#I've barely written over this last year and I want to get back to it

[amlovelies]

Just discovered your eyes wide shut story on AO3 and man is it making me feel things, you are an amazing writer

excuse me while I just stare at this and cry 😭

thank you anon you are incredibly kind, I cried quite a bit writing that one, there's just so much emotion wrapped up in that scene and I hope I was able to capture even a fraction of it

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending three years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.

(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!

You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking. 

Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—three years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.

“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side. 

“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”

The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.

“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”

“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”

“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”

“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”

You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad three years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics. 

“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t.

“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction. 

Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk. 

“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?” 

“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”

Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately. 

“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.

“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I’ve hardly been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”

“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”

“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?” 

“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”

He’s telling the truth.

Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris Wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.

“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you. 

“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”

“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”

A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk. 

You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there. 

“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”

Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is. 

“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”

You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”

Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”

“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’

“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”

Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge. 

Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt. 

You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple. 

He smiles. 

Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route. 

“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants. 

As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.

You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.

It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.

Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.

He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.

Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is. 

This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-

You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze  snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.

You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to. 

God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.

“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”

“But-”

“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”

Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest. 

He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.

The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.

“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.” 

He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him. 

Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.

“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”

You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.

It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.

You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs. 

He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent. 

God, he’s gorgeous. 

You hate him. 

You’ve missed him. 

You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.

“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.

You don’t deny him. You never can. 

You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.

Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.

You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs. 

Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips. 

“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.

“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.” 

You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago. 

“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective. 

“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?” 

You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-

“None.”

“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”

“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”

His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.

“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”

This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”

Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.

“No?” he questions. 

A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him. 

“No.”

His smile sharpens.

“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”

True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.

“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”

“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.

He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace. 

His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.

“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”

Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.

Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time. 

“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying. 

Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.

Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch. 

“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”

You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”

He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.

You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.

This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs. 

It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.

You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did. 

Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work. 

What did you do?

You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk. 

If anyone finds out about this-

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.

He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.

After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.

“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek. 

You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes. 

“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”

“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”

“Stop.”

“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for Christmas because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”

The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything. 

Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.

“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”

“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”

“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”

“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t. 

“I know,” he murmurs. 

You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.

Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly. 

“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”

His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”

“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”

The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses. 

“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”

[cjjohansson]

i don't want to feel anyone but you.

natasha romanoff x reader - something happens on a mission that leaves natasha ignoring you for a month, until she finds out what actually happened. -- reader has a penis. angst. fluff. smut.

18+!!!!! - masterlist ♡

“It’s been weeks Y/n…what the hell happened on that mission?” Bucky nudges you as you stay staring at the ceiling laying down in my bed. It’s weird for you to be in this bed, in this room. It’s so bare compared to what your room is like with Natasha. You haven’t stepped foot in this room in over 2 years. 

“Y/n?” Bucky nudges you yet again, your head turning to face him, his concern written all over his face. 

“You were both undercover, you both said the mission went fine and got what you needed but since then you’ve slept in this room. The cameras on the jet have been wiped from you on the way back. You both refuse to be in the same room as each other. Nevermind the fact no one even sees your face anymore and Natasha is holed up in the gym for the majority of the day…” 

“Buck…please, just, please. Leave this alone.” You need time and space. You haven’t even allowed yourself time to think about what happened. 

“Ok. Ok, I won’t. But you know where I am if you need me.” Bucky stands up to leave and you let him walk away with no care in the world. 

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

It’s 2:52am, well that is what it says on the tiny clock in the corner of the kitchen. You swing the fridge open, hoping someone left you some leftover pizza. 

Just as you're about to grab the box, the door opens slowly. Your head turns to face the other person who is also up at this hour but you're left stock still when your eyes lock with Natashas. 

It’s been 4 weeks since your mission. 3 weeks of not seeing her face at all even though you live in the same building. 

