#Her voice was so nice to listen too as well ^v^ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-boy-meets-evil · 5 months ago

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34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | jww

(your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know.)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader genre: strangers to lovers, (kinda, v light) enemies to lovers | smut, fluff, angst rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~22.8k (idk what happened) warnings: art thief!wonwoo, secret agent!reader, brief mentions of death & bloody past (again, reader is a secret agent), mentions of past violence, mentions of weapons, food, drinking, VERY ambiguous ending smut warnings: multiple smut scenes, multiple positions, unprotected sex (don't do this), slightly rough sex, mild dom!wonwoo?, fingering, oral sex, choking, spanking, multiple orgasms, squirting, light marking, semi-public sex, food play (whipped cream, chocolate), i think that's it

a/n: this is for @svthub's world tour collab (check out the other fics here). i had so much fun writing this even if it got away from me a bit. thanks to @effortandmore for lending me her art brain. thanks to @highvern for constantly listening to me and @multi-kpop-fanfics for fit inspo. and as always, thank you to my bby @wongyuseokie for the banner & divider.

edited to add: i am considering an epilogue if that’s something anyone is interested in

tag list: @wonustars, @minisugakoobies, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @sdoulc, @wonwootakemyheart, @divinityyyy, @nightshadeinmoonlight, @imma-queencard, @jelly-n

“We’ll be landing in about 45 minutes, according to the pilot,” a voice says, interrupting your laser-like focus.

You look up from your tablet and blink at him for a second. It takes you a moment or two to register he’s even standing there. Another moment to register what he actually said to you a second ago. In the meantime, you switch the program open on your tablet.

“Oh, thanks,” you say in response.

He sits down in the seat opposite you and fixes you with a smile. “Must be a good book, you’ve barely looked up for the entire flight.”

“Guilty,” you say with a practiced smile.

Chan, you think that’s his name, seems nice enough. A little overeager and too ready to agree to something when his bosses tell him what to do. There’s that real thirst to prove himself. But, at least from what you hear, he’s got a bright future. He’s done well with what he’s been given so far, which are increasingly difficult assignments. You can see why. He’s easy on the eyes and he’s got that soft smile down. The kind of unassuming smile that makes people want to trust him. If he can keep it up, he’ll go far.

“Thanks again for letting me catch a ride,” you say to fill some of the space between you.

Chan only shrugs. “Any friend of Mr. Choi’s is always welcome. Plus, nobody really says no when the boss says something.”

A lesser person would have probably laughed at that. Hearing him referred to as Mr. Choi and the boss is a little comical to you. Not that it isn’t true because he is definitely Chan’s boss. It’s just, well, it’s a little more complicated than that.

“Honestly I don’t really even understand what Cheol does,” you lie and turn on a little bit of the charm. It’s always good to practice on people that are trained to be charming themselves.

“Do you call him that?” Chan wonders.

“Call him what? Cheol?” you ask and Chan nods, eyes a little wide. It catches him just off guard enough. “Yeah, but I’ve known him for years. What do you call him?”

“Sir, usually,” Chan answers too quickly. You can’t fully fight the smile that answer brings to your lips. “Glad to see I entertained you.”

“He’s not nearly as bad as I’m sure he seems at work,” you say like you’re sharing a secret.

The truth is that you’ve been hearing about this new agent that Seungcheol is personally training for over a year now. So, you know that eventually, you’re going to all be laughing at this conversation in hindsight and he’ll also be calling his boss Cheol. For now, though, things are a little bit different.

“He mentioned that you were heading down to do some research?” he asks and you nod.

This part has always been a little tedious to you, the part where you come up with a cover story that you even have to feed to other people within the same organization. It’s been this way for your entire career. You were recruited at 18 years old and went through special training along with obtaining a degree. The Agency had two divisions, but you only ever learned about the second one if you were recruited to work there. It was that second division you joined right away.

Training had been grueling. If it wasn’t some kind of physical endurance training, it was sitting in a windowless room studying history or a foreign language. Or it was combat training with whatever weapon was on deck that day. Or working to blend into any situation. You quickly learned that did not mean not being memorable. At least not in every situation. Sometimes that meant looking at ease in your surroundings even if eyes were on you. Thankfully, the charm seemed to come naturally to you and that was one less thing you had to worry about learning.

The Agency officially works in maintaining international relationships between countries. That can mean a number of different things. Sometimes it involves an agent or team heading out to a location as official representatives. They can help with negotiation, security concerns, smoothing out issues, anything really. Unofficially, it often involves going undercover on a mission. That can involve either division, depending on the sensitivity of the mission. If it’s simpler, then someone like Chan gets sent out to work his way into a situation and influence the outcome so that everything stays calm. In fact, he’s here to charm a wealthy heiress that’s getting a little too close to revealing confidential information on government contracts.

You, on the other hand, are officially here to study Argentinian culture and immerse yourself in local traditions. Chan doesn’t know that you work for The Agency as well. He doesn’t know that Seungcheol is like a boss to you. It’s not his preference. Seungcheol misses the days when he was by your side in the field instead of stuck in the office behind a desk. Unfortunately, several years ago he suffered a severe injury that just made field work impossible for him. It took a lot of convincing, most of which fell on your shoulders as the person closest to him, to get him to transition to his current role. Where you had never set foot in the main offices, he had been there periodically. He was known to people there. And he was so insanely smart that you pointed out he would be bored trying to assimilate into regular life. Why not get to do one of his other favorite things and tell younger agents (or even older ones) what to do? That had been the biggest selling point because he was good at being in charge. It had been a bit of a rocky transition at first, but now it’s smooth sailing.

Unofficially, you’re here tracking one of the most infamous art thieves in the world. This is the kind of thing that has to be handled with the utmost secrecy. Other agencies and your own have tried to track him down and apprehend him only to have him slip into the wind. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d assume that there had been leaks during the previous attempts. You’ve also considered that he’s just really good at making a mark and blending into his surroundings. This is one of the most secretive missions you’ve ever been sent on despite seeming relatively innocuous. How much harm can an art thief really cause, right? Except, The Agency is largely funded by private investors and several of those investors have been victims and had art stolen. Despite that, the only people that know you’re making this attempt now are Seungcheol and the head of covert operations. His counterpart doesn’t know that you’re handling it, or even who you are. Instead, the main division of The Agency has a team headed to Amsterdam thinking that they’re after the notorious thief.

Although it seems like it should be straight forward, this thief has been working in the shadows for years without anyone really knowing what he looks like beyond him being a man. The reports about what he actually looks like vary so greatly that nobody really knows what to believe. You and Seungcheol have spent months trying to put together a profile that seems most realistic and you feel as comfortable as you can. His appearance seems a little elusive, but the information that he’s going to be in Buenos Aires is the best lead you’ve gotten. It comes from someone that you worked with on a previous mission. You had been studying your profiles when Chan came over and quickly exited to a different application.

“I am. I’m working on understanding the history of Argentinian culture through the eyes of Buenos Aires for a project,” you say with all the affection of someone who was actually going to be doing that. “I’m going to spend most of my time just out talking to people, learning their stories, that kind of thing.”

“Do you, uh, speak Spanish?” Chan wonders with clear apprehension.

“I do,” you say with a light laugh. “Be a bit awkward if I didn’t, right?”

“That’s impressive,” he says.

“I speak several languages,” you say nonchalantly and then make a show of catching his eye. “I studied language and culture in university.”

“You’re not what I’d imagine for one of my boss’s friends,” Chan admits. “Especially one close enough to get added to the manifest.”

You shrug. “I’ve known him for a long time.”

“He doesn’t strike me as someone with a lot of time for friendships or someone that you can ever really know,” Chan presses and you laugh.

“Married to the job, right?” you agree. “I’m a low maintenance friend. I spend a lot of time out of town for research, immersed in local culture. We’ve probably got more in common that you’d think.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” he concedes, seeming to easily buy your cover. He stands up. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

The rest of the flight goes smoothly and you say your goodbyes to Chan and the others from the flight once you get off the plane. As is the plan, you take your suitcases to a local taxi and head to your hotel, checking in under one of the many fake names you used when on a mission. The room is nice, too, even if it’s nothing all that extravagant. It’s just another part of the cover.

Since it’s been a long day, you figure that you might as well just order room service and settle in for the night. It’ll give you the chance to start getting your body used to the local timezone. Not that your body really has a home timezone anymore with how you’re constantly on the move. But, you still don’t mind the idea of resting for the night.

You’re incredibly thankful to be in Buenos Aires in July since it’s the coolest month. It makes it easier for you to just walk everywhere. Before leaving your room for your first full day in your new city, you double check your messenger bag to make sure everything is in there: camera, multiple lenses, journal, tablet and keyboard, sunglasses, wallet, and all your little bits to make it look like a bag you wear all the time. You smile at the receptionist on your way out, letting her know that you’re going off to explore what the city has to offer. She seems happy to see that you look better rested than after your long travel day. Even if heading out is mostly a cover for your mission, it’s also a little true. This city has been on your bucket list to visit for years and you’re not going to waste what might be your only opportunity to explore. It might even make it more believable as you’re trying to blend into the crowds around you.

After spending several hours wandering around and taking in everything you could, you find yourself at a local cafe in the early afternoon to have a cup of coffee and a light lunch. The whole morning flew by in a rush of colors and culture. It’s so easy to be interested in everything that’s before you because it’s just so vibrant. So full of life. Such a juxtaposition of history, tradition, and new influences. It’s one of the first times you’ve been somewhere and had to remind yourself that you are actually on a mission. You’re not just there to sightsee and fall in love.

There are a lot of tourists in the cafe, which doesn’t really surprise you. Most places in Buenos Aires stay open during the afternoon for tourism, but you know that cafes in smaller towns would close. You figure that most locals probably avoid shops during this time of day as well. It feels lucky when you spot an open table in the corner until another patron moves and you see there’s actually someone sitting in one of the seats. It’s an uncharacteristically awkward moment for you, especially given how confident you are with everything else, that he catches you mid-decision. His eyes meet yours before looking at the coffee in one hand and the plate in the other. When he looks back down at the table, it clicks into place before you can turn around.

“You, uh, can sit…” he starts with deliberate slowness that shouldn’t be throwing you off even more.

You shake your head to clear it and smile. “It’s fine, I don’t just speak Spanish.”

“Oh,” he says with a breath of relief. “Well, you can sit here.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” you say and go to turn around.

“It’s busy. Are you going to just eat standing up?” he asks with a challenging raise of his eyebrow.

“Well,” you start.

“I probably won’t be here much longer anyway,” he offers.

Reluctantly, you move to sit down with him. It’s kind of insane the way he’s thrown you off your game by just existing. Usually, you’re the one that’s disarming strangers with your charm, not the other way around. As soon as you sit down, he looks back at the book he has open in front of him. It gives you a chance to figure out if he’s actually that attractive that it’s thrown you off or if you’re still just jet-lagged.

His glasses slide down a nearly too perfect nose and he pushes them up without missing a beat. His black hair is a little messy and a little long, falling carelessly around his face as he gets lost in whatever book he has open in front of him. His clothes make him look a little too fancy to be sitting in a cafe overrun with tourists like this. Somehow, he makes a cardigan over a dress shirt with nice, pressed slacks work without looking like he’s trying too hard. Everything about him just exudes calm, confident energy. Like the kind of person you would assume comes from old money. Unassuming, yet standing out without even meaning to. It reminds you of some of the landmarks you saw that morning, like rich history perfectly combined with modern needs.

Thankfully, at least some of your training kicks back in and you manage to keep it from being too obvious that you’re one step away from fully checking him out. Your new tablemate seems content to sit in silence, though, so you pick at your food while going through some of the pictures on your camera. Today is about getting the lay of the land as much as anything else. It’s not like you can just find your infamous art thief without knowing where to look.

“I’m sure you got some great shots,” he says, drawing your attention again. When you look up, his eyes are on your camera.

“Oh, yeah, it’s so hard to really capture the feeling of something through a camera, but I definitely try,” you say.

“I saw you at The Obelisk and I thought, I’ve never seen someone so focused in my entire life,” he says, except now he’s looking at you.

“There must have been thousands of people there. How did you pick me out?” you ask with a laugh.

The mystery man shrugs. “Like I said, you were focused. And not in the way a lot of influencers who travel for the perfect picture are. I knew that it was more than that for you.”

“It is,” you agree. “I’m studying the history and the culture down here. Just got in last night.”

“Can I see the picture you landed on?” he ventures.

You hesitate. Your pictures are good, sure, but you’re not actually doing anything that serious when you’re down here. Since it’s supposed to be part of your cover, you should feel confident. After a moment, you hand your camera over to him with your favorite picture in the display window.

“Be kind. My focus is language and history first, not photography,” you toss out. Another layer to the cover. It’s convenient, though. Not that you expected to be talking to someone like him about photography.

“This is amazing,” he says and seems earnest. “Can I look through the rest?”

Again, you pretend to consider. This time it’s for the sake of the persona you’re committing to. It’s not like there’s anything on there from before today since it’s a fresh SD card.

“I promise to be kind,” he presses and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you say and he smiles.

It’s hard not to notice the amount of care he uses while handling your camera. Maybe he knows something about photography and realizes it’s an expensive model. Or maybe he’s just gentle with something that clearly means a lot to someone else. It’s also easier to feel like you can appreciate things about him when his attention is somewhere else. Like he won’t notice the way your eyes map his features, noting the furrow in his brows or how smooth his skin is. Or the way his hair seems absolutely perfect without any product in it. None of it seems fair that he should just get to walk around looking like that.

“I’m surprised not to find a picture of myself on here,” he starts and it pulls you from your thoughts. There’s a moment where you wonder if he’s secretly self-centered, until you meet his eyes and see the glint there. “You know, with how you’ve been studying me.”

“I appreciate beauty wherever I see it,” you answer, trying to channel more boldness than you feel.

“Are you saying I’m beautiful?” he questions, entirely too at-ease.

“I don’t think you need confirmation on that,” you scoff and look out the window. “Besides, it wasn’t me that noticed you earlier.”

“A shame for me,” he muses. “I appreciate beautiful things as well.”

He hands your camera back with his eyes locked on you. It makes your skin feel a little flushed and you hate it. Hate that you’re always able to keep your cool in any situation and still so completely disarmed by this man. Hate that it’s him that breaks the moment, too, when he looks down at the expensive watch on his wrist with a sigh.

“Late for something?” you venture.

“Something like that,” he agrees and puts his book away in a bag you hadn’t noticed. “I’m glad you sat down though.”

“Me too,” you admit a little too quickly as he’s standing up.

“Enjoy your afternoon, beautiful stranger,” he says and you twist around.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name,” you call and he stops by the door. The smile he throws your way sends a tingle down your spine.

“I hope we’ll run into each other again, then,” he says.

And just like that, he’s gone. Slips into the crowd like he wasn’t even there in the first place. It makes you wonder, just for a second, if the entire exchange actually happened. Until you look back at the table and see the cup of coffee he had been drinking. Beside it, you notice a small piece of paper advertising a new installation at one of the local art museums. Not entirely out of the question, you think, for someone visiting this city and also interested in seeing your camera.

It’s then that you remind yourself why you’re actually here. You shake your head to clear it of any thoughts of the stranger, knowing you can’t make any effort to run into him again. The mission is the only thing that matters. Getting close to someone that could distract you in that way is not part of the plan. So, you can appreciate the banter and get back on track.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You continue to explore the city while always keeping your eyes and ears open for any indication of the art thief. It’s a little frustrating to not have much to go on, but you’re also one of the most patient agents and you know it’ll pay off eventually. Seungcheol keeps in regular contact, sending along each new nugget of information he’s able to find. Even if they’re seemingly insignificant, you file them all away, appreciating how hard you know he’s working given how few people know about the mission. He has to pull the relevant pieces to send to you without tipping off the team in Amsterdam.

You’re also splitting your days. Making sure to get out to experience the local culture to maintain your cover, while spending just as much time locked away in your room so that you can do your own research. Everything points to him already being in the city as well. It also seems like this next heist might be two-fold for him. It appears that he’s got a client that wants a specific piece of art and that he’s also going to steal some pieces for himself to sell at later dates. It’s a bit unusual, from what you’ve been able to tell. He usually likes to keep each job simple to reduce the likelihood of getting caught. Then again, he’s been active for years and doing just fine.

Today you decide to go to check out a museum that you’ve been putting off. It’s silly, but you didn’t want to show up there the day after that cafe since it seemed a little convenient to leave behind. You have to familiarize yourself with all the museums in the city, though, and it seems like this one could be your thief’s target. It has just the right amount of traffic. Just the right combination of popular pieces with lesser known artists.

Once you’re there, you immediately move away from the popular sections. That’s not the kind of art you’re after because it’s not the kind of art the thief ever steals. It’s too recognizable. Too hard to move. Just too risky. Once you’re in a quieter part of the museum, you fight off any feelings of being a fraud. Art has never really been your strong suit. If it weren’t for this mission being so sensitive, you definitely would not be the first agent anyone would choose. But, it is sensitive and so you have to rely on your training to carry you through any conversations that might pop up. You have to rely on the hours spent pouring over lectures about the different styles and influences, the different periods, different techniques. Hopefully your talent at rote memorization will serve you well.

“It’s a shame they keep one of the best artists tucked away in a corner like this,” a voice says from your side, pulling you from your thoughts.

You answer without even thinking much about the voice or even turning to see the person who appeared next to you nearly soundlessly. “Makes it easier to appreciate in peace, though.”

“You like surrealism, then?” he asks and it’s only then that you notice something familiar about the voice or the manner of speaking. Or the fact that he’s not speaking to you in Spanish.

Before you even turn to your side, you know who you’re going to find. He’s looking just as put together and at-ease as he did several days ago in the cafe. His hands rest in his pockets, but his eyes on you are sharp. There’s something a little hard to read about him, you think.

The smile you give him is practiced, designed to seem genuine. “I like Leonor Fini.”

“You’ve got good taste,” he says and turns back to the piece.

“I do like surrealism,” you carry on, turning back to the piece yourself as well, “but, with her work, I really appreciate the way she used female subjects through a female lens. Too many artists…”

You trail off, pretending you’re unsure if you should continue. He falls into the setup easily. “Men could only show female subjects through their own eyes, but women look different through the eyes of other women.”

“Exactly,” you say and smile at him before turning back to the painting again. “There’s something so captivating about the work she did.”

“I agree. That’s why this is my favorite piece here and in my favorite section of works,” he says confidently.

“You already have a favorite?” you joke.

“Well, I’ve been here every day for the past several days,” he shares.

This makes you turn to him fully. “Because you love this section and this work so much?”

This mysterious man actually looks down like he’s embarrassed to admit whatever he’s about to tell you. Like he’s gotten shy for a moment. “I do, but I was actually hoping to run into you.”

That catches you a bit off guard and it takes your brain a minute to remember, once again, you’re here on a mission. “It would have been easier to run into me if you just asked for my number.”

“Kind of ruins this whole mysterious thing I have going on, though,” he shrugs.

You roll your eyes and extend your hand, giving him your fake name for the mission. His eyes sparkle for a second before he takes your hand.

“Wonwoo,” he answers.

“Nice to finally get your name,” you tease.

“I figured you’d come check out the museum when I left the card there at the cafe,” Wonwoo says.

“I knew that was on purpose,” you mumble.

“Yet you didn’t come until today,” he observes.

“I wasn’t trying to make it easy on you,” you throw out quickly.

“Okay, time to switch tactics, then,” he says. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“I’m not sure, can you?” you ask.

“Please let me take you to dinner,” he says.

It’s a bad idea and you know it. Everything about him screams distraction. This isn’t what you’re in Buenos Aires to do. Yet, there’s something about him that has you curious. There’s also the fact that this museum seems to be the most likely target for the art thief and this man admitted he’s been here every day. A small part of your brain is sending up alarm signals to keep an eye on him. He doesn’t seem like a secret art thief, but hasn’t your training taught you how to hide in plain sight? It’s entirely possible he’s doing the same.

Your brain goes into overdrive as it often does on missions. There are a million little details in the pages of your profile on the art thief. They come flooding back to you. The profile so thoughtfully pieced together by The Agency says he’s probably unassuming. The kind of man that fits into any situation in the same way as you do, like he’s not trying to fit in and it means he doesn’t stand out as not belonging. The profile suggests that he’s confident. That he would appear calm. Most importantly, he’s the kind of person that would absolutely look at home in the midst of art. So, whether it’s a good idea or not, you know you’re going to say yes. He must see the answer in your eyes before you voice it because he smirks.

“What time?”

Wonwoo offers to pick you up at your hotel, but you insist that you’ll meet him at the restaurant. It’s safer that way, after all, being a woman traveling alone. At least that’s what you tell him. Not that anything about Wonwoo seems that threatening and you’re better equipped to handle yourself than most. You just don’t need him anywhere near your room even with everything put away. After going back to get ready, you made time to pour over the information you have. The more you consider it, the more it seems plausible that he could be exactly who you’re looking for. There’s only one issue: he asked you out. Everything you have suggests that he made agents in the past and slipped into the wind. You’re not cocky enough to think you’re too good to fall victim to the same fate. You keep your update to Seungcheol vague in case the lead doesn’t pan out.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo picks a nice place off the beaten path for dinner. It’s not overrun with tourists and it’s not too expensive. Like him, it’s unassuming but quietly impressive. You try not to let your heart skip a beat when you see him in a simple white dress shirt and black dress pants. He stands to pull your seat out for you and then settles back into his seat across from you. This is for the sake of the mission. Either he’s the person you’re looking for or you’ll have enjoyed a free and tasty meal. Nothing more to it.

His Spanish, it turns out, isn’t that great and so you help him through ordering since it’s definitely a place more for the locals. Or maybe it’s just an excuse to get your help. You’re not really sure you mind either way. He makes suggestions about which wines he prefers, but ultimately lets you pick, insisting that he will take care of whatever you land on. Once you get through ordering and all the small talk, it gives you a chance to really get to know him.

“Have you been here before?” you ask.

“This restaurant or this city?” he asks.

“Either,” you shrug.

“No to both,” he answers. “Clearly, my Spanish is a bit rusty. I’m so lucky that I found someone who’s so fluent.”

“I’m not sure I believe you can’t speak the language,” you muse.

“I can speak enough Spanish to get by, but it’s not that good,” he assures you.

“Interesting place to visit, then,” you observe.

“I’d miss out on a lot of beauty if I only went where I spoke the language fluently,” he retorts and you smile genuinely at that. He’s right.

“Like the art in the museum?” you suggest.

“Or a charming stranger,” he counters. You’re impressed. “I do like the art as well, though.”

“What other beautiful places have you visited?” you ask.

“Oh, I hardly think it’s that interesting,” he dismisses.

“Humor me,” you say.

There’s a moment where he’s careful in listing off places. Like he’s weighing something that you can’t really place. He ends up listing some places that catch your attention. Each of them has some wonderful art museums and it piques your curiosity. You try to look just politely interested, commenting on how he’s lucky to be able to travel as extensively as he seems to. He plays it off with a vague comment about being fortunate with help from his family. It’s the kind of thing that you know passes on a first date. It’s not appropriate to mention money on a first date. So, that would be fine, if it didn’t also make you curious about who this man really was. After all, your art thief being well connected through family would definitely make sense.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, you try to enjoy it. Not that it’s hard to do. Wonwoo is actually a lot of fun to be around. The conversation flows easily and you’re able to connect on a lot of shared interests. At least, interests that you pretend to have for the sake of this mission. But, it feels like he might also be pretending on some of his interests. He’s just a little too calm and put together. A little too quick with his answers. A little too rehearsed with his comments. Maybe you wouldn’t think twice if you weren’t doing the same.

By the time you finish the main course, you’re pretty sure that you managed to stumble into a date with the exact person that you’re here looking for based on his stories. It may have been a guess before. It feels nearly for sure now. He mentions how you have to visit Japan when the cherry blossoms are blooming, which sounds stunning. He mentions Oktoberfest in Munich and how he barely remembers anything from that trip. Then there's the ice festival in China, Nordlysfestivalen in Norway, and a few other locations that sound beautiful. They also have one thing in common. Each place is also on your list for stolen art around the time of the events.

Once you finish dessert, you’re making a decision that you know you should really clear with someone else before making. Sure, you’re pretty sure that Wonwoo is the art thief. And yes, it’s true that keeping an eye on him is in your best interest. One way to do that is to continue with the date. Yet, you’re not stopping to check in with Seungcheol. You’re not analyzing the pros and cons of doing this. After giving Seungcheol a vague update about a lead and promising you’ll have more information later on, he should be the first person you call. He’s not swept up in the atmosphere of a foreign city with a gorgeous stranger. No, you don’t do any of that. You’re just agreeing to go back to his room with him without a second thought. He’s painfully hot and you’re incredibly attracted to him, which is wildly unprofessional. But, you’re not sure you care. At least for the night. You can figure it all out later.

Wonwoo is quietly confident without being cocky. His gaze is so penetrating that it feels like he’s undressing you without it being slimy. He can hold a conversation about seemingly anything, but he’s also just as interested in what you have to say. In fact, you have his attention the whole night, regardless of anything else going on. It’s a little overwhelming to have someone so focused on you. But, when it feels a little overwhelming, he makes a perfectly timed, slightly sarcastic joke that makes you laugh harder than you should. The smile you wear all throughout the date is genuine. You’re actually enjoying yourself so much that you’re not sure you want it to end. Life has never felt so simultaneously complicated and easy.

Wonwoo’s lips are hot on yours as he cages you against the door of his hotel room. That intensity you saw all dinner reappears and you feel like you might burn under his touch. He’s so in control. You’re still not entirely sure how you wound up here, but you’re not really trying to think too hard about it. The fact that he’s almost definitely the art thief becomes an issue for future-you the second he kisses you like it’s your last day on Earth. It’s not like he knows you’re tracking his movements and it isn’t exactly a bad thing to keep a closer eye on him. Nor is it the first time you’ve done something like this. It is the first time you’ve done it without thought, though, and genuinely been interested in the man you let seduce you.

He has his body pressed against yours with his arms on either side of you so there really is nowhere to go. It’s kind of hot and you’re not even pretending to be turned on. A definite bonus. Your hands quickly undo his belt so that you can pull the edges of his shirt out. The moment your hands make contact with his skin, he pulls away and hisses. They’re likely cold, not that you care. It gives you the chance to catch his lower lip between your teeth. You watch his eyes darken with lust as you run your hands up his back, scratching down lightly.

“Just who do you think is in control here, baby?” His voice is so low in your ear that it makes you swallow hard. Everything about the endearment sounds sarcastic and it shouldn’t work, but you’re only human. Then he nips at your earlobe and you actually moan.

“What are you going to do about it?” you challenge. It feels like a lot of heat between you. If your head were clearer, you might consider that it feels like two people who know they shouldn’t be fucking. Almost like he’s punishing you a little, which he might want to, given why you’re here.

“That’s a dangerous question,” he warns you.

“Afraid I can’t handle it?” you ask and watch the way it nearly breaks his composure. You press forward into him, pulling him down so his ear is by your mouth now. Barely raise your voice above a whisper. “I’m not that fragile. I can handle a little pain.”

That seems to set him off. You’re worried for a second when he pulls away, but that disappears as you watch his nimble fingers rapidly undoing the buttons on his shirt. He casts it aside and looks back at you.

“I want you stripped naked and on the bed,” he commands.

You’re not typically in the habit of taking commands but something about him makes you want to listen. Even if you want to challenge him a little. He turns his back and you do strip down. Mostly. You climb onto the bed wearing only your panties, legs spread open and waiting for him. When he turns around, you miss the flare of his nostrils at your defiance looking at his muscles. For someone so unassuming, he was certainly in good shape.

“Is this your idea of naked?” he questions.

It’s funny, since he’s still got his boxer briefs on, though they leave little to the imagination. You can already see that he’s getting hard from the lead up.

“I thought I’d leave that honor for you,” you say, injecting as much innocence as you can muster into every word.

Wonwoo looks at you for another long second before climbing onto the bed and getting between your legs. He pushes them further open and you bite down on your lip.

“You don’t get to muffle those moans from me, sweetheart,” he teases, running a hand up the inside of your thigh.

“Or what?” you challenge again.

He raises an eyebrow at you and pulls his hand away from your thigh. You’re about to whine when he brings it back in a sharp slap.

“Shit,” you hiss.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asks. You nod with big eyes. “Use your words.”

“Fuck, yes, I liked it,” you rush out the second his finger traces a light line up your clothed cunt.

“I can tell,” he snarks. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be,” you insist. He pulls his hand away and looks at you surprisingly soft for a second.

“Tell me if it is,” he repeats.

“I will,” you promise.

“Good,” he says and hooks his fingers inside the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs and casting them aside in one motion. “That’s better.”

In another surprise, Wonwoo doesn’t dive right into your cunt the way you expect him to given how frenzied everything has been so far. Instead, he trails kisses from your knee up your inner thigh. Pausing occasionally to nip into the skin before running his tongue over the mark to soothe it. You’re writhing on the bed by the time his breath ghosts across your cunt. The chuckle is low and deep as you squirm when he moves to your other thigh. You’re going to die before he even touches you.

“Jesus fuck, Wonwoo, if you don’t start eating me out…” you start, a hand winding into his hair.

He pops up and glares at you. “You’ll what? Did you already forget who’s in charge?”

“I’ll…” you start, before cutting off with a sharp, “FUCK!”

He’s still got his eyes on you when his thumb runs quickly through your folds to press against your clit. There’s barely any movement but it anchors you in place. “That’s what I thought.”

His kisses up your other thigh are much sloppier with a thumb still in place. It only makes you squirm more, searching for some kind of relief. When he finally gets to your lips, you expect he’s going to tease you again. You’re wrong. Again. His tongue dives into your pussy while his other hand keeps you spread open. This man knows what he’s doing and it’s immediately more than you’re expecting. You can’t stop your legs from snapping closed to box him in. That is, until he pulls his hands off you to spread your legs wide again, giving him the best access to you. It’s clear that he’s in charge and he wants you to know it.

It’s everything you can do not to thrash around, but Wonwoo seems to be ready to help there. He’s got a hand on your stomach anchoring you down to the bed. You’re not even sure how he’s got enough hands to move them along your body the way he seems to. Without warning, he moves his mouth up to pay attention to your clit. And he doesn’t give you a break, sliding two fingers into you and immediately scissoring them open. He sets a brutal pace, curling his fingers to hit you where he seems to know you need him on some of the passes.

“Fuck, Wonwoo, oh my god, fuck,” you scream out.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he sneers at you from between your legs.

“Yes, fuck,” you moan. “Your fingers, oh my god.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans.

In the next moment, you’re coming so hard you squirt over those amazing fingers of his. Your vision whites out around the edges and your toes are curling. It’s all you can do to catch your breath as Wonwoo’s fingers pump through the high.

“I don’t remember the last time I came that hard,” you admit.

“We’re not done yet,” he shares and the tone of his voice has you nearly clenching your legs together. “Turn over. Get on your hands and knees.”

“So bossy,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You turn over anyway, though, and put your ass in the air.

“This is a really good fucking view,” he says. You feel the bed dip when he gets back in place after removing his boxers.

Wonwoo has one hand on your hip and the other is running up your back to press you down further. To help you get that perfect arch of your back. You wiggle your ass at him and are rewarded with a stinging smack. Your moan is muffled by the pillow, so you turn your head to the side. Already know he wants to hear you. When he smacks your other ass check, you nearly scream out.

“That’s it, I want to hear you,” he encourages.

“Please, Wonwoo, just fuck me already,” you beg.

“One orgasm wasn’t enough?” he asks and you can hear the cockiness in his voice. Bringing a ringing smack down on your ass again. You scream out at the sting.

“No, I want you to split me open,” you whine. In any other situation you might be embarrassed by the admission, but not now. Not with him. Not when it’s so clearly turning him on.

“Greedy little thing,” he comments. His fingers press into your cunt again and you nearly yelp.

There’s no time to adjust when Wonwoo removes his fingers and immediately lines himself up at your entrance. With one snap of his hips, he’s fully inside you and you’re hissing. He’s bigger than you were guessing, even with the outline in his boxers. And he doesn’t give you a break as he starts fucking you hard. All you can hear is the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the mingled moans from both of you. You’re sensitive from both the pace and the earlier orgasm. Your legs feel like they would collapse under you if they could.

As if the pace isn’t enough, Wonwoo snakes an arm around you to reach for your clit, rubbing circles into it at the same pace as his thrusts. You can tell he’s nowhere near close, but you’re about to lose control again and you’re not sure how to stop it.

“Fuck, Wonwoo, slower, I’m going to - fuck!” you whine out.

“You gonna come again? So soon, baby?” he taunts.

“I can’t - fuck, please,” you beg. “I’m so close.”

“I want you to make a mess of my dick the same way you made a mess of my fingers,” Wonwoo directs.

“But you haven’t…” you start and Wonwoo removes his hand from your clit. You cry out at the loss until his other hand grabs your hair to yank you back against his chest. When it’s clear you’re not going to move, his hand moves from your hair to your throat.

“I want you to come for me. Right now. Show me how good I feel inside that tight pussy,” he directs.

It’s one of the most surprising reactions, the way your body immediately responds to him. He’s got you coming just as hard as the first time and he doesn’t give you a chance to second guess any of it. As the shocks rip through your body, you notice that Wonwoo does slow down his thrusts. Doesn’t pull out of you, though. You collapse forward and arch your back again so it’s easier to meet Wonwoo’s continued pace.

“You’re so good at listening,” he praises.

“Not usually,” you mumble into the pillow through the haze.

“I must be special,” he says as he lazily fucks into you.

“Jesus Wonwoo, you can fuck me. I know you haven’t finished yet,” you grumble.

“In a rush to go somewhere?” he teases.

“No, but it must be…well, I don’t know. Hard for you,” you mumble into the sheets.

“I’ve got excellent control,” Wonwoo says, all confidence. “I’m not in a rush to end this.”

Despite your instance, he continues to lazily snap his hips into you. It’s so slow, way too slow. He reaches down to pull you up against his chest again, still keeping the pace. His hands are on your breasts, squeezing them to anchor you to him. He rolls one of your nipples roughly between his fingers to see what he gets as a reaction. Your moan seems to spur him on further. Each time pain shoots through some part of your body, it only seems to turn you on more. It’s easy to forget why you agreed to this in the first place.

For all the demands, Wonwoo is actually very attentive as well. He peppers kisses from behind your ear all the way down your shoulder and back, paying special attention to the areas that seem to get the best response from you. He’s also careful with where he nips you, never biting hard enough to leave a mark somewhere that couldn’t be easily hidden. The entire experience has been so all-consuming that there isn’t space for any other thoughts in your head. It’s just him and this hotel room that’s entirely too fancy.

He must feel that you’re starting to get worked up because he pushes you back down into the bed. His pace finally picks up again, which is good because you’re sprinting towards being too sore to actually enjoy it anymore. The pace gets much faster again, not nearly as rhythmic as before. His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts. It’s the first time it actually feels like he’s losing control.

“Oh my god,” you cry out. “I’m gonna come again. Oh my god!”

“Me too,” he groans through a stuttered breath. “Fuck, where can I come?”

“I don’t care,” you cry out. You’re about to have your third orgasm. “On my back, on my ass, I don’t fucking care, just come with me.”

You press a finger to your clit to try and help you over that last bit to tumble over the edge so that Wonwoo can chase his own relief. The second your body starts shaking, you feel him pull out. He must pump his cock a few times because there’s a slight delay before you feel something hit your back. You feel a little proud with how much cum you feel on your skin, like maybe he was a little more affected by you than he wanted to let on.

As soon as Wonwoo lays down next to you on the bed, you also collapse onto your side. The bed is soft, but your knees are still a little sore from spending so much time on them. Wonwoo immediately pulls you into him so that he can kiss you breathless. His hand is behind your head, keeping you from pulling away. The chemistry between the two of you is intense. Not something you were prepared for. It’s clear that if one of you doesn’t stop, then you’ll be fucking him again. And your body needs a break.

“I should get cleaned up,” you say when you pull back, more than slightly breathless.

“Let me just get cleaned up a little and then you can take a shower,” he says.

He presses a kiss to your temple and then gets up off the bed. There’s no point in pretending you aren’t watching him as he walks to the bathroom. He’s all lean lines and unexpected muscles. Nobody should be allowed to look the way he does, to look so good that Greek gods would be jealous. And yet here he is.

A few minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom and arches an eyebrow at you. There’s a towel slung low around his hips in a way that should be a sin. “You’re going to make me think that you want more.”

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to stand,” you joke as an answer.

It surprises you a little when he comes over to the bed and helps you up. That is, until you see the way his eyes take you in. There’s nothing soft there, only predatory. Like you’re a meal he wants to return to. Your brain still feels a little slow to catch up, but registers something like he’s analyzing you. Still, he helps you get to the bathroom, points out the toiletries, and then disappears back into the room.

By the time you’re clean and wrapped in the softest bathrobe you’ve ever worn, Wonwoo is sitting at the table wearing shorts and his glasses with nothing else. He’s scrolling absently through his phone and picking at some snacks that hadn’t been there when you had gone to shower. You didn’t think you’d been in there long, so it’s surprising he was able to get something up so quickly. When he notices you’re out of the bathroom, he indicates the food.

“I ordered us some snacks and they were happy to get them up here quickly,” he says.

You take a seat across from him a little apprehensively. This is the part that you hadn’t really considered. How do you excuse yourself from the situation in a way that ensures you’ll see him again? It’s not that you want to have a repeat, though there’s part of your brain that is not opposed like you should be. It’s just…well with the room and the toiletries and the fast room service, you’re sure that this is the man you’re looking for. Which, admittedly, might make things a little complicated. But, you do have a job to do.

“I guess I am hungry,” you admit and reach for something.

“Glad you’re not going to make me eat alone,” he muses.

“You already paid for dinner and drinks, I wasn’t expecting more treats,” you admit.

