol, the one thing you had a love-hate relationship with, but instead you hate yourself every time you get as drunk as you currently were. You should not have drank as much as you did, is what you tell yourself, again. Everytime. You knew it as always. Your body knew it and hated you for it, and so did your equally unimpressed fiance. "I can't do this anymore," he grunts carrying you into your apartment and down the short hall to the bedroom. Soyoung lets out a loud sigh, a sound of frustration and annoyance flying from his tongue, as he practically shoves you on your bed. His tall body, moving quicker than your eyes can in the dark of the room, you watch dizzily as he opens drawers and your bathroom briefly grabs something else, before coming back to stand over you. "Did you hear me?" Grabbing your cheeks and squeezing with one hand the other painfully grasping a breast, making you gasp,  before grabbing some stuff from your bedside table. "I'm done." He finishes, walking out of your apartment, slamming the door and leaving your very drunk self to pass out. You wanted to follow him, ask him what you had done wrong now. You were trying to cope, was that so wrong? You wanted to move but your body wouldn't let you, you were frozen to your bed in an unimaginable state of drunken paralysis. Thankfully all the thoughts drowning you shushed your mind to sleep. Before you knew it, a persistent old-fashioned alarm eventually registered, blaring through your ears. You rolled over in your bed, feeling your dress from the night before twist around you, making you frown in confusion. Usually, a night out of drinking with Soyoung leaves you naked and most times sore in the right spot, sometimes pleasantly so, sometimes not. Shutting the alarm on your phone off, you sent a dreary voice message to your fiance sweetly begging for medicine and his special hangover soup. You desperately needed it. You really shouldn't have drank so much, again. Laying back down, phone tossed to the side, you take several slow deep breaths, trying to not throw up the unfortunate amount of tequila you drank last night. Closing your eyes against the dim light in the room, a flash of memory hits you making you touch your jaw knowing that all the pain isn’t from alcohol this time. You struggle to hear the words he spit at you last night in your head, something important, but you just couldn't remember as you drift back to sleep. Ding Your phone wakes you up. Groggily, you grab your phone, checking your conversation with Soyoung, and he's read your message but the reply wasn't from him. Maybe he was on his way? Going to your other conversations, you see it's your group chat with your three best friends. Beth, Maggie and Lisa. [2:43pm] Beth: I can't breathe. Everything smells like Tequila. I want to die. [2:45pm] Maggie: Did I break my foot? Cause it kinda feels like I did. Fuck. [2:49pm] Lisa: So round two tonight!? Let's get ready to paaaarttyyyyyyyy. [2:54pm] Beth: Are you insane? I'm crying tequila tears right now. I cannot [2:56pm] You: Don't be a pussy Bethy. Let's do it [3:01pm] Maggie: I mean.. i'm in [3:05pm] Beth: Fine. But I'm not drinking [3:09pm] Lisa: The fuck you're not. I will drown you in a bowl of Tequila beth. Try me. You knew you could always count on your girls. With a smile on your face, you text your fiance again, letting him know you were going out again tonight, and asked him if he wanted to come out with you guys. Usually when you message Soyoung, it wasn't long before he replied, but now you had been waiting two hours and that was so unlike him. But you weren't going to be that fiancee, you figured he was probably busy with something, even though the nagging feeling in your stomach was telling you otherwise. ** That night as you continued to drown your sorrows in liquor, again, your mind lingered on the fact that you still haven't heard from the person who was supposed to love you and be there for you. The person who was supposed to be your person but wasn't. Thinking back to the voicemail you’d left, well voicemails, plural. And thinking on the obvious smudges on your breast and face, that you’d gotten too used to covering up.   "You okay?" Maggie asks you, taking a sip of her drink. "Yeah girl. All good," you say forcing a smile. You weren't okay; not even close and drinking was the only way you knew how to cope and there was a lot you needed to deal with but couldn't. You weren't mentally strong enough at the moment. You struggled internally with whether or not to unload everything on your friends, but you knew they had their own shit to deal with. You couldn't do that to them. "Come on," Beth slurred, slapping at the bar to get the bartender's attention. "Let’s close out and go! Next bar, up!" "Thought you weren't drinking tonight, Beth?" You slur, a knowing smile on your face. "Fuck off." She spits, placing a hundred dollar bill on the counter to cover everyone's drinks. Something the four of you often did. Someone would pay at one bar while another would pay at the next. The four of you finished your drinks, giggling as you walked out of the bar, walking to the next one. While three of you gossip, Beth lags behind, gasping at her phone. "What the fuck are tou foing," You slur, fumblimg your words and stopping the group. "Just shut up and keep walkin," she shoos you away, not looking up from her phone. Minutes later, you reach the next bar, Beth puts her phone away while she has a concerning smirk on her face. Do you confront her or ignore it? You choose to ignore, not wanting whatever it was to possibly ruin the night for everyone. Whatever your uwu girl was up to couldn’t be that bad. Beth wasn't one to stir up trouble or cause a scene. If anything, she likely ordered some more candles from Etsy. You all spent the rest of the night getting drunk and dancing on each other, without a care in the world.   Sunday morning you wake up, smelling Tequila everywhere. It was seeping through your pores. Your heart sunk, still no word from Soyoung. So you try to call him again. No answer. You tried again, and again no answer. You didn't understand. What did you do that was so wrong? You spent the entire day going through everything, old texts, playing in person conversations in your head,  trying to figure out how you might have fucked up in the last month or so, but nothing came to mind. So now the question you had was, what the fuck was his issue? You knew he didn’t like you showing up at his home unannounced, but at the same time this was past petty. The thought of calling his mother, who did not bother to hide her hate for you physically made you ill, you let your finger hover over her contact a little longer before closing the phone. You tossed it to the other side of your sofa, decisively picking up the remote to look for a movie to watch. Fuck him, you decide, just fuck him. ** After you had finished work on Monday, you still hadn't heard from him. When you woke up on Tuesday, again there was nothing. Everytime you called you were either sent straight to voice-mail or he just didn't answer. By the 3 week mark, you felt as though you might not even be together anymore. Three months later, you had heard nothing from him until your neighbour who was getting her mail had let you know he was out of town filming for a movie. She thought it was quite weird that you didn't know, and honestly, you thought the same but you weren't at all surprised, given Soyoung's past with you. Later that night, you had found out that night that when Beth was intensely looking at her phone, she had been entering a meet and greet with Super M, the band that the four of you were obsessed with. When she had gotten into the top five, she sent a video explaining who she would bring and why, and apparently they liked the way she represented you guys and how real you sounded. She should have told them you were all psychotic and loud because Super M was going to be in for a wild ride. At the four month mark, you still had not heard from him, and actively decided you were single. You took your ring off, leaving it on your bedside table. You didn't know why you tortured yourself like that, maybe you hoped he would walk through your door again one day, telling you that something had happened and he says so sorry before telling you how much he loved you, and would slide that ring back on your finger, telling you that's where it belonged and to never take it off again. Wishful thinking on your part. ** Finally Friday had rolled around, the night you were going to meet Super M. You had a hard time containing your excitement. All day you were a giddy mess, acting like a child who had gotten up early on Christmas morning to find a shit ton of presents. Friday afternoon, you had left work early to make sure you had ample time to get ready for meeting Super M. You unlock the door to your apartment, and walk in, being met with the face of your fiance, or the man who was now your ex. "Soyoung.. you're back?" You whisper, dropping your purse to the floor. "No I'm not. Just wanted to grab a few things.. and my ring." He says, sliding the ring off of your bedside table, and putting it in his pocket. "You're.. what is going on? Where have you been? Why did you leave? I thought we were happy?" You say. "Us? Happy? You're delusional." He laughs. "What? "I ended things four months ago." He deapans, hands in pockets with his feet braced apart. "Well thanks for telling me!" You yell, heart racing. "I did,"He shouts back. "Do you remember the night I dragged your drunk, embarrassing ass back home?" "No.. I had been drinking." You say, your chest tightening at the hurtful words you knew were going to come next. "Yeah you had, like usual. I ended things that night. I'm done. I have an important reputation to uphold and protect, and frankly your alcoholic, large self doesn't fit into it." He sneers. "Not to mention the vast difference in our status. Do you know what it's like being an actor with chances and then having an alcoholic teacher as my fiance? Fucking disaster." "I was coping. The loss of our baby was hard on me." You whisper, as it gets harder to breathe, tears freely slipping down your face now. "You know I've always wanted to be a mom." "Yeah well you losing our child was the best thing to happen to me. Imagine having a child with a low class whore. I can't believe any school would look at you and think you and that body, which is only good for one thing, should teach someone's kid. The universe knows who should be a mother, and you're not it." He continues as if her defense were nothing. "Also tell your friends that having them text me, asking me to check up on you while I'm out of 'town' is just fucking embarrassing." He finishes, sliding the ring into his pocket, and picking up his box before leaving. Tears fall from your face as what he said replays through your head, making you feel even worse. You didn't think that stuff like that was important, so it hadn't occurred to you that he thought that way. He had never mentioned anything to you, or brought it up, at least in so many words. Flashbacks play through yohr head, things he said during sex which should have set off some flags. "Fucking whore. You like getting your pussy rammed by a higher class man?" "Take that dick like the dirty low level slut you are." Did they make you uncomfortable? Sure, a bit but he had always been into dirty talk, so you chalked it up to that. Great to know he was being serious. Why did he have to show up tonight all night? The night that you get to meet one of your favorite bands, and your ultimate bias, Baekhyun. You couldn't look like a wreck tonight, so you dried your tears, took a few shots and put on your favorite song and started doing your makeup. ** A few hours after you were drunk and ready to go. A car outside beeped a few times, letting you know your friends were here. You locked your door, making sure to hold onto the railing as you walked down the stairs, not wanting to trip and fall. "Ladiessss." You slur, getting into the car, throwing your head back on the seat. "Let's go." "What happened?" Maggie asked, turning her head from the passenger seat to face you. "Apparently." You begin, clearing your throat. "Soyoung broke up with me when I was drunk four months ago and I don't remember, I'm in such a lower class than him and that's why I miscarried 5 months ago. Also that I'm a fat whore." You sniffle. Your lips begin to quiver as you remember the words again. You didn't want to cry, you couldn't but fuck it still hurt. "What the fuck." All the girls say in unison. "I've always hated him." Maggie spits. "Seconded." Beth yells. "Third..ed." Lisa partially answers, not knowing if that's a word or not. "Thirded is not a word, but thank you." You laugh as Lisa pulls you in for a hug. "We can cancel with Super M." Beth suggests. "Don't be dumb! Cancel on Super M? Who are you!?" You yell. "We don't cancel on kings. I'll be fine." You finish, taking a deep breath to shake off the sadness. "Are you sure?" Lisa asks, looking nervous that you might actually say yes. "Oh my god, no. We're not canceling." You laugh. "Lets go. I need a good distraction." 20 minutes later, the four of you sit outside the restaurant taking deep breaths. "I'm going to faint." Beth states, fanning herself with her hand. "Fucking Taeyong and Kai.." "Im going to meet Mark and Lucas." Lisa squeals. "Taemin, and Ten, my babies." Maggie groans. "And I'm going to meet Baekhyun. The only man I need." You say, a weird smile appearing on your face. "Fix that." Maggie says, pointing to your mouth. "You are not entering that restaurant looking like you're hiding a gun inside your vag, okay? Serial killer looks stay in the car please." She finishes, opening her door and adjusting her dress. "Less creepy. Got it." You say, hopefully smiling like a normal person. The four of you walk away from the car, your hands shaking as you make your way closer to the door. You felt like your heart might just drop right out of your ass when you walked through the doors. "We're here for the Super M meet and greet." Beth says, showing the man the confirmation. "Right this way." He says, motioning for the four of you to follow him to a private room. Whenever someone had told you they almost died when meeting their favorite celebrity, you never understood. Until today. When you walked in the room, all the guys were sitting at a table, four spots between them opened. Lisa sat in between Mark and Lucas, Maggie in between Taemin and Ten, Beth between Taeyong and Kai, while you sat beside Baekhyun with no one else on your other side. But you didn't care. Yes you loved the whole group, but Baekhyun was your one and you were in heaven. "Hi, im Baekhyun." He says with a gorgeous smile, holding out his hand. "Oh I know. I'm Ayn." You smile, shaking his hand. It was no surprise that it was soft to the touch. "Would you like a drink?" Baekhyun smiles, his eyes never leaving you. Call it crazy, but you absolutely felt something between him and you, and you could tell that he felt it too. "Tequila please." You laugh. "A Tequila fan? My kind of girl." Baekhyun smiles, waving over the waiter. Over the next few hours, you and Baekhyun talked about everything while the two of you took more shots. He asked you about your job, family, friends, ambitions, passions, everything. But you should have known not to drink too much, in order to not embarrass yourself in front of Baekhyun, but when he asked you if you were seeing anyone, you lost it. "I was engaged, but he dumped me when i was drunk, ghosted me for 4 months, told me I was a low class whore who basically deserved to miscarry and that I was fat." You sob. Everyone sits there stunned, mouths hanging open as you sob into a napkin that Baekhyun had given to you. "What an asshole." Baekhyun declares. "Like literally, I want to fuck him up. Who does he think he is? You are beautiful and I'm so sorry for your loss, you didn't deserve that. Where is he? Can I please beat the fuck out of him?" Baekhyun asks, rolling up his sleeves. "You're sweet." You giggle. "Honestly yes, you can beat him up. I hate him." "What's his name?" Baekhyun asks. "Kim Soyoung." You scoff. "That piece of shit!?" Mark asks from across the table. "Man we hate that guy already." Lucas mumbles. "Well there we go, now I have more of a reason to shit kick him." Baekhyun smiles. "But seriously, you're like a 20 out of 10. Stunning." He smiles. Your heart melts as his words