You close the fridge door, suddenly not hungry. You keep your eyes locked on hers. She hasn’t moved either. You're sure you could cut the tension with a knife. 

“Tash-”

“Please don’t.” Natasha breaks eye contact then. Her body folding into itself right in front of your eyes. It hurts you to see her like this. 

“If you just let me-” You try again to just talk but she won’t let you.

“Her hands were all over you Y/n. And you didn't push her away. I was on the other side of the room, trying to do OUR job. While you stood there and let some slut put her hands all over you!” Frustration fills your whole body when she speaks, that isn't what happened. You spent the whole journey back from the mission arguing but she wasn't letting any of it happen. 

“That is not what happened and you know it! People were already staring at me and her. She was the target's sister. I would never cheat on you, ever.”

“YOU LET HER TOUCH YOU!” 

“For god sake Natasha! Do you know how many times i have had to watch you go on fucking honey pot missions and I've stood there silently while random creepy men put their hands all over you! Kiss your fucking neck and grope you?!” You didn't think you could get more frustrated, but somehow you are. 

“That is not fair. And you know it.” Natasha walks towards you finally. Her finger digging into your chest after every word. 

“Friday, pull up my coms and hidden camera from my last mission with Nat.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows at you, then turns her head to the hologram on the kitchen island where your footage is now waiting to be played. 

“Let me buy you a drink.” Leonie, the target's sister whispers into your ear.

“I’m good thanks, my girlfriend will be back in a minute.” You say back to her, moving to the left to get out of her way. Anything to get away from this woman. 

“Well, she isn't here now. Come on, let me buy you a drink and show you a good time.” She whispers to you again, as her arms turn your body towards her and she runs her hands up and down your chest. 

“Hmmm, I’m perfectly ok. Thanks. Now if you could get the fuck off of me and leave me alone that would be appreciated.” You make the point of moving her hands off of your chest, taking another step back. You just wish Nat would hurry up and get what you both needed so this could be over with. 

But Leonie only moves closer towards you, her hands gripping onto you harder. 

“Friday, stop.” The video stops at Natashas words. Her hand swipes the hologram so it fades away. She places both hands on the table and you stay still while you watch her body tense and then ease over and over. 

“I’m sorry. I just, I saw her touching you and I jumped to conclusions. I just-” Natasha turns to you, tears falling from her eyes while she runs her hands through her hair. It’s the first time you’ve seen her in a month. And it’s also the worst you have ever seen her too. 

Dark black bags lay underneath her eyes, she hasn’t been sleeping well. Which you're not shocked about, she can hardly sleep when you're not next to her. Her hair is dirty, her top has old food down the front. She is hardly herself. And seeing her like this, it kills you. She is always so well put together, so seeing her the complete opposite makes everything fly from your head. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. I-I get it. Shhh, come on. I’m here.” You pull her into your arms holding her head to your chest. You knew you’d give in, especially seeing her crying, it has always been a weakness for you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you so much and I just- I should have let you speak but I didn’t. I was so hurt and angry, I’m sorry.” She sobs into your chest, your heart breaking even more. Natasha is never like this, it shocks you so much that part of you doesn’t truly know how to help her.

“I know, I’m sorry too, I’m sorry too baby. Come on, let’s calm down. I love you too.” You pull her head from your chest, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her tears slow down and she finally takes in a whole breath. Her body calmed down. 

Her body slums into your own, one of your hands moving to lift her leg, silently telling her to jump up. Her legs wrap around your waist as you walk you both over to the elevator, pressing onto your shared floor. Natasha’s head stays put in the crook of your neck, while you walk through towards the ensuite. 

You wrap your arm around her waist so she knows to stay put while you lean down and start to run a bath. You know she isn’t going to be able to sleep yet, her body still needs to calm down some more.