“Seems fitting after the mindblowing sex,” he says and watches you, a clear glint to his eyes. “I can’t get over how insanely hot it was to watch you squirt for me.”

Your cheeks redden without your permission. He’s so free with admitting it even with the moment having passed. Maybe he’s more trouble than you realized.

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one to enjoy myself if my back is any indication,” you toss out.

“I really enjoyed the way you told me I could come on your back,” he shares.

“And my ass,” you remind him.

“I got that too,” he reminds you. “And what a nice ass it is.”

“Careful or I’ll ask you to blow my back out again,” you say, voice slightly betraying that you’re affected by his very presence.

“That makes me think you were going to head out and never see me again,” Wonwoo ventures.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you say, trying to be coy.

Wonwoo fixes you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. It nearly makes you squirm under the intensity. Is he just like that? The kind of person that does everything with that burning look in his eyes.

“Let me ask you something, Agent,” he begins and your mouth runs dry. You do everything you can not to let him know that you’re a second away from losing it. “Do you fuck all your targets? Or am I special?”

The way he smirks at you lets you know that he knows he’s onto something. Knows exactly who you are. Or maybe who you work for, at least. He’s made you and you’re not entirely sure you’re safe anymore. You’re also not entirely sure what the best move is. Probably take half a second too long to decide if his face is any indication.

“Agent? Target?” you laugh out. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” he presses. “Really, we shouldn’t be lying to each other so early in the relationship.”

“I’m here doing…” you start.

“Research, yes. That’s what you said. And you almost had me when it took so long to run into you again. Your Spanish is flawless. It doesn’t sound like someone that learned at some secret agency. You’re much better at languages than any of the other agents that have come after me. And waiting so long to meet me again, genius. It really had me second guessing who you were,” he says. “But then, you made a mistake. Do you know what it was?”

“Going on a date with someone that’s clearly a little delusional?” you ventured. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he says, confident. “I’ll tell you where you fucked up. It was dinner tonight. No, not something you said or did because you were shockingly smooth with it. It’s that you agreed to it at all. I suggested a place no researcher would ever go to. Because it used to be the site of a religious monument, but it fell into disrepair. A local crime family took it over. Only locals bother going there, but no researcher ever would.”

Your heart sinks. Through all your research and all your planning, you knew that you would never be able to get everything. There just wasn’t the time. So, you had to hope that the person you were chasing wouldn’t notice any small missteps. Or would write them off with your cover story. What you had not planned for was this. In all your careful consideration, you had not planned to go on a date with the art thief himself. He had you and he knew it. It’s hard to see the right path out of this.

It had been a gamble to get close to him the way you had. A gamble that you questioned taking and took anyway. A gamble you took without clearing it with Seungcheol. Usually, getting close to a target this way, you talk to him to make sure that he thinks it’s a good idea too. Make sure that this kind of move will fit the profile for the person that you’re chasing. This time, you’re flying blind. You had gotten a little ahead of yourself. A little sloppy. This isn’t the type of work you’re known for. It’s not the reason that you were sent down to Buenos Aires to chase him on a secret mission.

“One mistake,” you sigh with a shake of your head.

“Yeah, just the one,” he agrees.

“So why did you invite me back here?” you ask.

Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m curious about you.”

“Curious? You risked inviting me back to your actual hotel room over curiosity?” you ask, looking around.

“Who’s to say this is actually my room?” he says with another casual shrug. You clock it on his face as soon as he says it.

“No, it is your actual room. The comfort, the speed of the room service, the way things are laid out. It’s not staged. This is just where you’re staying,” you observe. That makes him smile in a way you’re not expecting.

“Good eye,” he agrees. “Now for my question. Do you fuck all your targets?”

“No,” you say shortly.

“Why even agree to go on a date with me, then?” he presses.

You sigh and sit further back into your chair. Take a piece of fruit from the table to buy yourself some time. “I don’t know. It wasn’t a good decision, obviously. I wasn’t even sure you were my target. There was just…something about you.”

“So you’ve never fucked a target before? I’m special?” he asks with a smirk.

“I didn’t say that,” you respond. “I just don’t usually fuck a target without clearing it first.”

“Who knows you’re here with me?” he asks.

“Nobody,” you answer. It’s too honest.

You’re not sure if you should have admitted that and even less sure if he’ll believe you. It is the truth, though. Nobody in the world knows where you are right now. It’s kind of a crossroads for you because Wonwoo isn’t dangerous. He’s never been violent, as far as your information shows. Despite being physically separated from your bag, you’re not exactly unarmed. And yes, he does look like he’s in shape, but you’re still confident that you can take him if it comes to that. Once again, your mind is running through a million calculations a second as you realize you definitely should have talked to Seungcheol.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” he admits.

“How’s that going?” you ask sarcastically.

“Not as well as it would normally,” he says. It’s something else that’s honest between the two of you. More honest than you’re expecting. “Most people are too easy to figure out. It’s boring. Nothing about you makes sense to me.”

“And what about me is so difficult for you to figure out?” you ask, still lacing your words with sarcasm.

“You know, despite me figuring out that you’re after me, you’re actually the best agent that they’ve ever sent. You fit into your role seamlessly. You’re just the right amount of charming. You blend into your surroundings because you don’t try to do anything to dull yourself. Against my better judgment, I am impressed. And yet, you still decided to come on the date. You’re clearly the best they have and you’re still here,” he says, gaze soft but analytical on you.

“I’m going to keep my mouth shut,” you say carefully.

“Why?” he asks.

“You disarm me,” you admit. “I know so much about you and yet, here I am. Unwilling to leave even though you know what I’m here to do.”

“Do you still want to turn me in?” he asks.

“Are you going to disappear into the wind the second I walk out that door?” you counter.

He regards you for a moment. A moment too long, really. It makes you squirm in your seat. This isn’t going at all how you would have imagined. “No.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I’m waiting to see how this whole thing plays out. You haven’t said that you want to turn me in. I can see you’re conflicted about it. So, I’m going to see how this plays out,” he answers. He holds up a hand when you open your mouth. Seems to predict you’re going to ask why again. “Because…okay, look. I know this is really weird. I know you’re here to try and find me. But, you’re actually interesting and that sex was fucking good. So, I don’t know, call me cocky. I’m not ready to let you walk away just yet.”

“If I can walk at all,” you grumble.

“You were walking just fine from the bathroom. Maybe I need to really make sure you can’t walk,” he muses.

The eye contact is too much and you turn your head away. You’re positive he’s onto you, especially when you carefully cross your legs. It’s just that he’s right, isn’t he? You can sit here and pretend that you only slept with him to keep him close while you tried to figure him out. Can say that it was all just part of the job and you didn’t enjoy it. Can say that you wanted to take a different approach since nobody else has been able to catch him.

That’s also very clearly a lie.

Seungcheol likes to know what his agents are up to, particularly when it comes to agents like you that deal with secret missions. Since you started as friends before he had to retire to his desk, he’s also very protective of you. He hates it when you suggest using your charm on a target like this. So, no, this isn’t just another target. This is something else entirely. You have to admit that you actually enjoyed it. That you would like to do it again. That you actually don’t even want to leave his room because you’re not convinced you’ll ever see him again. Which is really stupid, isn’t it? You should not care if you never see him again. Unless it means that you failed your mission. That’s not why you’re worrying about never seeing him again, though.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth and say something else, your phone chirps from your bag. It’s a sign. You know it is. The sound is tied to Seungcheol. Which means he’s looking for a check-in. Which means you’re late, something that never happens with you. You’re standing up to get your phone before even realizing it. Wonwoo’s eyes track your movements.

Cheol: hope you’re enjoying your trip! Send pictures when you can

It’s code. Sent through a normal message so that it doesn’t look suspicious. And so that it gives you the chance to ignore it if you’re not in a place where you can answer him. You don’t even hear Wonwoo approach as you’re mentally calculating how to respond to this.

“Is that code?” he asks and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his low voice by your ear. God, nobody should have a voice like his.

“It’s my handler, I guess you could say,” you answer.

“Are you going to call him?” he asks.

“He’ll worry if I don’t,” you say and realize it’s true.

Wonwoo steps around you to grab his own phone and then returns to his position at the table. “I’ll be quiet if you want to call.”

There’s something kind of hot about how he says it. Like he doesn’t actually want to let you leave. Or like it’s an order to stay. You’re not sure if you’re reading too much into it. When you look over at him, his eyes are on his phone, but his lips turn up in a smile. He knows your eyes are on him and he’s still playing a game. A game that you just might lose, for the first time in your life.

With a sigh, you shake your head and just fire off a text in response. You don’t have it in you to call Seungcheol and you also aren’t exactly sure what to say. He’s always been able to read your tone like it’s his own. After telling him you might have a lead, he’s going to know something is wrong. This is going to be a problem.

You: it’s been amazing, i’m loving each new thing i get to see in person. I’ll have some pictures to show you tomorrow!

It’s a signal that you’re not going to have anything new to share with him tonight and not to contact you again until you check in the next day. You’re not really sure if this is the right decision, but you need time to clear your head. This is the only way that you can see getting that. It’s too hard to think about making a decision when Wonwoo is still half naked and looking at you like you’re prey. At least you can assume that you could take him if you needed to. Thankfully, he’s not really looking at you like that kind of prey.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” you say.

“And what will you do tonight?” Wonwoo asks, looking up at you.

“I’m all yours, at least for tonight,” you say.

You’re surprised the look he gives you doesn’t melt you into the floor. “I can work with that.”

The next day brings more confusion than the night before. At least you’re back in your own hotel room and out of the intoxicating orbit of Wonwoo. The downside is that you couldn’t leave his bed without agreeing to lunch plans with him. Both of you wanted to get breakfast together, but hadn’t been able to get out of bed in time for that. You turned down his offer to just buy you new clothes so you wouldn’t have to leave his sight. Thankfully, he does seem to understand that you need a minute to process everything in the last 24 hours. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind.

That’s not what you need to focus on right now, though. You don’t have any more messages from Seungcheol, which is what you expected. Still, you need to call him before he doesn’t something to check on you. Like sending Chan to your hotel with some made up story. You don’t want to put anyone in that position. You also don’t really know what you’re going to say. When you left Wonwoo’s hotel room, he made it clear: the choice was yours. He wants to see you again and he also knows that he’s asking a lot. Too much, probably. So, he’s giving you a choice. If you show up at lunch to meet him, then you’re at least willing to get to know him a little more before deciding anything. If you stand him up, then he’ll know you can’t agree to that. It’s a major gamble for him because you know what he looks like and his real name. You have more than you need to put an end to years of his hard work.

Nothing in your life has prepared you for this. Not really. Sure, you train for missions and you perfect your skills. But, emotions have never been part of it. It’s always been so easy to separate your humanity from your job. Kind of like you just switch of anything that makes you normal and go into mission-mode. You once compared it to being an actor because you’re just playing a part. None of it is real and none of it is really your decision. This is uncharted territory for you.

Once you catch your breath, you pull a device out of the secret pocket in your bag so that you can connect it to your phone. It’ll scramble the signals and make the line secure so that you can call Seungcheol. It’s a bit of normalcy that you’re craving in the madness around you.

“Finally, I’ve been worried,” Seungcheol answers.

“I answered you right away,” you point out.

“Yes, to say that you would not be calling me,” Seungcheol presses and you sigh.

“Because I don’t have anything new to report,” you say without even realizing when you made the decision. The lie flows so easily. “I’ve been cataloging everything on everyone I see at the museums and galleries. Cross checking the names coming into the country. Surveying anyone that sticks out as I check things out.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Seungcheol cuts in.

“I’m here to find him, though,” you point out. You’re not sure why you’re doing this.

“I know,” he says. “But, I’d rather you be safe.”

“I’m always safe,” you lie. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“I know, but I also know you’re competitive,” he says. “Remember, we’ve already sent no less than 6 teams to find him and they’ve all failed.”

“I don’t fail, though. That’s why you sent me,” you say. You’re not even sure why you’re arguing with him.

“Just be careful. What happened with that lead you thought you had?” he asks.

“A dead end,” you say with a practiced sigh. “Does the intelligence say he’s still in the city?”

“I can’t imagine he’d leave without taking anything,” Seungcheol says.

“Good point,” you say. “I’ll keep looking.”

“Do you want me to send back-up?” he asks.

“It’s your mission,” you say noncommittally. “If you think it’ll help and we can still fly under the radar, then by all means.”

“I was thinking of Chan since he’s still kind of in the area,” he says.

“Ah, yeah, I’m not sure,” you admit.

“You’re right, I know. I do want you to formally meet him soon, though. But, definitely not mid-mission,” he agrees. “Just be careful and keep me updated. If it goes on too long, we’ll just pull you. Maybe he got spooked.”

“Yeah, that works,” you agree.

“See you when you’re back,” he says.

“See you,” you answer and hang up.

It feels awful to lie to him, of all people. He’s one of the only people that you’ve ever trusted in your life. The only one that knows exactly who you are, knows all your demons, and still accepts you. He knows just how many people are six feet under because of you, knows the ways you’ve had to use your body, knows the lies you’ve told and the people you’ve hurt, both physically and emotionally. He knows all your scars and he accepts it. Because you know all his scars, too. It sucks to lie to him.

Sometimes they say that indecision is still a decision. That’s where you are now. You can say that you haven’t made a decision about what you’re going to do with Wonwoo. You can say that you’re waiting for more information. But, in a way, you’ve made at least one decision in his favor. You didn’t tell Seungcheol that your lead turned out to be the art thief himself. No. Instead, you’re showering and getting ready to meet him again, about to make yet another decision. Maybe you were always going to agree to lunch rather than stand him up. He’s got a lot to lose here too. It’s far more complicated than it should be.

Your head is a little in the clouds by the time you leave your room to head down to the lobby and out into the comfortable winter air. If you spend a little more time than strictly necessary making sure you look nice, well that’s your business. The only drawback is that you don’t have Wonwoo’s phone number, at your own insistence, and so he may think you decided to stand him up. That worry lasts as long as it takes for you to reach the lobby. That’s where you see him, sitting casually in an armchair with his eyes locked on you. There’s no reason for the way your heart skips over such a simple outfit. It’s just a t-shirt and a leather jacket. Why are you nearly losing your mind?

“What are you doing here?” you ask and he gives you the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. It probably even puts your own smile to shame.

“I took a chance that you would decide in my favor,” he says and stands up.

“Confident,” you say, “but still, I was supposed to meet you at the restaurant since I hadn’t decided.”

“It’s a date. I’m picking you up,” he says and surprises you by placing a gentle kiss on your cheek .

“Isn’t that chivalrous of you,” you comment while trying to convince your heart to stop beating out of your chest.

“Shall we?” he asks and motions for you to walk ahead of him.

The chivalry doesn’t stop at picking you up at your hotel, unfortunately for you. He opens the door and then gently takes your hand. There’s a hand on your back when you step around him. He puts himself between you and any traffic. It’s the best anyone has ever treated you and you hate that you’re even noticing that. Now, you’re thinking that you should have stood him up for an entirely different reason.

Lunch feels like the most normal thing in the world. The real reason for being in this beautiful city doesn’t come up at all. Instead, you talk about life and interests. The type of music and food that you like. What you do in your free time. It’s exactly what you imagine first or second dates to be like. Not that you have much experience with actually dating.

It only gets deeper from there with Wonwoo telling you more about himself. Not about how he really makes money, but it certainly helps you understand how he got involved and how he stays under the radar. As it turns out, he comes from a lot of money. He doesn’t say it in a way that sounds like he’s bragging. It makes sense, though. Everything about him screams old money, which fits the profile you put together. The way he carries himself, the way he speaks, the way he dresses. It doesn’t feel like someone that’s made his money from stealing art. You learn that he’s involved in a lot of charities, which surprises you a bit. You also learn that he sponsors students in a video game design program in his home country. There’s so much more to him than stealing art. In fact, that seems to be such a small part of who he is. It’s more than a little surprising, which is odd since it’s usually so hard to surprise you. It’s clear that he’s grown up around art. All this time and he’s just been hiding in plain sight.

The two of you sit at lunch for so long that the servers finally, very politely, indicate that it’s time to leave. It’s never been this easy to sit with someone in your entire life. It’s a level of comfort that you should absolutely not feel with someone like Wonwoo. But, you can’t help it. You can’t help the way you feel around him. Can’t really fight the feelings that keep threatening to bubble up.

The roads aren’t nearly as busy when you walk back towards your hotel. Even though it’s a tourist city, it still quiets down in the mid-afternoon when the local businesses close down. The tourists seem to use the time to also relax or take advantage of certain monuments being quieter. It lends itself to the comfortable silence that settles around you and Wonwoo on the walk.

When you reach the lobby, you turn to face Wonwoo and your breath catches a little. The sun in July isn’t as strong, but it still provides a backlight like he’s some sort of dark angel. Which sounds insane, even if your head. There have been so many beautiful people in your life, yet this is the one that has you forgetting how to put words together. It’s like he knows exactly what you’re thinking when he steps into your space and takes your face in his hands. He kisses you so fiercely that you forget your name. It’s the kind of kiss that doesn’t look like much from the outside, but changes your entire world on the inside.

“Well how am I supposed to go back to my room and leave you now?” you ask against his lips when he pulls back. You can feel the smile on his own lips when he kisses you again.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he whispers.

“No,” you whisper back and kiss him again.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he says.

That makes you pull back sharply so that you can search his face. Does he realize how that sounds? It makes you wonder if he means more than just tonight. What is he trying to do to you? How many ways can one man make you reconsider everything you stand for? Nothing about his face looks smug or even insincere. In fact, he looks the way you imagine you feel. A little smitten and a lot unsure of what to do next.

“And what would I do instead?” you ask, though you have an idea where he’s going.

“Go pack a bag of some of your things and come stay with me for the next few days,” he requests. It’s just bordering on a demand, even though it’s clearly your call.

“Are you crazy? We barely know each other,” you protest without much heat.

“What better way to get to know each other?” he counters. He grabs your hips, pulling you close to his body so he can wrap his arms around you. “And think about it. I can see you’re still not sure what you want to do. If you’re with me, you’ll know where I am at all times. I can’t get into any trouble while you’re still deciding.”

“I suppose you do make a point,” you concede.

“I have never done anything this reckless in my life. So, I’m just asking for a chance,” he shares.

It’s a little insane for him to say this is the most reckless thing he’s done in his life. Surely, stealing art is crazier than this. Which would make you lean towards not believing him if it weren’t for the voice in the back of your head. That little voice that agrees with him. You’ve put your life in danger more times than you can count, but saying yes to the man in front of you feels like the most dangerous idea yet. Maybe it’s because you know it’s not your body you’re putting on the line, but your heart. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what he means too. That he’s never taken the chance to chase someone like this. Or maybe you just want to believe that you might be special.

All you can do is nod at him and watch the smile that breaks across his face. It’s honest, unguarded. It’s real. There’s nothing behind it except genuine happiness that you agreed to spend the next few days with him. Before you can second guess your decision, you give him one more kiss and nearly run up to your room.

Being separated from him gives you the chance to actually catch your breath. To focus on what you need to bring with you. Since, apparently, you’re not going to reconsider if this is actually a good idea or not. You know you should. You know that this is another one of those moments that you chalk up to indecision when your actual decision could not be any louder. Again, you’re reminded of what you’re doing here. What you’re supposed to be doing here. This man is your enemy. He’s the person you’re supposed to be arresting and bringing into The Agency to face sentencing. You’re a good agent. You always put the mission ahead of yourself, your thoughts, your beliefs, or even your relationships. This isn’t a version of yourself that you recognize and it should stop you in your tracks.

Instead, you decide which dress to pack away and what pair of shoes looks best. For the first time in your life, you’re diving in first and asking questions later. Or never.

It shouldn’t be surprising that you end up naked in Wonwoo’s bed minutes after crossing the threshold to his hotel room. Not with how things have gone so far for the two of you. Yet, what is surprising is that the sex is even better than the night before. You’re catching your breath, tucked into Wonwoo’s side, body tacky with sweat but so impossibly happy. His hand that’s around you absently traces patterns into your skin. It’s honestly like you’ve known him for years. It’s insane to realize how comfortable you feel when that’s not something you ever experience. Not like this.

It’s also shocking to you how much this man wants to share with you. He carries on your chats from lunch as if he hadn’t just fucked you into his mattress yet again. Like this means more than some dirty sex holed up in a hotel in a foreign city. Makes you feel like you might actually mean something to him, which is a very dangerous feeling to have. Both of you know that this can’t mean more than what it is. At least, you think you know that and you think he might too. But, there’s a clear understanding that you won’t talk about it. Not now, at least.

Wonwoo decides that he wants to take you somewhere fancy for dinner. The type of place that you would never consider going to while on a mission. Though, you’re always prepared for anything. When you were packing up your things in your hotel room, you even grabbed a couple nicer dresses. All they needed was a quick steam, which the hotel staff had been only too happy to accommodate. Any protests about it being too much fell on deaf ears. He was set and the two of you were going to a famous restaurant. All you had to do was shower and get ready. Your dress would be ready by the time you needed it.

It’s clear you don’t really understand the limits to Wonwoo’s wealth, if there even are any, when you arrive at the restaurant. It’s the kind of place where you usually need reservations well in advance. It’s not the kind of place you can just show up at. Despite that, the host leads you back to a semi-private area where you’re tucked into a corner booth. It’s clearly one of the nicest tables in the place. You think you catch Wonwoo sliding the host something when he shakes their hand before he turns back to you. All thoughts go out the window when he slides in right next to you, not leaving any space.

Wonwoo’s Spanish really is very remedial and so you help him decipher the menu and order. It gives you pause when there aren’t prices anywhere on the menu, but he’s quick to wave off any concerns. Insists that it’s his treat. You don’t want to think that’s something you could get used to. It isn’t like you have any real trouble affording nice things. Your salary is high and you don’t have much to spend money on. This is a different level, though. It’s even different from the times you’ve gone on a mission and charmed your target. That always feels temporary. Like you’re something of an imposter. You don’t get those feelings here with Wonwoo.

Letting him pick out which outfit you wore may have been a mistake. You discover this once you get your drinks and the waiter leaves you alone. His hand rests possessively on your thigh, against the bare skin of your leg exposed by the slit in your dress. His body is angled towards you and he’s encouraging you to continue telling your story. But, he has to know he’s distracting, too, with the way his hand slides further up your thigh. What started as arguably innocent ventures quickly into dangerous territory.

“You were saying?” he prompts. His hand is inside the fabric of your dress now, keeping you from pressing your thighs together like you want to.

“I, uh…” you stutter as he digs his hand into the soft flesh there. “Wonwoo, aren’t you worried?”

“About what?” he asks innocently.

“Getting caught,” you hiss and look down at your lap.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not worried,” he says and you glare at him, “because you’re going to be good for me and be quiet.”

“I don’t know…” you start and stop as soon as his pinky grazes along your entrance through your panties. “Fuck.”

“Doesn’t seem like you actually want me to stop,” he points out.

“I, fuck, you know I don’t but there are people,” you say softly.

“I paid good money for this table. I don’t think we’ll be disturbed,” he tells you.

“I…” you start. When he pulls his finger away, you nearly whine.

“I need to hear you say you want it,” he says.

“What?” you ask, a little louder than you intended.

“Use your words,” he directs and you glare.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, earning a chuckle out of him.

“Not yet,” he retorts.

“Fine, yes. I want your fingers inside me here in this damn restaurant,” you say.

He’s expecting this answer. It’s written all over his face. This time, he doesn’t tease you. Doesn’t waste any time because you may not have much of it. He simply pushes your panties to the side and slides his first finger into you. The angle doesn’t make it easy but his fingers are long and slender, like they were built for something like this. It’s hard to keep from making a sound, so you try to do anything to distract yourself from the way he pumps into you. Or the way he adds a second finger so quickly.

When you pick up your drink to take a sip from the straw, you watch his eyes on you. They seem to darken the second that you wrap your lips around the straw. His fingers pump into you even faster. And his lips are demanding on yours when you set the drink back down. You moan softly into his mouth without really considering if anyone is paying attention or if they can hear you. His tongue tangles with yours frantically while he tries to get you off right in that booth.

This is new for you. You definitely didn’t think you would get so turned on by the fact that anyone could walk back over to see what you were doing. Anyone could hear the noises you’re making. Anyone could figure it out. When he feels that your pussy clenching around his fingers, he pulls away from the kiss. Leans his forehead against yours so that he can whisper filthy things in the space between you. Tells you how good you feel and how he loves watching you when you’re about to come. Moans about how tight you are. How pliant you are for him. Reminds you to be quiet. Tells you he can’t wait to taste you on his fingers. That’s what finally pushes you over the edge.

Your fingers grip the edge of the booth underneath you as you come hard and fast. He lazily guides you through it and then follows through by bringing his fingers to his lips. It’s so hot that you consider asking if you can just leave and go back to the room to be fucked properly. But, then your stomach rumbles and you think better of it. It’s only another few minutes before the first course arrives with a slightly knowing look from the waiter. After that first course, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean up, at least a little. You deem your panties ruined and just remove them, tucking them away into your bag. You’ll have to be a little more careful the rest of the night.

This dinner is somehow even better than the first and it has nothing to do with the place being expensive, though the food is definitely amazing. You also don’t think it really has anything to do with the way Wonwoo fingered you under the table. That’s definitely a first for you. Exhibitionism hasn’t been your thing before, but maybe he’s got you learning new things about yourself. It had only taken him a minute to realize that you weren’t wearing underwear anymore. It definitely took him another minute to regain his composure.

The thing that actually makes this dinner better than the first is the man across from you. With his walls down, the entire night just feels that much more. It’s one of the only times you’ve ever felt your own guard come down. It’s not smart and you don’t care. You think you probably look a little punch drunk to anyone that can see your table. Then, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes again and think he probably looks the same. You never really have the chance to enjoy dates, but even if you did, this would still probably top them all. It’s all the little things. The way Wonwoo carefully brushes a strand of hair out of your face. The way he offers you a bite off his own plate when you say it looks good. The way he brings your knuckles up to his lips and presses feather light kisses to them.

“Are you going to insist on ordering dessert here too?” you ask after the main course.

“I was thinking we might have dessert back in our room,” he says and you raise an eyebrow.

“Our room?” you question.

“Don’t test me,” he cautions.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say and lean into him to press a slow kiss to his cheek. Your hand brushes over his lap as a way to get closer.

“Is this you not testing me?” he asks when your hand brushes across his lap again.

“What? You can make me come on your fingers but I can’t tease you a little?” you ask innocently.

Wonwoo grabs your hand and anchors it on your own thigh. “We’re getting out of here and then you can show your appreciation however you want. We don’t need to give them more of a show.”

It seems like it takes an eternity to pay the bill (which Wonwoo doesn’t let you see) and get a cab back to the hotel. The promise of something else simmers between you the entire time. Wonwoo keeps a hand on you the entire time. A hand on your lower back out of the restaurant, fingers intertwined with yours in the cab, an arm around you walking into the hotel. When you get into the elevator, he pulls you back against his chest as more people join. He masks it as affection and presses a kiss to your cheek, but you feel the desire beneath it.

The moment you cross into the room, you slip out of your shoes and turn around to press a kiss to Wonwoo’s lips. The tension between the two of you is thick and it’s hard to remind yourself to come up for a breath. He overwhelms every one of your senses. There’s nothing but him in every corner of your brain when he kisses you like that.

It’s almost embarrassing when he breaks the kiss and you chase his lips. “How about dessert?”

“I thought that was just your way of saying…” you start and he directs your attention to the table. There’s an assortment of fruit, whipped cream, and melted chocolate there.

You’re a little hesitant when he starts to walk to the table. It just feels incredibly intimate, which is true for a lot of what's happened with Wonwoo. But, this still feels different. It feels like more, once again. Wonwoo realizes that you’re not behind him and turns back to you. He closes the space between you yet again and places a hand on your cheek, impossibly soft.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asks.

“I’ve never done…this,” you say softly into the quiet between you and him.

“Pretty sure we’ve already fucked several times,” Wonwoo says to lighten the mood.

“No, I mean, this…I don’t know. The desserts and the whipped cream and chocolate. It just feels, I don’t know, intimate,” you admit.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he assures you.

It’s absolutely insane that you’re hesitating. It doesn’t have to be some super intimate thing. It’s not like Wonwoo hasn’t already seen every inch of you and gotten to know your body better than anyone should in that period of time. But, this is far beyond the point where you can convince yourself any part of this is for the mission anymore. This isn’t just to keep him close. This is no longer indecision, as much as you want to pretend that it is.

“Is this your go-to move, then? Have a bunch of sweets delivered to the hotel room and seduce people with being all gentle?” you ask.

“I’ve definitely never done this before,” he says and it’s too honest.

Instead of answering him you just kiss him because it’s the only answer you can think of. Somehow, knowing that this is different for him too makes it feel less overwhelming for you. You drag him back towards the table until you’re leaning against it. Your back arches into him as he licks into your mouth. His hands wrap around you to keep you tight against his body. He pulls away again and you’re ready for it this time.

Wonwoo reaches an arm behind you and dips a strawberry in some of the chocolate. He brings it to your lips and watches intently as you get your mouth around it. The first bite sends a little bit of juice and chocolate over your lips. Just as you’re about to wipe it away, Wonwoo pulls the remainder of the strawberry back and kisses it away. It’s like that one action unlocks any hang ups you have. You twist around to scoop up some whipped cream with your finger. Your eyes lock on Wonwoo as you slowly lick it off. With it still in your mouth, you kiss him hard, enjoying the way your tongues dance and the tastes.

The two of you take turns dipping fruit and feeding it to each other. The kisses become more and more desperate in between feeding each other. It’s a little messy, though, so you unbutton Wonwoo’s shirt and slide it off his arms. He undoes your dress to slide it off your body, removing your bra along the way. You rid him of his pants and briefs as well so that you’re not the only one standing there naked.

When you reach back to get more fruit, Wonwoo grabs your hand to stop you. There’s a question in your eyes that he leaves unanswered as he moves things out of the way behind you. Then, he’s sitting you on the edge of the table and reaching for the whipped cream, which also answers your question. He puts some of the topping on your breast and sucks into your skin to lick it off you. Your legs part on their own as you lean back on the table to encourage him to get closer. He swirls his tongue around your nipple before softly nipping at your skin. Without warning, he bites into the flesh of your breast and laves over the spot to soothe you.

Food should not be this sexy. Maybe it’s just that it’s Wonwoo tempting you, but you’ve never been this turned on. His tongue is everywhere across your breasts and your stomach. Covering you in kisses while also licking the whipped cream or chocolate off of you. Your nails scratch down his back each time he nips into your skin. Somehow the sensations are everywhere all at once. You wrap your legs around his waist to anchor him closer to you.

“I need you inside me,” you whine out with Wonwoo kissing along your neck.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” he asks into your skin.

“Feel for yourself,” you encourage.

Wonwoo pulls away from your neck and looks at you with lust. He presses his fingers to your mouth and you suck them in without even thinking about it. They’re sweet as you swirl your tongue around them. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

As if it’s confirmation, he ruts against you, seemingly hard just from all the making out and the food. You pull his fingers from your mouth and guide them to your already dripping pussy. He’s not the only one that’s gotten insanely turned on. As soon as you guide his fingers through your folds he groans again.

Neither one of you is in the mood to wait and he doesn’t waste any time angling his hand so he can pump his fingers inside you. Just presses two fingers right in and adds a third to try and open you up. It makes you scream out, praising his fingers with how quickly they work you over. He removes his hand entirely too quickly and you’re whining at the loss. Wonwoo runs a hand along his cock, pumping a couple times and catching some of the precum to spread it along his length. It’s not enough, but you don’t really care right now.

“Please, Wonwoo, I need you,” you beg.

“Feeling a little desperate, princess?” he teases, that cocky smirk back on him.

“Just fuck me already,” you whine.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything else, just lines himself up and presses his tip into you. It stretches you out and you’re a little surprised that he goes so slowly. Then, you realize that it feels like more when he’s inching into you like this. His eyes watch you for any signs of discomfort. He leans forward and catches your lips in the neediest kiss of the night when he bottoms out in you. You lean back onto your elbows, bringing him along with you. The kisses get sloppier as he starts to thrust into you.

He pulls away from you to reposition and presses your leg up so that he can get deeper. You let your leg fall over his arm so that you don’t have to hold it up. The moans between the two of you are loud enough to drown out the sound of skin on skin as he fucks into you hard. You can’t help it, though, and you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Look at me,” he directs roughly.

You moan in response but tilt your head back towards him. It feels like a chore and that’s when it occurs to you. Taking hold of his free hand, you move it to your throat. For a second, his eyes go wide and his pace slows. He’s searching your face for a clue before he grabs your throat a little more forcefully.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes, fuck,” you groan out. “I’ll tap you if it’s too much.”

“You’re so fucking hot,” he utters, flexing his fingers on your throat.

Somehow, Wonwoo seems to know the perfect amount of pressure. It’s just tight enough that it makes it a little harder to breathe, but not so much that it’s actually choking you. He seems more comfortable than when he did it the first time. It also makes it easier to keep your eyes on him the way he wants. Everything feels heightened and it’s entirely too soon that you’re rushing to your high. You clench your walls around Wonwoo and he fucks you harder, groaning at the increased tightness.

“Gonna come all over my dick again?” he asks and you moan.

You can’t really say anything and you don’t want to. This is all you need. Your hand winds down your body and you look at Wonwoo with a question in your eyes.

“Go ahead, baby, touch yourself,” he directs you.

Asking for permission to do anything is unlike you, but there’s something about wanting to please this man that drives you to all sorts of new things. You rub your clit in time with his thrusts and it seems like only moments pass before you’re tipping over that edge.

Heavy breaths eventually subside to find Wonwoo slowly, almost lazily, fucking into you. His hands are now both on your hips as he waits for you to come down. You sit up with him still inside you and kiss him, slow and full of all sorts of unspoken things.

“You really are fucking amazing,” you say, voice a little hoarse. “You can move faster.”

“I was thinking we might need to get into the shower,” he says with a smirk, pressing a finger to your skin. You’re about to object when you watch him pull it away and it sticks.

“Maybe I can take care of you in there, then,” you say and kiss him softly.

His eyes seem to light up a little at that. He slides out of you gently and walks slowly into the bathroom. You meant what you said. Shower sex is definitely not your thing because it’s never as sexy as people make it out to be. It can be slippery and there aren’t really any good positions. That doesn’t mean you can’t help him out a little.

Wonwoo has other ideas first, it seems. Once the water is warm enough, both of you get in and he lathers up a loofah to gently wash all the stickiness from your body. It’s gentle in a way you’re not expecting and impossibly thoughtful. You relax against his back with his arms around you while he makes sure all the remnants are gone.

When you’re clean, you turn around to face him and kiss him hard. The water falling on your back creates the perfect sensation with the heat between the two of you. He gathers you against his body, hands sliding down to grip your ass. It’s all you can do not to melt right on the spot. You think that you could probably kiss this man for the rest of your life and never get bored. Or never fully prepare yourself for the way it makes you feel.

You drop to your knees and take his cock in your hand. He leans back against the wall of the shower as he looks down on you. It’s crazy to you how turned on this man gets (or stays) just from kissing or skin contact. No matter what, his body always seems to be ready for you. You run your tongue along his length and swirl your tongue around the tip. You’re impatient and you know he’s been waiting, so you don’t waste any time before you suck him into your mouth. You relax your throat and swallow as much of his cock as you’re able to, alternating between bobbing and hollowing out your cheeks.

“You look so good looking up at me like that,” he groans.

You hum around his dick and Wonwoo grabs the back of your head to anchor you there. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes before he releases you and you can get a breath. Even in this position, you can tell that you actually have control over this man. It’s a great feeling since he’s been in control every other time. His hips buck when you suck him back into you. It’s definitely a powerful feeling. The groans also tell you what you already know, you’re good at this. He’s putty in your hands.

With a few more bobs, he’s coming down your throat and then slumping back against the shower wall. It doesn’t stop him from helping you up off your knees. You pepper light kisses along his collarbones before he surprises you and pulls you into another kiss. It’s never been your experience that a man wants to kiss you like that, but he doesn’t shy away.

“We better get out of this shower before we run through all the hot water,” he says between kisses.

“You’re right,” you say with a sigh.

The two of you step out of the shower and Wonwoo is quick to wrap you up in a towel. It takes everything in you to tell your heart to calm down. You know Wonwoo feels all the same things you do. Even if he's not free with vocalizing his emotions, his actions tell you exactly what he’s thinking. If you know where to look, that is. You’re realizing that you definitely know where to work.

Twenty minutes later, your skin care routine is done and you’re curled up in bed in one of Wonwoo’s oversized t-shirts. You know your alarm is going to be too early tomorrow since you need to check in with Seungcheol, but all you want to do tonight is curl up and talk more with this incredibly interesting man.

Something seems to shift now that you’re holed up in Wonwoo’s hotel room with him for the next however many days. Before, he seemed hesitant to talk about the real reason you two crossed paths. You’re not sure what causes the change or why he trusts that you’re not going to just turn around and burn him. Maybe it’s just that you haven’t done it yet.

“What made you want to start stealing art?” you ask while the two of you are sitting outside on the balcony. This room really is too nice. It almost makes it hard to leave and explore.

“I don’t know if it was that I wanted to steal art,” he chuckles.

“Okay, how did you start, then?” you ask with an affectionate eye roll.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” he says with an uncharacteristic shyness. “I guess, I don’t know, I grew up in this house where nobody ever seemed to care what I was doing. I stole the first piece from my parents and sold it off to someone I’d met at this underground club. I figured my parents would catch me and then at least I’d have their attention for a minute.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t catch you,” you comment.

“They didn’t even notice it was gone,” he says with a chuckle. “How old were you?” you ask.

“16,” he answers immediately.

“So you’ve been doing this…?” you start, doing the math in your head.