replay through your head while he and the others make a plan for the rest of their night. "You guys down to come to the club?" Taemin asks, looking around the table. "Yes!" You all yell out in unison, excited for the next part of the night to begin. As you walk out of the restaurant, you pass through the dining room, where a familiar laugh rings through the room. You look around and see Soyoung sitting there, with a woman sitting across from him. "Wow, Kim Soyoung!" You yell, rage fueling your body with adrenaline. "Already engaged after you only left me 4 months ago?" You ask. "Ayn, stop it." Soyoung hisses. "Who are you?" The woman asks, standing up. When she turned around, your heart sank into your stomach, nausea consuming your body. She was at least 7 months pregnant, wearing your engagement ring. "It's not yours.. is it?" You whisper. "It's only been four months!" You yell. "She's got to be at least 6 or 7 months?" "Im 7 months, and we've been together for 3 years, what are you talking about?" She snaps. Tears fall down your cheeks as you try to piece together what she was saying. So were you the other woman or was she? You were engaged but now you're not, and she was having a baby, and you were not. "She could give me what you clearly couldn't. She's in the same league as me, unlike you. Get over it Ayn, I'm fucking done." "Oh I'm over it. I'm so done with you. Glad a pathetic piece of shit like you is no longer in my life." You say before he cuts you off. "You know what?" He asks, looking around the room. "There's always that one person in a group that doesn't quite fit in, someone they need to make the rest of them look good, that's you and you do a wonderful job at it." He smirks. "You're a miserable person, and a shitty lay. It was hard to feel anything when we fucked, considering you have such a small dick." You smile, Baekhyun grabs you by the wrist to drag you outside while Soyoung shakes with rage. He knew that if you kept going like he thought you would, Soyoung would probably do something that he shouldn't and you'd likely get hurt. "I'm sorry. That just felt so good to say." You tell Baekhyun, now sobering up from all the adrenaline. "It's all good." Baekhyun laughs. "I enjoyed it. Let's get out of here." Everyone climbs in two different vans, preparing to head out of the club. You began climbing when something stopped you and pulled you back out. Turning around you see a still fuming Soyoung, standing there with his fists clenched by his side.   "You think you can just say all that shit in front of my fiance and a room full of strangers and get away with it!?" He yells unclenching to grab the collar of your shirt, pulling you against him. "Why are you letting someone who is in such a low class bother you so much? Mhm? Maybe because you're not as high and mighty as you think you are? You're lower on the totem pole than I am." You whisper. Soyoung shoves you to the ground, raising his fist as if he was about to hit you. "I dare you." You say, knowing he wouldn't. "Hey!" Baekhyun yells, jumping from the van and shoving Soyoung back. "I always knew you were a piece of shit, but now you're an abusive piece of shit? Wow." Baekhyun snaps, staring hard at Soyoung, who sighs before walking away. "You okay?" Baekhyun asks, extending a hand to help you up. "I'm all good." You smile. "You sure?" He asks, making sure. "Positive. Let's party!" You laugh, climbing in the van. "She's amazing." He whispers before climbing in after you. ** Walking into the club, all eyes are on Super M as they glide past the dance floor, all of them looking like angels. They all head for the VIP section, which gives a perfect view of the dance floor. After everything that happened earlier with Soyoung, you were ready to forget everything with a few shots before you got lost on the dance floor. You, Maggie, Beth and Lisa all cheer your shots, each time you take one. After three, and a good song was finally playing, you all head out to the dance floor, finding a spot in the middle with an opening to view the VIP room. Your eyes lock with Baekhyun as you begin circling your hips, shaking your ass while running your hands over your body. You watch as Baekhyun licks his lips, his eyes trailing your body, watching you move so effortlessly. He takes a sip of his drink, his body slouched in his chair with his legs spread wide. You can feel yourself becoming more and more horny as you see the outline of his cock growing in his pants. As you continue dancing, you feel a pair of hands slide around your waist and a body press against you. Still looking at Baekhyun you notice his eyes go dark as he sits up, watching you dance with the strange man. He doesn't know why, but the jealousy he felt was coursing through his body. You break eye contact, turning to look at who you were dancing with and if you knew him. You didn't.  When you looked back towards Baekhyun he was gone. Had he left? Seconds later you feel the man leave from behind you, being replaced by another body. "You're a bad girl." You hear whispered in your ear. Shivers dip down your spine as Baekhyun grabs your wrist, taking you off the dance floor and towards the bathrooms. He pulls you into the men's bathroom, locking the door behind you, his eyes dark and needy. He grips your shoulders, pushing you against the wall, pinning your hands above your head. “If you wanted to make me jealous, it worked. Since the moment I first saw you tonight, I wanted you." he growled into your ear. His hands reach down to touch your thighs, slipping his fingers under your dress as you spread your legs slightly for him. Baekhyun glides his fingers across your clothed pussy, teasing you. “Please give me more” you whine as you buck your hips towards his already erect cock. “This is going to have to be quick." he smirks, unbuckling his belt and sliding down his pants just enough to allow his cock to spring free. Your mouth watered at the site of Baekhyun's thick and juicy cock. He backs away, letting go of your hands, allowing you to drop to your knees. Your hand barely wraps around his cock, pumping it a few times before you lean in to wrap your lips around it. Just as you reach the tip, a frantic knock comes from the other side of the door. It was Taeyong, and he only had to say one word for Baekhyun to panic and get the two of you out of there. "Saesangs." Baekhyun pulled up his pants, pulling you towards the only window in the bathroom. He sent a quick message to his group chat, letting them know to meet him at the van, asap. "I'm gonna lift you up and the climb up myself." He tells you, looking very serious but you can't help but laugh. "You.. you're going to lift me up? Me?" You giggle. "You're little." "Hey! I have muscles okay? I'm strong. Shut up." He grunts, just barely lifting you. "See." He says, his voice shaky and struggling. "Yeah okay." You huff, climbing through the window. "I can hear you on the struggle bus." You can't hear what Baekhyun's reply was, as you were too busy trying to drop to the ground. "Hurry up." He tells you, watching you dangle from the side of the building. "It's terrifying." You whisper shout. "It's like 4 feet. Get over it." He whispers back to you. "Before I peel your fingers off this ledge." "You do that and I will never give up this pussy." You say, not able to hear his mumbles. Taking a deep breath, you let go, dropping down not very far at all while Baekhyun effortlessly jumps from the window, landing gracefully as usual. Finally you confirmed, he was in fact just CGI and not real at all. There was no way a human could possibly be as perfect as Byun Baekhyun and not be fake. Just wasn't a thing. "Stop staring at me, let's go." He laughs, pulling you towards the van. "Baek we gotta go." Taemin says, rushing him. "Gimme your number, quick." Baekhyun urges. Quickly you write your number on his arm before he climbs into the van. "I'm sorry. I'll text you." He says before the van door closes and they drive off. "What the hell happened?" Maggie asked, walking up to you with Beth and Lisa. "We almost hooked up." You whisper, eyes wide. None of you can believe it, except Lisa. "Well he was watching you all night so I'm not surprised." Lisa tells you, raising her eyebrows. "We'll meet tomorrow for breakfast?" Beth asks the group. You all agree before going your separate ways to head home. Tonight had been a night that you would honestly remember forever. You really didn't have any expectations of Baekhyun to text you. He was a huge celebrity and you were, well a teacher with an alcohol problem. Not quite the catch you should be. When you finally got home,you stripped down into your underwear, hating yourself for wearing such sexy lingerie that no one got to see. You climb into your bed when your phone dings. A number you don't recognize. [3:08am] 4739272943: Hey, I had a great time tonight.. did you make it home? The smile on your face widened. You quickly added his number to your contacts before replying. [3:12am] You: I did, thanks for asking. I'm snuggled warm in my bed. [3:15am] Baekhyun ♡: I wish I was your blanket. Damn. I can't stop thinking about what happened in the bathroom [3:17am] You: Me either. I was excited. [3:19am] Baekhyun ♡: My cock is so fucking hard [3:22am] You: can i come over? [3:25am] Baekhyun ♡: (address) You crawled out of your bed and ran to your closet, putting on a trench coat over your sexy lingerie, and a pair of sexy heels. You rush down the stairs of your building, standing on the sidewalk to hail down a cab. Once you do, you begin telling the driver the address, double checking your phone to make sure it's correct. Sure it probably looked suspicious that you were going to a hotel at almost 4am, dressed like a hooker but if he knew who you were going to meet, he wouldn't judge. But he probably still would anyways. ** You stand outside the room number Baekhyun had given you, taking a deep breath before knocking lightly on the door. Before you could even knock a second time the door swung open, revealing Baekhyun who grabbed you and pulled you inside. "A trench coat?" He asks, trying to hide the smile on his face. "Why don't you see what's underneath before you judge." You say, glaring at him. Baekhyun reaches forward, unbuttoning a few buttons before you let the coat fall down your body, revealing the sexy lingerie you had on. "Yes, wow, good trench coat." He breathes. Baekhyun takes your hand, pulling you into him before pressing his lips to yours. Immediately you as though you’re melting into his lips. His mouth moves along yours, without any hesitation you open your mouth, just enough to allow him to slide his tongue in.  Every single worry you had quickly disappeared from your head. Every problem, insult, anything was gone. Baekhyun reaches down, placing his hands on the back of your thighs, giving a little push to signal you to jump up. You hesitate a little, but when he pushes even more you know he won't give up, so you jump up, wrapping your thick thighs around his waist. He walks forward and crashes you against the wall, deepening the kiss while pressing his body against yours. He removes your hands from going through his hair, and instead pinning them above your head. He breaks the kiss, placing small kisses along your jawline before moving down to your neck. You pant as he nibbles at your neck. "Do you want me as much as I want you?" He asks, looking you in the eyes. “Even more" you breathe. Baekhyun sets you down, reaching behind you tk unclasp your bra,  your nipples perk as the cold air of his room hits them. Baekhyun bends down slightly, taking a nipple into his mouth, giving it a small tug with his lips. "Fuck." You moan. He smirks as he takes your hand, leading you towards the bed. He lightly pushes your shoulders back, causing you to fall back onto the bed as he stands at the edge. His smile widens as he stares at your thick, beautiful body on display for him, and him only. He climbs on the bed with you, hooking his fingers into your panties, slowly sliding them down your leg. Baekhyun spreads your legs, memorizing every curve and crevice of your body. He licks his lips and smiles as he lays down in between your open legs, your pussy already dripping wet. He lowers his head slowly, spreading your lips open with two fingers before licking a slow strip up, his tongue stopping right above your clit. He moves his it slightly, using the tip to give you a few small kitten licks. Your hands grip the sheet of the bed as you let out a loud moan, your fingers turning white. “Fuck" you cry. It’s been too long since you’ve had someone take care of you. Never having been with anyone since Soyoung. Baekhyun moves his tongue faster, you buck your hips, grinding yourself against his face. “Shit that feels so good" you whine. Baekhyun picks up his pace, moving his tongue in every direction, your orgasm coming fast. “Please don’t stop. Just like that” you groan. Your breath hitches as his hands grip your thighs, steadying himself in-between your legs. “I’m.. I’m gonna cum" you cry, your hands moving from the bed sheets to his head, gathering a handful of hair and gripping it tightly. You move your hips faster, needing to cum now. A few more circles with your hips and you’re met with a delicious release as you cum, a wave of pleasure radiates through your entire body. Baekhyun looks up at you, smirking while he licks your juices from his face. You just lay there attempting to catch your breath as your chest heaves up and down. “Fuck me now” you breathe. Baekhyun's eyes go dark as he stands up off the bed, you maintain eye contact as he strips his shirt off, your mouth practically watering at the sight of his toned stomach. Yout mouth drools again at the sight of his thick cock, standing straight at attention. “It's not going to suck itself” he smirks, looking from his cock to you. A wide grin appears on your face as you sit up and begin to crawl towards him, you lay at the edge of the bed with your head level to his cock and mouth open wide. Baekhyun groans as he slides his cock into your mouth, pushing himself in as far as he can before you wrap your mouth around him. At first he starts out slowly, gently thrusting himself in and out of your mouth. With every pump, his thrusts become harder and faster. Tears begin forming in your eyes as he rams his cock down your throat, it burns, but you love it. “Jesus baby, your mouth feels amazing” he moans, his thrusts becoming sloppy. Almost as quickly as he moaned, he pulled himself out of your mouth, stumbling his way over to the wall. “Are you okay?” you ask, your voice hoarse. “Yeah, I was just close to cumming and I didn’t want to do it yet" he breathes. "You want to cum in my pussy, don't you?" You ask, feeling extra naughty. Baekhyun lets out a deep throaty growl as he stalks back towards you. You scramble to sit on the bed, with your legs clenched, the need for him to be inside of you so strong. “Get up and ride my cock “ he growls. The moment you move, he lays in your spot ready for you to sit on his cock. You move your leg over to one side of him, gripping his cock as you align yourself with him and sink down slowly. You clench yourself around him as you hit the base, your walls stretched. “Your pussy feels even better than your mouth” he grunts. You slowly begin to rock your hips back and forth, getting a rhythm you enjoy. Baekhyun rests his hands on your hips, pushing for you to ride him faster. Your hands reach down to rest on his chest, as you lift your ass up before bringing it back down onto him. After a few minutes you go back to slower thrusts, your clit rubbing perfectly against his pubic bone. Baekhyun sits up, bringing the two of you chest to chest before he slowly brings a hand up your back to grab a chunk of hair and yank your head back, exposing your neck. You let out a small moan as he places soft kisses. He smirks at you before changing his pace and flips you over to your back. He smiles as your legs are in the air and he slowly pumps himself in and out. “Fuck me harder” you beg. “Happily" he says before his face turns from a smile to dark. His thrusts are slow but powerful. He makes you shiver every time he thrusts in, hitting your G spot without a problem. Without a word, his pumps quicken as he consistently rams himself into your dripping pussy. “Play with my clit" you whine. Baekhyun removes a hand from your leg and places it in-between your thighs, spreading your lips and placing his thumb on the exact spot you need it. He begins to  rub as he continues to pound himself into you. “I’m not going to last much longer” he pants, his thrusts becoming sloppy again. “Choke me" you cry out. Baekhyun abandons your other leg, wrapping his large hand around your throat, giving it a tight squeeze. A few more thrusts and circles from his thumb, a stronger orgasm than before washes over you, pulsating through your body, leaving you breathless. A few hard thrusts and a few seconds later Baekhyun cums, soaking your walls with his juices. After milking himself, he half collapses on to you, the two of you breathing heavily. You both chuckle as he pulls out of you, laying his equally as sweaty body next to you. Just as you were about to say something, you're cut off by the sound of knocking on Baekhyun's hotel room door. "Shit." He whispered, looking at you with terrified eyes. He mouthed an apology to you before shoving you off the bed, leaving you naked in between the bed and the wall. "Come in." He says, clearing his throat, making sure he was covered. "Hey Baekhyun.." Lucas begins. "I heard some grunting.. just wanted to make sure you were okay?" He says, looking around the room. "Oh yeah, all good. Just working out." Baekhyun says awkwardly. "Naked. It's my naked workout time. Do you wanna join? We can not be naked. Unless you wanna be naked." He suggests. "Nah, I'm good." Lucas smiles, backing out the door. "Don't forget, flight leaves at 9am." He reminds Baekhyun. But he knew and he was trying to avoid talking about it or bringing it up for as long as he could. Lucas closes the door, and Baekhyun scrambles to the side of the bed you're beside. "Guess I should get going." You say, standing up and searching for your lingerie. "You don't.." Baekhyun begins before you cut him off. "It's fine. I get what this was. It was fun, you have to leave and go back to your life and I'll..go back to whatever mine is." You say. "It's fine. I knew this wouldn't turn into anything.. I mean look at the different worlds." You finish. "Are you done now?" He asks. You nod your head. "Finally. Look, I don't want to stop talking to you, or stop seeing you. I was going to suggest making long distance work until I can come back or you can come out there." He says, pulling his boxers on. "If you want." You stand there in your bra and panties with a giant smile on your face, trying to remain cool. "Yeah sure, I could do that." You say, shrugging your shoulders. "Don't sound so excited about it." He says, rolling his eyes.   The smile never leaves your face as you walk towards him, wrapping your arms around him, as he does you, holding you close for a few minutes. Another knock at his door breaks the two of you apart, knowing he now has to leave. "You go. I'll wait 10 minutes and then leave." You say holding back your tears. Yes you'd only met yesterday but it already felt like you've known him for a lifetime, things with him were just beginning and now they're ending just as fast as they began. "I'll text you." He says, placing a quick kiss on your lips before grabbing his bag and slipping out the door. Your heart sunk into your stomach at the thought of him getting on that plane and going back to Seoul, but you couldn't do anything. You had zero expectations of him texting you, and you sure as shit weren't going to text him first.   Just as you were leaving his room, your phone dings. Your stomach twists and turns with excitement as you see a text from Lisa, telling you where to meet them for breakfast. Thirty minutes later you arrive at the restaurant, after quickly running home to put on some clothes before going. "Why are you so happy?" Beth asks, referring to the giant smile on your face as you sit down next to her. "I'm just in a good mood." You laugh. A very good mood. "Bullshit. What or who did you do?" Maggie asks. "I'm not sure what you could be talking about." You murmur, avoiding eye contact. "You didn't." She gasps. "What?" You ask with an awkward laugh. "You slut!" Lisa screeches, making the other people turn to look at your table. "Oh ky god, what!?" You laugh.   "You and Baekhyun fucked didnt you?" Maggie asks. "When would that have even happened?" You ask, rolling your eyes. "You left us at 230am." She says. "Anytime after that." "I may or may not have gone to his hotel last night.." you pause, pursing your lips while they all sit there mouths hanging open. "Girls.. when I say he's big.. I mean he's biiiig." You smile, your facial expressions showing them exactly how big you meant. "Tell us everything." Lisa laughs. Leaning forward, you start from the beginning at the club, and how neither of you could take your eyes off one another. ** "You weren't naked working out last night, were you?" Kai asks Baekhyun, sitting next to him on the plane. "I was. I rather enjoy doing pilates.. naked." Baekhyun says, clearing his throat. "Really? I didn't know that. I also didn't know that you moaned like a girl when you worked out. Is 'fuck me harder' a part of thr pilates workout?" Kai laughs. "Actually it is." Baekhyun says, trying to keep a straight face. "Look, i don't wanna tell you what to do, Ayn seems like a great girl, but she seems to have a lot of shit going on." Kai says. "Just be careful." "We all have a lot of shit going on. That doesn't mean we're any less deserving of someone to care for us. I know what I'm doing." Baekhyun smiles. "Then I'm happy for you man." Kai smiles, closing his eyes, preparing to sleep for the long flight. ** You waited and waited for a text from Baekhyun, but nothing came. You understood when it was a few days, but after a week, you decided it was exactly what you expected. You had actually believed him when he told you it wasn't just a one night stand for him. When he told you he wanted more, that he would text you and facetime you. You knew people got busy and he was an idol but it didn't take too long to send a text, just a hey, how are you or something like that. The more you stared at your phone the more it made you sad that the last thing he sent to you was the hotel address. At least you would always have that night. Sitting in your bed, your blankets are wrapped around you as you scroll through the saddest sounds on your tiktok, tears welling in your eyes. Fuck this hurt. As you scroll, Maggie's name flashes across your screen in a phone call. "Hello?" You sniffle into the phone. "Come out." She tells you. "Beach day." That perked you up a bit. "Okay. Yes." You say, knowing it would be good for you to get out. You wiggle your way out of your bed, put on your cutest bikini and brush your hair before putting it up in a cute bun. You put on a little sun dress and your flip flops before grabbing a bottle of wine and heading to your car. When you're about twenty minutes away from the beach, your phone dings and since no one else is on the road with you, you decide to check it and see Baekhyun's name at the top of the text. He finally texted you! You smile down at your phone as you read the message. [1:23pm] Baekhyun ♡: Hey beautiful, I'm sorry it took me so long to text. Things have been crazy. But I miss you and I can't wait to see you again. Let's plan something soon, okay? You heart flutters, excitement taking over, until panic rushes in instead. You drop your phone when you hear the honking of another car, not realizing you had drifted into the other lane. Unable to get back into your lane in time, you go the other direction, your car crashing through the metal guard, the sound of metal scraping while you cry, trying to pump your brakes but they're not working. Everything happens so fast, one minute you're happy and driving, the next your car plummets into the water, sinking fast. You struggle to take your seat belt off, while also trying to kick out your windshield or even punch out your driver's side window. You can hear the people above, the people on land screaming and crying, begging someone to help you while you cry out yourself, pleading for someone to come save you but now it's too late, your car is completely submerged in the water. You wish you could breathe but you just keep sinking. Sinking. And sinking. Until the world fades to black. ** Baekhyun has his phone right beside him for the rest of the day as he actively waits for your reply. He saw that you read jt, but maybe you were just busy at the moment and couldn't reply, or maybe you were too busy fangirling to reply. Maybe you fainted? Maybe he took too long to text you? It's not that he didn't want to, but for the last week, from the moment he got off that plane, his schedule had been hectic. He had appearances, promotions, rehearsals, shows, and more. He barely had a moment to sit and breathe, eat or think. He wished he had messaged you sooner, just to let you know he was still thinking about you, that he hadn't forgotten. Great, you probably thought he used you for a one night stand type thing. He debated within himself if he should text you again, or leave it until tomorrow and send another message. Looking over at the clock, he decided that since it was so late he would wait to text you again, hopefully this time yielding a reply from you. ** That next morning he woke up, sending you a good morning text, but it didn't really go through. He thought it was strange that his text was green, but it didn't say not delivered. Maybe your phone was off or you forgot to charge it. [3:48pm August 23rd] Hey.. you're worrying me now. Are you okay? Please.. let me know. [11:54am August 24th] Seriously? Come on Ayn. Something, anything would be fine. He was trying to keep calm, trying to not think that you were ghosting him. But by the second week when none of his green texts turned blue and he hadn't heard anything, he felt like he understood now. You weren't interested anymore. You could have at least had the decency to tell him you weren't interested instead of ghosting him. Three weeks went by. Three weeks of him texting you and receiving nothing, not even a goddamn apology from you. This was it. He was done. He was tired of trying, of keeping his hopes up that maybe, just, maybe you'd message him back. ** Three weeks after the accident, you had finally woken up, and you were okay, for the most part. Your body wasn't like it used to be, considering you had been laying down for the last few weeks. Your muscles were weak, your body was sore, your left leg had a bit of a limp and you felt disgusting. This wasn't you. You weren't the girl who cried over her body, but you didn't recognize yourself anymore. When the doctor suggested you try Physical Therapy you were hesitant but Maggie reassured you that she would be there with you through it all. "My phone?" You ask, a few days later while stretching. "They're going to call me today. They're pretty sure they can back everything up." She tells you. Thank god. And they did. During the next three weeks of your therapy, you had four different tech guys working on your phone, trying to get your messages and contacts back but due to all the water damage, it was taking some time. Seven weeks after the accident, you were finally 98% percent back to your normal self, a few large cuts and bruises that still needed healing but mentally and physically you were feeling okay today. Today was also the day you got your phone back, contacts and messages and all. You couldn't wait, you felt terribly guilty for leaving Baekhyun on read like that for so long. You couldn't wait to message him, tell him everything that happened. You turn your phone on, and everything starts rolling in. Messages from Baekhyun, cute and sweet, and then they get frustrated and annoyed, and then he just gets mad. He goes from wondering if you were okay, to telling you that he thought you were different, to him telling you he thought Kai was right about you, and how he should have stayed away, that maybe you were too damaged for him. And then he's done. Your heart sinks but you can sort of see where he's coming from. You haven't messaged him in so long, but if he claimed to have liked you so much, then why didn't he try to reach out to anyone? Try to find out if something has happened to you? Regardless, you send him a text, trying your best to explain the situation in hopes that he understands. He should, who wouldn't? He didn't believe you? What did he mean he knows the truth? You were so confused. You tried to call him, multiple times but unfortunately for you, he denied your call each time. You got the hint. You weren't go8ng to be pushy with him, but it hurt your heart that he was acting like this. You had really liked him and now it seemed like he just wanted one thing from you that night and had no intentions of actually attempting to make things work with you. Just before you're about to walk away from your phone, it dings again, excitedly you look at it, hoping it Baekhyun but it's not. Instead it's from someone you want nothing to do with, Soyoung. Of course he was trying to get back in your life, unfortunately for him, no amount of apologies was going to work to get you to even talk to him. You had his toxic ass once, you didn't want it again. You'd rather get into another accident than deal with him. You turn on your TV, waiting for your show to come back on when an interesting commercial caught your eye. 'Become a teacher in Seoul. Live in South Korea for a year while you teach English.' This was it. This was your reason, besides trying to talk to Baekhyun for you to finally go to South Korea. 'Call 18004738234 now!' Picking up your cell phone, you dial the number with no hesitations. With the year you had, you needed a change in just about every aspect of your life. You were still coping with the loss of the baby you so wanted, despite who it would have been with, as well as your painful departure from Soyoung. Your meeting and falling out with Baekhyun, someone you really and truly could have seen yourself with for the long haul. The car accident, that even though you basically fully recovered, it took something from you and you didn't think you would be able to find whatever it was while staying in the States. "Hello? Yes, I'd like to apply for the job in Seoul. Yes I am a teacher." You smile. This was the change you needed. Three long weeks later you received your letter in the mail, the one telling you that you had been accepted into the teaching position and that you were to fly out to Seoul in exactly 1 weeks time. Squealing, you pick up your phone, making a call to your three best friends and asking them to meet you at your favorite restaurant. "So what are we all doing here?" Lisa asks, margarita in hand. "We are celebrating!" You announce. "Celebrating what?" Beth asks. "I was accepted into the teaching program in Seoul!" You announce, excitement plastered over your face. Beth and Lisa scream in excitement with you, while Maggie sits there, looking concerned about something. "Are you not happy for me?" You ask her. "It's not that. Just what's your reason to go to Seoul specifically? What do you think you'll find there?" She asks. "You know I've always wanted to go there." You say. "Yeah but are you going to see Baekhyun? I don't think that it's a good idea." She states. "What's with you? You were all for it in the beginning, what changed now? What if we're meant to be?" You ask. "You're not meant to be with him, okay? So just leave him alone." She spits, taking a sip of her drink. "What is your issue? I don't understand!" You yell. "My issue is that you're not ready for anything! You've been through alot and you were rushing! So I told him you weren't interested in him anymore." She whispers. (Flashback) Maggie sat beside your hospital bed, holding your hand as the ventilators breathed for you. Her heart ached for you while her mind tried to remain positive. She told herself over and over again that everything would be okay, that you would wake up soon. But everyday, that day never came. One day, she was scrolling through her Twitter when she noticed a DM waiting for her. As she opens it, she sees that it's Baekhyun, reaching out to her about you. Where were you? Were you okay? Taking a deep breath, she told him you were too nice to say it to him, but you don't want anything more with him. You got what you wanted from him and that was it and that you wished he wouldn't contact you anymore. Maggie felt terrible and Baekhyun never replied to her message, but she thought she was helping you, not hurting you. "When did you tell him?" You