“12 years, yeah,” he says. “It took awhile to get to the point I’m at now. I think for a while I was figuring that my parents would somehow catch on and give a shit about my life. By the time I was 19, I was really good at it and I’d made a lot of contacts. I still moved in all those circles so I never looked out of place at a gallery or a museum. Nobody looked twice at me.”

“Did it ever get lonely?” you ask and Wonwoo regards you for a moment. “I just mean that you were still part of all these circles. You still went to all these parties and it seems like none of them knew you at all. You were hiding in plain sight because nobody knew you well enough to see it.”

“I had the networks of people that I sold to or accepted jobs from,” he says.

“But everything I’ve ever seen says that you rarely met with those people in person. It was always online contact and leaving pieces somewhere after the money had been wired,” you share.

“I guess your agency got a few things right,” he mumbles.

“It sounds loney,” you say sympathetically.

“I wish you were a little less observant,” he says like he’s trying for a joking tone.

It’s immediately obvious that he’s a little tired and definitely lonely. You can’t really imagine that type of life. Sure, you’ve been working on your own or with a single partner for your entire adult life. But, you’ve still been part of an organization. There are people that know you at your core. There are people that you can turn to when everything in life feels like it sucks. No matter how bad things get, you know there are people out there who can support you.

Almost involuntarily, a series of images pop into your head. Wonwoo in a suit at a charity gala, the type of person that everyone wants to approach. You can imagine people whispering behind their hands about going to speak to him or ask him to dance. Maybe trying to approach him at the bar. Then you see him just as clearly at home afterwards, alone and sitting on his couch with a drink in hand. You see him perusing a museum to get the lay of the land so that he can steal it later. Once again, alone. You see how he probably sits at home communicating with all his potential buyers.

Wonwoo reads the look on your face and assures you that it’s probably not as bad as you’re imagining things. Yes, he admits that he’s lonely sometimes and that he’s alone more than he’s with other people. It’s hard for him to let anyone in. He doesn’t want to have to account for his time or trust that they won’t blow his cover. There’s nobody in his life that he can be totally himself with, at least not until meeting you. But, he insists that it hasn’t been so bad. Mostly, he prefers to be on his own anyway. He likes the quiet and the solitude. Likes to be able to enjoy his down time however he likes. He gets enough socialization when he goes to events as he’s expected to.

Which brings up a question. After over a decade of doing everything solo, why has he trusted you with all of this now? His answer comes more immediately than you would expect, yet it makes sense. You have something to lose here, too. Possibly even more than he does. After all, there have been a lot of teams that have been close to unraveling his mysterious identity. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be tracking him down. Not spending time locked away in his hotel room with him. That brings you up a little short because he’s right and you’re not planning on going anywhere.

He admits that you intrigue him. All his life, Wonwoo has appreciated a good puzzle or a good challenge. You present both to him, though it hasn’t been as much of a challenge to get you to give him a chance as he expected. It is a challenge to try and unravel you. To try and figure out what made you say yes to the date and what makes you stay now. You also meet him on a level that nobody ever has before. You nearly blush at the way he describes your intelligence and how he feels more turned on by your brain than anyone before. Normally something like that would make you cringe. But, somehow Wonwoo makes it sound both sexy and endearing. You’re just as challenged by him, too, so maybe you get it.

It also brings up some very conflicting feelings in you because it’s a reminder that you have a life entirely separate from him. You have a life that doesn’t allow you to account for this time. At some point, you have to make a final choice. It’s way too late to just turn Wonwoo in without any sort of repercussion. It’s too late to act like this is all just in the name of bringing down one of the most difficult targets you’ve had to track. In the name of getting to know Wonwoo better, you’ve also shared a lot about yourself. A lot that someone like Seungcheol would be able to clock immediately as being true. Every moment you stay with Wonwoo makes your future more complicated. Things are already too hazy.

“Okay enough heavy stuff,” you declare and stand. “Let’s go do something.”

“Such as?” he prompts.

“We’re in a beautiful city, let’s go see some of it,” you suggest.

Wonwoo wants to take a minute to actually plan something, but you veto that. He’s definitely not the spontaneous type, which you figured out before you were even sure who he was. It makes more sense now, knowing who he is. So it feels like more of a win that he relents and agrees to just go with the flow. It’s not as if you’ll be flying totally blind anyway. You did a lot of research before coming down for the mission and you know a lot of the places to see, both tourist places and some that are off the beaten path.

Once you’re outside of the hotel room, things feel different in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. Everything in the hotel room feels real in the sense of getting to know each other. The conversations can be heavy and there’s that constant need to rip each other’s clothes off. Being outside exploring a foreign city feels real in an entirely different way. None of the conversations are heavy since you’re just appreciating the sights. But, you and Wonwoo trade off in taking pictures of each other (or even snap some together) and it feels like a glimpse at another life. It isn’t a fantasy world because it does feel real, but it doesn’t feel like an actual reality either. It almost feels like a mission you’re on where you and him would pretend to be a couple. You have to remind yourself this is actually a mission and you’re running around with your target because Wonwoo isn’t your partner.

When you’re in Plaza de Mayo, you take a step back to allow Wonwoo to purchase something to eat. It’s too cute to watch him stumble through his Spanish, constantly looking over at you as if asking for help. All you can do is smile as he mixes up hombre and hambre. The older woman putting the food together only smiles softly. There’s something incredibly cute about watching this stoic man get flushed over ordering in another language.

The next few days follow mostly the same pattern. You wake up earlier than Wonwoo so that you can pretend to work on the mission and actually check in with Seungcheol. Wonwoo pretends that he’s still asleep sometimes. Other times, he gets up and works on his own things. It’s cute that he’ll do anything to make it seem like you have privacy. Breakfast in the room always comes next because it’s an easy way to get ready for the day.

The days themselves are all a little bit different. You see the Piramide de Mayo, the Floralis Generica, the monuments to Juana Azurduy and General Jose de San Martin, Teatro Colon, the planetarium and several other interesting sights. The planetarium is a personal favorite of yours because it’s just kind of weird in an affectionate way. It’s hard to truly pick a favorite though because each new stop teaches you more about the local culture. It’s the kind of place that just makes you want to fall in love with it. There’s so much beauty and so much to appreciate. Each new stop also seems to involve learning something new about Wonwoo and somehow him trying his hand at Spanish again, only to fail. You’re wondering if he does it just to entertain you.

While you’re seeing all the tourist spots, you take time to see the things the locals recommend as well. Sometimes that’s hole-in-the-wall food places or stands that someone mentions. Other times it’s a park that’s too out of the way for tourists. Even other times still, it’s a hidden access point to the beach. Thankfully, it’s still cool out and getting Wonwoo to agree to the beach isn’t difficult. You idly wonder what it would be like to try and get him to visit the beach in January when it’s the dead of summer.

You want to try as many local dishes as you can while you’re there, too. Given his way, Wonwoo would probably eat in the hotel room just as much as out of it, but you don’t know when you’re going to get this chance again. So, even though he’s worn out from spending so much time around people, he lets you drag him out again every night. He even seems to enjoy himself.

At the start of whatever this is, it was always you asking Wonwoo all the questions and trying to volunteer as little about yourself as possible. You’re still an agent and you’re still supposed to be after him. The least you can do, while you’re totally ignoring your mission, is try to better understand Wonwoo and his motivations. Even if you don’t end up turning him in, it's an invaluable experience to get to look into the mind of a criminal. When will you get another chance like this? When will you be this close to someone to ask personal questions? No part of you even considers that he’s lying to you. You’re positive that he answers everything truthfully.

Somewhere along the line, it shifts. Maybe because you know everything you want to know about the man across from you. Or maybe because you genuinely feel comfortable about him. Either way, he’s the one that’s asking you questions now. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t want to know anything about your work. He doesn’t seem to care about any of that. There’s a nagging thought that thinks he might just be trying to make you comfortable. You try to quickly brush it away, though, and just answer any of the personal questions he asks. Wonwoo wants to know the simple things like where you grew up, what your family was like, and what you wanted to do when you were younger. The things that allow him to really know you. It’s terrifying.

By the time you get back to the hotel that night, you’re exhausted. It feels like it’s been a never ending span of days in the best way. You collapse on the bed without changing. All you manage to do is take off your shoes. Wonwoo leans over you and kisses you, softly at first. But, like every other kiss with him, it leaves you gasping for air after a minute.

It’s amazing how he seems to take your breath away and even more amazing how he always seems like he’s ready to tear your clothes off. You’ve never had someone like him in your life. But, that also brings you back to reality. Wonwoo asked you to give him a few days staying in his hotel room. It’s definitely been longer than that without either of you seeming to notice. There’s a level of comfort that neither of you talk about given that this all has an expiration date. And that expiration date is rapidly approaching.

Staying with Wonwoo turns out to be longer than either of you planned and neither of you has a complaint about it. You’ve been checking in with Seungcheol every morning and Wonwoo pretends not to listen. It’s been like living in a little bubble where reality isn’t a concern.

That’s just the thing, though, isn’t it? This isn’t real life, not for you. This isn’t something that lasts long term or that you can even sustain. The reality is still there. Wonwoo is one of the most infamous art thieves to ever live and you work for a secret agency tasked with bringing criminals like him to justice. You’re not exactly sure what the last however many days have been. All you know is this is just a break from reality. A brief glimpse into an alternate life that can never be. It’s been amazing and something you won’t ever forget. You’re hoping that you’re both on the same page about that, at least.

“I should probably go back to my hotel today,” you say.

Wonwoo looks up from across the room where he’s reading while you pretend to work on your case. It helps to at least log in to the system. “To get more stuff?”

“I can’t stay here forever,” you point out.

“No, I expect at some point we’ll leave and head to the next place,” he agrees with a shrug.

“We?” you ask, eyebrows flying up.

“Yes, we,” he says like suddenly you’re slow on the uptake. “I’ve got a few places in mind that I’d love to take you, but it’s really up to you.”

“Wonwoo,” you start and your heart sinks.

You are definitely not on the same page. Probably not even in the same book, if you’re honest. Everything over the past days with him has been amazing. The perfect little escape from your reality. But, that’s all it’s been: an escape. Or maybe that’s all you’ve let yourself think it was. Anything else seems like entirely too much. His face drops as he watches you.

“You’re not coming with me,” he realizes.

“I didn’t even know you would want me to!” you state, too loud for the space.

“How could you not? I’ve been telling you all the places that I wanted you to see,” he says and that hits you harder than a physical blow. He’s been giving you all the signs that this isn’t just a bubble.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” you point out.

“Clearly,” he says, voice thick with disappointment.

“Wonwoo, come on. It’s not like I can just, what? Run away?” you say.

“Oh, no, there’s a whole life waiting for you back at your precious agency,” he says with derision.

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” you plead.

“And I’ve shown you that there’s more to life than whatever this is for you,” he counters.

“I can’t just leave them,” you say with a shake of your head.

That seems to make Wonwoo angrier than you expect. “No, of course not. How silly of me. You have to get back to your handler that so clearly loves you.”

“Seungcheol does not love me. We’re friends, sure, but that’s it,” you disagree.

“Let’s pretend that’s true and it’s normal for a handler to speak to you the way he does. Or that it’s normal for him to worry so much about your safety. Who are you going back to apart from him? Who’s waiting for you?” Wonwoo asks.

The questions wash over you like acid rain. Painful and harsh and unrelenting. The worst part is that he’s right. You have wondered if there are some feelings there from Seungcheol. You also don’t have anyone waiting for you. It’s really a half-life, if you’re being honest. Less than a half-life, probably. The past few days with Wonwoo are the most alive you’ve felt since you were a child, before joining the agency.

“I can’t just…this is my job, Wonwoo. And you’re an art thief. A very famous one and…” you start.

“Have I stolen anything here?” he asks and that brings you up short.

“Well, no, of course not. You’ve been with me,” you say simply.

“And I will leave this city without stealing. I will switch careers entirely if it’s that important, though it doesn’t seem like it is since you haven’t turned me in,” he says and it’s almost like he’s talking to himself. “I’ve been all over the globe trying to feel something. Trying for anything. I started stealing because I could. I wanted to get the attention my parents never gave me. I kept going because I was looking for a challenge, which it is, at least sometimes. I was looking for someone, I think. Then, I find you and you’re everything I didn’t know to ask for. But, you’re telling me some job where you can’t even have a life is more important than this? That my job, which I’m completely willing to give up, is too much of a barrier?”

“I have a life,” you scoff.

“Really?” Wonwoo challenges and folds his arms. “When was the last time you went on a real date? Not with a target, but a real date just with someone you wanted to know? When’s the last time you let yourself just breathe and explore a city? When’s the last time you did something just because you wanted to?”

“Plenty of people are married to their jobs,” you begin.

“I thought you were brave, you know,” Wonwoo muses. “I thought you were someone who would realize how rare this is. It’s not like everyone is lucky enough to meet a person that completes them like this. I guess I was wrong. I guess all I was really good for was fucking you and that’s all it was.”

“Of course that’s not all it was,” you disagree. There are tears threatening to spill over. This isn’t at all how you imagined it going. You weren’t prepared for him to try to fight for you. “The last few days with you have been everything I never thought I’d experience. But, it hasn’t been real, Wonwoo. It can’t be real. Life doesn’t work that way.”

“Why can’t it?” he fires at you.

“Because I don’t deserve it!” you scream, tears finally streaming down your face. “Because you don’t know my scars. You don’t know the things I’ve done. You don’t know the mistakes I’ve made. You don’t know that I have demons that are constantly chasing me.”

“I’m a fucking criminal,” he points out. “Who am I to judge?”

“Exactly,” you agree but rush to finish your thought before Wonwoo can interject. “You don’t…question the decisions you’ve made. You stand on everything you’ve done. But, you also do so much good with charities and helping students and just giving back. Plus, I’ve looked at your crimes. You only ever stole from the rich to sell to other rich people.”

“Yet you still were sent to chase me,” he points out.

“Yeah, who do you think pays our salaries?” you ask flatly. “My point is that…I don’t know. I’m standing here across from you and I feel like I’m the infinitely worse person in this situation.”

“It really can’t be that bad,” he reasons.

“I’ve taken lives, Wonwoo. More than I can count. And without even questioning if our reasoning was solid for taking them out. I’ve used my body in ways that I may never recover from, thinking it was my choice at the time. I’ve done what I was told and I’ve been good at it. Too good, maybe,” you say. You’re talking to yourself more than him at this point. “I’m the one they send when they don’t want a record. I’m the one they send when nobody else can do it. I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life training and doing what I was told. It’s given me scars that you can’t see and won’t ever heal. All I know is this. They’re not just going to let me go. And even if they did, you don’t deserve all the baggage that I come with. You’re not a bad guy.”

“And you think you are? A bad guy?” he asks.

“I know I am,” you say.

“That’s all you are if that’s all you see, but I see so much more,” he argues.

“I still can’t just ask them to walk away,” you press.

“I wasn’t suggesting that you ask,” he says. “You deserve a chance to start fresh. To see what you can be without the weight of the world hanging over your head.”

“I don’t deserve anything more than what I have now,” you disagree.

“What about love? Do you deserve that?” he asks, changing directions.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“And me? Do I deserve love?” he asks.

“Yes, without question,” you answer immediately.

“So give me the chance to experience love,” he begs. “I never thought I’d love anyone and I’ve never taken this kind of chance on anyone. But, I’m asking you for a chance. Just one more.”

There’s so much tension in the air between you. So many things still left unsaid and so much emotion. The air between you and him seems to crackle. A storm brews behind his eyes as he waits for you to answer him. It seems insane to think that he could feel that for you after such a short time. But, really, what do you know? You have unquestionably never been in love before, not really. There’s never been the time or space for it in your line of work. Relationships never seem to get deeper because you’re always keeping secrets. Can’t ever tell them what you really do for work. And then there’s Wonwoo. He knows so much about you already and even though it’s barely scratched the surface, it’s still more honest than you’ve ever been. He doesn’t want to run away and that scares you more than any mission you’ve ever had.

It’s just…it’s too much to decide now. You spend your whole life having to make split second decisions, yet can’t about this. Don’t have the data that you have on missions. Don’t know the pros and cons. It’s uncharted territory. It’s scary in a way you’ve never experienced. You’ve stared down the barrel of too many guns and this still feels infinitely more terrifying. Maybe he can love you after such a short amount of time because he seems to realize what you’re going to say before you say it.

“Don’t,” he says softly when you open your mouth. “I’m going to leave the day after tomorrow. I’m going to set the flight to leave at 1 in the afternoon. That gives you time to change your mind.”

“And if I don’t reach you before then?” you ask softly.

“Don’t ever expect to find me again,” he says with a finality that surprises you. When you meet his gaze, it’s harder than you’re expecting. “I really care about you and I’d love you to come with me. But I know how stubborn you are. It’s part of why I love you so much. So I’m leaving my heart open until the day after tomorrow. Then it’s over.”

“You’re an amazing person, Wonwoo,” you say and press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve challenged a lot of my ideas about right and wrong. I’ll never forget that.”

“I’m not accepting this as goodbye. I’ll still hope to see you before I leave,” he says and presses the gentlest kiss to your forehead.

Your throat is too tight to say anything in response to that. All you can do is gather up your things and head out of the hotel room. Everything in your body feels tired from the unexpected heaviness of the conversation. It hurts to see Wonwoo looking so hurt. As crazy as it sounds, you do mean that he deserves the absolute best. You also meant it that made you rethink a lot of your preconceived notions. You actually questioned things for the first time in your adult life. Despite all of that, you still walk right out of the hotel room.

You spend nearly every minute after walking out of Wonwoo’s hotel room considering his offer. Go as far as scheduling your flight out of Buenos Aires for the same time as his. Genuinely, you’re not sure what you want to do. At least Seungcheol understood failing the mission. Somehow, he still sees it as a win that nothing was stolen from anywhere in the city while you were there. He assumes that your presence somehow spooked the notorious art thief. Thankfully he doesn’t realize just how right he is.

The biggest surprise is that Chan, the slightly overeager agent from the flight down, will be meeting you when you get on the plane. He’s only wrapping up a second mission that popped up in the area. The Agency is sending him along so that you can debrief about your actual mission and start looping him in going forward. Apparently, as great as you are and as (almost) perfect as your record is, the agency still wants to have someone for you to work with when you need them. Since that can’t be Seungcheol, he’s recommending a promising younger agent. This apparently also includes you being the one to tell him all of this yourself.

The airport is busy when you get there, an unsurprising side effect of planning flights during the afternoon. There’s also the fact that private planes have to leave from the international airport, which is always somewhat packed. Getting through customs and security is surprisingly smooth and soon you’re going to have to face your literal crossroads.

In one direction is the familiar. Nothing about working for The Agency is easy. There’s a sense of routine to it, though. A sense of generally knowing what your days or weeks or even months will look like. You know how to make coffee in the shitty break room when you’re actually on site (a rarity). You know how to play nice with the other agents. You know how all the tech works. And you’re good at the missions themselves. That’s just to say you don’t have to learn anything new. You’re lucky enough to have a semi-boss that you get along with. There’s a sense of routine to everything from mission briefings to flights to the missions themselves. There’s comfort in knowing you don’t really have to make the decisions. Sure, you have to figure out which course to take on the ground with a mission. But, that usually only means picking option A or B. All of the possible courses of action come in the briefing. You just have to evaluate the factors and figure out which pre-determined option fits best. It’s easy. As fucked up as it might be to admit, you like doing something that you know you’re good at. It’s nice to get praised for constantly succeeding. It’s the easy decision.

And in the other direction…well, it’s the unknown. Being with Wonwoo has been nothing short of the best feeling of your life. The most alive you’ve ever felt. It’s kind of crazy but part of you thinks you may love him. Can see how the whole future plays out, even if it’s not crystal clear. The two of you could start over somewhere new where he doesn’t have to steal art and you don’t have to chase criminals with questionable methods. Both of you have the funds (even if he’s better set up) to start over. Both of you clearly have the skills to disappear into the wind, too. It’s not like your legal name exists anywhere anymore. Very few people even know it, not that you would go back to it.

It’s easy to get lost in the daydream. As much as you love the sun of Buenos Aires, you can’t imagine Wonwoo in a place like that during the actual summer. Everything about him makes you think of somewhere cooler, somewhere that you’re not constantly sweating. That would let you take breaks to sunnier weather. Places where you could soak up the sun while he took refuge under an umbrella, watching you with all the affection in the world. Actually, you can picture visiting a lot of places with him. He would be the perfect travel partner to see all the beautiful corners of the world that you’ve never been able to appreciate. It’s like going somewhere for a business trip. You’re there working, not to appreciate everything around you.

There’s something kind of poetic about being at an airport as an actual crossroads in your life. It’s like you can get on a plane going anywhere. Quite literally, since you’re not sure where Wonwoo’s plane is going. Not that it really matters. If that’s the path you pick, then it’s for him rather than the destination.

The only question left is whether you’re ready to leave your entire life behind. Are you ready to say goodbye to the agency that saved you? Are you ready to cut yourself off from the few people who actually know you and accept you as you are? Can you live without having any closure on that part of your life? Would you feel guilty that Seungcheol would be left with a million questions about what happened to you? Or would it hurt you to know that he would blame himself for your disappearance somehow? Then again, maybe he would know, on some level, that you just finally reached the point of needing to walk away. That’s something you and him have talked about before, in the early hours of the morning after too much to drink. What would you do if you could walk away from this life? What would life after The Agency look like?

With a deep breath, you pick your path and you don’t look back. That’s the only way you know you’ll have the strength in your decision.

i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it! please reblog or comment and let me know 💕

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rafeandonlyrafe · 9 months ago

Text

pink princess

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only!!, smut, p in v sex, female receiving oral, girly!reader, violence, blood, rafe beats someone up, kelce is the bad guy in this D:

“i just don't get it rafe.” kelce shakes his head.

“what?” rafe mumbles, barely paying attention to his friend. even topper seems barely interested, both too focused on the football game playing on the television.

“how you could date a girl like y/n.”

your name has rafe snapping to attention, turning to glare at kelce. “what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” rafe has only been your boyfriend for a couple months now, but he wouldn't question beating the shit out of his friend if he insulted you.

“don't get me wrong, the girl is nice and all. i like her she's just so… girly.” kelce says like it's an insult. “she only ever wears pink, she's all sweet and innocent. she's just not your type, that's all. im surprised.”

you let out a little sound, all of the boys attention snapping to you, kelces eyes widening when he realizes you have entered the living room.

“baby.” rafe coos softly. “come here.”

you cross over to rafe, rounding the couch to plop on his lap, keeping your head down to avoid looking at kelce.

“don't listen to him, princess.” rafe says softly, his voice so sweet, in contrast to the scared look on kelces face. “you're exactly my type.”

“shit rafe, i-i-didn’t mean-i didn't know she was-”

“get the fuck out.” rafe says, voice still soft as he pets his hand over your back, hating the pout that graces your sparkly gloss painted lips.

“rafe-” kelce tries to argue.

“no. get the fuck out. you're lucky im not beating your ass into the ground for upsetting my girl. now get the fuck out.”

kelce scrambles, rushing out of tanneyhill as the game continues on the tv, topper rightly deciding to remain silent.

“baby, talk to me.” rafe says softly, seeing tears still brimming in your eyes.

“im fine.” your voice is hoarse when the words finally escape your mouth.

“darling.” rafe sighs, tugging your bodies closer together, letting your head bury in his shoulder, not caring if you leave makeup stains on his shirt.

rafe knows the best thing to do is just let you breath, not wanting to work you up more with his words as his hand strokes over your back, hoping it's bringing you some sort of comfort.

“i had no idea he felt that way.” you finally pick your head up. you weren't close to very many girls, so when you and rafe started dating, you tried to quickly assimilate into his friend group and consider his few friends yours as well.

“he's just being a dick. don't worry, alright bunny? you're absolutely my type, and i love how girly you are, mkay?” rafe waits for you to nod and agree with him before he pulls you into a kiss, topper keeping his eyes trained on the tv while you make out.

“you ready to go princess?” rafe calls up the stairs, tapping his foot against the wood floor, waiting for you to finish getting ready to attend the gala he promised his dad he would be at.

“coming now!” you say before rushing down the stairs, but still being careful not to trip in your heels.

“you look gorgeous, honey.” rafe admires your outfit. its a new dress, or at least one that he hasn’t seen before. rafe takes your hand in his as you finish your descent, frowning when he realizes the glittery polish that was on your fingers has been scrubbed off, replaced with a creamy white that matches your dress, the only pink thing on your body being your lipstick.

“is that what you are wearing?” rafe questions.

“why, is something wrong with it?” you frown as you look down at your body.

“no-no.” rafe shakes his head. “not at all baby its just… very formal.” he figures the wording is better than blatantly asking why you’re not covered in pink and sparkles.

“well, it’s a formal event.” you roll your eyes, heading towards the door, not wanting to give ward a bad impression, and you know you’re already running late.

“yeah, right.” rafe nods, but his mind whirls in secret, wondering if there could be more to your change in appearance than that.

“you're going golfing with top today right?” you ask, rubbing your fingers through rafes hair, massaging his head.

rafe knows you said something, but he's too relaxed to actually make out your words, struggling to blink his eyes open before humming, “what?”

you giggle at his blissed out expression, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “you're going golfing with topper later today right?”

“mhm.” rafe nods, letting out a soft moan when your long acrylics gently scratch over his scalp.

“maybe you can take me. ya know, i could learn how to golf. probably start with just putting.” you shrug.

“baby-” rafe has to take your hands and move them away, knowing he won't be able to focus on the conversation. “why do you want to learn how to golf? you hate sports.”

“that's not true!” you complain. “i like um… gymnastics and figure skating.”

rafe rolls his eyes “you like them for the sparkly outfits and music.”

you pout, moving yourself from straddling rafes lap to next to him on the couch. “aren't i allowed to be interested in the things you're interested in?”

“yes, of course.” rafe sighs, moving to kneel between your knees on the floor, taking your face in his hands, not letting you look away. “and if you really want to come, id love to have you. but if you are asking because you're trying to be less girly, then baby-” rafe leans in to press a kiss to your pouty lips- “i don't want you to change. i love you for who you are.”

“promise you don't mind?” your fingers play with the collar on his shirt, distracting yourself.

“promise.” rafe nods.

“okay, thank god.” you let out a giggle. “golf is so boring.”

you have your laptop and phone opened up, intensely scrolling as you switch between them, brow furrowed as you do your research.

“y/n-”

you slam shut the laptop and turn the screen off on your phone as rafe walks into the room.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions.

“nothing.” you smile at rafe. “just some online shopping.” you hope it's believable, but you can tell by rafes hesitation that he doesn't fully trust your explanation.

“okay…” rafe slowly approaches the bed, and you quickly move your laptop and phone to the bedside table as rafe crawls up next to you.

you distract him from asking more questions as you press your lips against his, pushing him to lay back on the bed as you grind down.

“ah, fuck.” rafe moans when you pull away, pulling your shirt off over your head to reveal that you aren't wearing anything underneath.

rafes hands cup your tits, massaging them in his large palms before suddenly flipping so you're the one laying down against the bed, completely forgetting about your suspicious behavior when he entered the room.

what rafe doesn't know, as he lowers down your body and flicks your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, is that you weren't online shopping, rather scowering through social media, trying to find all of rafes ex girlfriends or anyone he interacted with, all while you compared the girls to yourself.

you wish kelces words didn't still echo in your head, especially after rafes insistence they weren't true.

“gonna take a shower.” you tell rafe, setting your bags down in the foyer, knowing you'll get around to them later.

“you sure not a bath? i can run one for you.” rafe offers, following you up the stairs.

“nah, that's fine.” you shrug, frowning slightly when you see your display of lush bath bombs. you're trying to be less high maintenance, more easy going.

“come on, what if i wanna soak with you in the bath?” rafe pouts. “please baby.”

you can't help but giggle at his doe eyes blinking at you. “okay, sure.”

“good.” rafe hums before placing a hand on your waist, pulling you in for a quick kiss before he heads towards the bath, turning the hot tap on. you watch as he looks at your bath bombs before selecting a light blue bath bomb with star embeds.

rafe sets the bath bomb down on the edge of the large tub before turning to you. “what should we do while we wait for the bath to fill?” you question, tugging your ponytail out to let your hair fall.

“mmm, i know exactly what i want to do.” rafe says.

in only a few moments he has your shorts down, perched on the edge of the bathtub while his head is buried in between your legs, tongue licking greedy stripes over your cunt.

“missed you.” you whine, burying your face into rafes chest as he rocks gently, holding you tight to him.

“missed you too, princess.” rafe is relieved to finally have you back in his arms. hes been away for an entire week, and you came to the airport to get him despite rafe insisting that he was fine to get himself home. you just couldn't wait any longer.

you whine when rafe pulls away slightly, making him laugh and tug you back into him.

“clingy baby.” rafe coos, but the words make your cheeks hot as you pull away.

“hey, hey.” rafe grabs your hand, tugging you back against his chest. “i didn't mean it like that.”

“okay.” you whisper with a nod, tears brimming in your eyes. with rafe being gone, you spiraled even further, going as far as to befriend a couple of his exes to compare yourself even more to them. you also attended a party that kelce was at, and while he didn't speak at all to you, you could occasionally feel his eyes on you, disapproval in his gaze.

“love you so much bunny.” rafe says, rubbing his large hands over your shoulders. “let's get home so i can show you how much i missed you, yeah?”

you perk up as you nod, making sure your hand is clasp together with rafes as you head out of the airport and towards the parking lot, your keys hanging from your finger that isn't intertwined with rafes.

“here, baby.” rafe opens the passenger side door for you, but you frown and don't move towards it.

“you just got off a flight, rafe. i can drive.”

“nope.” rafe snatches the keys out of your grasp. “you're my girl, and as long as im here you have no need to drive yourself. now get in, my passenger princess.”

“ready for the party?” you ask rafe, adjusting your skirt as rafe walks down the stairs.

“of course.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips before looking down at your outfit.

“baby… is this really what you want to wear?” rafe asks. he likes any clothes you put on, but the black skirt paired with a plain white cropped tee, not even accented by any jewelry just isn't you.

“i just…” you swallow. “i just know kelce is gonna be there. wanna show him that i don't need to be wearing sparkly pink every second.”

rafe can't speak, the anger quickly rising when he realizes that months later you still haven't let go of kelces words, still worrying that you arent the right person for rafe.

“go put on a sparkly dress.” rafe simply says, not able to keep his voice soft, despite addressing you. you hustle upstairs, changing into the outfit you really wanted to wear, adding some jewelry and colourpop super shock shadow to your lid.

you bounce down the stairs, feeling much more yourself now.

“theres my pretty girl.” rafe says, his words sweet but his face still angry as he places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out towards his truck.

he speeds to the party as you sit there silently, playing with your rings, worried about what is going to happen when you get to the party, especially knowing kelce is gonna be there.

“rafey, don’t do anythi-” you tell him as he helps you down after parking, but you can’t even finish your sentence.

rafe eyes kelce standing on the front lawn, a red solo cup in his hand. he hasn’t spotted rafe yet, but you know as soon as he does the smile is going to drop from his face.

rafe begins to stalk towards him while you trail behind, grimacing when rafe throws a punch, landing right on kelces cheek.

“fuck you!” rafe shouts, shoving him back before kelce can even realize what is happening.

“yo, man, stop!” some guy you recognize but don’t know his name yells, but doesn’t try to get in the middle as rafe punches kelce again.

you can’t help the smile on your face, watching your man defend you throughout anything, even if it involves turning one of his close friends into a bloody pulp.

“y/n… it’s gone on long enough, stop him.” topper comes up behind you, making you jump.

you turn to look at him before back at kelce, eyes glazed over as rafe shouts at him again. you rush to rafes side, grabbing at his fist. “okay, okay.” you tell him softly. “he gets it.”

rafe steps away as kelce falls to the ground, his chest heaving as his lip and nose drip blood. “let this be a lesson.” rafe turns to the crowd that has grown. “no one shit talk me or my girlfriend or this is what happens to you.” rafe points at kelce, not giving another word before stalking away, literally grabbing you and picking you up to carry you back towards his truck. you stay quiet as rafe sets you in the passenger seat.

“are your knuckles hurt?” you ask, petting your hand gently over his wrist as rafe shifts the car into gear, rushing away from the party.

“i’ll be fine, baby.” rafe says, glancing at his reddened fingers. “just need to get you home.”

“oh.” you nod, knowing that while rafe got some of his anger out on kelce, he’s certainly going to get the rest of his pent up energy out on you.

it takes minutes from the time you get home for rafe to have your back flat on the bed, his large cock thrusting into you.

you moan out, hands gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving scratches against his tanned skin.

“you’re. my. fucking. girl.” rafe says, accentuating each word by pounding his cock inside of you.

you let out a moan, kelces mean words thoroughly beat out of your head as you nod. “im yours.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

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winterarmyy · 2 months ago

Text

A Fucking Treasure

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: A date gone wrong? Same old, same old. But, having Bucky pinning her against the wall, now that’s new.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 6.1k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, fingering, nipple play, marking kink(?), multiple orgasm, praise kink, dry wet humping, cum eating(?), p in v, going in raw, creampie and well you know me, i can’t write smut without some sort of angst or fluff, so yeah, body insecurities, super sweet bucky but also needy and insatiable bucky.

Inspiration: i was mentioned by @mercurial-chuckles in her Smutty September Fest post and some of the prompts fit nicely with one of my wip. Btw, thank you for tagging me! I feel included 💕

Prompt number: #5 body worshipping + #16 accidental i love you’s during sex

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Bucky’s footsteps were heavy as he made his way to the kitchen, but the quiet hum of the refrigerator was enough to mask the sound of his movements. The dim light from the hallway barely reached the living room, casting long shadows across the area.

It has been a routine for him to wake up in the middle of the night, the nightmares of his memories haunting his sleep, dragging him back into the darkest corners of his past. He was used to it. But tonight was different. There were no memories clawing at him, no ghosts whispering in his ear. Instead, his mind was consumed by thoughts of her.

He wished to hold her, to feel the warmth of her skin against his, to trace the curve of her cheek with his fingertips. He longed to pull her close, to bury his face in the crook of her neck and breathe in her scent, to hear the soft, steady rhythm of her breath as she slept beside him. The thought of it sent a shiver down his spine; a yearning so deep it bordered on desperation.

So he decided to clear his head, avoiding letting his head stay in the gutter.

He let out a sigh, not one of sadness, but of suppressed desire, the kind that made his heart race and his cock stirred. As he reached for a glass, something caught his eye; a silhouette on the couch. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when he recognized the figure lying there, motionless, as if the day had been too much to bear.

It was Y/N.

Confusion clouded his mind. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

A few hours ago, she’d been dressed to kill, draped in that black satin dress that clung to her in all the right places. The sweetheart neckline framed her delicate collarbones; the softness of her cleavage was bare for him, and the high slit teased him with every step she took. He had admired her silently, his gaze dark with something he didn’t dare voice. The way the fabric had caressed her skin, the soft curve of her shoulders, the way the dress accentuated her body; he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

She was breathtaking.

They had made eye contact, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. His gaze was feral, full of unspoken want, yet his lips remained sealed tight, trapping the words he wanted so desperately to say. If she had super hearing, she’d have heard the low, approving hum that rumbled deep in his throat. But then, the moment shattered. His heart broke a little when he heard her mention to Natasha that she was going on a date. The words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him.

He had been sitting at the kitchen counter at that time, listening as Sam and Natasha hyped her up, teasing her about how lucky her date was going to be. Bucky stayed quiet, forcing himself to look away, fighting the jealousy that gnawed at him. It wasn’t fair; he had no right to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of her with someone else, someone who could give her everything he couldn’t; it was unbearable.

But now, she was here. Alone.

Sleeping on the couch in the same sinful dress that had driven him to distraction earlier. But the sight of her now was different. Her face was tear-streaked, her eyes puffy and red. It was clear she had been crying, and the sight of it twisted something deep within him.

Gently, he knelt to her level. He knew she was a light sleeper, so he approached with care, his metal fingers brushing softly against her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, and the moment they met his, they were filled with a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

Bucky's voice was a low murmur, intimate and tender. “What are you doing sleeping here, babydoll?”

Her cheeks reddened, the flush deepening as she realised he was seeing her at her most unfiltered state. The thought made her heart race, and the way he spoke, so close and personal, only made it worse. The intimacy of the moment was too much.

She gathered herself, sitting up with a sigh. “I didn’t plan to… I was just…” Her voice trailed off, and her expression softened into one of sadness as the memories of the evening came flooding back.

It had started off well enough. They had connected online, his messages charming and full of wit, making her think that maybe, just maybe; this could be something. But the moment she met him in person, she noticed a shift. The easy smile he’d worn in his profile pictures seemed a little tighter, the warmth in his eyes dimmed.

As they sat across from each other at the restaurant, she couldn’t ignore how his gaze kept drifting downwards. His eyes lingered a little too long on the exposed parts of her chest, his attention fixating on the stretch marks that she usually tried so hard to ignore. She had seen the change in his expression; the way his gaze hardened, a slight frown creasing his brow, followed by a low scowl that he probably thought she couldn’t hear.

Then, out of nowhere, he just left. No explanation, no goodbye; just a curt excuse about needing to use the restroom, and then he was gone, leaving her alone at the table with a half-finished meal and a hollow ache in her chest.

She knew why he left. She had seen that look before, the way his eyes lingered on her stretch marks, the way his expression shifted from interest to disdain. It was the same with most of the guys she went on dates with. The moment they saw the imperfections, they would withdraw, their interest waning before her very eyes.

She knew they hated the stretch marks on her skin, found them hideous. It was in the way their eyes would momentarily widen in surprise, followed by a barely concealed grimace. She could see the discomfort in their expressions, the way they quickly looked away as if trying to erase the image from their minds.

At first she always thought stretch marks were normal. It was human nature, a part of life, a testament to growth and change. She had tried to embrace them, reminding herself that they were natural, that everyone had imperfections. But each time she saw that look of disgust, it chipped away at her resolve, making her question everything she’d tried so hard to believe. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t normal. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to have them. Maybe there was something fundamentally wrong with her.