ask, trying to hold back the tears. "When you were first in the accident." She sighs. "I told him you only wanted him for the night and nothing else." "Wow." You laugh, no humor to be found. "And just what the fuck gives you the right to make those decisions for me?" "As your friend, I felt like it was my duty to help you when you couldn't help yourself. I wanted to protect you." She says. "Where was that when I was with Soyoung? He was so shitty yet you never said anything to me! And here I want to be with someone who is actually good and decent and you do that? Some fucking friend." You snap. "Where were you when he was threatening to hit me? I told you about that. Or when he yelled at me and talked down to me at the restaurant when we were out for dinner, you sat there silently. So don't try and act like you were protecting me from Baekhyun. There was nothing I needed protecting from. I needed you back then. Before he broke me down." You finish,walking out of the restaurant. ** For the rest of the week you spoke to no one. You ignored the calls from Maggie, the apology texts, and the texts from Beth and Lisa telling you to just take it easy on her. She was trying to be a friend. You hadn't planned on ignoring them until they took her side. You knew she was wrong, and so did they but they still took her side. You were over it. Your stomach was excitedly nervous as you boarded your plane. Sitting in your seat, your mind begins to wander, thinking about what you want. This was your chance to find out who you were by yourself. You had finally realized that you had no idea who you were or the woman you were supposed to be. You had always done what made Soyoung happy, bringing yourself down to lift him up, taking his abuse just so he would be happy and you have someone that told people they loved you. You had a hard time believing that you deserve any love because you weren't the smallest woman, the prettiest, the smartest, basically you serent good enough to be loved. But now that you have been alone, thinking about what you want and what kind of life you want you realized something. You deserve all the love in the world. You were an amazing, beautiful woman who was good enough. You were too good for Soyoung, and you were good enough for Baekhyun. ** When you arrived in South Korea, you knew you had a lot of work to do. First you had to find your apartment that you were sharing with another teacher, who had been here for a few months already and would be able to show you the ropes, and get settled in. But you also had to figure out how to run into Baekhyun. You just needed to explain to him what Maggie had done and how you had absolutely no part in it and didn't believe anything she had said. You tried to message him but he had blocked you on everything. Instagram, Twitter, Messaging, this was your only shot and this time you wouldn't blow it. You couldn't. You felt it in your bones that Baekhyun was meant to be your happily ever after. That you endured all you did because it led you to where he was, and where he was, was where you were supposed to be. ** Your first week in Seoul was.. well challenging. Gaining your students' trust, the beginning of teaching them how to speak English, it all started out a little bit rough. But as the time went on things became easier, your students began catching on, they started to feel more comfortable around you and you felt like you were finally home. This was where you were supposed to be, with these students, in this city, doing what you loved. As time went on and you stayed in Korea, you came to love yourself. Everyday you worked on yourself, becoming a stronger, happier version of yourself. Through the first year you were there, you made multiple changes to yourself. You dye your hair, started working out to feel better,  even made some friends who you went out with on the weekend. But there was still something in your life that you felt was missing. You hadn't dated anyone. Sure, there were a few guys you'd gone on dates with but for whatever reason they never worked out, or stuck and most of the time it was something about them you didn't like. Or they just didn't fit well with you, or the fact that they weren't Baekhyun. It had been a year since you spoke to him and he still crossed your mind at least once a day. You partially kept up with how he was doing through the tabloids but once it was rumored he had a girlfriend, you left it alone. Even though you'd been working on yourself, you didn't think you could handle it if there was any truth to it. Once your year working was up, you were offered full-time employment with your class, if you wanted to stay and continue to teach. You most definitely accepted it right then and there. That night you went out with some teacher friends to celebrate in Itaewon, which also happens to be a well known place that Idols like to frequent. You'd be lying if you said you didn't hope to even just catch a glimpse of his beautiful face in person instead of on a screen. After taking a few shots, you are dragged to the dance floor by one of the male teachers who you knew had a bit of a thing for you. The attention was nice, you were flattered but you were not interested and he seemed to have a hard time taking the hint that you didn't want anything sexual with him. He spins you around so your back is facing him, his hands on your hips trying to guide them to grind your ass on him. You turn around and tell him again, you're not interested in dancing with him like that, and he gets mad. "Why won't you just return my fucking feelings?" Kyungdo yells, grabbing your wrist to pull you into him. You try to pull your wrist from his grip, but his hand is holding onto you so tightly you can't.  "Please. You're hurting me." You whimper. "I'm not interested." You yell. Kyundo rolls his eyes, pulling you away from the dance floor, towards the door to leave the building, when you're stopped with a hand on your free wrist. "She said she wasn't fucking interested." A familiar voice yells, pulling you closer. Turning your head, you see the handsome man you had seen a year ago, his eyes dark, his lips pursed while his face even pissed off, was beautiful. "Mr. Byun. I'm a huge fan. Don't mind my girlfriend, she's just being difficult." Kyungdo says, bowing to Baekhyun who looks less than impressed. "Girlfriend?" He asks, looking at you. You shake your head no. Baekhyun peels Kyungdo's fingers from around your wrist, dropping his arm. "Leave her alone." He snaps, pulling you away from the now annoyed man. "Thank you." You say ask Baekhyun to pull you into a quiet, dark room. "Why are you here?" He asks. "I've been teaching here for a year. They asked me to stay so i'm out celebrating tonight." You whisper. "Fuck." He hisses, pushing you against the wall. "You shouldn't be here. It was easier when you weren't." "What Maggie told you.. wasn't the truth. I was in a coma for 3 weeks.. it happened the day you texted me. She thought she was protecting me." You say, needing him to know the truth. "So you never said any of that?" He asks. "No and I told you I didn't." You say. "I was mad. And confused." He admits. "I shouldn't have believed her." "No you shouldn't have." "I can't believe you're here. I've missed you." He breathes, his face so close to yours. Ring Ring Ring Baekhyun sighs, answering his phone frustrated.  "Hello?" He snaps. "Oh hi babe. Yeah I'll come over when I'm done. Okay. Okay. Yeah. Bye." He says, hanging up his phone. "You have a girlfriend?" You ask. "I do." He says, backing away from you. "Shit." "I mean.. old friends can catch up right?" You ask. "And talk." "You're right. Definitely. What's your KKT?" He asks you. You give him your chat ID before hugging and going your separate ways. Not even 10 minutes later he messages you, telling you how much he missed you and how often he thought about you in the last year. [2:43am] You: If I'm being honest, there wasn't a day that went by that I never thought about you too. It might sound creepy but I've been keeping up with you from watching things online. [2:46am] Baekhyun: Oh yeah no, that's not creepy at all. Hahah. It's good to talk to you again and it was good to see you.  You look great, minus the creep. Let me know if he bothers you again. [2:50am] You: unfortunately I have to work with him, so I'm sure he will be an issue. [2:53am] Baekhyun: Just let me know and I'll take care of it. [2:56am] You: i will. Good night Baekhyun. [2:59am] Baekhyun: Goodnight, beautiful. ** The next week you took your students out for a walking field trip, and imagine your surprise when you end up running into Baekhyun at the park. Of course, most of your female students start to lose their minds. "Guys, this is my good friend, Byun Baekhyun." You say, introducing them to him. The smile on Baekhyun's face fades away as you mention him as your friend. "Hello! Yes, I am Ms. L/N's friend." He says through gritted teeth. "It's so nice to meet you all." An hour later, Baekhyun had taken pictures and signed autographs for all the children in your class, leaving them beaming on their walk back to school. You can feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and you just know that it is Baekhyun. Opening your app, you were right, he was complaining about what you had called him. [11:13am] Baekhyun: Your friend?? So now we're just friends?? [11:15am] You: Yes we're just friends. Lol. You have a girlfriend, remember. [11:21am] Baekhyun: but still. You owe me. Date, tonight. [11:25am] You: if it's just as friends, i'm all in. [11:28am] Baekhyun: yeah sure, friends. The rest of the afternoon you spent trying to teach, but also trying to plan out your outfit in your head. You and Baekhyun were friends now, and that was good. He had a girlfriend and that was fine, because you were friends. But you didn't want to just be friends. You so wantex more with him. You wanted to kiss him, hold hands, cuddle, have him fuck you. But again, he had a girlfriend. You had to tell yourself that multiple times that afternoon as your thoughts would begin to wander into the dirty neighborhood, thinking about your first time together, the way his hands felt on your body, the way his lips moved against yours, the way your bodys meshed together perfectly. He had a girlfriend. ** That night Baekhyun picked you up in his Audi, playing a song that you'd heard on tiktok quite often, the trend of the men moving to their back seats. Your pussy instantly became wet. He had a girlfriend.   "So what's the plan?" You ask, getting comfortable in the passenger seat. "Ice cream?" He asks. With a smile on your face, you nod yes. Who could ever say no to ice cream? As the two of you drive to a stand way out of Seoul, Baekhyun rests his hands on your bare thigh, causing your clit to throb. He had a girlfriend. You could feel his thumb moving, rubbing your thigh in circles. Fuck. You wanted him bad and you wanted him now. "Stop the car." You say, taking a deep breath. "Everything okay?" He asks, pulling over to the side of the highway, parking the car. "You can't do that.. you can't rub my leg like that." You breathe heavily. "You're turning me on and you have a girlfriend." "Am i turning you on? I haven't even done anything yet." He smirks. "Stop it." You warn him, a hint of a smile on your face. "So you don't want me to do this?" He asks, leaning over, placing a soft, sweet kiss on your lips. You feel like you might faint. "N-no." You stutter. "Or this?" He asks, running his hand from your face down over your breasts, to your thighs, stopping at the hem of your skirt. "Fuck." You whisper. You look over at Baekhyun who slouched back in his seat, slightly bucking his hips, showing off his very large hard cock through his pants. You lick your lips as your body begins to move towards him, before your mind even realizes what you're doing. You reach your hand over, rubbing his clothed cock, his head thrown back against the seat, little moans escape his lips. "Shit." He grunts, bucking his hips once again. You reach your other hand over, working on undoing buttons and zippers. Baekhyun helps you by pulling down his pants, letting his cock spring free. It was bigger than you remembered, but just as thick. You get up on your knees on the passenger seat, leaning over to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, slurping up the pre cum that had been spilling down. You wrap one hand around his length, pumping him while you twirl your tongue around his sensitive tip. "Oh my god." He groans, pushing your head down deeper, making you swallow his cock. You bring your head up, taking a breath before you begin sucking more harshly, Baekhyun's hand remaining on the back of your head, pushing you down. "Stop stop stop." He begs. You lift your head, letting go of his cock with a pop. "I'm gonna cum if you keep going and the only place I wanna cum right now is in your pussy. Back seat. Now." He demands. With a giddy smile, you crawl to the backseat of his car right behind him. Baekhyun sits in the middle seat, his legs spread wide with his cock standing tall, waiting for you to sink down on it. You hike up your skirt, moving your panties to the side while you straddle him, before lining yourself up and sinking down on his cock, stretching out your walls. You pull down your low cut shirt, exposing your perky tits. Baekhyun takes one in his mouth, gently sucking and tugging on your nipple, while you bounce on his cock. "I've missed the way your tight pussy grips my cock." He groans, helping you move your hips to ride him. Baekhyun reaches his hand up, grabbing a clump of your hair, tugging your head towards him, bringing your lips to his. Immediately he slides his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You quicken the pace, grinding yourself on his cock, your clit being rubbed the perfect way. "Oh god, yes." Yoh cry out, breaking the kiss. "Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock." Baekhyun grunts, lifting himself to meet your thrusts, holding you tightly. The two of you are too distracted and desperate for your orgasms, you don't hear Baekhyun's phone ring, two different times. "I'm.. cumming." You cry out, wrapping your arms around Baekhyun's neck, holding him tight as you ride through your high. He continues with his hands on your hips, bouncing you on his cock as he chases his own oragsm. "Fuck." He cries, grunting as he shoots his cum inside you, filling you up. The two of you sit there for a moment, catching your breath before you hear Baekhyun's phone ringing again. "Pass that to me." He says, his cock still inside you. You reach back, grabbing his phone and with the way you moved you can feel his cock growing hard again inside you. "Goddamn." He groans, thrusting into you again. He looks at his caller ID, and puts a finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet while he answers the call. "Hello?" He answers. You circle your hips on his cock. "Whats up?" He asks. You grab your breasts, pinching your nipples. "Yeah no that's fine." He says, clearing his throat. You let out a small moan. Baekhyun reaches his hand up, covering your mouth while you start to really ride his cock. "Look, they're calling me back. I gotta go." He moans, his hand still covering your mouth. "Bye." He says, hanging up the phone, tossing it back up front. "You're a bad girl." He smiles, pulling you in for a kiss. ** For the next few weeks you and Baekhyun would meet up and nine times out of ten, you ended up hooking up. Everytime before you met up, you told yourself you wouldn't sleep with him again but then he would give you a look, or say something that made you melt and give into him. Of course you felt guilty, but you couldn't help yourself. Baekhyun was like that addiction that you couldn't escape. He was the one thing in your life you didn't want to get rid of. "We need to talk." You say, panting as Baekhyun pulls himself out of you. "Do we have too?" He pouts, laying down next to you, his cock still hard. "Yes we do. You have a girlfriend. We can't keep doing this." You say as he sighs. "I know. I know we can't but I don't want to give you up, and it's not like her and I are really heading anywhere, anyways." He says. "Then why not end it?" You ask. "It's good for publicity." He says, pulling you in close to him. "When the time comes, things with her will be done and then you and I can announce our relationship." He smiles. "Are we in a relationship?" You ask. "I would like