She didn’t even know how she got back home. The memory was a blur, a haze of tears and jumbled thoughts. She remembered crying, feeling the tears stream down her cheeks as she stumbled out of the restaurant. But the rest was an utter fog. Did she walk home? She couldn’t remember. The city lights and the sound of her own sobs were all that lingered in her mind. It was as if her body moved without her conscious thought, carrying her back to the one place where she didn’t have to pretend everything was okay.

Bucky waited, his eyes searching hers, but she remained silent, fidgeting with the fabric of her dress. He could see the sadness lingering in her expression, and it didn’t take much for him to piece together that the date hadn’t gone well. A part of him was furious; how could anyone make her feel like this? She deserved to be cherished, not hurt. If it were him… if only she were his… He clenched his jaw at the thought, forcing himself to stay calm.

But, he knew better than to push her to talk about it. Instead, he simply reached out and took her hand in his, his touch gentle yet reassuring. “You must be tired. How about we get you to bed, hmm?” he said softly, his voice filled with a warmth that made her heart ache.

She nodded, still too caught up in her thoughts to speak. They walked in silence, Bucky leading the way while she followed just a step behind. Her eyes drifted down to their hands; knitly intertwined. His hand felt warm, comforting in a way that made her wish she could stay like this forever. The truth was, she didn’t even know why she kept trying to go out and date other men when the one she truly craved was right here, holding her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

But then, the doubts crept in, as they always did. She was self-sabotaging, she knew that. She kept telling herself that she wasn’t good enough for him, that he could never truly want someone like her. Someone who didn’t have Natasha’s confidence, her grace, her perfect everything. Why would he look at her the way she longed for him to, when he could have someone like that?

Despite all her doubts, she couldn’t ignore the way his touch made her feel.

Safe.

Wanted.

Y/N almost bumped into Bucky’s back when he suddenly stopped. She blinked in surprise, realising they had already arrived at her room. “Oh, we’re here”, she thought to herself, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief. Bucky turned slightly, his gaze dropping to their still-intertwined hands before he gently led her to the door.

“Will you be alright, doll?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. His thumb moved in slow, comforting circles on the back of her hand, a gesture so natural it was almost as if he didn’t realise he was doing it.

She nodded, but her response was barely more than a whisper. “Yeah…”

She tried to sound convincing, but her voice wavered, betraying the turmoil swirling inside her. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, she was caught in the warmth of his gaze. Bucky looked at her with such tenderness, such genuine care, that it made the butterflies flutter wildly within her.

Bucky took a step closer, closing the small distance between them. His free hand reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face with pure adoration. As he touched her, his fingers lingered slightly, savouring the softness of her skin.

He took in every detail: her eyes, even puffy and red from crying, held a beauty that made his heart go mushy. The tears that had streaked down her cheeks were a testament to the raw emotion she was feeling, a vulnerability he wished to protect. Her skin was delicate, and the way her lashes brushed against her flushed cheeks. Despite the distress she was experiencing, she was still incredibly beautiful in his eyes.

Bucky’s gaze finally settled on her pink, pouty lips, he felt an overwhelming urge to press his own lips against hers, if not to comfort her, then to taste the sweetness that he imagined was there. The thought of kissing her once, just once; seemed to consume him. He couldn’t hold back any longer. “You’re gorgeous, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincere admiration, hoping to convey just how deeply he felt about her.

But Y/N’s reaction was not what he expected. The words, rather than warming her, seemed to chill her further. She didn’t think he was insulting her by blatantly lying to her face; she just couldn’t bring herself to believe that he truly meant it. It sounded to her like a polite gesture, just another way of saying something nice in the face of her misery; a form of lip service.

Her lips twisted into a small, almost imperceptible frown, and she quickly looked away, her gaze falling to the floor. It was as if her brain refused to process the sincerity in his tone, unable to reconcile his words with the image she had of herself.

She scoffed, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Yeah, thanks,” she said, unable to fully accept the compliment.

Bucky’s hand stilled on hers, his thumb halting its comforting motion as her response sank in. He was taken aback, not by any notion of insult, but by the realisation that she didn’t seem to believe the sincerity of his words. His brows furrowed with concern, and he stepped even closer, his body nearly touching hers. His hands came back to gently hold her face, tilting it up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet tender. “You are beautiful. You always are.”

He searched her eyes, silently pleading with her to see herself through his eyes. His tone was unwavering, full of the affection he felt for her.

But even as she looked into those blue eyes, the doubts that clouded her mind made it hard to fully accept his compliment. She couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that Bucky’s words were anything more than a kind attempt to cheer her up. The sincerity in his eyes was almost too much to process. Even if his compliments were meant to lift her spirits without fully reflecting his true feelings, she appreciated his kindness more than she could express.

A soft, fond smile appeared on her lips as she took in his earnest expression. “You’re so sweet,” she murmured, her voice tender. Gently, she stood on tiptoe, reaching up to pull him closer. With a delicate touch, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. Her lips lingered there for a brief moment, and she whispered against his skin, her breath warm, “Thank you for saying that, Bucky.”

Bucky’s heart pounded wildly in his chest as Y/N’s lips brushed against his cheek. The soft, lingering touch of her kiss, combined with the faint, intoxicating scent of her perfume, overwhelmed his senses. But when she pulled away, he felt a rush of heat flood through him, his control slipping.

Overcome by an intense wave of feelings, Bucky pulled her back to him with a force and urgency that surprised even him. As he did, he could feel the warmth of her soft body pressing against his own, her delicate form moulding perfectly against him. He snuggled into the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet, intoxicating scent, which seemed to envelop him entirely.

His lips found her neck, and he kissed her with a fervour that spoke of his overwhelming need. Each kiss was infused with a deep, desperate longing that he could no longer contain. Y/N didn’t push him away; instead, she clung to him, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, as if seeking comfort and reassurance in his embrace. The contact between them was electric, and the soft moans that escaped her lips only fueled his desire further.

When she leaned in closer, a low, guttural growl escaped Bucky. He responded eagerly as he sucked gently on her skin, enjoying the taste of her as his hands roamed over her back and sides, his touch possessive and desperate. His palms pawed at every curve he could reach, exploring her with a need that bordered on frantic.

Y/N’s moan was soft, a sound that almost drove him further into the depths of his desire. But as the sound of her pleasure reached his ears, reality hit him like a splash of cold water. He realised what he had done; his actions were driven by raw, sinful need rather than the tenderness he had intended; that she deserved. The realisation struck him hard, making him feel as though he had somehow taken something that wasn’t his to claim.

So he pulled away abruptly, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he stammered, his voice heavy with contrition. “I didn’t mean—”

But then, it was as if time slowed, allowing him to savour every delicate moment. As he pulled away, the sight that greeted him was almost more than he could handle. The tiny strap of her dress had slipped from her shoulders, revealing even more of the gentle curve of her cleavage, her doe-like eyes were fixed on him; hazed and heavy with emotion, her breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps, “Bucky��?”

The rush of desire he was so desperately trying to hold off, surged back through him, intensified by the vulnerability displayed before him. Bucky was barely able to maintain control. His heart raced, and the urge to be close to her again, to touch her, became nearly unbearable. In a moment of desperation and need, he guided her into her room, almost too urgent, too needy.

Once inside, Bucky pinned her gently against the door, his body pressing close to hers as he closed it with a soft click. His arms braced on either side of her, trapping her in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and electrified. The intensity in his gaze was palpable as he looked down at her, the hunger in his eyes undeniable.

“Fuck, babydoll,” he growled, his voice low and raw with yearning. “Please, let me touch you.”

His plea was a mix of desperation and want, a testament to how deeply he felt for her, even as he grappled with the boundaries he had momentarily crossed. The room was filled with an electrifying silence, broken only by the sound of their heavy breathing and the lingering intensity of the moment.

The voice she let out was almost too quiet, her tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. “You want to touch me?” The question was almost a whisper, her eyes searching his ocean blues for the truth.

Bucky’s response was immediate, driven by the urgent need that surged through him. When his body responded faster than his words. He pressed his hardened bulge against her thigh, the physical evidence of his desire unmistakable. “Hmm, I wanna touch you, kiss you… want you so bad,” he murmured, his voice thick with desperation and lust.

Y/N’s breath hitched at the feeling of him against her, and her own passion began to match his intensity. “Touch me, Bucky,” she breathed out, her voice trembling with a mix of eagerness and anticipation. “Want you too. Want you all over me.”

His response was immediate. Bucky crashed his lips onto hers in a passionate kiss, their tongues dancing together as moans and groans filled the space between them. He effortlessly lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and carried her to the bed. The heat between them was unfiltered, and as he laid her down, his hands were already working to strip himself of his clothes.

With a sensual precision, he unzipped her dress, whispering praises against her skin. But as the fabric slipped from her shoulders, revealing more of her body, she hesitated. Her hands moved to cover her breasts, instinctively hiding the marks she had always felt so self-conscious about. The events of the night had taken their toll, and though she wanted to believe him, doubt crept in.

Bucky noticed the shift in her eyes, the uncertainty that dimmed her earlier confidence. He paused, his gaze softening as he gently coaxed her. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, doll,” he murmured, his voice tender and reassuring. “You’re safe with me.” his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her skin as he waited for her to continue.

She hesitated, then took a deep breath, the words spilling out before she could stop them. “It’s just… the stretch marks,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “My date tonight, he left because of them. It’s happened before, and I—I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help feeling like they’re… ugly.”

Bucky’s heart twisted at her words, anger flaring briefly at the thought of anyone making her feel this way. But he forced himself to remain calm, to be the comfort she needed. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast, sending shivers down her spine as he tried to ease her worries. “Well, aren’t I lucky to have these all to myself?” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

She whined softly, her tone serious. “I’m being serious, Bucky.”

His expression sobered, his brow furrowing with concern. “So am I.”

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft yet firm, “...there is nothing ugly about you. Not your stretch marks, not anything. I’m so sorry those idiots couldn’t see that. But I do. And I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

He watched as her defences slowly crumbled, her eyes searching his; for any sign of insincerity, but finding none. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice wavering.

Bucky’s lips curled into a tender smile, “I’m very sure, Y/N. You have no idea how obsessed I am with you. All of you.” his hands gently pried hers away from her chest, revealing the parts of her that she wanted to hide the most. The sight before him made his cock twitch, arousal leaking from the tip as he took her in, completely captivated. “And these stretch marks?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper as his fingers traced over the marks on her skin.

Y/N’s body responded instinctively. A shiver ran through her, her breath hitching at the sensation of his touch. The warmth of his hand contrasted with the coolness of the air, making her skin tingle where he caressed her.

“Fuck, I love them.” His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as he continued, “They’re proof of how your body adapts, changes, grows. It’s like your skin’s telling a story, and every line, every mark, is beautiful.” He pressed a kiss against one of the marks, his lips lingering as he added, “You’re a masterpiece, babydoll, every inch of you.” His words were heavy with pure hunger, his admiration clear as he looked up at her, eyes dark with passion.

Bucky's breath was warm against her skin, the contrast between his sweet words and the raw hunger in his eyes sending a shiver down her spine. As he leaned in, his lips brushed softly over the stretch marks he had just praised, and then his kisses deepened, becoming more fervent. He trailed his mouth along the curve of her breast, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin before he began to suck, leaving his own mark on her as if staking a claim.

Her body responded instantly, arching toward him, a quiet whimper escaping her lips. The combination of his hot mouth on her breast and the cool metal of his fingers tracing circles on her other nipple sent shockwaves of pleasure through her. His metal thumb and index finger rolled the sensitive bud, each movement sending a jolt of sensation that made her gasp, her breaths coming in short, rapid bursts.

Bucky didn’t stop there. He switched sides, his tongue flicking over her other nipple before capturing it between his lips, sucking and nibbling in a way that made her toes curl. Every touch was deliberate, meant to drive her wild, and it was working. Her hands found their way into his hair, tugging gently as if to anchor herself to reality amid the whirlwind of pleasure he was creating.

As his mouth worshipped her breasts, his fleshed hand began a slow descent, sliding across her stomach and leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When he reached the edge of her panties, he paused, revelling in the moment before pressing his flesh fingers against the soaked fabric. A low, approving growl rumbled in his chest as he felt how wet she was for him, the sound vibrating against her skin and making her moan louder.

He started to rub her clothed pussy with agonising slowness, applying just enough pressure to make her hips buck toward him, seeking more. His thumb found her clit through the fabric, rubbing slow circles that had her whimpering his name, her body begging for more of his touch.

The dual sensations of his mouth and metal hand on her breasts and his warm fingers rubbing her pussy were too much. She was on fire, her entire body trembling under his touch, her mind lost in the addicting pleasure. Every nerve ending was alive with sensation, her moans growing louder as he increased the pressure, her body responding instinctively to the pleasure he was giving her.

Bucky, too, was lost in the moment. He groaned against her skin, the taste of her driving him insane. The way she reacted to his touch, the way she moaned his name, only fueled his desire. He needed more of her, needed to make her feel just how much he wanted her.

With a growl of pure need, he slid his hand under the waistband of her panties, and pulled the last piece of fabric off her. His fingers find her wet folds, slipping between them. "Fuck, babydoll, you're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice rough with passion. The way she responded to his touch only made him more desperate to worship every inch of her.

As his fingers moved inside her, Bucky’s thumb continued to circle her clit, the sensations pushing her closer and closer to the edge. His mouth and metal hand never left her breasts, continuing to tease her nipples until she was writhing beneath him. Her moans were desperate now, her body begging for release, and Bucky was more than happy to give it to her.

He pulled back for a moment, looking up at her with dark, adoring eyes. "You're so beautiful, Y/N," he whispered, pressing kisses along her chest. "I love the way you feel. Every part of you is perfect." His praises were soft, sincere, each word filled with pure admiration.

When he curled his fingers just right inside her, she arched off the bed, and he couldn’t help but marvel at her reaction. "Fuck, you’re incredible" he groaned, adding a second finger and feeling her tighten around him. “Love the way you taste, how you feel... hmmm, I need you so bad, Y/N” He was relentless yet tender, his every movement calculated to bring her to the edge of pleasure.

His lips found her breast again, tongue flicking over her nipple as he sucked and kissed her sensitive skin. His free hand never stopped caressing her, moving from her breast down to her stomach, then back to her other nipple, never leaving her wanting. "I wanna hear you scream for me, wanna feel you cum all over my fingers,” he growled between kisses, his words thick with arousal.

Bucky’s thick fingers worked inside her with deliberate intensity, each thrust pushing deeper into her soaked core. He pumped his fingers in and out of her, his movements rhythmic and forceful. With each thrust, her wet juices squirted out, dripping and mixing with his harsh movements. The slick sound of his fingers sliding in and out, combined with the feeling of her arousal, drove him feral. His pace grew faster, his fingers curling and stroking with expert precision, drawing out her moans and cries of pleasure.

Y/N’s body responded to every touch, every word, her hips grinding against his hand as she chased the pleasure he was giving her. She was so close, so desperately close, and when Bucky twisted his fingers inside her, in places she never was able to reach before, and her world exploded in a blinding rush of pleasure.

Bucky kept hitting that right spot inside her in every deep plunge of his fingers, until he could feel her tightening around him, her body trembling with the approach of her orgasm. His own need was growing unbearable, the taste of her nipples, the feel of her wet hole, driving him to the brink. He moaned against her breast, his voice thick with arousal as he told her how beautiful she was, how much he needed her, how much he loved the way she felt around him.

As her moans turned into desperate whimpers, he groaned in response. "That’s it, babydoll, let go for me. Let me feel how much you need this, need me," he urged, his voice thick with arousal. His thumb pressed harder against her clit, and his fingers pumped faster, pushing her closer and closer. “Cum for me yeah, fucking cum for me that’s it angel.”

“Buckyyyy”, She cried out his name, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she rode out the waves of ecstasy. Bucky groaned in response, feeling her tighten around his fingers, her pleasure only increasing make his cock throbbed with need.

He continued to move his hand, "So perfect. So fucking perfect." drawing out her orgasm until she was left panting, trembling beneath him. Only then did he finally pull his fingers from her, his hand wet with her arousal, and brought them to his lips, tasting her with a deep, satisfied groan.

Bucky’s own need was reaching a fever pitch, the taste of her, the feel of her soaking wet pussy gripping his fingers was too much to bear any longer. "Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you, can’t wait to make you mine," he moaned, his lips trailing down her body, leaving a path of hot kisses.

Bucky’s cock was almost unbearable as he pressed himself against her, his hard cock sliding between her drenched folds. Every night, he had fantasized about this moment, dreaming of the warmth and wetness of her body. So many nights, he’d ended up frustrated; his cum laid there wasted on his abs as he jerked off to thoughts of her.

Now, finally feeling her hot and wet against him, he was nearly driven mad with raging lust. He groaned softly, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. His cock, heavy and throbbing, glided between her folds with a hunger that bordered on desperation. Each stroke elicited a shiver from her, her body sensitive and responsive from their earlier intimacy.

Bucky’s movements were urgent and almost primal. He humped against her, his moans a testament to his pleasure. “Fuck babyyy, you feel so amazing," he rasped, his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. "You’re so fucking wet, Y/N. I’ve wanted this for so long, and it feels so. fucking. good."

Y/N’s has been a moaning mess under him, her body still tingling from the previous orgasm. The lingering sensations of his thick fingers inside her made every touch feel electric. Now, with his big, thick cock rubbing against her, her pussy twitched and pulsed in response.Each stroke was a jolt of heat, his tip bumping against her clit with every movement. Her hips trembled under his tight grip, her body reacting intensely to the pleasure.

Bucky’s moans were guttural, full of raw need as he lost himself in the sensation. "I’m not even inside you yet, angel," his cock rubbing insistently against her sensitive flesh as he panted, his voice trembling with desperation. "But, you feel so good, I’m gonna cum."

“Hmmm, Bucky… Bucky, please,” she whined, her voice trembling with need. “Feels so good… oh fuck! Cum on me, cum on me please...” Her words were almost incoherent, her pleasure overflowed from within, her body quivering and almost drooling from the way his cock was rubbing against her needy cunt.

Lost in his own world of lust, Bucky couldn’t get enough of her. He worshipped her pussy with a passion that left him breathless, his dirty talk coming out in desperate, needy groans. "You’re so fucking perfect, Y/N. I can’t get enough of you," he rasped. "You’re driving me insane. I want to mark you, claim you completely."

Their pleasure reached higher, each thrust and touch sending them both spiraling towards their orgasms. Bucky’s thrusts grew harsher, more insistent, as he chanted, “I’m cumming, doll. I’m cumming so hard.” His voice was raw with need, his body moving with a frenzied desire.

She was pleading, her voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. “Please, please, please…” Her words were breathless, each plea a testament to the intensity of their shared ecstasy. “I’m cumming, cumming on you baby, ‘m cummingg fuckkk,,”Bucky whined in absolute pleasure.

As they both came together, Bucky’s release was intense and overwhelming. His cock throbbed and twitched with every spasm, cum spilling endlessly from his tip in hot, thick ropes. Each pulse of his orgasm sent more of his seed dripping down onto her, coating her skin with the evidence of their union.

Even in the throes of his orgasm, Bucky continued to rub desperately against her twitching pussy, his movements frantic and unrelenting. “Still cumming for you, baby, paint you so pretty with my cum,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. The heat and friction were almost too much, his need to feel her and mark her as his luring him to continue. His cum painted a path up to her breasts, the warmth of it a vivid testament to his desire and dominance.

He marked her completely, his release a physical declaration of his claim.

As Bucky’s release subsided, he looked down at her with eyes still feral and full of desire. She lay beneath him, breathing heavily, her body still quivering from the intensity of their climax. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “So gorgeous, covered with my cream,” he murmured, his voice rough and slow. He lazily rubbed his still-hard cock against her swollen pussy, his movements deliberate and teasing. “Now I’m gonna paint your insides, then fill you to the brim.”

Her whimpers of need were barely coherent. “Please, wanna feel your cum inside me so bad,” she begged, her voice trembling with craving.

Bucky slipped inside her easily, his cock finding its way with a smooth, satisfying glide. “So fuckin’ tight, shittt,” he groaned, feeling the exquisite heat of her around him. His thrusts were powerful and deep, each movement sending waves of pleasure through them both. “Tight little pussy’s mine,” he growled. “You take me so perfect, baby.”

His filthy words gradually transformed into sincere praise, his voice softening with affection. “You’re so good to me,” he panted, his hands exploring her body with tender care. One hand played with her clit, rubbing it with a skilled touch that made her moan and writhe beneath him. The other hand teased her nipple, tugging it gently as he thrust harder and deeper.

And as Bucky continued to thrust into her, the sound of their bodies connecting was raw and unrestrained, each movement accompanied by the slick, wet noises of their joined pleasure. Despite the intensity, their dialogue remained tender and sweet. “I love you, Y/N,” Bucky whispered lovingly, his voice a mix of pleasure and adoration. “I love you so much, doll.”

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Normally, such words would be met with doubt, but the way his cock was filling her completely, the intense pleasure he was giving her, and the look in his eyes—filled with an earnest, almost desperate longing—made it impossible to ignore.

She moaned in response, her own voice trembling with emotion. “I love you too, Bucky,” she gasped, her words mingling with the sounds of their physical connection.

Bucky’s thrusts grew more deep and harsh as he neared his climax. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Y/N,” he groaned, his hands rubbing a tight circle on her clit and tugging at her nipple. “Now, take my fucking cum.”

When Bucky finally released inside her, the sensation was nothing he ever felt before. He felt so good his eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open. His cock pulsing and throbbing with each spasm of his orgasm. His endless cream was flooding her, and with every thrust, it leaked out, creating a hot, sticky mess. The warmth and thickness of his release filled her completely, and the sensation of it escaping with each of his movements made him groan in pleasure.

Even as Bucky reached his high, he continued to fuck her through it, each thrust pushing his cum deeper into her. “You take me so well,” he moaned, his voice thick with emotion and need. Her own pleasure was amplified by the sensation of his cum inside her, her body responding eagerly to each thrust.

Afterward, Bucky remained inside her, relishing the intimate connection. He carefully cleaned the traces of his cum from her skin, his tongue gently licking and slurping it clean. “You’re perfect, babydoll,” he praised between licks, his voice soft and affectionate. “So beautiful, so fucking amazing.” He took his time, his lips brushing against her with care. “I’ve never felt anything like this,” he murmured. “You feel so good, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

She responded with soft moans and shivers of pleasure, her body reacting eagerly to his touches. Each lick and gentle caress made her quiver, her breaths coming in quick, shallow bursts as she felt his adoration and need. Her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the sensation of being worshipped so completely.

Occasionally, Bucky would grind into her, savouring the way her pussy tightened around him, deepening his pleasure. “You’re such a fucking treasure,” he continued, his voice a blend of awe and desire. “I can’t get enough of you. You’re mine, and I’m never letting go.” She whimpered needily, her body responding to his movements with a mix of pleasure and longing.

He continued to move his hips against her, thrusting with a renewed sense of urgency and need. “It’s gonna be a long night ahead, baby,” he murmured, his voice filled with determination and passion. “I’m not gonna let you leave this bed until the only thing that leaks out of you is me.”

With that, he pressed into her once more, his movements both firm and tender, as he prepared for another round of intense, passionate connection.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Been collecting dust in my drafts for way too long. Now lemme hear your thoughts. Please? 🥹 And go send @mercurial-chuckles some love!

#smutty september fest 2024 #indulge with chuckles #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #avenger!bucky

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miley1442111 · 4 months ago

Text

accidents- r.cameron

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pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

summary: videos from the past resurface and it doesn't go well for your new relationship with rafe

warnings: kissing, toxic relationship, rafe is confused, cursing, drinking, suggestive mentions, mentions of rafe's addictions, mention of sobriety streak being broken, topper is an asshole, (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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Rafe slowly walked into your bedroom. He had no idea what he was doing there, and it scared him. God, why did Topper ever speak? None of this would’ve happened if he’d just kept his mouth shut.

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Three days earlier…

Rafe watched as you smiled at him across the crowded room. You were so beautiful, so radiant, so real, so his. Everyone knew you were Rafe Cameron’s girl, and in turn everyone knew Rafe was yours, even if you two hadn’t had ‘the conversation’ yet. Rafe wanted you more than anything, Rafe wanted you so much it had started to freak him out. He found himself being kinder, softer, and a lot more calm while he was around you, and even when he wasn’t around you. It felt good. Less people feared him. More people started to see him as a person, not this ‘unreal figure’ on the island. But Rafe was aware of what people said about you now that you two were together. He saw how some girls looked at you, he noticed how guys talked to you, and he always overheard people telling you that he fucked girls and tossed them to the side like they were nothing. He was just hoping that you wouldn’t listen.

The last three months had been nice, the dates and the parties, but you were getting impatient. You wanted to be Rafe’s girlfriend, not just Rafe’s situationship. Rafe was great, despite the rumours from other people, and he was 5 months clean next week. He was a good guy, you knew that, and that’s what mattered to you.

“Y/n!” Pope called you over as you scanned the beach for either Rafe or one of the pogues. He grabbed your hand and you ran with him, following as he led you to the outskirts of the party. It was a clear night and the stars were too pretty not to admire as you sat by the campfire beside your friends. Jokes were made, stories were told, and-

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice cut through the laughter and everyone’s heads turned. “I was wondering if we could talk?” His eyes were focused on you. This was awkward and uncomfortable for him. He had apologised, yes, but he was still hated by your friend group because of what he did to you and the rest of them. You’d gotten it the worst though, when he had stabbed you over the gold. You’d almost died. Granted, Rafe has apologised, but that was before you two started… whatever your relationship was, and you hadn’t brought it up since. You didn’t really want to considering the fact that when you two finally had sex, he’d see the scar on your lower right abdomen and know he caused it. It would break his heart. Rafe was a lot more sensitive than people thought and that's partly why you’d been putting off having sex. You knew he’d get upset.

“Yeah sure,” you smiled, taking his hand and getting up, then turning back to the group. “I’ll be back in a few, ok?”

“Don’t lose her!” John B shouted.

“Or we’ll kill you!” Jj added, a completely real threat as you chuckled.

“He’s joking,” you assured an uneasy Rafe.

“I’m not joking!” Jj shouted again.

You both walked a little faster.

“Umm ok so… how do I say this? Top- he’s totally drunk and I-I’m freaking out right now. H-he gave me a drink a-and I thought it was just sparkling water but it had v-vodka in it, a-and now my sober streak is gone and-” Rafe buried his face in your neck, tears spilling over as his panic reached concerning levels.

“Baby, it’s ok,” you cooed. “It was just a sip, and it was only an accident. We can start again, you can start again. This was only a wobble,” you assured him, your hands rubbing his back as he cried into your shoulder. “Please don’t beat yourself or Topper overt this, we all make mistakes.”

He nodded as he sobbed into your neck, hearing your words. How was it that you could calm him down so instantly, so completely? It wasn’t fair. He’d needed you his whole life, and he only got you now? Bullshit. Well, he’d take what he could get. “I love you,” He whispered and you went rigid.

Every bone heavy, every muscle tense, blood frozen. Holy shit.

Rafe Cameron was in love with you. What were you supposed to do? Say it back? You weren’t sure your mouth would open. “Hey pogue?” Topper’s voice cut through the deafening silence and brought you back down to Earth. “What the fuck do you think he’s doing with you?” he chuckled, drink in his hand and a bitter tone in his voice. “He’s going to tell you all his problems, and then he’s going to tell you that he loves you, and then he’ll fuck you a few times, probably be the best fuck of your life, and kick you to the curb!” he laughed. “Rafe Cameron strikes again!”

Check, and check. The sex was probably coming later. You felt used.

“Topper what the fuck man?” Rafe turned drying his eyes. “Do you even know how I feel about her?”

“Yes I do, I remember the words being ‘easy’, ‘sweet’, and ‘virgin’. I still have the video,” Topper pulled out his video,scrolling for a moment as your heart slowly cracked.

“What about her?” Topper had pointed at you in the video, it was at some party a few months ago. “Y/n Y/l/n.”

“She’s sweet and easy Top, come on, give me a challenge and someone who isn’t a virgin fucking prude,” Rafe laughed and the video continued of them rating girls from the island.

God, you hated Topper right now. You hated Rafe right now.

“Oh,” was all you got out before you started walking off, Rafe on your tail.

“Look I-I’m sorry alright? I didn’t think about it, I didn’t even know you then! And I was drunk and Topper always brings out the worst in me, o-ok? So we can just go back t-to normal, right? You’ll be my girlfriend?” he pleaded but you kept walking, your heart shattering as he kept talking. “I love you!”

You stopped in your tracks. “I just need… time, ok? Just give me a few days to work this out, ok?”

He nodded, tears pooling in his eyes.

What the fuck were you going to do?

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“Hey,” he sat down beside you. “I’m so sorry about what I said.”

“It’s ok Rafe,” you shrugged. “Maybe sometimes people just aren’t meant to be.”

His head whipped around to make eye contact with you. Seriously? You were seriously thinking of leaving him? “What?” He whispered, the lump in his throat almost too big to swallow.

“Rafe… come on. How am I supposed to have any peace of mind in your actual intentions when it stemmed from that video?” You sighed. Rafe was busy staring at admiring you. You were so beautiful, so smart, so… everything he wanted.

You didn’t think it would hurt him. He’d broken up with tons of girls, you shouldn't be any different.

You watched as a tear escaped his eye, how he bit the side of his cheek, and how he picked at the skin on his fingers.

Oh.

Maybe he did care. Or maybe it was an act. You weren’t sure.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I meant that when I said it. And Topper’s wrong, I don’t just tell girls I love them. I’ve never told anyone that. Just you.”

Your breath hitched and you took his hand to stop him from picking until it bled. “Calm down Rafe,” you whispered. “It’s ok.”

If being near you calmed him down, having you touch him must’ve been the most soothing and tranquil experience of his life. “Please don’t leave me,” he pleaded, tears falling. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, I love you and I-I can’t lose you. Please let me make it up to you, I’ll be better for you, I swear-”

“I’m not leaving you,” you whispered, making a split-second decision you weren’t sure you’d regret. “I love you too Rafe.”

He looked up and you wiped some tears away. He smiled, then pulled you into his arms and kissed you softly. You loved being like this, kissing him, holding him, being with him. It was all perfect. His hand brushed your waist and lingered over the scar. He pulled away, sighing and scared, then pulled your shirt up slightly.

Rafe wanted to sob the second he saw it. He loved you, all of you, so he needed to see it and get over it himself. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, staring at it. “I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “People grow, Rafe. People change. It hurt, yes, but I survived. You survived. Life isn’t going to stop just because we’re upset about something, so don’t feel… held back by the past. I’ve accepted it, and you need to as well.”

He pressed his lips to yours again, and smiled for the first time in three days.

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obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

617 notes · View notes

saintmuses · 5 months ago

Text

❝𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜❞

Pairing:

Soft!Dark!Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary:

Thomas had successfully convinced his older brother to end the relationship with her so he could have her all to himself.

Warning(s): SMUT. Dub-con. Fingering. praises. Somnophilia. Breeding kink. Pure Filthy. Reader’s tipsy. Possessive!Thomas. Depraved!Thomas. Soft!Thomas. P in V. Flashback in italics. Minors, dni.

Word Count: 1.4k

Thomas chuckled softly as he watched her slowly drift off to drunk-induced sleep.

He then undressed slowly, his eyes never leaving her delicate nude form on the bed. After he took all articles of clothing off, he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself above her, his hard length pressing against her body.

Thomas had been searching for her for weeks, his mind constantly wandering back to their last encounter. He was not exactly surprised to find her at a pub, looking slightly tipsy. After all, his brother ended the courtship with her.

He walked over to her table, his eyes drinking her in. "Well, well.”

She stiffened after hearing his voice, and she slowly looked up at him, eyes unfocused. "No." She lifted the half full glass of whiskey in her hand, preparing to swallow the harsh liquid.

He exhaled a chuckle, leaning down to grab her unoccupied wrist gently, bringing her hand towards his mouth. She tried to jerk her hand out of his grip, but he did not let her. "Don't be like that," he purred, his lips brushing against her knuckles as he spoke. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

The next time she tried to remove her hand from his hold, he surprisingly released it. “You don’t approve of the relationship between me and Arthur that you convinced him to end the relationship with me…the fact he listens to you…well, that would be his downfall someday.” She stated before slamming the glass down on the table, making the table shake from the force.

He laughed softly, leaning back in his chair. "You wound me, darling," he said, feigning hurt. "After those encounters you two had with each other that I got to witnessed, you can't honestly tell me you’re not the right person for him?"

She chose not to answer him, instead of leveling his eyes filled with amusement with a glare of her own.

"Well, then," he smirked, reaching under the table and grabbing her ankle, his fingers trailing up her leg teasingly. "Perhaps I had the right to tell him."

"I'm too drunk to deal with you," she muttered, barely flinching at the surprise sensation of his hand on her leg.

"You're never too drunk for me," he replied, lifting her leg and placing it on his lap. He started massaging her calf slowly, his fingers deftly tracing patterns on her skin.

She sighed unwillingly as the muscle tension began to dissipate. "People are looking at us because they're wondering why Thomas Shelby is nice."

He chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to work their magic on her leg. "They're wrong," he murmured. "I can be very nice...when I want to be." His hand moved up her thigh, the touch growing more intimate as he spoke.

She jerked her leg out of his wandering hand, before pushing her chair backwards, standing up. "If you want to be a gentleman, you better walk me home because it's night time, and I don't trust people out there." She said sharply before stumbling away from the table. She paused before turning to him, “nor do I trust you.”

He watched her leave, a mix of amusement and annoyance flashing across his face. Standing up, he quickly caught up with her, his hand gently guiding her back towards him. "Come now, love," he purred. "There's no need to be like that."

Letting her go, Thomas walked beside her, his eyes roaming over her figure hungrily. "I jus’ want to make sure you get home safe," he said, his voice low.

Once they arrived at the door of her flat, she dug her hand into her purse, searching blindly for the key.

Despite her not speaking mostly on the way to her flat, it did not deter him.

“You should let me in,” he leaned in closer, his breath fanning against her ear as he spoke.

“No, I don’t.” She got the key out of her purse, and turned the brass knob. "You can go now." she said sharply, slurring a bit.

Thomas groaned softly as he continued to touch and explore her body. His hands moved up to cup her breasts, massaging them gently before tweaking her nipples between his fingers. His other hand slipped down to her stomach, teasingly stroking the bare skin there.

“The reason I had him end the relationship is because I want you all to myself.” He murmured softly. “I’m a greedy man.”

Thomas' hand moved lower, tracing a path down her stomach towards her belly button. He lightly teased the tiny indentation with his fingertip before trailing lower still, down towards her hidden folds.

Thomas' voice was rough with lust as he whispered in her ear. "I want to breed you, my little darling. Your cunt is mine and I'll stuff it with me cum."

He looked down at her pussy as he pushed her knees towards her chest.

Thomas' eyes darkened as he looked down at her exposed pussy. "You're so beautiful," he breathed out, his voice husky with desire. "I could spend all night just worshiping this perfect little cunt." He then leveled his hips where his cock would meet her pussy.

Thomas groaned loudly as he pushed his thick cockhead against her tight entrance. He took a moment to savor the feeling of being so close to her before pushing forward, slowly sinking deeper into her wet pussy.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, discomfort flitted across her face and he paused, his hips stilling inside of her. "Little darling," he whispered softly, nuzzling his face into her neck. "Sweetheart, I need to fuck you properly, make you mine because I need you."

Thomas' hips began to move again, pulling almost completely out of her before slamming back in, burying himself deep within her cunt. He set a hard, punishing pace, claiming her as his own with each powerful thrust.

Thomas' breathing grew heavier as he pounded into her. He couldn't resist the tight grip she had on him, the way her body moved with his every push. Her sleeping state only added to the perverse thrill for him.

As Thomas continued to pound into her, his cock swelled even more, growing larger inside of her. It stretched and filled every inch of her tight pussy, claiming it as its own. He groaned loudly in pleasure and desire for more.

Thomas couldn't seem to get enough. His hips continued to slam against hers in a frenzy of lust and possession.

"You're mine, you know?" Thomas whispered into her ear, his voice filled with possessive affection as he kept pounding away at her exhausted body. "You belong to me now, little darling, forever and always." As his pace slowed down slightly but his thrusts still remained deep and powerful, Thomas whispered praises against her neck, his warm breath tickling her sensitive skin. He called her his good girl over and over again, as if he couldn't believe he had found such a perfect match in her.

With one final thrust, Thomas filled her cunt to the brim with his cum and held onto her tight, still buried deep inside of her for several seconds. As he slowly pulled out, he allowed his thick cum to drip out of her pussy like ribbons of his possessiveness.

Thomas' eyes darkened with satisfaction as he looked down at his hand, feeling the slick evidence of his possession on his fingers. He then placed his palm flat against her stomach, still trying to catch his breath.

"Look at that," he purred, his voice husky with desire. "Me cock has stretched out your pretty pussy just the way it should be." He leaned down to peer at her stretched abused hole, his purr turning into a low growl of appreciation.

Thomas glanced at her discarded clothes and picked up her underwear. He put her legs through the holes of her shorts and pulled it until it laid tightly against her cum-filled cunt with a low growl of possession. "There you go, little darling. Me cum will keep that hole nice and warm for me..."

He crawled up her sleeping body.

"You've been such a good girl for me," Thomas whispered softly, pressing gentle kisses all over her sleepy face. His touch was tender and caring now, the roughness from before fading away as he nuzzled against her neck.

Thomas pressed his lips against her lips, the gentleness of his kiss a stark contrast to the rough passion he had just infused into his little darling.

#cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x you #tommy shelby #cillian murphy

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romanarose · 15 days ago

Text

The Ghost of You

Banner by my dear @commonmisery

Ghost!Joel Miller x fem!reader

TLOU 2 SPOILERS AHEAD! YOU"VE BEEN WARNED!

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Summary: After moving into Jackson, you're put up in a house that hasn't been lived in for years. Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Can you help Joel move on to the next life to be with his daughter? Or will you keep him here selfishly with you?

Warnings: TLOU 2 SPOILERS, ghost!sex, mentions of violence and the things Joels done and what happened to him. bittersweet ending. Body marking and blood but it v consensual. It's loving.

A/N: This is my goodbye to writing Joel. I've made a few statements on thi before and if you've followed me for a while you know why. I won't rehash it. But I wanted to write this idea I had talking to @multiversed-daydreamer as my goodbye. i won't say it my last joel forever but it is for along time. all other series are cancelled. I am also just largely essening my writing for p-boys but I'll still be around witing frankie and javi and marcus sometimes. You never know. My main focus rn is logan howlett, triple frontier, and my original content

This is my love letter to the Joel fandom that has given me so much love and friendship

Looking for something similar? Brother by @macfrog is Tommy saying goodbye, and The Devil's Wife is devil!Joel, similar theme of halloween by @noxturnalnymph

8.5 words

It was cold. That was annoying. How you’d wandered your fucking way out to Wyoming, you’ll never understand. One minute you were in Florida complaining about the heat, now you were being treated for frostbite in your toes.

You’d arrived in Jackson last afternoon, nearly frozen to death and had been crashing in the clinic bed ever since. The doctor, a nice older man, took care of you and a few nurses checked in overnight, and today you were cleared to get settled. Word of mouth had told you Jackson was the place to go, a safe haven, a community where people actually take care of each other. Maria Miller, the town founder, had just left your room saying she’d be outside doing paperwork whenever you were ready for the short tour. You’d get the full spiel eventually, but right now the frostbite made walking a little hard. She'd just show you her office, the mess hall, a few quick essentials and then take your to your new home.

That was when you heard shouting outside the door. One voice was Maria, the other you didn’t recognize. It was hard to hear, but you listened in with your ear pressed to the door.

“It’s been 3 years Tommy. I know this is difficult for you but-”

“You don’t know shit!”

“Excuse me? Who was there for you when you drowned your feelings in moonshine for years? Who took care of Walker while you went off on pointless revenge missions!”

“Don’t you bring him into this. Don’t fucking do that shit, Maria, you know I had too.”

A beat of silence. “You had to do whatever you had to do to deal with what happened. We forgive you, we took you back here and the whole town in glad for it. But Tommy… Jackson is growing. We need the space-”

“You never fucking liked him! You never wanted him around! I bet you’re glad-”

The shouting began to overlap each other, voices raising until you were uncomfortable enough with the man’s temper you grabbed your gun and opened the door, pointing it at him.

“Settle down there, cowboy. Ain’t nice to yell at a lady.”

The next few minutes were embarrassing, to say the least. Maria explained that Tommy was her ex-husband. She didn’t go into the argument, but she assured you, not without gratitude, that firstly she could handle herself, and second that Tommy wasn’t a threat.

After Tommy left with a pointed ‘fuck you’ in your direction, you turn back to find Maria rolling her eyes.

“He’s a good man. I promise. Good dad, works hard, takes care of his people. He just gets… well, there’s some sore spots. C’mon let’s get you home. I bet you’re tired.”

Settled into the house that felt way too big for just you, your thoughts drift to the man. He was older, 50’s maybe? Dark brown hair with a few streaks of gray and tired lines around his eyes, but handsome. He was so angry, and angry at you. What the hell did you do? You hadn’t even been here a day! Fucking unreal. Men were men no matter where you went, but their temper tantrums never ceased to amaze you.

The house was pretty empty. You’d been given a few furnishings, but the house was stripped of all character, certainly taking apart everything the previous owner had. Had the place been occupied since the world fell apart? Or had someone who lived here died? You wondered how. You wondered if they had family, or if the town was their family.

The kitchen had kindly been stocked up pretty well, and you’d been given some toiletries so after eating, you enjoyed your first warm bath in a long time. Running water, and it was warm? Fantestic. You boiled a pan of water and tossed it into the tub for some extra heat just how you liked it.

In bed that night, that’s when things got weird. You felt a coldness wash over your body, a shiver you didn’t expect under the warm blankets. Then the window unlatched and flew open. You gasp, fearful at first, but then justify that since it’s on springs, the latch must’ve been not done right and just sprung open. No big deal. But then you felt a hand on your cheek and you froze.

It didn’t linger more than a second. The touch was fluid, but not wind, not air. There was a roughness to it, the distinct feeling of a large hand cupping your face… but you weren’t scared. Instead, you felt calmed. Relaxed.

It became routine, after a few weeks, you refused to go to sleep until you felt it, the touch of warmth on your face, and you felt safe. It didn’t take long for you to believe you had a ghost; after the cordyceps, ghosts were never far from disbelief, something you’d always been open to, but the question was who.

That would be answered soon enough. You could just ask, yeah, but you wanted to find out, in their own words. As the days progressed, you’d been given time to recover and adjust before working, so you spent a lot of time settling into your house. This was not without its encounters with the ghost. More and more, they seemed to get stronger, able to do more, communicate more. There were items shuffled around, bigger and bigger until the couch was moved.

“I don’t like it there.” You said out loud, pushing it back a few feet.

They moved it again.

“Come on, you’re being annoying.” You move, just for it to get moved back again.

You throw your hands up in the air. “Fine! At least be useful and carry the chair upstairs.” No response, no movement. “Dick.” A gust of wind through your hair and you giggle.

You scribble together a make-shift ouija board, a circle tied from some guitar string you found in a box the ghost knocked off a shelf that must’ve not been cleaned.

Candles lit, you cross legged on the floor, you try to get information. Requests for the name came up empty, but the string moved to “yes” when asked if they were a man.

“How old are you? Or- were you?”

5. 6.

“Old man.” You chuckle when wind brushes your hair. You’d learned this was his way of teasing.

“How did you die?”

D-o-n-t-g-o-g-o-l-f-i-n-g

“Don’t go golfing? What does that mean?”

No response.

“Was that a joke?”

Yes.

“Well, I don’t get it. You know that, right?”

Yes.

“Fine, don’t wanna talk about death I see. Fair enough, never been there myself but I heard it’s not fun. Uhhhhhh got any kids?”

“Go on.”

2 g-i-r-l-s. 1 d-e-a-d.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that… where is the other?”

I-d-o-n-t-k-n-o-w

“Shit, i’m sorry about that too. Must be confusing.” Not knowing where your daughter is must be hard. “Is your other daughter with you? In the afterlife I mean?”

e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g-i-s-d-a-r-k

That broke your heart. “Must be scary.”

Yes

Then, the string moved again.

N-e-w-t-o-p-i-c

a-b-o-u-t-y-o-u

For whatever reason, this makes you blush. You spend the evening telling him about yourself, sharing details and asking him the same. He didn’t like talking about his family, refused to answer any more questions. Wouldn’t say his name.

But it was the first time you’d been called beautiful over ouija board, you knew that much.

Even after you began working, every evening you’d run home to spend time with this ghost of a man. The most people saw of you outside your day labor was a pop into the mess hall to take food home or the clinic as they checked you were recovering okay.

“Don’t see much of you.” The doctor commented. “You adjusting okay? I know it’s a lot to get used to.”

You blink in confusion. You were fine. Happy, even. Sure, you didn’t get to know anyone… but why would you? You did your part for the community, then you went home. Hell, you volunteered extra hours sometimes, picking up more than your fair share. You just didn’t want to get close, that’s all. People died, you’d learned that hard lesson early in life, and learned it over and over and over again. There was no point in making friends, falling in love. Not when it was all so fragile.

But you had your ghost man. He had already crossed that barrier, so there was nothing to fear. Nothing to lose.That night, you talked out loud to him about your day as you always did, he made little sounds knocking cabinets together or brushing a breeze on your skin to let you know he was listening. Sometimes winds rustled your hair when he thought you were funny. Then, the wind turned into a gust, and two firm hands pressed you down the hall, the message clear.

“Jesus! I’m going I’m going!” You follow the breeze bushing you. Fuck he was getting more powerful every day. Pushed to the kitchen, you’re face to face with the fridge.

“If this is a fat joke- hey!” Two distinct fingers pinched your cheek and you laughed. “Okay, tell me what you want!” A breeze, and you hear a fluttering between the fridge. When you bend down and dig around the dust bunnies, you find a piece of distinct photograph paper, and pull it out. On it was a picture of a man, 30’s, maybe 40’s if you were pushing it, his arm wrapped around a hung girl holding a trophy. They looked happy.

“Is this you?”

The picture ruffled in your hand.

“And the girl, that your daughter?”

The pictures motion was repeated. This looked like it was from before, from long ago… you assumed the girl was the daughter that died.

“It’s so cute…” You traced the picture of your ghost, having a face but no name still. Your feel warm, a blush creeping around your skin and a deep heat settling in your stomach. He was handsome. You’d never really pictured him,, besides a few wandering thoughts here and there, but nothing stuck. You put his picture on your fridge.

At night, the image of his face danced in your head, unable to sleep. It was weird, this friendship you had with the ghost in your house, but you didn’t really care. There were worse things in this world, darker ways to cope. So what if a dead man made you happy, made you blush and grin and giggle. So what if he was the reason your hand was currently being shoved into your PJ’s.

You’d be lying if you hadn’t touched yourself that first night, but this was the first night you pictured his body on your, his face, that beard…

“Are you watching me?” You asked, panting. That was a first too. You knew there was a possibility he watched, but you didn’t really care. Never had. Now, you hoped he did.

A pause.

Then, the liquid touch of a hand on your face. He was here. He was watching.

“Good.” You assure him, hoping he stays. “Want you to watch.” Your fingers begin to pump in your cunt, and you kick off the covers. So what if it was cold, you wanted him to see you. You thought about what it would be like to feel his face buried between your legs, what his voice sounds like, how he’d touch you-

“You can touch me, if you want. Not just my face.” It was a bold statement. Things with you and him had been friendly, close, a little flirty… but nothing so far had suggested more. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t. Maybe he just watched to watch. Maybe you embarrassed him and he left.

Then his touch landed on your face, slowly trailing down, down, until you could feel hands on your breasts. The slightest brush on lips ghost the shell of your ear, your cheek, and your heart swells. He wants to kiss you.

“You can kiss me. It’s okay.” It wasn’t as strong a touch a his hands, but he ridgid texture of chapped lips touch yours, and ripples of pleasure flow throughout the erogenous zones on your body, far ore reach than two hands ever could. It tickles, and it feels fucking good.

“Wish you were here….” You mumble, still fucking yourself as hips bucked against yoru fingers, sopping wet sounds fill the quiet bedroom. “Never connected to anyone the way I have you.” A squeeze on your leg reassured you, and soon your tits were being messaged in a way clumsy human hands couldn’t do. It was like the rolling ocean crashing and waving and peaking on the tender flesh, a surreal experience to your touch-starved body.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m f-fuck, you’re gonna make me cum-”

Then you hear it, clear as day, sharp and quick against your ear.

“Joel.”

His name. You cry it out as your pussy clenches down on your fingers.

After that, ghost sex was something you and Joel regularly engaged in. He couldn’t really speak much still, usually only getting out one word. Generally it was ordering you to cum, sometimes a single word compliment slipped through with a southern accent.

“Beautiful.” He whispered as you lay in bed, satiated and panting.

He thought you were beautiful when you came.

There was never another reason to go anywhere outside of your home other than to work or get food, and more and more you just got groceries and worked with what you had. You liked cooking with him ,you didn’t want to be away.

Today, as you tried to make soup, you couldn’t help laugh as he managed to speak “More seasoning” and lift a fuck ton of herbs up and into the pot. At least he was a helpful ghost.

“You can just make it next time!”

You expect to feel your hair rustle, but instead his voice speaks.

“Tommy.”

Then a knock on the door. You were so startled (people never visited you) you almost didn’t answer. No one outside that door could be worth time away from Joel, but he pushed you to answer, a desperation in his actions that matched the tone he spoke the name.

When you answered, you would have shut the door if you weren’t curious about Joel’s reaction.

There stood the man who got in a shouting match with Maria. Oh, yeah, Tommy, that’s right. But why was he here? Tommy was tall, but his posture at the moment was sunken, sheepish. When he looked at you, pink dusted his tan skin. “Can I talk t’yuh?”

You narrow your eyes. “Sorry, but the last time we spoke you weren’t exactly polite enough for me to feel like welcoming you inside, and every time I’ve seen you, you give me dirty looks.”

He nods. “I understand, that’s why I uh… wanted t’explain myself. I shouldn’t’ve done that, but I was angry. Ain’t right, still…”

“What could I have possibly done to you?”

His eyes were large, brown, and wet. “This was uh… my brother’s house. He died 3 years ago.”

5 Minutes later, Tommy was sitting on the couch with you, cup of soup in hand. You hadn’t felt or heard Joel, but this was your chance. Some answers.

“Funny.” He pats the couch. “This was his. Was right here for years, never moved it.”

“It’s uh… a good spot. Now, I think you had some explaining to do?”

“Right…“ Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “The house has been empty since he died. My wi- ex wife, I guess, kept it empty out of courtesy but she was right. It was time to move on.”

“Did he die in here?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Tommy explained it to you. The revenge that was enacted on his brother for saving the girl, Ellie. You wondered if that was his daughter he mentioned, but Tommy just referred to her as his kid. How the woman and their group killed him, Tommy saw his brother's head bashed in, brain matter on the walls.

The golf joke still didn’t make sense, but you’d figure it out. You learned more about Joel too, that he was from Texas, that his daughter, Tommy niece, died on outbreak day. Joel’s birthday. Joel played the guitar, he liked to swim, was an overbearing brother and loving dad. He was married once. He learned to cook to get Sarah to eat veggies so he was pretty good at it. Was a good man. The best, the way Tommy spoke.

“I know it ain’t right the way I’ve treat’n yuh. And I know it’s not your fault. I just hadn’t been handling his death well, you know? Lost my wife, almost lost my son… I ain’t been the man he raised me to be. I now you don’t… do anything. In town. That’s probably my fault and I’m so-”

“You think I stay home because I’m avoiding you?” You nearly bark out a laugh, his eyes growing in confusion. “Brother, I ain’t scared of no man, if I wanted to go to the movie nights I would have!”

Tommy processes this information, sipping on the last of the soup broth. “Oh… I guess I just assumed...”

“Well, you know what they say about assuming. Make’s an ass out of you and me. Here, gimmie.” You take his mug, walking to the kitchen to rinse it and still giggling.

Tommy follows you. “Well I’m sorry! I guess I just figured, the time’n ‘n all.”

You throw a look over your shoulder. “I stay home because I like it here. Because I’ve been alone for years, so I’m fine with it.”

“But why not-” He stops in his tracks. “Where did you get that?”

You follow his line of view and realize your mistake. “Uh. I uh. I found that while cleaning the kitchen, by the fridge. I guess I thought it was nice, so I hung it up… why? Who is it?”

You knew the answer before he even spoke Joel’s name. You had to pretend to be surprised, but even worse, you knew what you needed to do.

“Keep it.” You say, pushing the picture closer to him, breaking you a bit. You had to hide every emotion, because there was no reason for you to have any attachment to it. He didn’t know what you and Joel shared with each other. Who he was to you. It didn’t matter, because Joel was his brother. The girl was his niece. He deserved the picture.

“That’s her. That’s Sarah.” Tommy continued, confirming your suspicions as his finger trailed over the girl.

“She’s adorable.”

“Yeah… she was. Great kid too.”

Tommy helped you wash up the dishes from making soup, you and him talking more. He was nice when he wasn’t yelling. You could understand why he was so upset at the time, and you forgave it.

You told as much as he stood in your doorway. “I don’t hold it against you. I promise.”

He nods, smiling and looking more at ease. “Promise you’ll come to the next movie night, it’s tomorrow. It’ll be good for you, I promise.”

“What’s playing?‘

“Scream 2!”

You roll your eyes. “Not the first one?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tommy says with a tease. “Is fucking scream 2 at the end of the world not enough for you?”

You shove him out of your door, laughing. “Fine! I’ll fucking come. But only to see Timothy Olyphant.”

You shut the door, and turn around still laughing. But what you see shocks you so bad, you’d have screamed if you didn’t cover your mouth.

It was Joel. Faint. Barely there. A dead eyed stare. Much older than the picture and his hair was longer. But it was him.

“Joel?” You say, tentatively walking towards him. He wasn’t looking at you, instead, he was looking at the door, unmoving, unblinking, unbreathing. Your hand passes through him and when his form dissipates, you fall to the ground and cry.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask. He was strangely quiet the rest of the day, only a few little touches here and there. No ghost sex that night. When you are getting out of work clothes and putting something warm on for the movie, you bring it up.

“No.”

“Well, you’ve hardly talked to me. Is it because I asked Tommy as those questions about you? I’m sorry, it’s just easier that way and I wanted to know what happened to you-”

“I miss him.”

Three whole words.

“You’re getting stronger. Did you mean to appear to me yesterday?”

“You saw me?”

“Yeah, and I hear you really good now.” You grin. “I can’t believe you’re talking this much. Maybe I’ll skip the movie, I don’t wanna lose-”

“No. Go.” a brief pause. “Please.”

“Joel Miller,” You tease him. “Are you having me check on your baby brother?” He rustles your hair.

So, you started hanging around Tommy more. It started as filling Joel in on his life, but really, you liked being around Tommy. He was easy to talk to.

You lay on your side in bed, trying to picture his face as you’d done every night for months as you talk to him. Joel’s voice was clear, fully communicating with you now. Every now and then you could see a glimpse of him in a mirror or the faint frozen picture of him standing somewhere, usually after Tommy was over.

“Walker is doing really well.” You tell him about his nephew you’ve met a few times. For a few years, Tommy was barely around after Joel’s death, most of the time he was drunk. There was an incident several months ago where Tommy passed out of the couch and Walker tried to start the stove, resulting in a small kitchen fire, and Tommy effectively lost custody of his son. Not that family court existed here, but Tommy knew he couldn’t be there. This was shortly after you moved in, and was the reason Tommy finally got sober. Things were going better now, and he’s repairing that relationship.

“You met him?”

“Yeah, he’s quiet. But he’s very polite.” Tommy said he takes after Joel. Walker and Joel had been very close before he died, Tommy adored the little boy. The little boy in question was now 8, growing up.

He sighs. “Yeah, he was a good kid. I never had a son, figured raise’n Tommy was close enough. But when I was with him… Sometimes I think back to when Sarah died, how hard Tommy fought to keep her alive… yuh know, after she died I was just, I was drowning in my sadness. There was no room for Tommy’s grief, I guess. He’s stronger than I gave him credit for, because he was always there for me. If I had lost Walker… I dunno if I could have been that strong.”

A few days later, you invite Tommy and his son over for dinner, and as you stare at Walker eating his food and laughing you can see Joel. He’s no longer a still picture, he’s moving, and smiling, and laughing too. No one else can see or hear him.

But he looks right at you.

You can see him now, laying on the pillow beside you as the pair of you talk. Sometimes he’s tangible, hands touching your face and you can see his tan skin through your peripheral. Sometimes it’s more faint, like he’s using all his strength to be see and he can’t materialize his touch. You don’t know how it works, but you’re happy to see his face. Joel has kind eyes, a softness in a world of blood and violence.

“You're beautiful.” And it’s your voice whispering it to him, because he is. Every line on his face, the scar on his forehead, the tired darkness under his eyes as if an eternity to sleep wasn’t enough. Every little freckle you could map on his face on days he was more clear. It was perfect. It was him.

A sadness crosses over those pools of brown. “I really don’t deserve you…” When you open your mouth to protest, he continues. “I’ve killed people.”

That wasn’t a shock. Who hasn’t? “I have too.”

But Joel shakes his head, curls staying in place as if gravity is now inconsequential, as if he’s frozen in time with a single lock on his forehead. “No, I’ve killed innocents. A lot. Me ‘n Tommy, before… and protect’n Ellie…”

You thought about this for a while, a chill of cold reminiscent of when he first came to you makes you shiver, but when you look at him, you don’t feel the repulsion you know he expects. “You kill children?”

“No.” He says firmly, a glimmer of sadness crossing his eyes. You didn’t think so, knowing he knew what that loss was. “But that don’t make it much better.”

“Did rape anyone? Kill people for fun? Get off on it?”

Disgust mares his features. “No, never.”

You nod. “You kill any innocent people since coming to Jackson? Settling here?”

Again, a shake of his head doesn’t knock loose a single hair. “No, but before-”

“I’m not worried about before.” You voice is soft, and you tentatively reach a hand out to caress his face. His skin was soft, softer than a man in his 50’s would be, but that’s what happens when you aren’t fully there. “I don’t care about that. Really, I don’t. You deserve a second chance just as much as anyone does. The world out there-” You vaguely whisk your hand around. “Does things to us. As far as I’m concerned, as long as you’re not a rapist, didn’t kill kids, not one of those really, really bad people… I think you deserve to leave that all outside the gates of Jackson.”

His eyes soften, affection pooling with something more. “Thank you, darl’n I mean it. I wasn’t always forgiven in that life. Nice to know someone does in this one,”

Your heart aches for him, so you try to ease his pain. “Tommy forgives you, I know it. You heard how he talks about you.”

But he’s still distant. “Maybe. But maybe he just misses me. That’s different. Besides, there’s someone I know hasn’t.”

“Ellie?”

He nods. “She…. well, we just started talk’n, right before I died. Didn’t have the chance to find out if she ever would, you know? Now I never will.”

“She does, Joel. It’s been years, I know she does.”

But he didn’t believe you.

Joel’s words stuck with you, simmering in your head like the soups he helps you make. Today you were on patrol with a fairly quiet partner, so you had nothing left to do but think, think, think. Why did his words affect you so much? He was so stuck on forgiveness, even though he’d never know-

Oh.

That’s why he was trapped here, wasn’t it? Joel’s ghost remained behind because he didn’t have the closure he needed. Tommy and him had made up, but Joel died not knowing if Ellie ever did. Years of estrangement for taking her from the hospital, for saving her, for lying, and he wasn’t sorry, he told you himself. But he needed Ellie’s forgiveness. He needed to know Tommy didn’y hold resentment. He needed to know they were safe, that they were okay.

Joel couldn’t talk to Tommy. For some reason, you could hear him speak when Tommy was around, see him, but Tommy never reacted. Joel couldn’t even move things or create a breeze when he was around…

If Joel got what he needed, the forgiveness, the resolution he longed for, he could move on. You knew it. He was getting stronger every day, his appearance crystal clear, his touch more and more solid, less fluid than before. You wanted little more than to have him like that, as close to a real person as he could get, at your home you shared with him every single day, every hour, sleeping next to him, cooking with him, fucking him… part of your mind told you that you could do it.

But that wasn’t right. He’d be little more than a housewife, a sex doll, a captive. You could keep him there, to be your only friend outside of occasionally seeing his brother, the person who knew you best, someone always there to talk because what other options did he have?

That wasn’t you. The rational part won out, and your knew what you had to do.

Tommy’s face was one of worry when you told him you’d seen the ghost of his brother. You’d spilled it all out, sparing the ghost sex details, but instead of shock, he just asked you if you ere okay.

“Yes! Tommy I’m fine-”

“I dunno, you’re kinda a weird person to begin with, see’n shit wouldn’t be that new-”

“Tommy!” You stand abruptly from his couch, pulling at your hair. “I’m not seeing- I’m not hallucinating him! You don’t understand, I see him, I see him every fucking day that’s why I don’t go anywhere!”

A sympathetic look crossed his face. “Honey, maybe you’re seeing him because you’re alone every day.”

“I’M NOT CRAZY!!” You shout at him, and he softens.

“I know, I know.” Tommy stands. “Maybe… maybe you should stay here a few days, maybe this is a yellow wallpaper situation, you gotta get fresh air, a new environment-” he reaches for your arm but you yank it away.

“Does the term ‘don’t go golf’n mean anything to you?”

Confusion crosses his face. “Not really, why?”

A deep breath. “He… I asked how he died, with a ouija board i made and he just said don’t go golfing. Never explained.”

Tommy’s skin paled, the freckles on his face a stark contrast against him. His face a deadly calm. “How did you know that.”

You can’t help but groan. “I told you, he-”

“ENOUGH GAMES!” The sudden shout shocks you, and you step back. Tommy must’ve realized he was scaring you, so he calmed down just a bit. “I’m serious. This isn’t fucking funny.”

Tears of frustration and sadness filled your heart, begging him to believe you. You didn’t think Tommy would hurt you, but the distress he was in was clear. “I wouldn’t joke about this… he- he said it was a joke I wouldn’t get, and I don’t. Tommy please, I’m being serious…”

Then, the realization dawned on him, clear as day. He believed you. “Holy shit. You’re telling the truth…”

“I am.” You sob. “Tommy I swear I’m telling the truth. He needs help, he’s trapped here… we need to help him…”

He was shaking. “C-can I see him?”

It broke your heart to say no. He can only appear to me, I think…He’s tired when you are over…“

Dizzy, Tommy sits down. “He was round… whenever I was over, wasn’t he? That’s why I always feel so calm there…”

You nod. “He calms me too. I don’t know how.” You join him on the couch again. “Tommy, what does don't go golfing mean?”

His face is buried in his hands, and you think he’s crying. It’s a lot, you know, it’ a lot to spring on someone, especially that he can’t hear or see him still, his own brother so close and yet so far. But you were doing this for him, so that he could move on, so that he could see his Sarah in the afterlife.

When Tommy finally looked up, his face and hands were soaking wet.

“He was killed with a golf club. We never told anyone about that.”

Joel stood behind you, clear and crystalline, his body practically human. He was cold, but he brought you comfort. “Something on your mind, darl’n?”

You don’t wanna lie to him, but you can’t tell him what’s happening, not yet. You want a few more days without this hanging over you both.

“Tommy left for a few weeks. Just worried.” You didn’t tell him he went to find Ellie, to go back to the farmhouse she lived in with Dina and see if she’s there, if Dina knows where she lives kows anything. To try and convince Ellie that this woman she’s never met his eeing her dad as a ghost and they need to help him move on. But hes gonna try.

A week later, the town was in a ruckus, Tommy returning to Jackson with the prodigal daughter, her girlfriend, and a little boy.

Turns out Ellie went back to Dina, begged for her back on hands and knees, and they’d been living alone out in the country for years raising JJ. They all looked good, healthy, happy… Ellie was skeptical but she agreed to come as a favor to Tommy. Everything was planned for tomorrow, but as you lay in bed with Joel for the last time, you can’t bring yourself to tell him.

You wanted one last night.

Joel kissed you, languid and soft, his hands roamed your naked and prone body and for the first time, you noticed something. A tent in his pants. A ghost had gotten an erection for you.

“Joel…” You moan, feeling him rutt against you.

“I know, I feel it too.” His voice is husky against your ear, and chills flow throughout your body as you realize what this means. Joel was firm, his body fully here and he was hard. Joel could fuck you.

He went feral after that, yanking down your PJ shorts so fast your barely had time to lift your hips, but it didn’t matter. You spread your legs to welcome to fingers the plumged into your body, absolutly dripping for the man laid beside you. Joel’s breath was hot, growling and grunting as e finger fucks you open, preparing you to take his cock for the first time.

“You’re always s’fucking wet.” He says between sucking kisses on your neck. You didn’t care if he left hickies on you, you were just beyond ecstatic that he was strong enough to leave marks. You wanted him to be with you in some way permanently. “Been wish’n I could feel you since that first day, so sweet, so beautiful, always so ready for my touch.”

You paw at him, groping his body and trying to just get his massive form on top of you. “Need you.” You beg like a needy young thing, like you’d never been fucked properly before, like you needed to be filled and taken and ravaged.

“I got yuh, darl’n…” Joel murmur, rolling over on top of you, his cock heavy- when had his clothes come off?

Knelt before your body, Joel was magnificent. His body was broad, thick, not quick as barrel chested as his brother, he held it more in the shoulders. Down his chest and stomach held scares, fat, and a trail of hair leading down, down, down to where his cock hung thick and leaking and cut. You forgot he was a ghost; he didn’t feel like one, he felt real. He felt here. Tears filled up in your eyes, and Joel leans over, his body covering yours in his cool skin.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks in a gentle voice, thumbing away a stray tear. “I hope yuh ain’t scared’a me? Are yuh?”

You’ve never been more sure of saying no in your life. “Ain’t scared.” You whisper. “I just… I love you so much…” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. You did love him. But that wasn’t why you were crying, not really anyway. No, you cried because this was goodbye.

Joel’s eyes, black pupils swallowing the beautiful brown with lust, grew wet themselves as he smiles down at you. “I love you too. So damn much.”

Your nails did into his back, relishing in the firm, solid feel of him. This was real. He was real. “Fuck me, please. Make love to me. I want to feel you, really feel you…”

Plush lips kissed you as he slid inside, a wave of calm relaxed your body, allowing you to take his considerable length inside you. He was big, stretching you open slowly while you accommodate him.

“Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me…” He moans in your ear, desperate like he’s falling apart at one stroke. But he doesn’t. When he fucks you, it’s with more vigor, more energy than you’ve ever felt from a living person, a slap of skin from his hips meeting your thighs, his balls heavy and slapping against your ass, his fingers digging, digging digging so deep inside as you wished he’d bruise you, wished he’d cut you open and crawl inside so he could never leave you, two souls as one. To know and to be known at the deepest level. Souls and bodies barred to each other. Nothing left to hide.

He couldn’t do that, so as Joel slammed his cock into you, you begged for something else. “Mark me.” You whimper, getting a reaction of confusion from your lover, so you take his hand and dig his nails into your tender hips. “I need to know this is real. All of it.” The tears come again when you can see him want to deny you. “This isn’t forever, you know this can’t before but I- Joel I need something to be forever! We can’t get married, you can’t leave me pictures or presents or- or kids, Joel, I need to be able to remember you.”

His movements slow. “Oh, pretty baby…” He murmurs lowly. “I’ll give anything if it means you can’t forget me.” he kisses you deeply, sucking in your tongue and before he pulls away he nips your lip. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

But nothing of Joel could be too much.

A shape gasp as he dug into you, left hand bracing himself on the bed as he never stopped fucking you, rolls of pleasure coured your body like it had tha first night, swirling over your clit and dragging you screaming to the edge. And screaming you were.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” You shout so loud you don’t care who hears you. Half the town thinks you’re fucking Tommy anyway. Don’t stop fucking you, don’t stop marking you, don’t, don’t, don’t go.

You could keep him to yourself. Tell Ellie and Tommy you lied, or that he went away and you can’t see him any more. Anything so that he doesn’t get what he needs, that he stays with you forever.

He’s impossibly deep inside, but in your leaking, dripping channel and into your hip. The cut of his nails goes further than they should go, but you don’t question it. Instead, you focus on the feeling of him marking your flesh, of him making your insides as his as he cums deep in your stomach. Your cunt pulses around him as your draw out whatever he’s filling you with, you don’t care. It’s him.

“More, more” You cry into his shoulder, but he’s already slowing his thrusts.

“I’m as deep as I can go, baby…” He stays bottomed out inside you, but his hands withdrawal from your side as you come down. His bloody hand cups your face, dripping with your own warmth.

You sob against his cold skin, Joel wrapping you into a hug as the overwhelming emotion of what happened floods you, and it’s too much. You need more, but it’s not him deeper, not him scaring you, and not him filling you up.

It’s more time.

You wake up with blood on your face and your wounds cleaned and bandaged, with Joel’s body gone, as it usually is in the morning. It took until the afternoon for him to appear again.

“Sorry baby.” He apoligized, hugging you. “I dunno why I can’t control coming better.” He poked your side, and you knew he meant a double entendre but you didn’t have it in you to laugh.

“It’s okay. Last night used a lot. You probably needed to rest.”

“Yeah…” He touched the bandage he’d put on your hip with soft intent. “How you feel’n bout this?”

You smile. “Great. But Joel…” You turn around to face him, his face frowning with worry. “I gotta tell you something… I told Tommy about you…” Before he has a chance to ask questions, you spill it out. “And he went and found Ellie, she’s hear. I think… I think if you reconcile with her, with Tommy, once the air is cleared… you can move on.”

For a long moment, he stares at you, unmoving, unblinking, frozen as the picture that used to hang on your door. Then he speaks. “You know… that means I can’t see you again, right.”

Damn the tears the spring forth, damn the well of emotions overflowing your body, a trickle of a leak in the damn, then it cracks, and it all breaks. You begin to sob in his arms. “I know, I know… but it’s not right for me to keep you here! You- you said it’s dark, and you’re scared.”

“I ain’t scared when I’m with you…”

“But you won’t always be with me! I need to help you move on! It’s unnatural, it’s wrong, you need to be with Sarah, you need to be at peace knowing Sarah and Tommy love you, that they forgive you!”

He lets you cry, holding you close in strong arms as he realized what was happening. He’d see Ellie again. You were willing to give him up just so he could get his happy end.

His voice in your ear.

“Ellie.”

She was skeptical, understandingly. Pretty, short, in her 20’s with brown hair cropped into a pixie and looking annoyed. She sat next to Tommy with her arms crossed and practically glaring at you.

“I’m gonna need more proof than some golf joke.”

“It was enough to get you here, wasn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “I owed Tommy for every fucking time he saved my damn life, that’s why I’m here.” She turned to her uncle. “We’re even, by the way.”

“Sure as shit are.” He sighs, then looks at you. “He here?”

You gesture to the couch. “Yeah he’s sitting right- hey!”

Ellie swung her hand over where you said Joel was sitting, doing nothing but annoying Joel who tried in vein to smack her away, telling her to cut the shit.

“I don’t fucking feel anything.”

“That’s not how it works Ellie!” Tommy flicked her arm. “Relax.”

With a huff, she crossed her arms again. “Fine.”

Tommy looked to you, then to Joel, then back to you. “Tell her something only Joel would know.”

When you turn to Joel, he’s looking at Ellie with sadness. She looks different, a lot older, yet she’s still Ellie to him. He doesn’t turn to you. ‘David.’ He instructs, and you turn to her.

“Do you know a David?” And suddenly her skin blanches. Ever so slightly, she’s shaking, but then she turns to Tommy. “Did Joel fucking telling you that!?”

From beyond Tommy’s protests that he doesn’t know who Daivid is, did she mean David Turner, who was a local here, or David Sanchez, who died last month in a raid? Joel insists he’d never tell that to anyone, but Ellie can’t hear him.

You try to calm them. “He says he was someone you met after leaving Jackson the first time, that you did the right thing by killing him.”

“Yeah! I fucking did!”

“He says if he goes to hell, David is the first person he’s finding.”

She stops, information processing in her head that there was no way Joel wold have told whoever David was to Tommy. “David tried to rape me when I was 14.” She grits out. “I stabbed him to death and let his body burn up.”

Tommy turns to her, horrified but doesn’t speak.

You nod. “Good.”

And then, she sinks into the couch. “Whenever I had nightmares… Joel always told me David was the first person he’d find in hell. He was convinced he was going there.”

You chuckle. Yeah that sounds like Joel. “He loves you both very, very much… and the uncertainty is what’s keeping him here. I need to help him move on.”

“So what? You’re some sort of fucking medium?”

“No, I’ve never had anything like this happen before but… He started appearing to me. Little touches, cold spots, breezes… then he started moving things, hearing his voice…. Now I can see him, he’s as clear as you are, honestly.”

Tommy speaks now. “He’s gotta know-” He tries to turn to where you said Joel was, but you can tell he’s struggling to talk to a brown cushion. “You gotta know we love you, don’t know? How can you doubt that?”

‘Tell him I do. But tell him… I don’t know if he forgives me.’

“Joel knows you both love him, but that’s not why he’s stuck. He needs to know you forgive him.”

Ellie is staring sone faced at a wall, but Tommy is looking down at his hands now, this seems easier. “Joel… those things we did… it’s been a long time. I was angry, yeah, I fucking hated you for a while but…” He shakes his head, silver streaks shimmering in the deep brown of his hair. “I got Walker now and… after he was born man, I think I got it. The things we did to survive… you were willing to do some of the worst shit out there, damning your own soul to save me. I’d do the same for my kid, if I needed to.”

‘But I shouldn’t have made you do any of it, Tommy.’

“Joel feels bad that he made you participate.”

“You didn’t make me do fuck’n shit, brother. I was a grown ass man, even if you still thought of me as a reckless teenager. I made my choices, and I understand why you made yours. You lost your baby, I know damn well you couldn’t take lose’n your brother either. I forgive you, but you also gotta forgive yourself, brother.”

Ellie pipes up. “I get it too, Joel. I told you that night, I didn’t know if I could forgive you… telling you I couldn’t… but… UUGHHHH!” She slumps down, covering her face. “Joel I was angry! I was angry and I was stupid but I was a teenager! I was just- just a kid who had these grand schemes of changing the world! But we don’t know if it could’ve worked. But I forgive you, Joel. I was always gonna forgive you, even before you went and fucking left me! I don’t know why I had to do that, why i treated you the way I did-”

‘You were a teenager, that’s normal-’

“But I think about it, every single day I think about it and what I should've said and done better but I get it now. I don’t know what you’ve been told but I got my kid now. I know you’re old man brain is probably trying to work out how two women had a baby-”

Joel laughs, and so does Ellie.

“But it’s Jesse’s. Dina got pregnant before Jesse and her broke up and he… he died. But I’ve been raising him with her the last few years… She took me back… You ask me on the porch that night if she treats me good and Joel…” Ellie sighs, smiling. “She really does.”

‘Tell ‘er I’m glad. That I always liked her, and I wanna know the kids name.’

“Joel says he doesn’t blame you for being mad at him, or how you talked to him. He says he’s glad Dina and you are happy. What’s the babies name?”

Ellie grins, pride in her eyes. “The baby is almost 4 now. His name is JJ. Jesse Joel.”