for you to be my girlfriend." He tells you. "She's my girlfriend on paper but you're mine in real life. You're all I've ever wanted." He smiles, rubbing his head. "Are you sure you want a low class teacher?" You ask. "I couldn't ask for anyone better." He smiles, holding you even closer. ** Dating Byun Baekhyun was hard. Much harder than you had actually anticipated. He was always busy with rehearsal, if not that then promotions, variety shows, interviews, concerts, meetings etc. The list always went on and on. Of course he did his best to make time for you, but at the moment, his relationship with his girlfriend was at its most important peak, so often you found yourself watching videos of them being out in public together, posing together, featuring each other on their social media. Basically doing all the things you wish he could do with you but is unable to. You did your beat to remain positive but the lack of seeing each other, the secluded dates and whispered phone calls were beginning to be a little too much for you. Especially today, when you checked your Instagram and are mey with a very romantic photo of Baekhyun kissing this girl. A kiss that looks sincere and serious. The next photo he looked insanely happy. Maybe it wasn't just for the press, what he had with this girl. Maybe he had real genuine feelings for her but did also for you and didn't know how to choose. Maybe you should just make it easier for him and end things now, before you get anymore attached because if you do, you will never be able to leave, no matter what happens. You want to take your time with this, really think about it before you make a rash decision. You left your apartment, going for a walk to clear your head instead. As you walk passed an alley, you're pulled inside and pinned against the wall by a scary looking woman. "Leave Baekhyun and his girlfriend alone, homewrecker." She shouts, slamming you into the wall before running off. Startled, you ran back to your apartment, calling Baekhyun immediately. "Hi baby." He whispered into the phone. "I'm done, Baekhyun.. i can't do this anymore. Someone just told me to stay away from you and Hwasa. It's just too much and I can't." You say panicked into the phone before hanging up. You toss your phone on the couch, not wanting to talk anymore to him. Your whole body is shaking as you turn on your shower. Shivers spread down your spine as you undress, stepping into the hot water, trying to calm your nerves. "It's okay." You whisper to yourself, taking a deep breath. Twenty minutes later you're still in the shower, sitting on the floor, knees to your chest when your bathroom door opens and Baekhyun walks in. "Baby. You can't do that." He sighs, taking off his clothes to join you. "I can't do this anymore Baekhyun. And it's not just the girl. It's the secret dates, no being in public, not seeing you. It's too hard." You cry. "I know." He whispers, pulling you up and into his arms, the one place that never fails to make you feel safe and secure. "All I want to do is make you happy, so that's what I'm going to do. I'll get this sorted out okay? You need to talk to me. I can't fix things if I don't know what needs fixing." He says. You knew he was right. But you were scared. "I'm all in. Are you?" He asks. You nod your head yes. "Good. I have an idea." He smiles. "Stay there." He tells you, pulling out his phone. A few minutes later, your phone dings, notifying you that Baekhyun was live on his Instagram account, and you felt nervous. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to do but you weren't sure. If there was one thing that you knew about Baekhyun, he was unpredictable and usually liked asking for forgiveness more than asking for permission. "Hello everyone! How are you?" He smiles. You watch him walk around your living room, answering some of the questions. "You're right. I'm not in my usual place. This is a new place. No, it's not Hwasa's." He laughs. "I actually have something to tell you guys." Your stomach drops. What was he doing? "Hwasa and I were never a couple, really. It was for sales for her new album, our managers thought it was good marketing." He says. "No, I'm not single. Guys, I'd like you to meet the love of my life, my beautiful Ayn." He says, grabbing your hand and pulling you close to him. "She and I met a year and a half ago at a Super M meet and greet. We've recently reconnected and I couldn't be happier." He smiles. You look absolutely terrified. You know Baekhyun stans and they could be vicious, vile and just mean. You managed to peek at the comments, and surprisingly they were mainly positive. 'She's so beautiful' 'What a lucky girl!!' 'I ship it!!' Your heart melted at the fact that people were a tally supporting the two of you, something you never expected to happen. "Thank you for all the kind words but now I have to go and make some calls." He laughs, looking at his phone lighting up with texts from his manager, telling him to call him, now. "You didn't have to do that!" You say, after he ends his live. "I didn't but I wanted to. I never want you to feel less than in this relationship, Ayn." He tells you, making you melt. "But now my manager is losing his mind. I have to go. I'll call you later. I love you." He smiles, placing a kiss on your lips before answering his phone and leaving your apartment. Was this real life? Because it sure didn't feel like it. To think you had gone from Soyoung who rarely wanted to be seen in public with you, to Baekhyun who announced his love for you on his Instagram live, in front of millions of fans, was insane. The difference between a toxic relationship and a non toxic one was amazing and you loved it. ** Later that evening, Baekhyun had called you, asking you to come over because he wanted you to have dinner with him and the rest of Super M. Of course you said yes, they were basically his family and you wanted to get to know them better. You only had to knock once before the door was opened for you by Mark, who had a giddy smile on his face. "Nice to see you again. Baekhyun's in the kitchen..but" He pauses "Do you think I could have Lisa's number?" He asks right away. With a laugh you give him the number he desperately seeked, running off the moment he got it. Walking over to the kitchen, you open the door partially before you hear a conversation you're not sure if you should be interrupting.   "She's not good for you Baek." Someone says. "How do you know? You won't even give her a chance." Baekhyun responds. "Kai, i'm sick of this. Back off. I love her. I'm going to marry that girl." "You're going to make her life hard. Harder than it already is. She's damaged goods. You deserve more." Kai says. You know he's right. Even though you've been trying to work on yourself, you're a mess and you likely always will be. Did you want to put Baekhyun through that? Your random mood swings, issues with alcohol, problems with fertility. He probably wanted a family but you weren't sure if you could give him that. "Yeah I know I deserve more. I deserve a better friend who supports me." Baekhyun scoffs. "Don't talk shit about her again. There's nothing wrong with her. Everyone has baggage, everyone has issues, if I didn't want to be there for her and help her through the problems, I wouldn't have bothered. But that's what you do when you love someone. You're there for them regardless if it's good or bad, or you're mad at them or not. Her last relationship was terrible.. she was treated like dirt so yeah there are some problems." Baekhyun says. "But.." Kai starts, before being cut off. "But nothing. You're choosing to see the bad, when I'm looking at the good. She's beautiful, funny and smart. She's got a mouth on her like a sailor and drinks like liquor is going out of style, but she's also generous and courageous and loyal." He tells Kai. This man. This man makes your heart melt. "Im done talking about this. Don't bring it up again. She's my future." He finishes, opening the door to the living room, seeing you standing there with tears in your eyes. "Did you.." he pauses. You nod your head. "Shit. Im sorry baby." He apologises. "I'm too problematic for you." You whisper with a sniffle. "That's one of the many things I love about you." He laughs, taking your hand to drag you into the dining room. The rest of the night was filled with laughter and jokes between you and the rest of the guys. Kai was quiet for most of the night, not actively participating in the conversations. "What's wrong?" Taemin asks him. "I don't think it's a good idea." Kai says, glaring at you. "What have i ever done to you?" You ask him. You're tired of this. You've never done anything to Kai for him to dislike you this much. "I've become quite close to Soyoung, and he's told me quite a bit about you." Kai says. "I didn't want to tell you Baekhyun, but since you're not listening to anything else I guess I'll have too." "Tell me what?" Baekhyun asks. "Ayn here went crazy on Soyoung. He went out with friends one night, and when he came home she had trashed his entire apartment, was screaming and crying and threatened him with a knife. Is that the type of woman you want?" Kai asks. You are still there with tears welling up in your eyes. He wasn't wrong, but clearly Soyoung didn't tell him the full story either. "Do you know why that had happened? Did he tell you?" You ask, your voice shaky. "He said he didn't do anything. You just lost it on him." Kai says smugly. "Hah. Sounds like him." You sniffle. "So I guess he didn't tell you earlier that night before he left he had hit me a few times? Told me that I was stupid and useless and a waste of skin. Said that I deserved to be hit, that maybe it would knock some sense into me." You cry. "Did he tell you that when he came home he tried to hit me again, and that's why i threatened him with a knife? I fully admit to trashing his apartment but I think I had a pretty good reason. Same with threatening him. I was sticking up for my life. Remember there's two sides to every story before you start sticking up for a woman beater." You snap, standing up from your chair. "I'm sorry." You whisper to everyone, hurriedly leaving the room. "You're a piece of fucking work." Baekhyun snaps at Kai, leaving the table to follow you. While he walks away he can hear the rest of the members standing up for you. Baekhyun opens the front door and finds you crouched down, crying into your hands. "Come here." He whispers, picking you up and bringing you to his room. He lays you on the bed, arms wrapped tightly around you as you cry into his chest. "I'm sorry." You whimper.   "You have nothing to apologize for." He tells you. "You deserve someone not so fucked up." "I don't want anyone else. Just you. Past and all." He answers. "I don't think I can have children." You say. "We will figure it out when it is time to." He tells you. "I just want you." You fell asleep that night still wrapped in his arms, never have been feeling more safe. ** Over the next few months, Baekhyun had been hinting at a surprise he had for you, but refused to give you any details on it, telling you that you had to wait, that it called for the right moment. Then one morning, he called you at 7am and told you to get ready and be ready by 8am. Today was the day for your surprise. Baekhyun picked you up in front of your apartment, making sure to blind fold you before leaving anywhere. "Any guesses?' He asks, driving to a special destination. "Breakfast?" You ask, hungrily. He laughs. "No baby, sorry." "I don't know." You sigh, waiting for the ride to be over. A little while later the car stops and Baekhuun brings you inside a noisy building. You can hear announcements over the speakers, so you knew it was the airport. "Are we going somewhere?" You ask. "Nope." He answers, taking off your blindfold and making you face him. "Are you ready." He asks. You give him a look before he turns you around and you see your three best friends running towards you. The tears are instant as you run towards them, embracing them all at once. "W-what? How? Oh my god." You cry, holding them all tightly. "Baekhyun set it up." Lisa cries. Letting go of the group, you hug Beth first, then Lisa, leaving Maggie for last. You hadn't talked to her much, since you hadn't left things very good between the two of you. "I'm sorry." She whispers as he hugs you tightly. "I'm so so sorry." "It's the past. It's okay. Let's leave it there." You say, hugging her back. ** That night, the five of you went for dinner at a fancy restaurant and for whatever reason Baekhyun was very nervous. He sat there, his leg shaking as you four girls talked about everything. His mind seemed to be off in space, as he thought hard about something. No matter how many times you asked, he was always telling you that things were fine and that he was just letting you guys all catch up. After you all had eaten, Baekhyun stood up from his seat abruptly, looking you in the eyes as he got down on one knee, pulling out a ring box. You sat there shocked, with your mouth opened wide as your friend squealed and screamed. "Ayn L/N. You are the light and love of my life. Would you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?" He asks. You can't speak, just nod. So that's what you did. You nodded yes a million times, unable to even believe that he had just proposed to you. You got to spend the rest of your life with the love of your life. ** A year later, you're in a room with your best friends, while you wear a big poofy white dress. "Just do it after." Beth whines. "No I need to do it now." You demand. With a sigh, the four of you make the way into the bathroom. They all lift up your giant dress, letting you stick the small test underneath you while you pee on it quickly. "How long do we wait?" You ask, placing the test on the sink. "Three minutes." Maggie answers. Your stomach twists and turns as you wait the longest three minutes of your life. The doctor had told you and Baekhyun to not get your hopes up and that the chances of you ending up pregnant were slim to none. So when you missed your period and felt nauseous, you were skeptical but decided to take the test anyways and now was the moment of truth. You grab the test, turning it over and see two very bright pink lines. Positive. You do your best not to cry, not wanting to ruin your makeup before you get married. "Bride, lets go." You hear from outside the bathroom. Making sure you're okay, you head out, your new friend, and escort down the hall Kai waiting for you. You link arms as the grand double doors open, revealing Baekhyun waiting for you down the aisle while your friends and family fill up the room. "Welcome everyone. We have gathered her today to witness the union of Ayn L/N and Byun Baekhyun." The officiant says. "Before we begin, is there anyone who thinks this couple should not be wed?" You nervously waited for someone to say something but when it didn't come, you told him to continue. "The couple has written their own vows." The officiant says, letting the two of you speak. "I promise to always love you, even when things are bad, to never yell, or leave angry. I promise to always tell you how beautiful you are and hold you when you're sad. But most of all, I promise to always remind you that you are good enough, too good for this world and for me, and I promise to never let you forget it." Baekhyun whispers, holding back his tears. "I promise to always love you, be there for you through the good and the bad and in between. I promise to always support you in the decisions you make, and to always remind you how important you are to me. I promise to be your rock when you need it, your everything." You cry. "I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride." He says. Baekhyun pulls you in for a kiss, dipping you down before bringing you back up. ** Later that night, during the reception dance, you slide your test to Baekhyun, leaving him speechless. "Are you serious?" He asks. "Doctors appointment Monday." You whisper, crying again. "Why are you crying?" He asks, pulling you into him. "What if it doesn't stick? What if I'm not a good mom if it does?" You ask. "Baby." He smiles. "It will stick. You're perfect. You'll be an amazing mom, you know why?" He akss. "Why?" "Because you are good enough." For once in your life, you finally believed someone when they said that. You knew Baekhyun wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it. You always have and will be, good enough.