Tear fill up Joel’s eyes, fatherly love overwhelming him and for a moment, you think how sweet this is, how nice. Then you notice he’s not as clear as he was before.

“Joel!” You rush to his side and take his hand, kneeling at the couch. “Joel, I think it worked… you’re fading…” You try to grip his hand, as if holding on tighter would keep him here with you, keep him ground in this world. Without him, you weren’t sure what you’d do with your life, who you’d talk to or confide in…. But you knew, you knew above all you’d miss him. There would never be another Joel.

‘Please-’ He sounds desperate now, scared even. ‘One more time, tell them I love them, I just- I love them so much fucking much.’

Through your sobs, you relay the message. “He needs you to know how much he loves you guys. He talks about you all the time, he- you’re everything to him.” You see Ellie and Tommy holding hands, Ellie crying and Tommy looking close.

“We love you, Joel. All of us.” Ellie says, to nowhere in particular.

‘And the kids. Walker and- fuck I ain’t never met JJ but I love him too. If, if there’s a heaven I’m gonna…’ His words start to fade, but you know what he’s saying. His strength is going fast, Joel letting go and passing on, but even still his body shook. He was scared. If there was a heaven, Joel was going, but he wasn’t sure about that.

“He says he loves Walker and JJ, he’s gonna watch over them in heaven”

That breaks Tommy, who lets the tears come now as he takes your hand too, squeezing it tight.

You look up at your lover. “I love you, Joel. I’m always gonna love you, always gonna remember you. It’s gonna be okay, I promise you. We’re gonna be alright, we’re doing okay. You can let go now. It’s okay to let go. There’s no one left you need to protect.. we’re safe.”

Even though he’s fading away Joel looks into your eyes. He can’t speak, his strength fading, but it’s all communicated through those eyes that say so much. One last time, he cups your cheek, and the hand that isn’t holding Tommy’s brushes over the cold fingers, feeling liquid and unstable again. There’s fear in his eyes, mixed with that tender love, but then something changes in him.

Joel looks forward, past you, Tommy and Ellie and onto something else, something more. He smiles. ‘I see her’

All his fear his gone, and his face is peaceful.

For the final time, a breeze rustles your hair, and Tommy and Ellie see it.

Joel is gone, and all you can do is sob into his couch.

When it finally subsides you feel numb. Ellie and Tommy have joined you on the floor, the three of you talking about the experience you shared together, something no one will ever believe.

“His last words were, ‘’I see her’....”

Tommy whispers Sarah’s name, and you nod.

“He’s with her now. He’s a peace. I know a better place is a cliche, but…” Ellie wipes her tears. “We all know how much he missed her.”

Everyone nods solemnly, and for a while, you stay there, talking about Joel, memories and his jokes and his cooking. It was nice to share this secret with other, and suddenly you felt less alone in it. They believed your stories of the ghost in your walls, and they liked hearing the knew things he told you. You liked learning more of his past.

Eventually, everyone had to get back to their families. You were alone, but you didn’t feel lovely. Something had shifted, a closeness to Ellie and Tommy that didn’t scare you the way human connection used to. Maybe you would go to the mess hall, see some movies. Your patrol partner was quiet, but nice. Tommy was still around, and Ellie and Dina decided to pack up their things and return, wanting JJ to have friends. It was going to be okay, and as the sun set on the day, somehow you felt it rise on your life. A new, beautiful world of opportunities for friendship and love was out there.

You stared in the mirror, butt naked, feeling strangely open and vulnerable despite being alone for the first time in months.

It all felt surreal, something that seemed impossible, that went against every logical explanation.

But when you took off the bandage on your hip to change it, there they were, clear as day. 4 crescent fingernail cuts deep into your skin, something that would scar forever.

No matter what happened, you’d always carry these with you, proof that Joel and your love for him was real.

I cried pretty good writing tht end, knowing its my goodbye. I want yall to know I love each and every reader so so so so much. You mean the world to me. every kind word lives on in me forever. I hope you'll stay for my other writing, but if not, thats okay! I wih all of you the best.

Please be kinder to each other. the fanfic writers do this for free, they do not deserve the things they've experienced here. It is a beautiful world out there.

Trust me, it feels way better to send anon love rather than anon hate. I wont be writing tlou for a minute but ill return with a tommy series !!!!

follow @romana-after-dark for dark content and @riley-blue-byron for upcoming original works!

So long, and thanks for all the fish <3

reblogs are greatly appriciated, would make a nice send off <3

@princessanglophile @missladym1981 @goodwithcheese @dancinglotusbud @glitterymanboy @koshkaj-blog @sixhours @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @fandxmslxt69 @miraclesabound

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cheolhub · 2 years ago

Text

eiffel tower — kim mingyu + jeon wonwoo

wc. 1.3k+

warnings. threesome, degradation, praise, throat fucking, eiffel tower position <3, allusions to reader being a masochist, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, slut), snowballing/cum swapping hehe, mean dom!wonu, soft, needy dom!mingyu, needy sub!reader

note. enjoy this v short drabble w/ no plot that i found in my docs while i continue to grind out my other wips! not proofread pls don’t kill me!!! i need them to take me 2 paris. also , ahem @heesbaby

“look at you,” wonwoo grunts, watching himself disappear into your sopping heat. “taking two cocks at the same time,” he feels you clamp around him and he chuckles gruffly. “just like a slut.”

“don’t listen to him princess, you’re doing so well for us,” mingyu moans, gripping your hair tightly and pushing you further down his large length. you moan at the sudden intrusion, feeling so completely and utterly full, and mingyu feels it vibrate his entire body.

you’re not sure how you ended up with your best friend fucking you from behind while your other best friend fucks your throat, but you’re truly not complaining.

“wonwoo, tell h-her she's doing a good job,” mingyu demands weakly and his best friend simply laughs at his desperate state.

you look up at him while continuing to bob your head at his will. with disheveled hair and his eyebrows knit together, mingyu looks fucked and you can’t help but clench tightly around wonwoo at the view.

his grip on your waist tightens, near bruising. “fuck,” he hisses behind you. he snaps his hips harder into you, tip of his cock meeting your cervix. “takin’ me well, sweetheart. slutty little pussy feels like it was made for me.”

mingyu bucks his hips up, a guttural groan erupting in the back of his throat when he feels yours enclose around the tip of his fat cock. “us. made for us.” he spits. “right, baby? pretty pussy and mouth are all for us, yeah?”

you want to reply and mingyu can tell by the way you’re choking on him so he yanks you off by the hair. a string of saliva connects your puffy lips to his cock, but you look into mingyu’s eyes with your teary ones and nod.

you whimper out, voice a bit hoarse and shaky due to both of their unrelenting force and speed. “m-made for both of you.”

wonwoo moans, giving you sharper, deeper thrusts. his hands won’t let up on the bruising grip he has you in. honestly, he’s never felt this close to losing it before and if he had known his best friend's pussy was the world’s finest, he would have offered to fuck you months ago. your cunt has him in some type of trance with the way your gummy walls wrap around him so perfectly.

and mingyu… mingyu has already lost it, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at your words. he doesn’t want to hurt you– though it seems like something you're into– but he’s pushing you back on to his cock where you openly accept him into your throat again. he moans, guiding your head up and down.

you feel so full. so full of cock and it’s so good. too good. it has you clamping your already-tight walls around the man fucking into you from the back and whines vibrating the cock of the disheveled man in front of you.

“fuuuck,” mingyu cries, throwing his head back. “so good, so fucking good. you’re so good for us.” he babbles and you feel him twitch inside your mouth. when you feel his hands push you all the way down, you know what’s about to come. him.

wonwoo pipes up while you splutter around your other friend, “mingyu’s ‘bout to cum, baby, you’ll let him fill up that nice lil throat, yeah?”

all it takes is another loud, vibrating whine and your incessant attempts of trying to swallow around his cock for him to completely let go. he cries and moans out variations of your name while his massive load of cum paints the inside of your throat. he doesn’t pull you off till you cough around him, and when does, you splutter again with cum and spit dribbling out of your mouth.

mingyu is enamored with you, quickly maneuvering himself and gently wrapping his hand around your throat so he can swiftly press his lips against your. when you give him a surprised gasp, he shoves his tongue into your mouth, effectively tasting himself in your mouth.

and wonwoo thinks it’s so hot seeing how needy the two of you are for each other. he thinks it’s hot to see cum and spit sloppily spilling out of your mouths while the two of you engage in a heated kiss. he thinks it’s hot that you’re both loudly moaning into each others messy mouths. he thinks it’s all hot, but he wants your attention now.

“such a needy slut,” he grunts, thrust growing even harder making you sob into mingyu’s mouth.

you part from mingyu, to which he whines, mouth moving down to kiss at your jaw. “wonwoo!” you cry a mantra of his name. “wonwoo, wonwoo–”

“what, baby, is that all you can say? is my name the only thing in that pretty head now?” he asks breathily as he feels he’s on the precipice of an orgasm. “did our cocks fuck you stupid?”

you cry, “yes! wonwoo, ‘m gonna cum– k-keep fucking me!”

he groans loudly, obliging and not letting his speed falter. “not even a please?”

he’d let you cum even if you hadn’t said please– pussy this good deserves good things– but he just wants to hear what it sounds like when you beg. wants to hear that pretty voice beg for his cock, for his cum.

“god! please! please don’t stop, won, ‘m gonna cum–!” you plead before you’re cut off by your own scream, collapsing into mingyu where he continues to worship you with sweet kisses. you explode all over his cock, forcefully soaking him with your arousal. he feels how you’ve tightened around him and he’s feeling close, too. his dick is throbbing and his balls are drawing up while he effortlessly continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

he grunts, “where do you want me to cum, baby?”

“inside,” you pant, words strained.

mingyu groans at your words, feeling himself throb at the thought of filling you up with cum. he’s a bit envious now that he got your mouth instead of your pussy, but wonwoo insisted that he should be first so mingyu’s too-big length is a bit easier to take later. (even though taking wonwoo’s dick impressively stretched and filled you.)

wonwoo slams into you with brute force, nearly sending you forward while his cum sprays your walls and fills you to the brim. he’s moaning and grunting softly, pretty sounds that you wish were a bit louder.

and his cum makes you feel warm, but you whine when he pulls out all of a sudden and his comforting load drips out of you and onto his sheets. you pout at the loss, nuzzling into mingyu.

“did such a good job, princess. you’re our good girl– right, wonwoo?” mingyu says gingerly before looking up at his best friend with a face that screams, ‘tell her or i kill you.’

wonwoo hums, tiredly murmuring out. “yeah, baby, you’re our good girl.” his hands caress your side. “our good girl can take more, though, don’t you think, mingyu?”

mingyu bites his bottom lip, dick hardening at the thought of being able to fuck you. “can you, princess?”

“please, gyu– i can take it… i wanna take your cock now.” you agree, voice soft.

wonwoo rolls his eyes. you’re insatiable.

“and what about me, princess?” he asks almost mockingly. “you just want me to watch?”

you’re quick to blurt out, “n-no! i… i want you to touch me ‘n kiss me ‘n stuff.” you sit up and turn to look at him, pouty lips present.

your words make him chuckle. “and stuff?” he asks with a smile, to which you nod. “hm, okay. how about… you sit between my legs and i’ll play with your tits and pretty little clit while mingyu fucks you? how does that sound, baby?”

your breath hitches and you nod vigorously making both mingyu and the elder groan.

“good, and as for a kiss,” he says, voice lowering as he leans in with a smug smirk. he takes your chin between his fingers and you try to chase his lips but his hands keep you from moving in. “you’ll have to come and get it if you really want one.”

taglist🔖: @roe-sinning @hyuk4ngel @bowmonde @rckwithyou @5xiang @ttyunz @lunaofthelake @girls4cheol

#mingyu smut #wonwoo smut #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut

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charlesslut16 · 1 year ago

Note

hi love <3

could you maybe write for pierre :

Like you and your friends are talking about pierre, who alsways wants everything to be perfect in bed but y/n also wants to have quickes. Pierre hears the conversation and decides to show you how capable he is of having quickies with you.

thank you in advance bae ( :

-quickies-

summary : you and you're friends are talking about how pierre doesn't have quickies with you. Pieere hears the conversation and decides to change it.

PAIRING : pierre gasly x fem!reader

WARNINGS : +18, smut, NSFW, dirty talk, dom!pierre, fingering, spanking, p in v, badly translated french, curse words, public sex, unprotected sex (be safe!)

note : i hope you like it! Send in more requests and i will work them off! Love you <3

masterlist

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Pierre opened the front door of your apartment, with the keys you had given him for emergencies, and walked up the stairs to your bedroom, as you hadn't opened the door, when he sent you the message that he was in front of your house.

His step haltered, when he heard his name being mentioned, followed by a very know loud girl group laugh. He stopped in the middle of the stairs and waited quietly.

"So what is he like? Is he like a machine in bed too? Like a beast? " One of the girls asked, cackling, and he chuckled quietly with a shake of his head, a smile visibly on his face.

"No," he head your voice and the smile on his face grew wider. Of course, he wasn't cold and clinical during sex. If there was something people couldn't accuse him, it was the lack of passion.

"I mean, he does want it to be perfect all the time, so in a sense..." He held his breath, his brows knitted together, as he listened to her carefully, being visibly confused.

"You, girl, you're saying that like that's a problem." One of her friends laughed loud and he huffed. He couldn't understand why this sounded more like a complaint than a compliment.

"All my man does for me is put it in and take it out." Pierre's spine straightened a little bit, a smirk tugged at the side of his lip. He could go for hours, and loved to go for hours.

"Of course it isn't a problem, but sometimes I just wish he could do quickies without having to plan a day ahead," you exclaimed.

"Quickies are nice, but we don't have them, you know. I can't just say that we have ten minutes before the race starts or let's have a quickie in the shower before you need to go to the airport, because well... it wouldn't be perfect."

Pierre's eyebrows raised to his hairline. He figured you liked that he'd rather wait than just get it out of the way like it was a meaningless act. You were always the more sensitive one, and so he made sure that you felt cherished and treasured even when you were in bed together.

He couldn't wrap his mind around what the problem with that was. "But the thing is sometimes, you just need to fuck without any special treatment." you stated.

His fingers tapped against the railing before he inhaled deeply and walked up the rest of the stairs. No one had ever had the nerves to complain about his performance in bed. But if you wanted to be fucked, he could give it to her now.

"Good evening, ladies." He flashed them his most dazzling smile before he walked straight to you, grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you up and after him.

"What the... Pierre..." you complained, your voice slightly off from the booze you clearly had, one glass of wine as always, but it was enough to get her tipsy a little bit.

He completely ignored her words, and walked down the stairs, dragged you with him without haltering even for a second. You could only see the sight of his face, but you knew that look very well. He was pissed.

Pierre's jaw was clenched, his fingers dag into your arm so hard you wondered if you were going to get bruises later on. When you both hit the floor area. He turned to the right and headed towards your home office.

"Baby." Your hand tugged at his shirt, but he brushed your fingers off with a low grumble. You bit your bottom lip, felt your panties soaking trough between your legs.

There was something beautiful in a raging Pierre Gasly, how his eyes turned from a light colour to a darker one, his determination shining through. He was always like a force of nature, but these times, he reminded you of a tornado.

"What are you even... Pierre, they are going to... the girls will know..." you said breathlessly as he pulled you into the tiny room and closed the door behind you.

Pierre pushed you up against the wall of the tiny home office, wasting no time before he parted your legs and his hand slipped between your legs, making you almost buckle.

"Je n’en ai rien à foutre qui entende quand je te baise la cervelle," he growled in a low voice, another wave of wetness gushed between your thighs. I don't give a fuck who hears when I fuck your brains out,

"Qu’est-ce qui t’a pris?" You asked, accompanied by a moan, as he pushed your panties aside and thrusted two fingers into your pussy. What the hell has gotten into you?

"Ma copine ne peut pas se plaindre que je ne la baise pas correctement." He grabbed your jaw and pounded his fingers hard in you, in and out, fast and mercyless, his palm brushed over your swollen clit in small circles. My girlfriend can not complain that I don't fuck her properly.

Your knees trembled, and you could feel the familiar pull in your belly approaching you way too fast. Your hips lifted to pierre's hand and a whimper escaped your mouth, when his knuckles brushed over your sweet spot.

His fingers sank into your jaw deeper for a moment, and you hissed quietly. You were about to reply, as he pulled his fingers from your soaking hole and with a well planned moves grabbed you by the hair and pushed your face on the table.

The air, getting knocked out of your lungs, when your upper body hits the hard surface. You could hear him unbuckling his belt behind her and glanced over your shoulder.

Your boyfriend's big veiny hands wrapped tightly around both ends of the belt, and you felt your core pulsing with need, your ass lifted into the air involuntarily.

"Je n’ai pas le temps de parler en ce moment, juste une salope rapide." He smirked at you before the belt came around your wrists and pulled so tight, the leather cut into her skin. I have no time to talk right now, just a quickie, slut.

Your thighs quivered, and you could hear him huffing when you spread your legs just a bit wider. He looked you up and down before giving your ass a little pat.

"Tu vas crier mon nom, princesse, ne laissant aucun doute à quiconque à l’étage sur la façon dont je peux te baiser," You're going to scream my name, princess, leaving no doubt for anyone upstairs just how properly I can fuck you,

You could feel the tip of his cock against your entrance, and you tried to push back to him, but his hand came around your waist and held you so tight, you knew for sure the edge of the table was going to bruise your hipbone.

"Watch the clock. 10 minutes." He ordered, and your gaze fell on the small table clock. Pierre was unbelievable. You were about to make another snarky comment, but he was faster than you.

Without giving you even a moment to adjust to his size, Pierre thrusted into you with one swing of his hips, and you cried out. Tiny colourful blurs appeared in your vision as his cock invaded your tightness, every little bundle of nerves alive for the rough treatment he was giving you.

Pierre was a man on a mission, no doubt about it, fucking you so hard, the table moved inch by inch forwards. You could do nothing but scream as he held you down by the waist and pounded into you so powerful, you were a trembling mess in no time.

"Putain viens me chercher, qu’ils l’entendent." His hand landed on your ass with such strength, the print of his palm coloured your butt checks red, over and over again. Fucking come for me, let them hear it.

He switched between your cheeks before you cried out in desperation, the power of your orgasm nearly knocking you off your feet. It wasn't enough for him tough, not far enough.

"Eyes still on the clock, I hope." He smacked your burning red ass one more time to get your attention and to not let you slip into the bliss of your orgasm just yet.

"3 more minutes." you mumbled, as an answer through your haze, your breathing heavy as you pushed back into him, unable to follow the speed that he dictated.

"Alors vous pouvez m’en donner un de plus, n’est-ce pas?" He growled before one of his hands slipped from around your waist over the line of your spine up lightly to your hair, and he pulled you up against his body. Then you can give me one more, right?

Your eyes rolled back into the back of your head when the angle changed and his cock brushed against your g-spot repeatedly, sending all of your cells into a frenzy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Pierre, please!!" You screamed, pierre's thumb brushed over your clit and your body crashed against his when you came undone with a glass chattering scream.

Your swollen pussy clamped down on him, his thrusts turned erratic as he fucked you through your second orgasm before he followed you with a low grunt.

""Was that quick and unexpected enough for you?

"I petition you to be spontaneous more often."

"Next time you criticize how I fuck you, I'm not letting you come for a week." You laughed out but instantly nodded because you knew too well Pierre and his punishments were not to be taken lightheartedly.

#pierre gasly one shot #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly drabble #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly f1 #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #dom!pierre gasly

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 9 months ago

Note

Hi omg i absolutely love your work so much!! Literally had to turn on notifications just for you🩷 i wanted to request an enemies to lovers trope with ethan (but kinda slowburn) where he is really nice and shy/dorky with the rest of the group & rude to y/n specifically because he feels like thats the only way to get her attention. He walks in on her changing but leaves quickly due to embarrassment & a few days later just confesses during an argument and it ends in smut. Lots of angst & tension pls pls thank you so much🥲

Hiii! I hope you like it!

Holding on to You - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Ethan thinks he needs to be a jackass to get your attention. After months of dealing with his annoying ways, he confesses how he feels.

Contains: fluff, angst, use of pet names, mean!ethan, dry humping, riding, p in v sex. (If I missed anything, let me know!)

A/N: Apparently if I get stoned and listen to Twenty One Pilots, I write longer fics lmao. 3.7k words...jeez.

When Chad and Ethan needed a new roommate, and you hated yours, you decided to take Chad up on his offer for you to move in. Yeah, living with two boys wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Well, Chad wasn’t as bad as you thought he would be. Ethan on the other hand, loved to do things to piss you off.

As you stood at the sink doing your own dishes, Ethan walked by and dropped a bowl in the sink.

“Seriously?” you asked, looking over at him.

“What? You’re already doing dishes.”

Chad walked in the room before you could say anything else to Ethan. He smirked at you as Chad started to speak.

“Hey dude, you want to go with me to get the pizza for tonight?” he asked. You were having your friends over, and you were happy to have an interaction with someone that wasn’t a guy.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, sitting a cup in the sink, too.

“I’m not doing all your dishes, Ethan!” you yelled, as he and Chad made their way to the door.

He turned around to look at you again, flashing a smile before walking out.

The way Ethan acted was infuriating sometimes. He was completely different in the presence of everyone else, but when it was just the two of you, he was so rude.

When your friends started to arrive after Chad and Ethan got back, you were grabbing plates out of the cabinet when Ethan walked up behind you.

“Let me take these. I wouldn’t want all of them to get shattered,” he said, reaching over you and grabbing the stack. You huffed as he sat them down on the counter.

“I wouldn’t have broken them,” you mumbled, looking up at him.

“You just broke one last week!”

“Well, if you didn’t stack so many plates on the top shelf so only you’re giraffe-looking ass was able to reach them, maybe it wouldn’t have happened,” you snapped, grabbing the plates off the counter and carrying them out to the living room.

“Thank you,” Chad said as you sat the plates down.

“Yeah, thank you,” Ethan said as he followed you out, the sweetness in his voice making you want to gag.

As you all sat around eating, Tara brought up needing help for one of her classes.

“I can help you,” Ethan said, “I took that class already.”

“Let me guess, you had the highest grade in the class?” Mindy asked, already knowing the answer.

“I can’t help that I have a photographic memory,” he said, taking a bite of his food. “But seriously, if you need my help, let me know.”

You were quiet as you focused on your phone, trying to distract yourself from Ethan. You hated that he could be so nice to everyone else but was a total dick to you. It was disappointing because at one point, you thought he was sweet. The kindness and the fact that he was tall and very attractive was starting to draw you in, but then his personality just flipped one day.

“Why are you being so quiet?” Tara asked you, as you scrolled through your phone.

“I got a text from my ex earlier. Still an asshole,” you sighed, “But he’s been liking all my Instagram photos that he unliked when we broke up.”

“Don’t give him another chance, please,” Mindy begged, “He treats you like shit.”

Your cheeks started to turn pink as you sat there. You didn’t want to directly tell them that you were considering it, but the knowing look on Chad’s face confirmed that you were doing a bad job at hiding it.

“Seriously? He’s going to be in here trying to square up with me and Ethan, because he’s an insecure idiot,” Chad said, his tone full of disappointment, “You know he’s not good for you.”

Ethan was really invested in the conversation happening in front of him. He’d always kind of hoped that you’d just tell him you were interested in him. The type of guys you normally went after was the reason he was being a jerk, after all. He’s always wanted your attention.

“That’s my type though, Chad,” you sighed sarcastically as he shook his head.

“Yeah, but you could go after a sweet guy, like my boy Ethan over here,” he said, gesturing to the curly-haired boy that started to blush. “He’s a snack, right?”

“That didn’t work when you pitched it to the cute girl at the Halloween Party, and it’s not going to work now,” you giggled, happy that you were able to make a little dig at Ethan since he always says rude things to you.

“That wasn’t nice. I think you’re a snack,” Chad said to Ethan, as Tara started to laugh at their bromance.

“At least someone does,” Ethan said, glancing over to you and looking down at his lap.

“I’m not saying you’re not attractive, Ethan,” you sighed, feeling guilty for being so mean, “I guess you are a snack.”

“Oh, am I sensing a love connection here?” Chad said in a horrible fake-British accent.

“I didn’t say that.”

As everyone started to leave for the night, you went in your room to change into your pajama shorts and a big t-shirt.

Just as you took off your jeans, shirt, and bra, the door to your room opened.

“Hey, you left your…” You grabbed your shirt you were about to change into and quickly covered yourself with it as Ethan stood there. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

When he turned around and pulled the door shut behind him, your cheeks turned bright red. The guy that loves be an ass to you had just seen you in nothing but your panties. You sighed as you pulled your shirt and shorts on and walked out to get some water.

You jumped when you saw a shadowy figure in the dark kitchen as you turned the corner.

“It’s just me,” Chad said, as you flipped the light switch.

“You scared the shit out of me!” you said, as he stood there eating some of the cold, leftover pizza. “Why are you eating in the dark?”

“Why are you so jumpy? That’s how Ethan was a minute ago when he walked in here,” he said, chewing his food. “He sat your phone on the counter, by the way.”

“Maybe we’re jumpy because you’re lurking in a dark kitchen,” you said, grabbing your phone.

“You’re probably right. Well, good night.”

As he walked back to his room, you pulled a cup out of the cabinet, getting some water. You couldn’t stop thinking about how awkward it was going to be to see Ethan again, which will happen eventually because he shares your living space.

That didn’t happen for several days, though. He intentionally avoided you, only coming out of his room if you weren’t home, or you were in your own room. It was starting to bother you, because even if he made you feel like shit before he walked in on you, he at least talked to you, and it was significantly less awkward.

When you walked out to the living room, you saw Chad and Ethan sitting on the couch watching tv. You flopped down a few cushions away from them, looking at the screen.

“Star Wars, huh? I wouldn’t expect anything less from you two dorks,” you joked, as Chad scoffed.

“You know, I used to think you were cool,” he said, throwing one of the decorative pillows at you.

You threw it back at him, hitting Ethan in the process.

“Hey!” he yelled, grabbing the pillow that eventually landed on Chad and threw it back at you.

“You know what we need? Snacks,” Chad said, standing up. He grabbed the remote to pause the movie. “Ethan, Cheetos?” he asked as Ethan nodded. “Do you want anything?” he asked you, walking towards the kitchen. “No, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. Maybe if your nice, Ethan will share his snacks.”

You laughed at his comment as you looked over to Ethan. He wasn’t saying anything, but you could feel the tension in the air. The only thing that came to your mind was that he was probably dying inside from not saying anything shitty to you for the last several days.

“What are you looking at?” he snapped, glancing over to you.

“There it is. I thought you were never going to be mean to me again.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t feel like I should have to speak to you,” he said, as Chad walked back in, completely missing Ethan’s comment. “Thanks, man,” he said, after Chad handed him the Cheetos.

He pressed play on the movie again, as you tried to get interested in it.

“That thing is kind of cute,” you said, pointing at the character.

“Jar Jar Binks is cute? That explains your taste in men,” Chad said, as Ethan started to laugh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, staring both of the boys down.

“He’s one of, if not THE, most hated Star Wars characters,” Ethan said, looking over to you. “Just like how every single guy you date is completely unlikable.”

“You don’t have to call me out like that,” you sighed, standing up to grab the blanket that was on back of the couch behind Ethan. “Can you sit up a little bit so I can grab this,” you said, tugging on the fluffy material.

“No, I’m comfortable like this,” he said, his tone playful because Chad was beside him.

“Please, I’m cold,” you whined, as he rolled his eyes and sat up.

You grabbed the blanket and snuggled back up in your spot. Ethan kept looking over to you, trying to be as discreet as possible about it. You caught his gaze, giving him a ‘What’ look, before looking back at the tv.

When the movie was over, Chad stood up. “I think I’m going to Tara’s. You guys want to come?”

“Yeah, like I want to be there while you try to put moves on my friend,” you said, as he shrugged.

“She’s cute. I can’t help it. Ethan, you coming?”

“I don’t want to be a third wheel,” he sighed, “I have stuff to work on anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll be back later,” Chad said, pulling his hoodie on.

When Chad left, Ethan got up to walk to his room.

“Hey,” you said, as he stopped and turned a little to look at you, “If you hate me so much, why did you agree to me moving in?”

“Because you can pay the rent,” he said, “Is this conversation over?”

“No, it’s not,” you stood up, as he fully turned back around. “What the fuck happened? Because you used to be nice to me. Then you started to treat me like every other guy ever has.”

“Yeah? What was that jab a few nights ago where you made me feel like a loser in front of our friends?” he started to raise his voice at you, “Because that wasn’t very nice.”

“I wanted you to know what it feels like, Ethan! You treat me like I’m stupid! You know how many times I’ve gone to my room and cried over some of the things you’ve said to me?” you were yelling at this point, the anger in his face softening as he started to feel guilty. “You used to be so sweet and caring, I miss that Ethan.”

“I couldn’t be like that anymore,” he sighed, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

You were still mad, yelling “Why?” at him as he started to walk towards you.

“Because you aren’t interested in nice guys!” he yelled back, “You always go after people that don’t treat you right, when all I’ve wanted to do this whole time is to be what you want!”

“You really are dumb,” you started to laugh, shaking your head. “You had a fucking chance, Ethan! I was interested in you. It was weird for me, and I wasn’t sure how to act because you aren’t my normal type, but that’s what made me like you!”

“How was I supposed to know that?” he said, sighing as he sat back down on the couch. “I just wanted to be what you wanted.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s something wrong with my normal ‘type’,” you laughed, sitting beside him. “In some sick, twisted way, I think it’s sweet that you wanted my attention so bad.”

“So, it worked?” he asked, cocking his head to look at you.

“I’m not going to validate you being an asshole. I want you to be yourself, that’s the Ethan I like,” you smiled at him.

“I’m sorry for making you cry before, I feel awful about that,” he said, the guilt present on his face.

“Just don’t do it again.”

“I totally ruined everything, didn’t I?” he asked, “I remember you mentioned your ex the other night. Are you going to give him another chance?”

You started to laugh as you looked at him, “Why would I do that? I mean, unless you aren’t interested in me, and this is just some sick joke.”

“No, I’m interested,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

The kiss was sweet at first, exactly what you expected from Ethan. He started to pull away, but your head moved with his, not wanting the kiss to end. His lips kept moving as you felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip. You started to straddle him as you let him deepen the kiss, his tongue dancing against yours. When you felt him get hard through his jeans, you pulled away to look at him. His eyes were dazed as he watched you, craving more.

“You okay?” you asked, your breathing heavy.

“Yeah, can we do that again?”

You leaned back in, his hands going to your hips as you kissed him. His grip tightened a little as he started to squirm underneath of you, desperate to get a little friction. His lips moved to your jaw, before kissing down your neck. You whimpered when he found your sweet spot, his mouth attacking it so you’d keep making that sound.

Your hands were resting against the hem of his shirt, so you started to lift it to graze your fingers over his toned stomach. He followed your lead, his hands rubbing against your sides underneath your shirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingertips brushed against your ribs, the tickling feeling surprising you.

“You tensed up, are you okay with this?” he mumbled against your neck.

“Mhm,” you said, removing one of your hands from his abs and putting it under his chin. He lifted his head so your mouths could connect again, as you started to grind against him.

He started to groan into the kiss, his hips moving against yours. “Do you want to do this,” you asked pulling away a little. He nodded his head as you slid off of him to unbutton his jeans.

“Wait, are we about to fuck on the couch?” he asked, as you nodded.

“Stand up,” you said, grabbing his hands. You grabbed your blanket from the other side of the couch, spreading it across the cushions. “Now we don’t have to feel guilty whenever we see Chad sitting on the couch.”

He smiled as you slid his jeans down over his hips. “I think you should let me take something off of you.”

You smiled at him as you stepped back a little, your hands at your sides as you waited for him to make a move. His hands went to your shirt, lifting it over your head. He felt like his eyes were going to pop out off his skull when he realized you didn’t have a bra on.

“You’re even more perfect up close,” he said, leaning down to take one of your nipples in his mouth.

“How many times have you thought about me almost naked since the other night?” you asked, your fingers tangling in his hair as he moved his mouth.

“So many times,” he said as he pulled away and moved to the other one. He groaned a little at the feeling of your fingers tugging on his curls.

His hands reached down to the top of your jeans, slowly unbuttoning them, and sliding them down your hips. You shimmied out of them as you slid your feet out.

As you both stood there, he leaned in to kiss you again, the tent in his boxers pressing against you.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked, as he nodded.

“Good idea,” he said, running down the hall to his room. You took the opportunity to take off your panties as you waited for him to come back. His jaw dropped when he came back and saw you standing there, completely nude. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It can’t happen until these come off,” you said, grabbing the waistband of his boxers and sliding them down his thighs. After he stepped out of them, you pushed him back onto the couch.

He opened the condom as he sat there, rolling it on his hard cock. You really started to look at his size, nervous that it wouldn’t fit inside of you. His hands reached out, grabbing yours to pull you back on his lap. You kissed him as you grabbed his erection and lined it up with your soaked core.

“Oh fuck,” you whined, sinking down onto him. You sat in place as you kept kissing him, giving yourself enough time to adjust to the pressure as he stretched your walls.

When you started to roll your hips, his hands held onto them. “God, this feels amazing,” he said, loving the feeling of you around him. “You’re so tight.”

As you started to bounce on him, his thrusts started to meet yours. You kept making eye contact with him as his mouth started to fall open, faint moans slipping past his lips.

“That’s so hot,” you moaned, as he looked at you, trying to understand what you meant. “You can be as vocal as you want, baby. I love it.”

His heart melted as you called him ‘baby’, loving the sound of it. He started to get a little louder, letting you know exactly how good he was feeling.

“Rub my clit,” you whimpered, as your hands went to his shoulders to stabilize yourself so you could move faster.

His fingers started to rub circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves, the whines flying out of your mouth echoing off the walls. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

His fingers soon sped up as your moaning got higher. “Yes yes yes,” you cried out, that euphoric feeling so close to taking over your body, “I’m gonna cum.”

Your pussy started to flutter around him as your body started to tense up. He kept thrusting up into you, so close to his own orgasm. “Shit, gonna cum,” he groaned out, his hand leaving your clit and going back to your hip as he pounded into you. “Fuuuuck.”

He let out a long, shaky breath as he released into the condom. Your body relaxed against his as his hands rubbed your back. “You okay, baby?” he asked, as you nodded against his shoulder.

You laid there for a few more minutes, just enjoying his arms around you. “You want to take a shower?” you asked your fingers rubbing across his chest.

“I’d love to.”

When you were in the shower with Ethan, he was so sweet and caring. As he ran the soapy loofah across your back, you started to tear up a little. No one had ever done anything like this for you. Any other guy you’d showered with expected round two, but Ethan just wanted to take care of you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, as you stood under the water, the suds washing off your body.

“Stop. You keep saying stuff like that, you’re going to make me fall for you,” you laughed, as he laced his fingers with yours.

“You promise? Because you’re so amazing, and so perfect,” he said, and you knew he meant every word he was saying.

After the shower, you grabbed the blanket off the couch and threw it in the washer, before starting it. It would’ve made no sense to put the blanket down if you were just going to leave it there. Ethan walked up behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist. “You’re still naked.”

“You are, too,” you said, turning to face him. “I want to cuddle tonight. Your bed or mine?”

“Let’s grab your clothes and lay in mine. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about you in my bed,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

“Okay, let’s go before Chad comes home and sees us naked,” you giggled, pulling away from him to run down the hall.

The next morning, you woke up with your head on Ethan’s chest and his arms wrapped around you. You sat up a little, your tired eyes connecting with his as he opened them.

“You look so cute first thing in the morning,” he said, sitting up too.

“I’m starving,” you said, running your hand through your hair as you attempted to tame the bed head.

“I could take you out to breakfast, if you’d like to.”

“I’d like that,” you said softly, leaning in to peck his lips.

You bumped into Chad in the hallway as you both walked out of Ethan’s room.

“Uh…okay,” he said, as you started to laugh. “Was I right about the love connection?” His fake accent was back as you rolled your eyes.

“You’re so annoying,” you mumbled, walking into your room to change.

When your door closed, Chad whisper-yelled, “Yessss dude I’m so proud of you! You’ve been crushing on her forever.”

“It’s a long story, but I’m so excited that she’ll know how it feels to be treated right.”

Chad and Ethan started to do a little happy dance as you walked out of your room, both of them stopping as you smirked.

“You ready to go?” you asked, reaching out to grab Ethan’s hand.

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #scream

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 2 years ago

Text

Jealous James

request: “i was wondering if you could write something smutty with James but it’s possessive smut coz some guy was flirting with her. It’s like James overstimulating her to the point where she can’t form anything but his name and he gets so smug and shit.” / “i can’t stop thinking about James Potter and him getting jealous about seeing a guy hit on reader but she’s too innocent to know what’s going on so when they get home it’s like soft but possessive sex with him.”

pairing: James Potter x reader

summary: just the requests, mostly smut!

warnings / tags: NSFW (minors do not interact!), rough sex, eating out, fingering, p in v, mention of afab parts but no pronouns or much gendering, established relationship, cocky lovable James

word count: 2.9k

“Nice t-shirt. Great band,” you hear from beside you as you wait at the bar for yours and James’s next round of drinks.

“Oh, thanks! They’re great aren’t they?” you reply, friendly. You love talking about the things you like, and sometimes you don’t get a lot of chances because your friends and boyfriend — all of whom you love to death — don’t always share your taste.

“The best! What’d you think of the new album?” he asks, continuing the conversation.

“It was really good, I reckon. But I’m not sure I like it as much as the last one,” you reply. “Maybe I just need to give another listen or two.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You smile and nod then turn back toward the bartender preparing your drinks, thinking that was the end of that.

But he continues, “Who else do you like?” He leans in, but you think little of it, aware of the loud bar and thinking he couldn’t hear you well otherwise.

You mightn’t’ve thought much of it, but across the bar, James’s eyes are on you like a hawk.