[shapeshiftersandfire]

Give Me Your Answer Do

for @whumptober2021 day 5: prompt - betrayal

@whumpinggrounds @sie-werden-nie-vergessen @mackerelgray @four-foot-eleven @simplygrimly @crowned-avery

cw: noncon drugging, sibling whumper

here it is, fellas! here’s context for that one snippet i shared on discord :)

Ephraim brings her lunch.

Sarah looks up from her writing, hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Something about the sight of Ephraim with a plate of food and a glass of water makes her still, unsettles her so deeply she feels the cold all the way to her bones.

Ephraim never brings her lunch.

She stares at him as he walks into the room. His expression is unreadable as always, but this time it’s worse, she can’t read him, she doesn’t know what his motivations are—and he has motivations, he always does; not even Aunt Verna could cure him of that—and she wishes she had Aunt Verna’s mind-reading abilities so she could know exactly what’s going on.

Instead, she has to guess. She has to guess what he could possibly want, because he’s going to want something, has to guess what he could possible ask of her that would warrant this kind of gesture. But everything she thinks it could be sounds incredibly outlandish, hell, she even considers he’s going to ask her to help cover up the mill accident, even when Harold has been honest and upfront about the situation and taken the proper precautions to keep the situation at bay.

Aunt Verna would be proud.

And when she comes back, Harold is going to have to tell her. Or Sarah will do it herself.

“Yes?” she asks finally, because her nerves are beginning to fray and still Ephraim says nothing to her as he rests the plate and glass on her desk and steps back. He wants something, and she needs to know what it is.

“Eat,” he says simply.

“You want something,” Sarah counters. She’s not going to let him get away with it, not when Aunt Verna isn’t here, not when he’s already gotten away with so much. He doesn’t get to get away with anything else. Not anymore.

“I want you to eat,” he answers, a hint irritated, a frown flashing on his otherwise stoic features. “And be quick about it. I have a carriage coming in fifteen minutes.”

Sarah sets her pen down, but she makes no move to take the plate in front of her. Something about this is wrong, every fiber of her knows it. Everything in her tells her not to put an ounce of anything on that plate in her mouth. It’s either going to make her sick or kill her or…she doesn’t want to think about it.

“Where are we going?”

“Sight-seeing.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Sarah stares at Ephraim, and he stares back.

“Aunt Verna isn’t here,” Ephraim says, frowning at her again. “Should I not be on my best behavior?” Under his words is a thin layer of venom. He hates Aunt Verna, he always has.

“Aunt Verna isn’t here,” Sarah confirms. “Why should you be?”

He hates her, too. He always has.

Ephraim stares at her evenly, with a flash of anger in his eyes. He jaw clenches, his shoulders tense. It’s all gone in an instant, hidden behind a mask he’s never quite been able to keep steady. “Eat,” he says simply. “Don’t dawdle.” He slams the door behind him on his way out.

Sarah leans back in her chair, alone with this glass of water and crudely made sandwich that looks like it might kill her from looks alone. The bread is lopsided, the contents spilling out one side. It’s obvious Ephraim made it himself. Unlike most things he does, this was not done with precision.

She peels off the top layer of bread, sniffs the contents. Everything smells okay, looks okay, there’s nothing immediately off about it. But her gut still tells her not to eat it, there’s something wrong with it—Ephraim never brings her lunch, and he most certainly never makes it himself. And she’s right, she knows it.

She checks the water. It smells okay, there’s nothing floating in it

She takes a sip.

It tastes like water.

Bland, room temperature tap water.

Against her better judgment, she drinks half the glass.

Against her better judgment, she takes a bit of the crudely made sandwich.

It tastes awful.

Somehow she’s able to swallow the bite she’s taken, grimacing all the way at how sharp and sour it is—Ephraim has somehow managed to put things in a sandwich that by all means should never be in a sandwich together—and that alone makes Sarah wonder if that’s why he’s never moved out of the house, because he would never last long on his own.

She downs the rest of the water, if only to wash the taste out of her mouth, abandons the rest of her food, and goes to meet Ephraim in the foyer.

He’s standing by the front door, waiting for their carriage and Sarah, and checks his pocket watch when he sees her. He snaps it shut. “You’re late.”

Sarah glances out the window and sees the carriage hasn’t even arrived. She raises her chin. “I’m on time.”

Ephraim doesn’t answer.

They wait in silence for the carriage to arrive; Sarah hears it before she sees it, the sound of horse hooves on the stone pathway and the creaking of the wheels as the carriage rolls. Ephraim opens the front door for her. She takes one look at the house before she leaves, but sees no one. It makes her stomach twist.

But it’s just a carriage ride, isn’t it?

Still, part of her wishes Harold would see them leave.

“We haven’t all day, Sarah,” Ephraim chides.

“Of course not,” Sarah answers, still staring into the house. Not even Sylvie or Lou Lou are around to see them. She turns away from the foyer, dragging her fingers along the edge of the door as she steps onto the porch. She turns around and watches as Ephraim closes the door behind him, the last view she can get of the interior fading behind stained glass and wood.

Ephraim goes ahead of her to share a few words with the driver she can’t hear, and still Sarah hasn’t moved from the porch. Her gut twists even more. Something feels wrong here, but she can’t place what it is. Maybe something in that sandwich is disagreeing with her.

Sarah leans on the railing, her head spinning. Her worry is getting the better of her, she’s sure of it. It’s just a carriage ride. A show of goodwill. Ephraim has never had the chance to spend time with her before with Aunt Verna around.

“Come, Sarah.” She blinks and realizes Ephraim is no longer speaking to the driver, but holding the carriage door opened for her. She clears her throat, lifts the hem of her dress above her shoes and starts down the stairs. The stones seem to shift in her vision, she nearly trips over the first step to the carriage, and it’s only Ephraim’s hand that keeps her from falling. She mutters an embarrassed thank you as she climbs into the carriage.

Sarah settles herself in the corner up against the window as Ephraim climbs in behind her and seat himself next to her. A gentle breeze blows into the cab as they move. The cool air feels good on Sarah’s face, clearing her head. She leans her head against the side of the cab and watches the landscape roll by, a small town fading into rolling farms dotted with cows and horses.

Deodat had taken her to see the cows once, the ones that lived in the field behind the house. Their large, expressive wet eyes and big ears. Their noses hadn’t half as soft as she had thought they would be, instead feeling like rubber under her fingertips.  

She smiles at the memory.

Above her, the sky opens up into a wide blue expanse with a few sparse clouds. Sarah’s tempted to lean her head out the window, but she knows Ephraim will scold her for being so reckless. And anyway, she’s much more content to rest her head against the wall and watch from the safety of the carriage.

Periodically Sarah glances over at Ephraim, when she can bear to tear her eyes from the landscape. It feels harder than normal to do, beyond resisting the urge, but the rocking of the carriage has begun to make Sarah sleepy, and it’s getting harder to keep her eyes opened. When she looks at Ephraim, he seems to be watching her, in that careful, quiet way of his, and under the growing need to sleep she knows she doesn’t like it.

Something about being so vulnerable around him, and without Aunt Verna…

Well, it’s not bound to last long. Sarah leans her head back against the wall. They’ll be back at the house in no time, just in time for dinner. And Sylvie had promised Sarah she’d let her help with the pie that night.

Sleep finally catches up to Sarah. She closes her eyes against another cool breeze and sighs.

It’s just a carriage ride.

[kingofkingdom-archive]

paradiso - part one

Pairing: young!Javier x fem!reader

Part ONE (of 5)

Rating: Teen

Summary: This will be a 5+1, short but sweet fic about you and Javi. He's an American student and you're an Italian heiress - your love is young, fun, and bittersweet. Lots of romance and fluff ahead.

Warnings: Smoking, tooth-rotting fluff, mention of alcohol

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: I needed something to distract me from finals week, so you all get this. :) I saw a tiktok about Pedro in like an old-money Italian aesthetic and the idea of it just would not leave me alone! Very much my ideal romance situation tbh. Anyways enjoy, the next part is partly written but no promises on when it'll be up. As always, no use of Y/N and please do lmk what you think! :)

The first time you kissed him, you could taste the champagne he’d had earlier that night. Not enough to get drunk, or even really buzzed, but enough to leave his lips and tongue flavorful under your own.

His strong hand was wrapped around your waist, keeping you close, fingers steady over the thin fabric of your dress. Javi held you like this often - from lunches on your parents’ boat to strolling casually through the piazza, he had definitely adopted the Italian tendency to show public affection through touch. All your male friends here do it, but with him it’s different.

Javi is so very different.

Tonight he looks even more like a dashing prince than usual. His dark hair is perfectly messy and his white shirt is unbuttoned just enough, his leather shoes shiny and understated. You’d smiled when you noticed his shoes - they’re the first nice pair he’d been able to afford while living here.

You met him four months ago, when spring was ending and summer soon approaching. He arrived early for his studies abroad, an American political sciences major in the heart of Florence.

Hardly a penny to his name, on a meal plan and receiving a generous scholarship or two, Javi had no business flirting with you. He did it anyway, and you found yourself charmed by his roguish smile and kind eyes. He paid for your gelato, like a typical American gentleman would, and bought some of his own. He ordered the same flavors as you. He hasn’t tried anything different since.

As you kiss him, the sea wind sweeps over the two of you on the secluded terrace where you stand, causing goosebumps to flutter over your skin. You shiver, pressing closer to Javi’s warmth.

He breaks the kiss, looking down at you with a concerned crease between his brows.

“You cold?” he asks, voice rough and deep in a way you don't recognize.

You can’t help but smile at him. He’s so handsome, looking at you like this. Holding you close. “Only a little. You’re warm enough for both of us.”

“This dress,” he murmurs, eyes flitting down to look at your lips. His fingers toy with your dress’s low backline where his hand rests beneath your shoulder blades. “No wonder you’re chilly.”

When your parents first met Javi, they were skeptical. They thought he was taking advantage of you, that he’d insert himself into your life for your wealth and your name.

He’d spent the past four months convincing them otherwise. Now your mother loves him and your father smiles at his jokes, which is something that can’t be said for many people. You can count on one hand the number of people who have made your father laugh, and Javi’s one of them.

He wants to join the FBI, or the CIA. One of the two, you could never get the acronyms straight. He told you about how there’s rigorous training, both physical and professional, to even be considered. Javi keeps himself in good shape for this reason, though your cook’s fine meals have added a bit of softness to his midsection. He complains about it, but you secretly love it. He’s so strong and disciplined that it’s lovely to see just a hint of vice in his features.

You run a hand up his bicep, feeling the muscles that he keeps hidden beneath his shirt.

“Do you like it?” you ask demurely. You bought the dress last week with the express purpose of looking good for him.

Javi takes his hand from your hip and places it on your cheek, his touch tender and gentle.

“You always look beautiful. Especially tonight.”

The party’s for one of your friends from school. She’s moving to the UK to continue her studies and this is her last big hurrah. You’d been invited, with the option for a plus-one, and Javi was the obvious choice.

You’d felt the gazes of the girls in attendance on you and Javi when you both arrived. He’s a few years older than you are, but you know they’re looking because they’ve never seen him before. He’s not part of the rotation of wealthy Florentine boys they all seem to cycle through like clockwork. He’s a stranger, and most importantly, he’s got you on his arm.

The music plays in the distance. Voices float up through the evening air, laughing and exuberant.

You lean into his touch, eyes closing against the comfort you feel with your cheek in his palm.

This must be what heaven feels like.

Javi had taken it slow with you. He earned your friendship before anything else, chatting with you about life and TV and his favorite sports teams back home. He told you about Texas, though when you expressed a desire to visit his hometown, he’d scoffed, calling the place a ‘shithole’.

You still want to visit, someday. Shithole or not.

Perhaps your friendship was the reason things did not progress very quickly between you. You knew he found you attractive and you most definitely felt the same, but for the longest time it just didn’t feel right to try and move things along.

There’d be moments, however, when you wished so desperately that he was yours it almost physically hurt.

One such moment was late one afternoon, on the deck of your family boat. You’d gotten out of the water first and you stood there, watching, as he emerged from the waves in his short swim trunks, the synthetic material clinging to his body ever so perfectly.

You’d seen the outline of… well. You’d seen the outline of something big, something that made you blush and look away, distracting yourself with drying your hair.

Another of these moments was an unremarkable Friday morning spent in one of your favorite bookshops, not too far from Javi's student apartment. You'd been browsing the shelves as he stood outside to smoke. Before long, you found a few paperbacks that looked interesting, and you paid for them with a kind smile to the elderly gentleman working at the register.

You'd exited with a "grazie!" and that's when you'd noticed Javi was speaking to someone, eyes bright and posture relaxed as he exhaled smoke through his nose.

He smiled at you the moment you exited the shop, and as you walked over, you listened to their conversation.

Javi was speaking to the stranger in Spanish. You recognized the sound of it, but could not understand it, having learned English and French and Arabic in your youth.

The other man, older with a salt-and-pepper beard, glanced over to you and then back at Javi. You stood beside your friend, books tucked safely under your arm.

"¿Esta es tu novia, Javier?"

The words caused Javi to blush, but he covered it by taking a drag from his cigarette.

"No, aún no. Algún día pronto."

It was the first time you'd heard him speak Spanish. The words rolled off his tongue with such ease that you couldn't help but glance up at him, intrigued by this new lilt to his voice. You wanted to hear more of it.

Javi snaked his hand around your back to your hip, fingers tucking into the belt loops on your jeans, and he pulled you into his side. You went easily, the motion a familiar one.

But something about hearing him converse in his first language, combined with the feeling of his firm hand on your hip, made something inside your heart shift. It was a small moment, miniscule in the grand order of things. It meant so very much to you.

Javi’s compliment makes you smile softly, his gaze full of such tenderness that it makes your heart ache. You put a hand on his chest, your cool palm a stark contrast to his furnace of a pectoral.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Peña.”

He chuckles, smiling, his breath a short burst across your face that makes your hair flutter.

Javi's always been good at avoiding praise. "I look the same as always, hermosa."

You run a hand up his shoulder and neck to tangle in his dark curls, warm at the base of his skull. He smells like the cologne you'd helped him pick out - something from a small shop he'd never have found on his own, something woody and deep and fragrant. It was mostly selfish, that shopping trip, because all it makes you want to do is bury your nose in the collar of his shirt where the aroma is strongest. You think you could breathe in that scent for the rest of your life and never get tired of it.

"Exactly," you murmur, glancing over his shoulder at the glittering coastline and then back up to him. "You always look handsome."

It's impossible for him to hide his blush this close. "Yeah?" he asks, like he doesn't believe you. Like he wants to hear you say it again.

"Yes. Even when you wear those ugly sports shirts.”

He makes a face like he’s offended, and you laugh. “Hey, you can never go wrong with a Cowboys jersey.”

You smile and lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It seems as though now that you’ve started, you’re trying to make up for all the times you haven’t kissed him.

Javi goes quiet, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. You decide to open your heart just a bit more to him - it must be in the air, because something about the night is making your want of him that much stronger.

“I thought you were handsome the moment I saw you in the gelato shop," you tell him, thinking back on that day.

Usually Americans tended to annoy you, never conscious of local etiquette and manners, always too loud and disruptive - but Javi was so sweet. His brown eyes had glimmered at you like jewels, his lips quirked in a smile that gave life to a thousand butterflies in your stomach.

He'd sat with you for over an hour, listening to you like he'd known you your whole life. The warm sun gave his skin a glow that you remember clearly to this day. Long after you both had finished your food, he was there, as if he had all the time in the world for you.

Javi presses another soft kiss to your lips, slow and mesmerizing, before drawing back again.

"You looked so beautiful," he murmurs, nose brushing against yours. "I never thought you'd give me the time of day."

You can't help but smile. "I knew I'd regret it if I didn't."

It feels like the two of you are on that balcony for the whole of the evening, the blissful joy of finally admitting your feelings - and having them reflected like a mirror in him - taking precedence over all the celebrating going on below you.

Eventually, however, you must return. You walk back to the crowd and one of your good friends gives you a look like she knows exactly where you just were. A blush rises to your cheeks, but when Javi loops a casual, more-than-friendly arm around your waist, you find you don't care all that much about what your friends think.

[sugardaddytonystark]

Release Life’s Rapture (part 3)

You stay at your godfather’s ludus for the summer, where you meet Jacobus, his champion gladiator.

author: sugardaddytonystark pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader word count: 2038

masterlist

x picture by @264jana x

That night, you dream of making love to Sol, god of the sun. His hair is as brown as the earth, eyes deep and blue as the dawning sky. His skin is bronzed from the sun to which he so lovingly attends, and in return for his diligence, his entire body is encircled in a halo of everlasting golden light.

You and your god are lain upon a large tanned hide, abed a field of green grass, deepened to a dim blue-green in the dark night. Sol looms above you, a single point of light against an otherwise black sky. He is bare as you, and where the god touches you, your flesh burns, his hands too hot for a mere mortal to withstand, his mouth too scalding. But there’s always a price for pleasure, and a night with a being as divine as he is worth the pain in exchange. 

So you wrap your thighs tight around the god’s hips as he thrusts into you, unrelentless, his cock thick and heavy inside of your aching cunt. He’s filling you up, stretching you full, making you feel a burning so different from the fevered warmth of his skin against your own. Your back arches as you seek out more contact, your heated, human flesh so fragile against the sun god’s searing skin. 

Your lover has your wrists above your head, one of his wide, rough palms holding them in place. The other is gripping your jaw, turning your face away from his so that he may nose at your throat and cheek and ear. His hot breath sends shivers down your spine and when Sol speaks, words like whispers so deep and low, you can’t make out their meaning, but delight in the sounds all the same. 

Your cries reach out into the deep, empty, endless night. The noise echo back into your ears and you feel blissfully alone - detached from the world and your existence, everything narrowed down to you and your god and this familiar but indescribable thing coiling in your stomach. 

Your breath catches as you feel Sol’s pace quicken, his hands tightening around your wrists and jaw. He bites down against the curve of your neck and hot tears spill down your cheeks as you feel him find his release inside of you. 

You sob and shake, you ache and burn. Sol whispers your name back into your mouth, guiding you closer and closer and closer with his hands and his cock and his words. You feel him around you, inside you, urging you on, but when you finally reach your peak, it’s not the god’s name that you call out in prayer.

 Blessed night has settled into another day, your god forced to return to the sky once more to fulfill his duty, leaving you with mere memories of his blazing touch. But, as a remembrance, he sends sunlight streaming through your open window, stroking your body and keeping you warm and satiated until the time may come for the god to descend upon you once again.

You long to stay abed, to wait for that moment when night falls so that you may once again greet your lover with open arms and open legs. You want to once again lose yourself to dreams - a much more appealing prospect than this waking nightmare. Even half asleep, you feel the sudden sting of freshly remembered heartbreak. 

You’re grateful for your god - the divine Sol who saw you hurting and granted you solace from your pain. Hair like the earth, you remember, like the soil from whence life springs. Rich brown and lush and soft beneath your fingers. His body built like it was made for toil, strong and deliberately fashioned. And his eyes – blue like the sky. Like the sea.

Unfortunately, your companion, Octavia, does not allow you to dwell in fantasy. She’s no longer beside you in bed, always early to rise and greet the day before the sun has had a chance to ascend. 

“You’re awake,” she says, more a command than a question.

“Yes. And I had the most wonderful dream,” you tell her, giving up all thoughts of returning to slumber as you stretch out along the bed, arms up and back arched. “I fucked a god. He set my body aflame and then I turned to ash in his hands.”

“And this was a good dream?” Octavia asks, incredulous.

You sigh. “It was magnificent.”

You sit up in bed as you recall your dream, rubbing your wrists, sore from where your lover pinned you down in his blistering grasp. Octavia reaches out and grabs your wrists in her own hand, looking it over, and when you look down at it as well, you see bruises instead of burns. The marks of someone other than your god upon you.

“Better to suffer a lover forged from dreams,” Octavia says, releasing your wrist, “than one based in cruel reality.”

“One and the same,” you reply softly. Because you’re no fool. You know the being who visits your dream is both god and man, one image of the other. “Why do you think Jacobus so cruel?” you continue, louder this time. “Do you think he’s always been that way?” 

“I think that you should remove him from your thoughts,” Octavia tells you as she returns, holding a cream length of fine fabric for your stola. “Would it please you to wear this today?”

“He is well removed,” you tell her in reply, and Octavia scoffs. 

You pinch the fabric between your fingers, considering. The color is too bland to convey how you feel this morning. You need something deeper, and more rich. “I have something blue, do I not? Like… like the sky right at the height of the sun’s ascent. Something like that?”

Octavia raises an eyebrow at you, unimpressed. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

 After you groom and dress, you find yourself on the villa balcony, where Alexander and Ophelia are eating their morning meal. On the table before them is a modest spread of cheese and bread and fruit. In their hands are ever-present cups of wine. Behind the pair, a slave cools them off with a large fan made of feathers as they lounge upon their cushioned chaises. 