He sees the random bloke step toward you, sees your friendly smile, and he can’t help but feel a twinge — okay, maybe a bit more than a twinge — of jealousy surge up inside him. He tries to push it down, knowing it’s silly, knowing he trusts you completely. He tries to look away…but lasts about one second before his eyes shoot back at you, glued to the small distance between you and his new enemy.

No, no; not, his enemy, that would be silly. Overreacting.

Yet, his glare hardens as the man takes yet another step towards you. He says something, leaning in. You laugh, your nose wrinkling. And James, well, James’s grips tighten.

His mind plays ping pong between his two options: stay here, go interfere; stay here, go interfere. The man steps closer, and James opts for the latter.

You go on about your favorite band, how their sound is similar to (but better than) that of the band whose t-shirt you’re proudly sporting. He leans even closer, a bit too close for you, even though you are enjoying the musical conversation. You step back but speak louder so he can still hear you. He steps closer again, and you step back and speak up even louder.

Then you feel a hand on the small of your back. You’re about to step away when you hear a familiar, lovely voice in your ear. “All good with the drinks, darling?” James asks, standing beside you. The man backs away a bit.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” You smile sideways at your boyfriend, relaxing into his touch, then look back at the man in front of you. He looks a bit put out, looking at James and not at you.

“Great. Wait for you over there, then,” James says and kisses your forehead before heading back to your booth.

You’re a bit confused but go to finish the thought you were sharing about the new album. As you do, though, your confusion increases rather than decreases when the friendly bloke in front of you is no longer looking at you, looking straight forward at the bartender instead, cold shoulder turned toward you. You shrug, grab the drinks finally placed in front of you then make your way back to James and the others in your shared booth.

James is squirmy when you sit back down next to him, placing his drink in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says, a bit too quickly, wrapping his arm around you and taking a sip of his drink, tilting his head back toward Sirius, who is in the middle of telling a very animated story.

You try to shake it off — not succeeding completely, a strange discomfort still lingering — and listen to Sirius’s story too while James’s grip tightens on your shoulder.

Even as a few minutes pass by, he still feels tense next to you, and it worries you. “You sure you’re alright?” you whisper in his ear.

He shivers next to you, but simply nods and says “mmhhmm” as he looks briefly at you.

The evening proceeds: stories exchanged and enjoyed, drinks gotten and finished, friends teased and laughed with.

The night finds you outside, arms around yourself in the cold weather, waiting for James who had to pop back in to the bar when he realized he had forgotten his hat.

“Cold night, huh?” a familiar voice asks next to you. You turn to see the guy from earlier standing right next to you. “Yeah, a bit,” you smile, not giving him much attention, hoping James will hurry so you can get home and under comfy, warm blankets as soon as possible.

“So, listen,” the guy goes on, “if you ever want to give that new album a listen with some company…” he hesitates then moves closer to you, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Then maybe you can let me know, gorgeous,” he finishes, handing you his phone with a “new contact” entry open.

“Oh… uh…” you stutter, not grabbing his phone. “Thanks, but I’m on my way home,” you say a bit lamely, not sure what to say but not interested in giving him your number.

“It’ll only take a second, won’t it?” he asks, stepping even closer. You step back, reeling for what to say.

James finds his hat on the booth seat, putting it on as he makes his way back toward the door. He can’t help but feel a bit bad; he knows jealousy isn’t healthy, knows you probably couldn’t even tell that guy was hitting on you. For Godric’s sake, it took him forever to make it clear to you that he was flirting with you before you got together. Still, he just wanted to protect you from unwanted advances… and maybe, just maybe, make it clear to that other bloke that you were taken… by him. He shakes his head at his possessive thoughts, but as he steps out of the bar, he sees you stepping away from said bloke. At the first sign of your discomfort, his protective instincts surge infinitely higher than his possessive ones as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, putting himself between you and the man approaching you. “Ready to head home, love?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you smile, a bit stiffly, as you walk away from the bar under his protective arm. You give the (overly)friendly guy a grin as you turn away.

You’re putting your coat on the hanger when you feel James’s hands on your hips, his breath on your neck. “You have a nice time tonight, sweets?” he asks into your neck, kissing there.

“Mmmhmm,” you reply in pleasure, leaning back into him.

“Mmm,” he hums into the crook of your neck, his grip tightening on your hips. He nips at your skin and slips his fingertips under your shirt. Usually he caresses your skin when his hands slip under, but this time, he finds his tight grip again right away. You feel his teeth scrape your neck and shiver at the sensation.

You’re enjoying it, certainly, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is off. James feels stiff; he has for a while. You turn in his arms, but his grip remains tight around your waist now that you are facing each other. “You alright, Jamie?”

“Yeah. Fine. Good. All good,” he responds, his tone tense.

You arch an eyebrow at him, enough to convey how unconvinced you were.

He keeps eye contact with you, but after a beat, he lets out a long, loud exhale. You can see his shoulders ease at the relief of it. You rub his chest over his soft jumper.

“It’s nothing, just me being a bit of an idiot.” He tries to laugh as if dropping the conversation there.

“Hm. I dunno, love; you’re an idiot a lot of the time, but it doesn’t seem to bother you then,” you smirk shyly. He jokingly glares at you.

“That bloke tonight…” “Which one?” You mean it initially; you’d already forgotten. His glare becomes less joking. “C’mon, y/n, you know. The one who was hitting on you all night. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice… you seemed like you were enjoying it even.” His eyes are colder than usual, and you hate it. You go to defend yourself, but stop in your tracks. You want to comfort him, but you didn’t do anything wrong and don’t want to apologize out of habit.

You opt for, “You trust me?” Another relieving breath; his eye soften. “Of course I do.” His hand makes its way to your cheek, caressing you. “It’s not that I don’t, love. I trust you completely. I just can’t help but hate seeing you with some other bloke who so clearly wants to get into your knickers.” His thumb traces your bottom lip a bit harshly. “I like being the only one who gets to touch you…” His thumb slips just the tiniest bit into your mouth.

“You getting possessive, Potter?” you whisper into his hand shakily. “Not exactly.” He moves closer. “I don’t want to possess you; I want to pleasure you,” he whispers lowly into your ear.

Pleasure shoots down your spine from the place his lips made contact.

“Oh?” You’re melting already.

“Mm,” he groans affirmatively. “I want you ruined for any other man… I don’t want you looking at any other man not because you’d feel you shouldn’t but because you wouldn’t even want to… I want you completely satisfied… by me.” His voice is low, firm, setting you on fire.

You peck his finger where it still rests in front of your mouth. “You do,” you murmur. “Satisfy me, I mean…” He’s better at assertiveness than you, your shyness creeping in the moment you get turned on. Your gaze travels back and forth between his eyes.

He holds your gaze, his lips parted, and nods slowly, wordlessly.

“But maybe… you could… you know… remind me?” you whisper.

His expression turns devilish immediately, his eyes at once alight with mischief and darkened by lust.

“Oh? You need reminding, do you?” He steps forward, forcing you back against the wall. His hand on your face grips it tightly, fingers on one cheek, thumb on the other. The squeeze purses your lips.

He moves his face toward yours at a tremendously slow pace. Your foreheads touch; your noses meet, and without further waiting, James slips his tongue directly into your mouth. You hum around it, and you think you hear him giggle. Everything sounds as if you’re underwater now, though, your blood rushing, your head light from how turned on you’re getting. You love when he’s like this, and he knows it.

His hand on your face moves quickly to the back of your head, pulling you into him, his fingers twining into your hair. His other hand comes up from your hip to your breast, palming and squeezing roughly.

Your lips part in your pleasured sigh, and he takes the opportunity to bite down on your lower lip. You yelp in pleasured pain, and this time you’re sure you hear him laugh.

He pulls your shirt off and pins your arms above your head as he does. His gaze on you is playful but predatory. He looks at your chest hungrily, eyes going from one breast to the other.

He slips his finger into the band of your bra and says, “You make these look nice, love, but I still hate that you wear them.”

He yanks the cups down and buries his face there, kissing and groaning. Your head knocks back against the wall when he sucks harshly on your nipple. You’re squirming in his grasp, pushing your chest up into him, loving the feel of his mouth.

He sucks each of your nipples then nuzzles his face between your tits another moment before licking up your chest, your neck, sucking on your jaw while his free hand continues to pinch and pull on your nipples.

He kisses under your ear and rasps, “No one can make you feel as good as I can.” You whimper in response.

He pulls you off the wall, and you think he is going to drag you to the bedroom, but instead, he harshly turns you around in one swift motion and pushes you back against the wall, now your front against the wall, your back to him. The cold, textured wall against your bare, already sensitive chest draws another whimper out of you, and it is elongated into senseless, prolonged “ahh”’s as James sucks on your neck and presses his body against yours. You can feel his hard cock and push your arse back into him. He groans appreciatively in your ear and can’t help but hump into you a couple of times.

You shiver from the cold of his body leaving yours, and it only gets worse when he pulls your trousers and underwear down in one go then pulls your arse cheeks apart with his strong hands, now kneeling behind you.

You’re soaking wet and feel a bit drip down your thigh, but almost as soon as you do, you feel his tongue catch it and lick up your thigh into your slit.

“Can’t have you making a mess in the doorway, can we, love?”

He bites your arse a bit too hard, making you yelp and jump up in place. His grip on you tightens, holding you in place.

“Make a mess on my face instead, yeah?” he asks, no question in his tone as he shoves his face against you, devouring you immediately. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jamieee…” One hand pressed against the wall, the other makes its way behind you to grip his thick hair.

He pushes your legs a bit further apart to have better access, and the combination of the less stable stance and the stab of pleasure at his sucking on your clit now that you’re more available to him almost makes you fall over. You feel the vibrations of his chuckling into your cunt, and you can physically feel yourself getting even wetter.

He continues eating you out expertly, his hands massaging your arse as he does. You feel the warmth of one leave your body. You love his hands, and the anticipation of where you will feel it next sends another wave of pleasure through you. He doesn’t disappoint as a moment later you feel his fingers pressing into your slit. He usually takes his time stretching you out, but this time, he plunges two in at once and only a couple of strokes later adds a third. His other hand snakes around to rub your clit.

It only takes a few seconds of this intensity to have you coming around his fingers, rutting and whimpering as you do. He keeps up his efforts to prolong your orgasm, moving even faster as you cum and slowing down as you come back down from your high. After-waves of pleasure are still shooting through you as he removes his fingers and laps at your cunt, licking and sucking and provoking the most pleasant painful tickle. He gives it a final kiss then stands back up behind you.

“I’m gonna fuck you now. Think your legs can take it?” he asserts lowly into your ear. You’re not sure they can, but you nod immediately anyway. You hear his zipper behind you.

“Good girl.” He gives the sensitive spot behind your ear a kiss then his head drops to the crook of your neck where he bites your shoulder as he eases into you. He goes slowly but doesn’t stop until he bottoms out. You feel incredibly full, and between your straining legs and your back arching to help the angle, your entire lower half is taut tight. You can tell you’ll be sore, but in this moment, even the pain is pure pleasure, every sensation heightening the visceral bliss. Deep-seated inside you, James chuckles into your shoulder.

“Fuck you feel good,” he says. “Jamie,” is all you can respond.

“Yeah, baby, say my name again.” “Jamie,” you whimper.

“Tell me who makes you feel this good, love, who makes you feel like no one else can.” “You, James, you. Fuck, James.” And with his first rough thrust, you involuntarily hiss another “James.” And again; and again as he starts pounding you into the wall. He’s nodding behind you; you can feel it, seemingly more to himself than to you as he continues giving you everything he has.

One hand intertwines with yours; the other snakes around you, holding you tight and kneading your breasts. When he feels himself getting close, it moves down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. It works perfectly, and as you cum around his cock, he groans animalistically as you milk him dry.

You’re both standing there, breathing loudly and heavily, his softening cock still inside you, his head heavy on your shoulder. He pecks you there then half holds half carries you to turn you back around to face him.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers, his forehead pressed against yours, his hands caressing your back. “Jamie,” you whisper back. His grin transforms into a beaming smile at what you hadn’t realized would be the perfect response. His jealousy assuaged, his love spreads through him, pushing and melting away any remaining envy like a warm wave at high tide.

#marauders #marauders fanfic #marauders smut #marauder x reader #james potter #james potter fanfic #james potter smut #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #reader insert #x reader #x y/n #x you #james potter imagine #james potter one shot #established relationship

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itsharleystuff · 11 months ago

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╰─▸ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

‘ I just wanna be one of your girls tonight ’

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rockstar!Joel x afab!fem!reader (no outbreak alternative universe).

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.7k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your best friend’s boyfriend has an older brother that turned out to be the guitarist of a famous rock band from the 80s. You meet Joel by accident before his concert and things take an interesting turn.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (Joel is 48, reader is said to be in college tho her age isn’t specified), sex, p in v sex, porn with barely any plot, sex with a “stranger”, a bit of dirty talk, oral sex (f), use of ‘slut’, praise, mirror sex, fingering, some oral (m), cum eating, reader calls Joel an ‘old man’, smoking (they share a cigarette), pet-names (sweetheart, darling, honey). Also, I know nothing about guitars or concerts so this is probably very inaccurate. This one’s roughly edited, forgive meee. No use of y/n.

— 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬: One of the girls - The Weeknd, Lily Rose-Depp, Jennie. Breakin’ dishes - Rihanna. Todas mueren por mi - Cartel de Santa.

Third-wheeling has now unintentionally become your most recurrent hobby since your best friend started dating Tommy Miller. Not that either of them minded, given that it was their idea.

Tonight was different, however.

"I could've been a part of it, y'know?" the man boasts, "I just didn't know how to play any instruments or how to arrange tunes... I have a nice voice, though. If that counts for anything."

Ary, your friend, giggles at his statement and replies with a comment that you didn't quite listen. Tommy's car stereo is currently blasting The Clashers' latest album— Joel Miller's rock band, that is. Two days ago, you had no idea who the eldest Miller was –only that he existed–, much less that he was the guitarist of a very popular 80s band. Now his brother is taking you and his girlfriend to their gig, to which he was given front row tickets. Nice.

Their music was actually pretty good, though some of the songs sounded more country than rock. Tommy explained that those were most definitely written by his brother, due to his love for the genre. Apparently, The Clashers have had a recent comeback with their newest album and a small tour, all after a long, undefined hiatus that went on for nearly a decade and a half. "Joel's fault", the younger Miller said, "he became a father. A single one, to top it off. But he's the best at it, don't ever doubt that."

"How old is he again?" you wonder, suddenly curious about the age gap between the siblings.

"Forty-eight. His girl Sarah just turned nineteen a couple months ago." You nod absentmindedly at the response.

You met Tommy almost a year ago, when Ary and you used to work at a cafeteria outside of Dallas' university. She'd graduated a few years ago, but needed money to pay her rent and coincidentally, you did too. You hit it off right away, becoming friends but also roommates in further time. Though you were still in college and she was a bit older, that never seemed to be an issue with your friendship or your schedules. Tommy came along shortly after, turning up every day at the café with his charisma and nice manners, making his intentions with Ary very clear since the beginning.

"D'you think there'll be a crowd?" your question makes her raise a brow quizzically.

"Most likely," she retorts thoughtfully. "Why? Are you regretting your own idea?"

Her boyfriend chuckles at that, knowing perfectly well how much you disliked loud, cramped places. It's not that you didn't enjoy this sort of events once in a while, but being someone who gets easily overwhelmed around people, you mostly prefer the sort of lay-back dates. Nevertheless, it was you who came up with this plan for today. With college giving you such a hard time and your colleagues being tremendous assholes lately, you needed something out of your comfort zone to fully unwind. Some action to pull you off the dull routine.

"Are you subtly implying that I'm a boring person?" you ask, falsely offended, crossing both arms over your chest. "Cause I swear I know how to loosen-up, I just need time to... Get used to it."

Tommy seems to be holding back laughter, but Ary doesn't even try to hide her amusement. "Girl, you're lucky I'm your friend, or else you'd be rotting in our local library," she scoffs.

You roll your eyes playfully, a smirk pursing your lips, "Yeah, cause that'll be such a tragedy. Who'd support you financially if I didn't study, huh?" you turn your head to her boyfriend. "Tommy?"

The man shrugs his shoulders, fighting against the urge to grin. "Oh, dear," she glances over her shoulder to look at you from the shotgun seat, bright smile painting her face. "Don't give him any ideas. He might just marry me."

✩ ° ｡⋆⸜ 🎧

Whilst Tommy went looking for a place to park, you and Ary walked to the nearest convenience store to grab some beverages. You were still running early anyway, which only meant a quick stop wasn't going to imply much trouble.

"I'll wait for you out here," with a head tilt, you silently indicate your friend to go ahead. "I need a cig."

She nods understandingly, "Want me to grab something for ya'?"

"No, I'm alright. Don't worry about it."

Ary stopped at the entrance to look back at you, staring intently for a weird extent of time, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Did I mention you look stunning?"

"You might've had, but that doesn't mean I don't love hearing it," the reply widened her smile. Once she went inside the store, you took a chance to peer at your reflection in the showcase.

This whole eighties vibe was certainly not something you were used to, but there was no denying how hot it made you appear. Aiming for a 'rockstar girlfriend' kinda look, you went for that smudgy, dark eye-makeup; as for the clothes, the mini skirt, low-cut bustier and oversized leather jacket paired with some nice boots kept the whole outfit together.

You blinked away, stunned by how confident you suddenly felt in your own skin. Chuckling to yourself, you started digging in your purse for a smoke. And as if the gods decided to toy with your faith, you luckily found a single one sitting at the very bottom; putting the filter between your lips, you then turned your bag upside down to search for the lighter, only to find that you hadn't brought it with you.

"Damnit," you spat in frustration, closing your eyes to picture in your mind where the last place you'd left it was.

Maybe it was next to your bed, on the nightstand; or perhaps in front of the stove... No, it definitely wasn't in the kitchen. The blurry image in the back of your head resembled more of a–

"Hey," a low, masculine voice called from beside you in a mellow tone, almost as if this mysterious man had a naturally sly nature but wanted to cool it down. "Need a light?"

He had a deep, soothing ring; raspy, profound and very southern-like. Frankly, you didn't know what you were expecting before setting your eyes on him, but it definitely wasn't a man such as he was. A wave of emotions washed over your body as you pried on him; big, broad, rugged and devastatingly handsome. Not to mention older than you— however, how much older is not a detail you care to find out. Your skin felt ticklish and warm, added to the sudden acceleration of your pulse.

First thing you noticed were his big brown eyes, shiny in sort of a childish way, regardless of the wrinkles that surrounded them when he politely simpered. You could tell he was a total heartthrob by the way his lips quirked and his head tilted downwards when addressing you.

He's thick in the arms and wide in the shoulders, something that was noticeable despite the black leather jacket he was wearing over a plain white t-shirt, tucked into a pair of worn-out denims. The cowboy hat on his head casts shadows upon his face but you're still able to make up his features: aquiline nose, strong jawline, soft lips under a styled mustache and a patchy, graying beard. Tall and handsome as hell.

"Yeah," you answer as soon as your mind allows you to, suddenly feeling your mouth dry when realizing you were staring. He bit back a smirk as he gauges at your reaction. "You've got one?"

"Lucky for you, I do." His left hand disappeared in the pocket of his jacket, taking out a simple red lighter. "I don't suppose you've got a cigarette to spare, do ya'?"

"Sorry," you frown apologetically, "this is my last."

He closed the gap between you, but instead of handing the lighter, he hunched down to lit the end of the dart still hanging from your lips, caging it with his big hand. And fuck, he smelled good. A mix of cedar and sandalwood, fresh and manly.

"No worries, doll." Dizzy with his presence, your eyes unconsciously bored into his. You can't move away, diving inside his pupils like you're hypnotized. "I'll just buy a pack for myself."

Caught up in that urge of keeping him near, you take the dart between your fingers and hear yourself say: "Unless you wanna share."

It was impulsive, not to mention irrational. Yet, all of the rational thoughts inside your brain had unforeseeably vanished in thin air, replaced by a strange need that rested in the pit of your stomach, a wicked desire that rushed through your veins like a drug. His brow shot up in surprise, giving you a subtle, pleased nod. He realizes there's something else behind your proposition, nothing that could be hidden with the way you're shamelessly looking at him.

"Let me guess," he commences, his calloused fingers brushing against your own when he takes the cig, orange end stained with your lipstick, "you're headed to the concert."

Your eyes squint with a crooked smile, "Are you that perceptive or am I just that obvious?" he takes a short drag, holding the fag with a nonchalant attitude and a mannerism that expressed experience.

"Bit of both," the shadows of smoke surround his face, hiding his features behind a thick, mysterious fog. "You've got that groupie vibe to ya'. The kind of girl that has her walls filled with boy-band posters," he jokes.

"Oh, is that it?" you ask playfully, mirroring his action to let the nicotine circle your system. "Cool it, cowboy. I ain't trynna get in trouble for fighting an old man."

He chuckles at your sarcastic remark and you can see the spark of a thin chain around his neck, along with the soft curls that gathered at his nape. Jesus, his side profile was divine.

"What's your name, darlin'?" he asks. You tell him, that southern drawl of his being more noticeable when echoing it. "You from around?"

"Yeah," you blow the smoke away from him, though he takes back the dart while you're at it. "Been here my whole life. You?"

He shakes his head lightly, "Austin. But I've been all over."

You can't help but smile inwardly, "That explains it."

"What thing?" the man asks with a certain intrigue.

"Nothing... You've just got that particular vibe." He's already laughing when you point at the cowboy hat, rejoicing in the way you played with his own words.

"I see that, groupie." He takes the almost consumed cigarette between his teeth and removes the hat from his head, running a hand through his soft curls. "Let's trade."

You watch in awe as he unexpectedly places the hat atop your own head. It sits well there and the way his eyes grow dark and his lips curve upwards can only mean he likes it too.

"What'cha think?" you inquire, slightly adjusting it.

"I think..." he eyes you up and down, ashing the cig with a tap of his index, "You should keep it. In exchange, I'll just take what's left of this lung-junk."

"Well, that doesn't seem like a fair trade," you cross both arms over your chest. "Isn't there anything else you want apart from that half-burnt smoke?"

His head tilts to the side as he meditates his answer, his chocolate hair now messy and a couple of those brown curls hanging loose across his forehead. For a moment, you're worried you might've sounded too raunchy for the occasion, but he looks pretty pleased. His eyes lock with yours and you feel your knees wobbly just from that undeniable tension that lingers in the air.

"I'll tell you what, sweetheart." Sweetheart. Damn, he's good. "Find me after the concert's over. You can repay me then with whatever you might find convenient."

Your brows crease at the scheme, curious, "How will I find you, though? I'm certain there'll be a lot of people."

He laughs darkly, like he knew something you didn't –which, to be fair, was probably true–. "Just ask for Joel. I'm sure someone will point you to the right direction."

Joel.

Joel...

Joel?

Could it be...?

"See ya' around, groupie." He sets off with a subtle head gesture, waving back at you.

Your mind was spinning so fast that you didn't even notice when Ary reappeared beside you, rambling something about a woman being annoying over the prices and fighting cashiers, too worked up to even notice your distraught— or your new acquisition.

✩ ° ｡⋆⸜ 🎧

The venue was crammed with people and there was a heady scent of pot all over the place, not unusual in these sorts of businesses. Thankfully, Tommy had arrived earlier to guide you through the masses.

"Here," he said, taking you and his girlfriend by the wrist. "We've got VIP seats, no need to go all the way down there." He pointed the barricade, where a ton of people were congregated to get the better spot.

The area in which you were located had a better view of the stage and was way more comfortable. Only till you finally sat down did Ary notice the new addition to your outfit.

"Did you buy that outside the store?" she wonders, sorta screaming to make herself heard over the mass. Tommy's eyes land curiously on you.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Funny," the man mumbles to himself, shaking his head lightly. "Very funny."

"What?"

"Well," he clears his throat and licks his lips nervously, "I just think it's funny that you'd get a cowboy hat in one of my brother's gigs."

Still in the shadows, you raise your shoulders to beguile him into spilling the details, "Why's that?"

Tommy taps his knee anxiously. "You see, when Joel was younger he'd often 'gift' his hats to any girl that would catch his eye. It was a way of... I don't know, making them one of his girls, you could say. By doing so, the other band members would see her and no one would dare to make a move."

His words fell upon you like an ice bucket. Joel, Joel, Joel. It just had to be the same Joel, because honestly, what were the chances?

Before you can retort, or even form an answer in your brain, the lights go out and the crowd bursts in cheers and shouting. But you can't for the life of you pay any mind to them, too focused on Tommy's story ringing in your ears. Seconds prior to the lights going on again, the sound of a single guitar key reverberated through the venue.

Did Joel Miller just mark you like cattle so no other man would approach you? Was that some kind of sick game he liked to play? If that were the case, you can't really say you're mad about it... Mostly thrilled, so to speak.

"So what would happen afterwards?" you asked, leaning to his ear, so you could make yourself be heard.

"Huh?"

"He'd make his move and then what?"

The man slightly winced as if you had just asked him the dumbest question in the book, "I think you know the rest."

You knew.

Of course you knew.

There's a voice saying "Goodnight, Dallas" and the spotlight is now on the five men standing on stage. You didn't even need to search for his image, your eyes immediately attaching to him like a magnet. A feeling of beguilement settles in your bones as you realize you've achieved that excitement you hoped to get tonight, at last.

Amidst chaos and loud screaming, he stood there in all his glory, perfectly aware of the impression his sole presence could cause. Messy brown hair, sun-kissed skin and that patchy, graying beard. Convenience store Joel turned out to be rockstar Joel.

The only thing that was different about his appearance were the dark aviator sunglasses that gracefully framed his face, a belt with a big, round buckle and the black Epiphone Wilshire guitar that was strapped to his shoulder with a sash. All of this new fashion somehow made him more physically appealing, if that was indeed possible. He looked like the type of man you'd rip off from a magazine and stick up in the corners of your vanity; the kind of star that girls and women would salivate over.

You could totally see the fascination and understand why it was easy for him to simply pick out someone he liked and take them back to his dressing room for a nasty time. Joel Miller was that guy.

In the back of your mind you register the fact that you're probably eye-fucking him whilst his younger brother and your best friend are both standing at your right. But you can't really help it— he was just so electrifying, such a magnetic force of a man. The whole world seemed to stop as the concert carried on, though you can only make out the melodies when you're far too distracted by Joel's charisma and mysterious air.

The way he moves on stage, too focused on his own act, fingers tugging at the strings and metal vibrating underneath his touch... It's fascinating how he makes it look easy and like a tremendous labour at the same time, pulling it all off with a wolffish smile on his face. The other band members had their own charm too, but your preference was undeniable.

They played the songs that you had been previously listening to, and the fact that they're being played live just amplifies the feeling of intimacy regarding the lyricism and musicality. Songs that talk about life's hardships, love, heartbreak and carnal desires. They all just hit different.

Towards the end of the concert, Ary started feeling dizzy, the amount of people and sudden dehydration giving her signs of a posible migraine. She tried not to say anything for the sake of your fun, realizing just how much you're enjoying yourself tonight. But at the end she truly couldn't, deciding to tell Tommy she needed to step back for awhile and go get some fresh air.

"I should go with her," you said in concern. His boyfriend shook his head and patted your shoulder.

"I'll go. You can stay if you want to, just call me if something feels off and I'll be back in a sec," he said reassuringly.

It took a few seconds to agree, although you eventually did. The event was almost over anyways. "Tell me if anything happens."

"F'course."

You watch as he leaves behind her with a certain remorse in your gut. The Clashers play three more songs afterwards, turning out to be much more emotional and heartfelt than you could've expected.

One by one, every single band member thanked the audience before the lights went out completely and the crowd stopped their clapping and cheering.

In order to avoid getting stuck at the exit from the people storming out, you decided to stay back and wait. You intended to reach your friend via message, sending a short "everything alright?" that did not deliver due to the awful signal. Only then did you start to grow nervous and more worrisome.

"Excuse me," out of nowhere, one of the security guards called for you when no one else was around –aside from the scattered people that had the same idea as you did–; a tall man with a 'staff' pin on his shirt. He asked for your name, but something about the way he worded the question made you believe he already knew it. "You've got a backstage invitation."

"A backstage invitation?" You tried holding back laughter. "From whom?” your eyes narrowed at a new clue. “Wait... Did Tommy meet up with Joel?"

The staff member furrowed his brows in surprise, "You came here with Miller's brother?"

"Huh? Yes... Isn't that why you approached me?" the stranger gave you a kind, slightly embarrassed smile.

"No, but you should come with me. Joel's in fact the one that asked."

"Oh..."

So, it was him after all.

'Someone will point you to the right direction', turned out to be quite literal.

You agreed to follow the guard. Maybe Joel could just reach Tommy and tell him you were fine. Although that'll mean you'd have to explain how you two had met. Well, shit... It’s not like it was a bad thing, right?

✩ ° ｡⋆⸜ 🎧

Backstage dressing rooms tend to be different depending on the facility where an event is held. In this case, there were rooms with the artist's names hanged on them and a handful of people moving around, spitting orders and following instructions. Everyone was so involved in their own affairs that no one really seemed to notice you, specially standing next to the security guy, who knocked twice on the guitarist's door.

It didn't take long before he appeared before you, that post-concert glow brightening up his features. His cocky smirk told you just how certain he was that you'd end up here eventually and how glad he was for it. You gave a quick nod to the man that guided you here and he disappeared just as quick as he came.

"Hey there, groupie."

"Joel." Your lips unconsciously curved, too. "I believe I owe you something." His hair was ruffled and the sunglasses rested atop his head, looking better up-close than he did on stage.

"Wanna come in?" the question sounded so genuine and innocent, it almost made you believe there wasn't a meaning behind it... Yet, you knew; you were both aware.

"Sure, but-" there was something you had to tell him... God, he smelled good— what was it you had to tell him? "Won't they scold you for having me here?"

His dressing room was fairly spacious, with a small leather couch, a coat stand with a couple of jackets and shirts hanging. His guitar rested on the corner, tucked inside its case; facing the couch was some kind of vanity where celebrities could get their makeup done, the lights around the mirror reflected a warm light.

"Don't think so, darlin'. I'm way too old for a scolding," he joked, closing the door behind you.

The very moment you were left alone, away from any prying eyes, the air shifted entirely; as if this whole space was your own private setting. That same feeling you experienced outside the store somehow crawled under your skin once more, adrenaline rushing through your veins in a crushing expectation.

"Did you enjoy the show?" you nod distractedly.

"I did. But I ain't gonna lie, it was a total shocker to find out that the hot guy I'd just met was actually a part of the group." Joel's eyes gleamed with an unfamiliar simplicity that invited you in and provided a certain comfort.

"I wish I could've seen your face," he retorted, his voice smooth and low.

"Why?" you bicker, "So I could further boost your ego? No, thanks."

He chuckles softly, his eyes squinting to reveal the tiny wrinkles that form around them; a sign that he's always been the type to laugh without remorse. Those are the small details that make him even more attractive in your perspective.

You lean against the makeup board, giving your back to the mirror and crossing both arms over your chest. The heel of your boots had started to feel uncomfortable, so you placed one leg across the other to shift some of the weight whilst his gaze followed your every move intently; the unfathomable depth of his eyes stirred something inside you, an urge to unleash your impurest thoughts.

"You've got quite an attitude, don't ya', groupie?" the man questions with humor. "But I'm pretty sure you just called me hot, so, either way, my ego was boosted," he pointed out smugly.

"Joel," you click your tongue, subtly shaking your head. "I bet there's tons of women saying that about you, and there's no doubt in my mind that you’re aware of it already."

That could not be denied. Throughout his life, Joel had always been aware of his charm and good looks, which eventually brought him popularity amongst the group. After having Sarah, he saw himself forced to tone down the amount of affairs and adventures he'd have, specially as a single father, always trying not to get his daughter's hopes high if she saw him with someone.

Honestly, despite him being back on track with the 'celebrity' lifestyle, he still wasn't planing on keeping up with his old tricks of bringing women backstage and giving them something to gush about with her friends. He really hadn't gotten involved with anyone during the tour until now... And it wasn't something he'd intended to do either. Everything happened so spontaneously, the way you two sort of bonded and just met out of the blue. Joel's goal wasn't any of this at first, he merely thought of how gorgeous you were and how comfortable he felt in your presence.

However, logic and good sense abandoned him the minute your eyes gaped at him; dark and alluring, with a spark in them that he could not escape, an intriguing verve that entranced him and crept under his skin. From that moment forward, he could only think about you while being on stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of your skin amongst the crowd but having to settle with the fresh image of you on his mind: your confident mannerisms, your striking smile and how good your legs looked in that mini-skirt. He tried to put on his best performance just to impress you.

"Yet, your perception of me is the only one I currently care about," he declares, taking a few decided steps towards you.

You beam, keeping your head held high, "I gotta give it to you, Joel. The hat thing, your whole performance... Very clever."

He's taken aback by your words, surprise written all over his face. "What d'you mean?"

"Come on, Joel," you reply with a roughish grin. "You really thought I wouldn't hear all about your schemes? Oh, here I believed I was special," you joke.

The man gets rid of that 'respectful' distance that kept you apart, slowly making his way to you, exuding that perpetual arrogance he naturally carried and never breaking eye contact. You returned the same energy; piercing his soul with those siren eyes, barely tilting your head back to expose your throat and unhooking your arms to give him a better sight of your breasts. Intentional or not, those little details were driving him insane.

"You are special, sweetheart," he murmurs, emphasizing the second word. "All of my girls are."

He was quite close now, his scent dazing your senses and the warmth of his body, plus that southern drawl of his, formed goosebumps on your skin. With boosted confidence, you reach out to softly grab the lapels of his jacket. You wait for him to push you away, scold you or react negatively... though he never does. Instead, his eyes fall from yours to your lips, licking his own distractedly. You motion to remove the shades form his head and place his hat back on, adjusting it lightly. In the meantime, you take your time to run your fingers through his hair, drag them along his jaw, feel the raspy sensation of his beard scratching your fingertips.

"S'that so?" you whisper, your breath fanning across his cheek. "You know what I want...?" His eyelids shudder, a muscle twitching on his neck as you lean to pour the next words into the shell of his ear. "I just wanna be one of your girls, Joel Miller..."

Those words have an immediate effect on him, his eyes darkening with blown away pupils. Your hand lowers to his chest, conscious of the strength with which his heart was beating, the heat of his feverish skin there where you touched him. His palms land on your hips, caressing the covered skin as they make their way to your waist.

"We'll see 'bout that, darlin'," he hushes, cupping your face with his right hand to keep you steady, restrain your control over him. His face is barely inches away from yours, practically breathing each other in. "You know what's gonna happen now, don't you?"

You gulp in suspense, eyes glued to his lips, waiting, wishing he'd just kiss you. "Yes..."

"Good," Joel's thumb swipes across your bottom lip, slowly coaxing your mouth open. "Is this what you want?"

You can barely muster up the courage to speak, nearly falling from the tension. "Please..."

"Mmm..." his nose rubs against yours and your eyes close instinctively. "That's not an answer, sweetheart."

Your hands fist on his shirt, desperate to touch him. "Yes, Joel."

"That's my girl," he praises, effectively creating a pool of arousal that smothers your underwear. But you've barely got any time to process it before his lips are finally on yours.

The kiss knocks the air out of your lungs, his plump lips molding against yours. Your fingers play with the curls at the base of his neck, your nails scratching his skin deliciously. Everything feels hot all of the sudden, the need to get rid of your jacket latent on the edges of your body. Joel holds your waist and quickly sits you fully on top of the board, making you squeal from the abruptness of the action; this way he can settle himself between your legs and flush his chest to yours. His lips never part from yours, swallowing down any noise that escaped your mouth.

The coarse fabric of his jeans feels rough against your exposed skin, his hands coming to grab the back of your thighs, sliding them beneath the hem of your skirt as you wrap your legs around his waist. The kiss is breathy and intense, you taste him when your tongue drags inside –a mix of mint and cigarettes–, your teeth crashing when he tries to assert his dominance by pulling your body closer to his. Your perfume, sweet and floral, lingers around him in a way that makes him want you even more. When he slowly licks your lower lip, you moan faintly and the sound makes him throb.

His fingers splay on your asscheeks, prodding you to feel the weight of his hardening cock against your inner thigh, consequently setting a fire in your lower belly. You catch his grunt in the kiss, the feeling of his mustache tingling on your skin whilst you grind your hips just to experience that friction once again, relishing in the familiar sensation of your arousal spilling into your panties, wet and warm. And fuck, part of you doesn't believe that this man is hard for you. Joel suddenly backs away, just enough to stare blankly into your eyes, casted with desire, and regain a bit of composure.

"Not a word about this, 'aight?" something you had figured he'd state sooner or later.

"Yes, sir. It'll be our dirty little secret," you grin right as he whispers a goddamnit.

Before he pulls you in for another heated kiss, you struggle to take your jacket off, taking your phone out of the pocket and hastily throwing it to the floor as he mimics your action. Joel uses this moment to fully take in the sight of you; the way your tits sit perfectly in that top, chest rising and falling from drawing ragged breaths, your exposed neck and shoulders, flushed skin ideal for him to nip at and trace with his lips. So he does just that.

He ghosts your mouth, towering over you but ignoring the need to reattach your lips to his. Alternately, he gently kisses your chin, making his way down your throat and between your collarbones. You're a panting mess under his touch, trying to keep yourself collected for the sake of not getting caught, yet failing when his teeth sank onto the pillowy flesh of your breast. You audibly gasp, holding onto his arm for dear life; though he simply huffs a laugh that vibrates through you.

"Don't worry, darlin'. In here, you can be as loud as you want to," he assures.

Joel descends to his knees in front of you and the image is far too erotic for you to hold back a whimper. He coaxes your knees farther apart, your denim skirt hunched up around your hips so he can peek at the red lace of your underwear. He grabs your calf and places a kiss to the side of your knee, looking up at you hungrily.