The heat is almost overwhelming, even in the mid-morning when the sun has yet to reach its peak. Already, a thin sheen of sweat has gathered on your skin. Already, you can feel the fevered weight of existence heavy on your shoulders. 

The heat and the drought has been a source of discontentment for all in Capua, the shortage of water drying out even the most well-attended bath and turning once-fertile soil into dust. Below the balcony, the gladiators are kicking up the dust and the sand with every movement, the sun baking the grains into a hard-packed floor for the men to move around upon. It crumbles underfoot and sends clouds of earth into the air, covering the men and all things else lowly enough to get in its way.

But this is all commonplace to you now. The crash of wooden sword against wooden shield, of dull-tipped spear and trident, of pain and triumph, have all come to be familiar sounds to you and this morning fares no differently. The men have no doubt been at it for hours already, waking early to begin their training, breaking for their morning meal, then back at it once more before you were even out of bed. 

You chance a look down at the men, and your eyes are immediately drawn toward Jacobus, brandishing two swords against another gladiator with sword and shield. His usual demeanor is darkened, his ferocity obvious by tenfold today, and you can’t help but believe that you are the cause. 

You wonder if the gladiator sought companionship last night after you were so viciously turned away. You never sent anyone in your stead, as he requested, not able to bear the thought of another giving him the pleasure that you so desperately wish you could give. Did Jacobus blame you for soiling the night of such a celebrated victory? Will he ever forgive you your desire and your deceit? 

The champion looks up toward the balcony, blue eyes ablaze, and you avert your gaze by busying yourself with choosing just the right bunch of grapes from a serving tray held up to you by one of Alexander’s slaves. 

“The men are of a poor form today,” you muse, attempting to steady your heart as you pluck a grape off of its stem. You place the fruit in your mouth and find the courage to look back down onto the training ground. With both relief and disappointment, you find that Jacobus has once again resumed his training. 

“Wine and whores do have a way of dulling the senses,” Alexander replies. “Which reminds me, how did the champion enjoy his gift?”

You give your godfather a false smile, already weary of the reminder of the night passed. “She was well received,” you answer, not missing the way Octavia looks at you out of the corner of your eye. “Who would not enjoy such a remarkable tribute?”

Before Alexander can respond, the snap of a whip resonates through the training ground and up onto the balcony, drawing the attention of those upon it. You take a step closer and both Alexander and Ophelia stand to get a better look at what is transpiring down below. 

“Attend!” Doctore bellows, voice carrying through the air. The men halt their training and turn their attention to Fury, the Doctore – trainer – of Alexander’s ludus. “Forget everything you learned outside these walls. For that is the world of men. We are more! We are gladiators!”

The men cheer, a great roar rising up to where you stand that nearly forces you back in its enthusiasm. Your hands grip the banister to keep you steady, listening intently  as if Doctore was speaking to you and not the gladiators in his charge. 

“Study. Train. Bleed!” Doctore continues. “And one day your name will be legend, spoken in hushed whispers of fear and awe. As the city speaks of Jacobus, the Champion of Capua!”

More cheers as the gladiator stands distinguished among his brothers. In your chest, you feel a swell of pride. But also, irritation. You’ll have no solace from your pain here and you will not waste your day grieving over what should have been. You feign disinterest while taking a bite of cheese.

“But his legend was not birthed in the arena,” Doctore says. “It was given life here, in this ludus. Under the sting of my whip! Attack!”

The men go at it again with a renewed vigor, grunting and howling, wooden swords clashing with dull but resonating thuds. How easily these men are worked into a fervor! And how easily your passion swells likewise. This business of gladiators is a sordid thing, but you would be false to say that there is no art in it. Surely, anyone who watches someone such as Jacobus move could see the skill and cleverness in every gesture.

“Doctore, attend,” Alexander calls to Doctore, then turns to kiss Ophelia’s temple. “We are off to market.”

His words pique your interest. You feel as though you will go mad if you stay stuck in the villa all day with nothing to entertain you save the sounds of the gladiators training. Besides, you think you should buy something new for the reception for the Vulcanalia. This will be the first time in ages that you will be able to socialize with people other than your godfather and his wife, and you plan to make the most of it.

"Godfather, allow me to accompany you,” you say. “Weeks in Capua and I have yet to go to market!"

Alexander considers you for a moment and then nods his head, giving you the approval that you need. Your smile must be infectious because the otherwise somber man’s lips upturn slightly as he notes your excitement. 

“Let us away, then,” Alexander says to you, then turns and heads inside the villa, you following close behind. 

[johannstutt413]

(requested by coldgoldlazarus)

“Hey, Rope, question.” Vanilla approached the Cautus while they were both working the northern trading post. “Did you grab a bottle of pills from my pocket earlier?”

“Maybe? Hang on...No, I’ve just got mine in my pocket.” She gave the Vouivre a thumbs-up after patting herself down.

The Vanguard reached into her bag and pulled out a prescription bottle. “You might want to check the label, because these aren’t Biggie’s stomach meds.”

“They aren’t?” She read the label on her bottle. “Oh, okay, so those are my- Oh! Oh, no...”

“It’s fine - I’m just glad we checked before you had to get your stomach pumped, and Biggie melted through his home again. Honestly, it’s really impressive you took them in the first place and remembered to give them back. I remember the last time you accidentally took my wallet and I had to ask Liz to cover lunch for me.”

Rope sighed. “Yeah, that’s good, it’s just...I didn’t want anyone to know, you know? Being infected is one thing, but if people knew, they might look at me differently.”

“...If they knew what?” The Vouivre cocked her head. “I think I’m missing something.”

“Wait, so you didn’t read the bottle?”

Vanilla was steadily getting more confused. “No, I read it, but I don’t know what it is. What do you take Aldactone for? It’s not a migraine medication, is it?”

“No, it definitely isn’t that.” She couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that; she’d forgotten who she was talking to. Telling her couldn’t hurt at this point. “It’s part of my hormone therapy so I can, uh...be the me on the outside I am on the inside, if that makes sense?”

“Not really?” The Vouivre was quick to admit.

To be fair, the Cautus never knew how to answer questions like this. “I’m a woman, but my body doesn’t match - or at least, it didn’t until I met Aak.”

“Oh!” A few puzzle pieces clicked together in her mind. “Now I get it.”

“Good, cuz I don’t know if I could find another way to explain it,” she sighed, relieved.

That didn’t mean that was her last question, though. “Do you not like talking about it?”

“No, I don’t.” For exactly this reason, honestly. “People start asking me all kinds of questions about it, and I just wanna be me, you know? That’s the whole reason I have to worry about the pills and stuff.”

“Right, sorry. I, uh, won’t ask anything else.”

Rope looked at her for a moment before sighing again. “You have a lot of questions, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Vanilla visibly relaxed. “I don’t want to bother you, though.”

“...Tell you what: buy me dinner, and I’ll answer a couple questions, whatever you’ve got. Sound good?”

That did perk the Vouivre’s interest, and, somewhat unexpectedly, a bit of a blush, too. “I’d like that, yeah. Tonight or...”

“Sure, if you don’t have plans.” That was a very enthusiastic no, apparently. “Cool. Well, I’m gonna take a break, so talk to you later!”

“Uh-huh!” Once she’d left, Vanilla let herself start breathing rapidly before pulling out her phone to text Franka. She had a favor she needed to ask.

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

About an hour after dinner service opened in the cafeteria, Rope got a message from Vanilla saying she was on her way; that’d given the Cautus enough time to pick out something to wear - something without pockets, to keep herself from stealing as much stuff as she might with places to put it - and psyche herself up for a kind of awkward conversation with someone she worked with and hung out with at a couple of parties but didn’t talk to all that much otherwise. Still, that put her in the Top Ten on her “friends and associates” list, since Rope didn’t really talk a lot, period, and she was so innocent and soft...Would’ve been a good mark back in the day, honestly. Course, if she tried anything serious these days, Dobermann would chew her head off, and who knows what Blacksteel would do to her…

Ding-dong! That was her cue. The Cautus gave herself one last once-over and opened the door. “Evening, Va...Vanilla.” Holy shit, she cleaned up well.

“Good evening.” The Vouivre looked more than a little out of her element, admittedly, but that just added to the charm. “I, uh, already got us a table at a place, if that’s alright?”

“Hey, I came in from off the streets; anything’s good enough for me.” True, she did have a couple preferences, but since her...since Vanilla was paying, it wasn’t going to be an issue. What was this, exactly? And wait, didn’t this imply she’d make reservations somewhere? Like people did on dates in movies or whatever?

Doing her best not to jump to conclusions, Rope walked with Vanilla to a nice-looking Siracusan place not too far from her apartment. “This place looks nice, but you didn’t have to spoil me.”

“I know, but uh...I wanted to.” Since there was no way in hell she could be nonchalant about this, she was just going to be as genuine as possible. “We’re at a corner booth, and they aren’t too busy tonight, so we won’t have people listening in on us.”

“Well, well, I didn’t expect you to think of that. Sorry, that sounded meaner than I meant it to be.”

The Vouivre shrugged. “It’s fine - I know people don’t expect it from me. Um, are we drinking tonight, do you think?”

“It’s your money, not mine,” the Cautus replied, “but it’ll probably help if I have a lil’ wine.”

“That works. Excuse me, reservation for 2 for Vanilla?” And with that, their dinner date began.

Once they’d been seated, given a bottle of wine to start with, and ordered their meals, Rope took the lead. “So, you’ve got at least a couple questions for me, right? Wanna make this worth the cash you’re spending on me, after all.”

“How did you know?” That was the most interesting question to her. “Your body says one thing, your heart says another, how do you know which one’s right?”

“I mean, you don’t eat the wrapper, you eat the candy, right? Took some time to figure out why I felt so uncomfortable just, well, being, but as soon as I did, I knew what I wanted to do. Problem is, it’s kinda expensive to get the medications and the surgery and stuff, so for someone stealing just to eat every day, there wasn’t a lot I could do. Then I met Aak, and he helped me out a lot before I got locked up - he’s actually the one who gets me my prescriptions here, too - but I lost some progress since they wouldn’t let me take my meds in prison. The Doctor got me out of there, though, and now I have all the support I need. Sorry, that was more than you asked for.”

Vanilla smiled. “That’s alright; I wanted to ask about all of it. You know, I really had no idea. I mean, even up close, you’re so pretty, I’d never have guessed...”

“Thanks, I think.” Something about that smile raised a question in the Cautus’ mind, so she decided to try and confirm her suspicions. “Where’d you buy that dress, by the way? It looks really good on you.”

“Oh, thank you! Croissant’s resale shop, they might not have another one, but she sells a lot of good stuff for reasonable prices.” It helped that she had a concrete answer, but there was no hiding how happy the Vouivre was to receive that compliment.

Which gave Rope the confidence she needed to say, “It looks like it’s pretty easy to take off, too.”

“Yeah, it’s only got the one strap that...” Vanilla realized what’d happened when the Cautus started giggling. “I was going to ask for help with that later, but I guess you beat me to the punch.”

“If I ever had doubts I was a woman, I definitely don’t right now.”

Now the Vouivre was bright red. “Am I really that obvious?”

“You don’t wear a sign or anything,” Rope replied, still smiling genuinely, “but the way you’ve been looking at me tonight was enough.”

“Yeah, I guess I, um, have been staring...Does this count as a date?”

Rope nodded, having thought she’d regained her composure but finding more giggles to release. “It does now. Oh, man. This was the idea from the beginning, right?”

“I was going to ask you out when I went to give you your meds back,” Vanilla admitted, “so when you asked me to take you out, it was kind of perfect.”

“Wow. I played right into your hands, huh?” The Cautus hadn’t done something like that since she’d tried to pick Miss Swire’s pocket all those months ago - the thing that’d gotten her locked up, actually.

She shrugged. “You kind of did, yeah. We should probably eat our food before it gets too much colder.”

“Shit, how long have we been talking? I lost track.” The ex-thief cut into her steak, watching it bleed with a satisfied smile. “Nice and rare. Oh, sorry, you’re an animal-person, right?”

“W-well, as long as they’re raised humanely, being used for protein isn’t the worst thing that could happen to them. I mean, slugs eat meat, too, although Biggie’s actually doing really well on the low-meat high-protein diet I have him on.” At the mention of her beloved pet, her eyes lit up.

Rope leaned forward. “I’ve seen you driving him around base in a stroller before. You really love him, don’t you?”

“He’s so precious, how could you not!” And as planned, she was off. “Oh, you should have seen him the other day...”

What’d started off with an awkward moment in the trading post was quickly shaping up to be the best night either of them had had in awhile; as the Vouivre began regaling her with stories of her precious pet slugs, the Cautus ate her meal, paying close attention. Vanilla would’ve made an easy mark, it was true, but looking at her now, that was the last thing on Rope’s mind, even though she had plenty of thoughts on what she could do with her...