"Should we take this off?" he taps on your boot, calloused fingers tracing random patterns on your leg.

"Let's keep them on," you say, your hand stroking his cheekbone. "I want to wear them when I come on your cock."

His eyes glint with lust, "Fuck..." he rumbles, almost pained. "Who would've thought a pretty girl like you would have such a filthy tongue."

You can't help but smirk as his lips roam upwards, "You think I'm pretty?"

His gaze scorches with intensity, both his hands languidly sliding up your sides till his fingers hook on the edge of your panties, pulling them down your legs to take them off, "I think you're beautiful," he murmurs amidst. Your heartbeat hammers in your ears at the time he leans into the apex of your thighs, one of his brows quirking up at the sight of glistening slick sticking to your swollen skin.

"Poor thing," he coos, taking off the hat like a cowboy who's worked his whole shift and comes home to eat the best dinner he's ever had, placing it beside you. "You're so sensitive, baby..." you inhale sharply when he lays a teasing kiss on your inner thigh. "Been a while?"

You nod, though even if it has been a while since the last time you slept with someone, you're certain that most of your responsiveness falls onto Joel's doing. He tsked, shaking his head in the meantime and using his thumb to barely spread your folds. Your eyes look at him beneath heavy lids, lips parted as his mouth explores the area, his breathing tickling the sensitive skin.

"I'll take care of you, sweetheart."

Without warning, his tongue darts out to lick the slick around your entrance, ravishing on the sweet taste of your juices. Your fingers thread through his curls, swallowing hard at the new sensation. He takes his time with you, leisurely allowing your wetness to gather on his tongue, his nose nudging at your clit when he moves his head a certain way. It all makes your brain spin, overcome by the pleasure you're experiencing, actually permitting you to loose your cords and spill uninhibited whimpers that only egged him on.

"Shit, you're doing great..." you can feel his smile against your dripping core.

"You just taste amazing, darlin'," he's not lying. Joel's enjoying himself far too much as he buries his tongue between your folds, holding you tighter. "So fucking good..."

The back of your mind registers the brief pain of his fingertips digging in your flesh, thinking it may bruise in the morning. The other part can't even form a rational thought. You moan his name, calling out for something to ground you; but he's just as gone, if not way worse. Joel is bewitched by the headiness of you, clogging his senses entirely. It's been so long since he gave head, but he doesn't remember it like this— like he couldn't get enough, so eager to make you feel good, to hear those pretty sounds spill from your mouth.

"Oh my god..." you mewl when his lips close around your puffy clit, gently flicking his tongue over it whilst you run your hands through his locks.

He flattens his tongue against the bundle of nerves, tracing delicate circles that make your whole body shudder. You're messily dripping all the way down to the wooden surface as he selfishly alternates his attention between your aching bud and your hole.

"Look at you, honey," he mumbles, voice laced with desire. "Doin' so good for me."

His fingers swipe across your slit, making you squirm. "Joel, please-"

"I know, baby, I know..."

Though when he's about to dive in again, you catch the light of your phone through your peripheral vision: an incoming call. The ID read the name 'Tommy <3'.

Tommy???!!!!

"Shitshitshit," you quickly reach for the device, swiping the green button and muttering a wary wait to the man before you. Joel simply gawks at you with intrigue, the pads of his fingers still roaming around your core. "Hello?"

On the other side of the line, Tommy says your name with utter relief, "Thank god. I left you a thousand messages. Are you okay?"

More than okay. Your brother's tongue was inside my cunt just a few seconds ago, actually.

Obviously you can't say that.

"Uh... Yeah, everything's fine." You clear your throat, trying to mask the gasp that threatened to escape when Joel started rubbing tender circles on your clit. "The signal's just really bad."

"Yes, I noticed," he mutters, a bit frustrated. "Should I go get you? There's still plenty of people at the entrance and I don't want you to get lost."

"No- no..." you have to bite your bottom lip in order to muffle the unholy moan you were about to slip out. The bastard had just sinked one finger inside you experimentally, watching your face contort in pleasure as he reached for that particular spot. "I- have... Is Ary alright?"

"She took a pill and is knocked out in the backseats of my car right now," you can practically hear his smile as he speaks. "But... Are you sure you're okay? You sound... Agitated."

That was a way of putting it.

Joel is a greedy, jealous man. He wants all your undivided attention and will make sure to let you know. He decides to add a second finger, watching your eyes screw shut and your mouth gape as he curls them, your slick covering all the way to his knuckles.

"Yes, I met with a friend-" you tug at his hair hard enough to make him groan, his cock twitching with interest. "She's taking me home."

Your thighs start quivering and your body feels hot all over, an abrasive feeling of bliss rushing through every single nerve ending. You're close, and judging by the way you clench around his fingers, he knows too.

"Oh... Well, in that case just let me know once you get home. Please?" You think you answer, but you're not entirely sure. The call ends and your phone slips from your hand.

"Joel, I can't..." you whine when his lips latch to your nub once again, his fingers still working you open.

"Yes you can," he vows. You clutch at his curls with enough strength to work him up. "You're a big girl, you can take it."

And it's right then, when he repeatedly hits your g-spot, licking and sucking at your delicate clit, that your hips get a mind of their own, barely kept in place by Joel's strong grip on your hip. The coil finally snaps. You're not sure what you say, what words fall from your mouth... But they do dawdle on his mind. You shake from the magnitude of your orgasm, muscles starting to relax as Joel licks up every drop of your release, absolutely lost in the sweet taste of you. Your grasp on his hair loosened as he rose to his feet, letting you catch your breath.

He's on edge, his voice a hoarse rumble when he spoke. "Didn't anyone tell you," his left hand came up to brush his fingertips over your lips, "how rude it is to answer phone calls when this pretty pussy of yours is getting eaten?”

You lick your lips nervously. "I'm sorry..." he hums in response, "I'll make it up to you."

There's no time for him to reply since you crash your lips to his once again, frenetically searching to feel his weight pressed on top of you for a second time. This kiss is messy, rushed and needy. You can taste yourself in it as he pushes his tongue past your teeth.

Amidst the fuss, your hand snakes between your bodies to tug at his belt, fumbling to pop his pants open. Once you do, you can feel how warm and heavy his cock is, rock hard beneath your touch. He hisses at the flick of your wrist, moving up and down his length over the thin fabric of his boxers. Joel rests his forehead against yours to even his breaths, his chest heaving with a lustful sigh.

"Fuck," he grumbles, swiftly manhandling you so you're facing the mirror. His hand holds your face for you to stare back at your own reflection. "Aren't you a sight to behold?"

And you're certain that for a man like him, those words couldn't be truer. Sweat beads around your neck and sticks a couple hairs to your temples, eyes teary in the corners and lipstick smeared from the make out. Here and there your skin displays signs of his presence, part of you wishing they'd stay there till the next morning. If there was an accurate way to describe how you looked, that'll be wrecked.

"You should see yourself, Miller," you smirk, gesturing in his direction. His eyes reflected a prurient nature that added to his sex appeal, hair messy from your doing and an eager expression that gave him a downright pornographic aura. "Not bad for an old man."

His lips caress the back of your ear, hands driving the denim skirt farther up your hips. You cling to the edge of the work desk, making an effort to stand up in your weak knees, chills running down your spine when he gently nibbles at your earlobe.

"So much for not wanting to boost my ego, huh, sweetheart?" his gruff voice is both soothing and stirring, making all the blood rush straight to your pussy.

He parts your legs, spreading them with his knee and forcing you to bend forward a little. Your head turns to peek behind your shoulder, his every move being closely monitored by you, eyes widening when you finally fathom the sheer size of his cock. Your lower body pulsates with anticipation, another wave of arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs.

"Holy fuck-" you ramble as you watch him expertly roll a condom on his length. He's long and visibly thick, a prominent vein running from base to tip; your mouth waters just from the idea of wrapping your lips around it. "Shit..."

"Don't be getting all shy now, honey. Tis' what you wanted, then you're getting it," he rasps, lining himself between your legs.

"M'not shy," you retort, staring back at him through the mirror. "Was just thinking about how badly I wanted to blow you."

Joel stifles a groan, his hands snaking to your front to pull down the top and expose your tits. There was no need to wear a bra with a bustier, which you were glad for, cause it made it easier for him to pinch the peaked buds of your nipples. The head of his cock glides across your folds, coating it with the slick that keeps dribbling each time he bumps against your clit or makes you watch as he gropes your breasts.

"You talk like a slut." Your cheeks soared red and your pussy fluttered at the name-calling. The heat of his body on yours was simply intoxicating, making it difficult for you to think. "Is that how you want me to fuck you?" he whispers in your ear, nudging his cock at your entrance but not quite going in yet. "Nice and hard until I make an absolute mess out of you? Mmm?"

You nod, "Yes, god- yes. Please, Joel..."

He takes that plea as his cue to press himself inside you, slow and steady, allowing your body to adjust to the intromission. Your mouth falls ajar, nails scratching the wood under your fingers, vaguely squirming at the sharp sting of the stretch.

"That's it, takin' my cock so well," words of encouragement fall hoarsely form his lips like a chant and your body willingly melts into his. "See? I knew you could take it."

His thighs plunge to yours when he bottoms out at last, letting out a few pants and groans, his fingers pushing stray hairs out of your face. You can feel him jerk inside you, your walls enveloping his girth tightly, a wave of pleasure licking his spine at the feeling. He doesn't waste any more time, finding a pace of his liking as soon as he started moving and being relentless with it. The way his neck chain hits your shoulder blades with each thrust, the scrub of his beard when he kisses your temple and the dirty praises that he murmurs in your ear, somehow make the situation grounding; like it's really happening and you're not dreaming about it.

As Joel cradles you in his arms, your hand skirts to his nape in order to bring him in for a kiss. Each roll of his hips is calculated, deep and unswerving, knowing exactly how and where you liked it, studying your reactions. When he kisses you, he does so earnestly, almost affectionate in contrast to the rhythm in which his dick drags inside you– but it's short, the need for oxygen overpowering both. At this point, not even your stilted whimpers and his soft moans can mask the lewd sound of your squelching pussy or the sporadic noise of skin slapping against skin.

"Good fuckin' slut," he locks your jaw in place, pushing you to keep eye contact with your own reflection. "Sneakin' behind your friend's back to get fucked by a stranger –shit– an 'old man', nonetheless..."

Your stomach tenses each time the head of his cock grazes that sensitive spot within you, legs shaking at the way he speaks to you. Through the mirror, you see the way his thumb digs into your cheek, his hand cupping your breast as he twists your nipple in his fingers and the worst of all: that haughty fucking smile that suited him perhaps too damn well.

"I always did like them older," you utter, out of breath.

He chuckles darkly, heftily, letting his hand coast down your abdomen and reach your clit to tease it while he takes you from behind. The feeling was so intense that all you could do was claw at his bicep and let a hushed whine slip past your lips, knowing that a second orgasm was approaching faster than you had expected.

"Fuck, Joel- It feels so good..." your moans are like music to his ears, a syrupy melody that he wants to maintain on replay.

The way your pussy clenches around him, squeezing his length with every push, has his head fuzzy with sheer pleasure. And god- you look beautiful coming undone for him. No; because of him. He sees you looking at him through the reflection, pupils dark with an obscure desire, feels your cunt soak him every time he tells you how good you are, with each sound he makes just for you.

"I'm so close-" you warn, white sparks blurring your vision at the building of your crescendo.

"C'mon, come for me," he purrs, skillfully teasing your nub. "Wanna feel it— oh fuck, wanna feel you live up to your promise..."

Joel fucking whimpers, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck as he pulls your hips to meet his pace. The sound is so enticing that it throws you off, wanting to engrave it in your mind. Your thighs waver and your back arches, an overwhelming sense of euphoria partaking your body. "I've got you, let me hear you," he fucks you through it, slowing down but never losing precision. "Right there, you did so good..."

In your state of frenzy, you feel his cock throbbing inside you, his grip on your body tightening: the classic telltale of his own climax looming. Through it all, with your heart thumping so loud that it's almost deafening, you blurt out a dulcet: "Come in my mouth..."

God help him.

He nearly loses it right then and there.

"As you wish," he sighed, his deep voice raspy with passion.

But he's an indulgent man, so he musters up the strength to pull out and snatch the condom away, throwing it to the trash can. You fall to your knees with no hesitation, arms stretching to reach the outline of his hips. Joel guides the ruddy head of his cock to your lips, spreading precome all over them before you fully take him in your mouth. You suck him earnestly, focusing on the tip and tracing the vein on the underside of his dick. He's so worked up that it doesn't take him long to start panting; head thrown back and hand grabbing firmly the back of your neck.

Your gaze stick to his, knowing perfectly the power of looking into his eyes. You love the taste of him, musky and strong; all man. All you can think of right at this moment is how you want more, so much more of him.

"Perfect," he slurs through gritted teeth. "Perfect girl."

You can't contain the hum that reverberates through him, pushing him over the edge whilst you massage his balls. A deep, guttural groan claws its way from his throat, hips stuttering and thighs trembling as he comes in thick, hot spurts down your throat. You swallow instantly, not thinking much about it and stroking his shaft unhurriedly until he's whimpering from overstimulation; though he doesn't tell you to stop or pushes you away, letting you work him up to the time of your choice. Once you're content, you straighten your posture and rearrange your top, roughly registering when he tucks himself back in his pants.

"You okay?" he asks, helping you get on your feet. His thumb swipes around your lips and chin to clean the smeared lipstick, a sweet concern dithering in his eyes.

“Feelin’ great,” you say with genuine joy, pulling your skirt downwards and grabbing your panties from the floor, laying next to your jacket and his guitar. “Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he lends you a hand in putting your jacket back on. “It’s been a while since I’ve… Uh, well, you get it.”

You turn to face him, beaming radiantly. Gosh, you’re stunning. He’s certain he won’t forget those mesmerizing eyes of yours.

“Joel, let’s be honest with each other…” your hands shot up to caress his cheek and thread at his curls. You don’t believe him one bit. “We’ll meet again. You know we will.”

You didn’t really mean it, merely wanting to make an impression. But there was a minuscule possibility that your paths would cross for a second time; after all, you did know his brother. Though you never mentioned that. Deep down, you were scared that he wouldn’t want to make a move if he knew of that connection— specially after seeing Tommy’s reaction when he saw that hat on your head.

“Hope that’s true, groupie.”

Joel insists on calling his chauffeur to take you home, arguing that it was past midnight and it was dangerous to take a cab. Eventually, you let him, making a quick stop to the bathroom to set things right with your appearance. He waits for you patiently, the cowboy hat presented to you as a gift when you walked out.

“Keep it,” he sways, “as a little souvenir for if we don’t end up meeting again. Besides, it suits you better.”

“Won’t you have another pretty girl to gift it to?” he rolls his eyes at your inquiry.

“I can always buy more,” he laughs. “I want you to remember I sent you home sore and aching each time you look at it.”

You giggle, getting on your tippy toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, Miller. I’ll be thinking ‘bout it… About you. That’s a promise.”

And he truly hopes you mean it.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us au #joel miller au #alternate universe #smut

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zorrasucia · 27 days ago

Text

Promptober 19. Only One Bed

from @carmenberzattosgf list

SydCarmy (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (4.7k) (what the fuck?)

Tags: Smut, Porn with Plot, Fluff, Only One Bed, First Kiss, Oral Sex (F Receiving), P in V Sex, Confessions

"Richie Jerimovich, when I fucking see you, I swear-" Syd threatened him through the phone.

"Syd? Can't hear you!" Richie lied, his booming voice exasperating her further.

"Oh, fuck you," she snapped and hung up the phone.

She rubbed a hand over her face. She was inside the bathroom of her hotel room - a room he shared with Carmy, a room with only one bed, a room Richie had booked. She regretted the night she had gotten drunk and told Richie about her tiny crush on Carmy.

"Carmy Berzatto? Cousin? That motherfucker?" he exclaimed, incredulous.

"Before!" she emphasized. "Before I came to work here, before we met. Jesus! You're making it sound like such a big deal and it isn't, I promise."

"So you had a crush on him from what? Photos of him on Food and Wine?" he grimaced.

"No, no! It was his cooking! I tried his food back in New York and it truly was the best meal I've ever had."

"I don't know if that's better or worse," Richie said, frowning.

"It's better! Because now that I know him, he's a friend and that's it," she insisted.

Richie seemed lost in thought, taking slow sips of his beer.

"Listen," he said after a while. "I know Carmy, and I know you," after looking at Syd's unamused expression he added: "A little, I know you a little. If you want this to happen, you have to take the lead, you know? Or wait for divine intervention. Those are your only two options," he pondered for a while longer and his eyes widened with a realization. "Or I can make it happen! You know, like the crab in The Little Mermaid, set the mood, plan everything so that it happens 'organically'."

He raised his eyebrows and Syd looked away from him groaning with exasperation.

"I can't have this conversation with you."

"Why? Because it's true, huh?" he insisted.

"No! Because you're being a child about it, Richie," she raised her voice to a tone she hadn't used on him since The Beef had closed. "I used to have a crush on him - not anymore. I don't want anything to happen, okay? Now, shut the fuck up about it!"

"Jeez," Richie said and dropped the subject.

He had seemed convinced about it, that Sydney didn't want anything to change, yet here he was playing cupid. She was going to murder him.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she found Carmy smoking in the balcony, enjoying their view of the night sky. That was the worst thing - it was a nice hotel. Non refundable too. Richie had blown up their budget on a beautiful room instead of two sensible ones; they couldn't ask for another and justify the expense.

"I'm sorry that Richie is a fucking idiot," Carmy said, not even turning, just sensing Syd's presence.

"Not your fault," she replied. "He even pretended like he couldn't hear me through the phone."

Carmy chuckled, exhaling a cloud of smoke through his nose. "Yeah, sounds exactly like him."

"It's only one night," she shrugged. "We're adults."

Carmy nodded. "I'll take the sofa," he offered automatically. "I've slept on worse."

Without asking, Syd knew for a fact it was true - the sofa was pretty damn nice.

They got ready for bed early and in silence, taking turns in the bathroom, and if she looked at his naked torso a little too long while he changed or if he stole glances at the tattoos visible on the edges of her tank top, well that was nobody's business.

"Night," Syd said curtly, turning off the lights, like that would put an end to the weird tension that had built between them.

"Night," Carmy mumbled from the sofa, feeling the weight of a long day as he fell asleep.

"Carm? Carmy?"

He could hear her voice through the fog of a nightmare, shaking his frame, touching him. He followed the sound and opened his eyes. Syd was holding his face in their darkened room.

"You okay?" she asked, wide eyed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," he replied with a hoarse voice. "Why?"

"You were screaming in your sleep."

"Oh," Carmy covered his face, mortified. "Yeah, that happens."

"You didn't think to tell me?" Syd raised her eyebrows. "I thought you were getting murdered or something."

"Fuck," he mumbled, his mind still groggy with sleep.

Syd sighed and sat on the floor beside the sofa. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I didn't mean to," Carmy shifted on his side, trying to look at her better. "It happens so often I forget it does. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah."

"It used to be worse," he said without meaning to. "I used to sleepwalk and cook. Almost set my apartment on fire twice."

"Twice?"

Carmy could hear Sydney's outraged expression even if he couldn't actually see it.

"It wasn't a big deal," he said lightly - that lightness only she could bring out in him.

They stayed in silence for a while, just listening to each other breathing.

"Uh- I know this is absolutely none of my business," Syd prefaced, "and you're free to tell me to fuck off... Again."

"I did answer that time," Carmy interrupted.

"Yeah, okay," Syd chuckled. "Uh, so... How did Claire react to the whole night terrors thing?"

Carmy turned away, sighing while he looked at the ceiling.

"She didn't get to see it. Uh. She didn't sleep over that much to be honest," he admitted.

"Oh."

"Probably for the best, right?" he asked, turning over, searching for Syd in the dark.

"I mean, she would have found out eventually. You can't get rid of shit like that so easily," she replied.

"You have shit like that?"

There was something weirdly intimate and protective about the dark. They hadn't talked so openly since the opening night of The Bear, confessing fears under the table.

"Anxiety attacks."

"Shit."

"Yeah, bad ones. I, uh, feel like I'm going to die for a little while," she cleared her throat.

"I get that," Carmy hummed. "When, uh, when Mikey died I had these- I don't know what they were, but just here," he clutched his chest, "and I couldn't breathe."

"Yeah. Like that."

Carmy was overwhelmed with the need to comfort Syd, to show her that she was not alone with something more than just words. Perhaps hold her, hug her tight, cup her face carefully, something. But instead he just mumbled:

"You better go back to bed. Don't want you all tired tomorrow because I screamed in the middle of the night like a fucking crazy person."

"Right, yeah. No, definitely," she stumbled back to bed, sighing as she fell on the mattress.

A long while passed, and Carmy could still hear Syd tossing and turning, the bedsheets rustling incessantly. Finally, she turned on the lamp on her bedside table.

"Carm?" she said quietly.

"Yeah?" he replied a little louder.

"I feel like shit that you're sleeping on the couch after your nightmare and, uh, if you want we can share the bed. It's pretty big so, like, it's no problem and you would be more comfortable, so..."

It was said all in one breath, blurted out like a confession.

"You won't be able to sleep if I say no, huh?" Carmy understood the weird ways guilt could take ahold of Syd.

"I'm going to worry and feel shitty... So probably not."

Carmy made his way towards the bed, heart beating fast inside his chest. Why was he so nervous?

"Thanks," he said, tugging lightly on the duvet, just enough to cover himself as he settled on the mattress.

"Don't mention it," Syd said a little dryly, turning away from him as she switched off the lamp.

Maybe it was the change from the sofa to the luxurious mattress, maybe it was the exhaustion of his nightmare, or maybe it was the calming effect of Syd breathing slowly beside him, but Carmy fell into a dreamless sleep almost immediately.

Carmy woke up to the sound of a door slamming.

The couple from the room next door had arrived in the early hours of the morning, drunk and sloppy, tripping on furniture and talking a little too loud.

He turned to see whether it had woken Syd up but she was still sleeping peacefully. She looked pretty like that, calm, like when she was focused plating a dish. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep until their neighbors shut the fuck up, he spent his time looking at Syd. He never had the time to just see her, they were always rushing, always interrupted. Even now, he was interrupted by their neighbors suddenly having very loud sex - grunts and moans and the slam of the bedframe against the wall.

"Jesus Christ," he cursed, rolling over to look at the ceiling and contemplate suicide.

Except that he heard stirring beside him.

Syd was mumbling in her sleep, writhing on her side. Carmy got closer, trying to decipher if it was a nightmare and if he should wake her up, like she had done for him just a few hours ago. But he heard her moan suddenly and the rhythm of her movements echoed the lovemaking next door, and Carmy knew a bit of the waking world had made its way into her dreams. He also knew that the sound of Syd moaning would haunt him forever.

While he decided whether he should lock himself in the bathroom and give her privacy, he heard her say:

"Carmy... Please..."

Gathering courage from God knows where, he reached for her and brushed his thumb over her wrist.

"Syd," he whispered.

She opened her eyes slowly, a sedated look on her features, half asleep.

"Carm," she said sweetly. And he only ever wanted to hear his name said like that.

Her eyes opened wide when the moans next door reached their peak, lewd grunts followed and then silence.

"What the hell?" Syd frowned, fully awake now.

"They were at it for a while," Carmy mumbled with disdain.

"And you woke me up to... what? Hear it?"

Carmy hesitated.

"You were, uh, talking in your sleep."

"Oh." The silence that followed was heavy. She studied his face, the red flush that colored his cheeks was visible even in the lowlight. "What did I say?"

"You- you said my name," Carmy managed to get out, his blue eyes staring at hers, pleading, asking for confirmation. He was still holding her wrist, he brushed his thumb over her pulse point, softly. "Syd..."

She wanted to cry. She was embarrassed that Carmy knew, that Richie knew, that she was a fucking open book for everyone to read. She was scared that everything would change if she chose to close the few inches between the two of them, to do this one thing for herself, and lose everything they had built together. And she was fucking relieved that Carmy was still holding her, still looking at her like she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"I don't want to fuck everything up," Syd said, eyes glazed. "I want you but I don't want to fuck everything up."

"I don't want to fuck everything up either," he echoed, moving halfway to where she was. "I- I just feel like everything is better when you're near and I want to see you every day and I believe in you so much... I guess I didn't realize what it all meant until just now."

Syd smiled, it was a teary smile that made Carmy's heart skip a beat.

"Fuck it."

She leaned in to kiss him, her fingers tangling in his hair. He kissed her back, lovingly, with a lot more confidence than she would have expected from him, his tongue caressing her bottom lip. He brought her closer, his hands splayed on her lower back, lifting her shirt a little. She ran her fingers up the length of his arms, caressing the muscles there, keening when he squeezed her even closer.

"You're hard," she gasped, barely parting from his lips.

"Yeah," he was breathing heavily.

"Fuck. You, like, want me," she rasped her realization.

Carmy paused, loosening his hold on her. "We don't need to do anything," he said, his eyes open and honest. "I'll sleep on the couch again if you ask me to."

"No, it's not that," she shook her head. "I'm processing. Uh. I didn't think that you wanted me the way that I wanted you, you know?"

Carmy frowned and she went on, blurting her train of thought rapidly:

"Like, uh, I love your cooking. You're a great chef and I think you're so talented. And you are funny without meaning to. You can be so loving and so thoughtful when you're not being an asshole," Carmy smiled fondly at her, his thumb soothing her waist. "But also I think that your arms are hot as fuck and your eyes are like a stupid pretty shade of blue, you know what I mean?"

Carmy laughed openly, then cupped her face sweetly. "I have no fucking clue what you mean."

"Stop!" she could feel her skin heat up under his touch. "I thought you liked me as a friend and respected me as a chef and, like, you said I looked nice once but I was actively making an effort, right? So, I didn't think you found me attractive or something."

Carmy widened his eyes in shock. "Shit, really?"

Syd nodded.

His mouth was agape, completely lost for words. He looked into her eyes, at how vulnerable she seemed...

"I like so much about you, Syd. The moment I saw you-"

She followed his gaze as he categorized every little thing he liked about Syd in silence, overwhelmed by all of it, by having her so near and sharing her warmth.

"Can I show you?" he asked.

"Yes. Okay."

He took one of her hands and set it palm up. He kissed the center of it, then her thumb and her index. He kissed her wrist. All of it chaste and tender.

He scooted a few inches closer and kissed her temple, then just a bit upward, where her braids began. He pressed his lips to her eyebrow and then her eyelid, carefully. The bump on the bridge of her nose and her cheekbone. The corner of her mouth and her jaw. With his thumb, he pulled on her lower lip, moving to kiss her cupid's bow and her front teeth at the same time. Syd giggled against his mouth.

"Fucking weirdo," she said without bite, believing him, pressing the length of her body against his, and leaning for a kiss.

It was easier this time round - to give in, to surrender. Soon, Carmy was shirtless, making his way down Syd's body, taking her underwear off, leaving open mouthed kisses on her thighs.

"Carmy."

Her eyes widened at the sight of him settling between her legs.

"This okay?" he asked, his tattooed fingers caressing the patch of hair that covered her mound, bunching her sleep shirt up to her waist.

"Yeah," she replied breathily, reaching out to touch his face and confirm that he was real, that this was real. Carmy smiled, soft, like he knew what she was thinking. They hadn't shared that strange telepathy in a while but it felt like everything was falling into place that night. And it felt right, everything they were doing. Carmy's lips on her inner thighs felt right. His tongue on her pussy felt so right. His nose on her clit felt so damn right.

She carded her fingers through his hair, adding to the beautiful mess of it. He looked at her intently, learning just how to please her, how to make her carefully built defenses crumble. His lips closed around her clit in a kiss that made her moan. Then he started sucking.

"Fuck," Syd gasped, using all her willpower not to buck her hips into his face. "Hold me," she pleaded.

And his hands immediately grabbed at her hips, planting her firmly on the bed, leaving her at his mercy to devour. She was so wet and he was making debauched noises, like maybe she was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. That thought alone made her clench on nothing.

"Please," she whined, searching for the blue of his eyes, begging for something she couldn't even word.

But Carmy nodded. Yes, Chef. His index and middle fingers parted her folds, getting soaked in arousal and saliva, poking at her entrance, promising something to sate her need.

"Yes," Syd nodded eagerly and moaned once his fingers were inside her. The same fingers she had stared at while he kneaded dough and plated dishes and sketched drawings were three knuckles deep, curling and caressing, devoted to her... "I think I'm gonna cum," she blurted out.

Carmy hummed in encouragement, kneading on her hips, soothing, keeping the rhythm of his fingers and mouth steady.

"Oh, my- Fuck!" Syd cursed and moaned, tugging at his hair and the bedsheets underneath, writhing with pleasure. Carmy kissed her navel, her hips and her thighs.

When Syd finally caught her breath and was able to look back at Carmy, his cheek was on her hip, sweaty like he had run a mile, beaming.

"Oh, fuck you," she said, pulling him up to kiss him hard.

"Weird way to say thank you," he quipped, pussy drunk and giddy. Sydney couldn't actually remember ever seeing him so happy, it made her smile in return.

"Thank you," she kissed him again. She ran her fingers over the lower part of his face, trying to clean him up a little.

"It's okay," he shook his head. It was hopeless, they both knew. He rounded her waist with his arms and she sighed contentedly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you remember what you were dreaming about before I woke you? Just now?" Carmy asked.

"Yeah, I remember. We were, uh, we were fucking. Obviously. And, uh, I was on top. You know, riding you," Syd recounted, awkward even in the afterglow.

"Got it," Carmy nodded, smiling still.

"It seemed like a lot of fun, to be honest," she added dryly, making them both laugh.

Carmy brought her closer still, kissing her with everything he had, wordlessly turning them over in bed so that she was above him. Her knees fell naturally on either side of his hips, his clothed erection rubbing against her bare pussy.

"Shit," Syd cursed and sat up suddenly, back on his thighs, away from where he needed her.

"You okay?" Carmy leaned on his elbows, worried.

"We don't have condoms," and Syd looked like she wanted to scream out of frustration.

He reached out to touch her thigh.

"Syd, hey. We do."

"Hmm?"

"We have a box of condoms," Carmy was flushed again. "Just there in my backpack."

Syd frowned incredulously, climbing down from the bed to confirm it.

"Why-? How did you-?" she asked, holding the box, returning to her place and straddling him once again.

"It wasn't me. There's even a fucking note," Carmy pointed out. There it was, in Richie's messy handwriting: Enjoy the trip, cuz!

"I'm going to murder him," Syd spat, taking out a condom nevertheless.

"I'm not going to stop you," Carmy agreed. "He knew that I- Well, how I feel about you and he - I don't know - made it his personal mission to torment me about it."

"Wait!" Syd covered her face, mortified. "He knew how I feel about you. He said some bullshit about playing matchmaker-"

"Yeah, the, uh, the crab from The Little Mermaid," Carmy confirmed.

"Motherfucker. We should pretend nothing happened. We should pretend we fucking hate each other. Make him stop meddling in other people's lives," Syd said dryly.

"Kind of impressive he thought of everything, though," Carmy admitted reluctantly. Sydney glared at him. "It would have been a bummer to go out and buy condoms at fucking four in the morning."

"Fine. I won't murder him," Syd allowed. "I'll just stab his other butt cheek."

Carmy laughed and Syd loved the sound, quickly deciding that she wanted to make him do that more often.

She leaned over, kissing the corner of his mouth and down his neck, marveling at the amount of freckles, tracing a path down his collarbone, caressing his chest, mouthing down the trail of hair that led to his boxers. Her hands lingered on his sides, tickling up his ribs and down to his hips, all taut muscle and pale skin.

"Carm."

"Mmm?" he looked dazed, his fingers touching her thighs lovingly.

She sat up and took her shirt off. He stared, eyes wide and fiery as she took her all in.

"You're so beautiful," he rasped.

Syd smiled, guiding his hands up to touch her, to squeeze her waist and cup her breasts. Meanwhile, she grinded on his cock, his boxer briefs drenched with her arousal.

"Can I?" she asked. She needed him inside her, needed to make him scream and plead and moan like she had. "Want to make you feel good."

"I think I'll probably die if you don't," he said with a nervous chuckle.

Their fingers brushed as both reached to take off his boxers.

"Sorry, I'll-" Syd hesitated.

"No, it's fine," Carmy insisted, placing her hands back on the elastic band, allowing her to remove that last piece of clothing. Her fingers tickled the length of his legs as she did; he was blushing down to his collarbones like he would after a long day in the kitchen.

She touched him with care, gentle pumps to his cock that made Carmy close his eyes in bliss.

"Syd..." he called, voice hoarse and strained, he sounded absolutely wrecked and they hadn't even started.

"I'm here," she reassured him as her hands rolled the condom over his cock. "I'm right here, Carm." She guided his tip to her entrance and interlocked her fingers with his as she sank on his length slowly, knees on either side of his hips. "Look at me." It wasn't an order, it was her grounding him as she took him completely. His eyes met hers, something soft and sweet in the way he looked at her.

"Fuck," he breathed out, sitting up to kiss her hard. "I want you so much," he said against her lips.

Syd rounded his shoulders with her arms and started moving. It began with soft waves, getting used to the feeling of Carmy inside her, trying to build a rhythm he'd respond to. He held tight to her waist, exhaling hard into the crook of her neck.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

"You feel incredible," Carmy kissed the side of her face, open mouthed, needy. "You can go faster, I'm not gonna break," he encouraged her.

"Okay. Okay," she smiled.

Emboldened, she pushed him towards the mattress and picked up the pace, the scene playing out so similar to her dream: Carmy lying down on the pillow, his tattooed hands holding her hips, his face contorted in pleasure. It was everything. She used his abs for leverage as she bounced on his cock, feeling full and adored and beautiful.

Carmy was a mess underneath her, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, veins bulging on his neck as he groaned. It was a feral sound, down from his stomach and she leaned over to cover his mouth with her hand.

"We don't want to wake up the neighbors," she quipped, making him break into a smile. She kissed his cheek and went back to riding him mercilessly, watching Carmy lose control - what a wonder it was to be the reason he let himself do just that. Her pussy clenched at the thought.

"Syd, fuck..." he moaned.

"Sorry, shit, I'm close," she panted.

"It's okay, it's okay," Carmy urged her, knowing well that the sight of her cumming on his cock would end him immediately. He took one of her hands and guided it to her center, where they were joined. "Let go, Syd."

He watched her touch herself, chasing her release, being gloriously selfish, arching her back and neck as she came for the second time that night.

"Carmy..."

That was all it took for him to join her, a blur of heat and sweat as Syd fell in his arms, riding the aftershocks of her orgasm as he fucked into her. They held each other for what felt like a long time, caressing, catching their breath, melting into a soft embrace.

Eventually, Syd rolled over and Carmy threw away the condom, settling face to face on the mattress, legs intertwined.

"This changes everything," Syd said all of a sudden.

"Does it?" Carmy asked, playing with her fingers as she spoke.

"I mean, I think so?" she bit her lip. "I don't know. I was so terrified that things would change if we did this and-"

"Yeah. I get it," he nodded. "It feels like this is right. Like it could work."

"Like it could work, yeah," Syd bit her lip. "We just need some ground rules."

"Like?"

"No fucking in the restaurant’s kitchen," she said almost immediately. "The paperwork would be a nightmare and I still want that star."

"Okay," Carmy nodded. "Anything else?"

"You really need to listen when I tell you you're being an asshole."

"Heard, Chef."

"I mean it," she insisted.

He reached out to cup her face. "Syd. I'll listen," he said earnestly.

"Okay," she turned her face to kiss his palm. "Do you have any rules?"

"You don't go easy on me because of this. I still need you to be my partner and give me shit."

"Okay," Syd grinned.

"And Richie doesn't find out about this until he's apologized."

"Oh, I like that one!"

1 week later

"Cousin, I really do not have time for this," Carmy said as they walked out to the alley, lighting up a cigarette.

"Just five minutes, okay?" Richie took a deep breath, hands in his pockets and his gaze to the ground. "Listen. I fucked up. I admit it. Like... I was sure you and Syd just needed a little push to, I don't know-"

"To what, Richie?"

"Get it on, get together, I don't know!" he raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Didn't know this would happen."

"Well it did," Carmy took a drag of his cigarette. "Syd's barely speaking to me because she thinks I planned the whole thing with you. Thinks I'm some kind of pervert."

"How could I know that she'd find the condoms in your backpack? Maybe if she respected your boundaries..."

"They shouldn't have been there in the first place! Are you fucking listening to yourself?!"

"Right, uh-" Richie rubbed his forehead with shame. "I'm sorry. I'll, uh, talk to Syd, clear this up."

"Thank you," Carmy exhaled a cloud of smoke, handing the rest of his cigarette to Richie - a peace offering.

A couple of minutes later, Syd peeked out of the door. "Hey, family's in ten."

Richie looked up. "Uh, Syd, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure," she replied dryly, side eyeing Carmy.

"Uh, I, the mix up with the hotel room - that was all me. The condoms, everything. That was my fault. You should be angry at me, not Carmen. He had nothing to do with it," Richie said earnestly.

"So it was some sick joke?" Syd asked.

"I thought I was doing a nice thing! Fuck!" he looked up at the sky helplessly. "Never doing anything like this again. I promise. Fuck. I don't want the restaurant to go to shit because of this."

Syd had her arms crossed, her stance defensive. "You mean it?"

"Yes. Shit. I'm so sorry."

Syd softened all of a sudden, looking at Carmy. "Did you believe that?"

"He seemed pretty honest," he agreed with a smirk.

"Okay. Apology accepted," she said, then approached Carmy, held his face and gave him a tender kiss, with a little tongue to make their intentions clear. "See you guys inside."

Richie got red in the face as soon as he was hit with the realization. "You fuckers. I knew it. I fucking knew it!"

#this is... way too long i apologize #bearblrpromptober #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #sydcarmy fic #sydcarmy fanfiction

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