You lower her to the floor, a vulnerable whimper coming from Natasha while her feet touch the floor. You make sure to put her favorite bubble bath in before you turn around and help take off her shirt. The rest of her clothes follow soon. But Natashas hand reaching out for your own clothes doesn’t shock you as much as you thought, she needs your touch, she needs your comfort. It only makes sense she wants you in the bath with her. 

You help her in first before you slide in behind her. Her body relaxes into your own before you make her lean forward again so you can help to wash her hair. It’s silent while you help wash each other. Natasha now facing you with her legs either side of your waist, while she rests her forehead on your own with her eyes closed.

You feel Natasha shiver, knowing it’s time to finally get out. You reluctantly pull away, another whimper falling from her lips when you stand up and get out of the tub, making sure to drain it while grabbing both of you a towel. But Natasha only drops her own towel in favor of yours, making her body lean against yours while you wrap you both up in your own towel.

The silence seems comforting as you lead you both into the bedroom, Natasha forgoes her clothes and instead shuffles into the bed, leaving the cover open for you. You already know what she needs and forget about clothes yourself while you follow after her. 

Her chest presses into your own as she positions herself to lay on top of you, the need for skin on skin contact making her body sigh happily. It’s been a month after all. 

She leans up on her elbows, her eyes in line with your own, before she leans down and places a kiss onto your lips, one you’ve been longing for since everything happened. “I’m sorry” She whispers again against your lips, one of her hands moving to your cheek to hold you against her. “I know, I am too.” You reply before leaning up and kissing her again. Her body somehow becomes even heavier on your body while the kiss continues. Your hands caressing her body, clinging to her not wanting to let go. 

Your kiss becomes harder, more meaningful as you both try to show how sorry you both are in your own aways. 

Natasha’s back arches, your hand falling to hip presses her down harder onto you. A moan falling from both of your lips at the action. 

You can feel your body getting warmed up, her body following closely as she continues to grind against you. It’s hard to keep kissing her when moans won't stop flowing out of you. 

Natasha’s hand reaches down behind her own body, falling right onto your slowly hardening appendage. She grabs hold of you, stroking you up and down while you break the kiss to throw your head back, her name falling from your lips while she moves her kisses to your neck. 

Natasha lifts her hips, your hard on slapping against your stomach before she lowers herself to grind along you again. Your hand grips her hair to pull her lips back to your own when you feel how wet she is. 

She doesn’t waste anymore time before she lifts again and maneuvers you to enter her. “F-fuu-ck.” You groan out as you're met with her tight wet walls. The feeling overwhelms you as she lifts her hips slowly down, engulfing you fully until she lifts up again leaving only your tip inside of her. 

Natasha continues to move slowly but with purpose, moans releasing from you both while you somehow still manage to keep the kiss continuing. You swallow her moans beautifully, while your hands finally move to her hips and help her move against you. You need to reach deeper.

Your hands leave Natasha’s hips, one climbing to rest on the back of her neck while the other holds the bottom of her back. She kisses you harder when she feels how possessive your touch is, and it only shocks her when you manage to flip you both over, her head meeting her own pillow while you now take over with the movement of your own hips. Her legs move to wrap tightly against you, holding you close as she finally feels you reach the deepest parts of her. 

“I-I-I love you.” Natasha moans against your lips, your breathing picking up as you fight against the need to thrust into her harder, this isn’t just sex, it is so much more to both of you. “I love you too baby.” You manage to get out while you continue your steady pace, pushing all the way in and pulling all the way out over and over again. 

It’s almost impossible to carry on kissing one another, your head falling into her neck, as you breathe her in deeply, her smell overwhelming you while she moans freely into the room.

Natasha grips you tighter, her nails holding onto your back, you can feel how close she is, her walls continuing to clench and unclench around you, making you have to push into her even harder. 

You're both so close. 

“I love you so much Y/n, fuckkkk, please, I’m sorry.” 

“I know, I love you too, you're being so good. I’m sorry too.” You breathe into her mouth. Your hand pulling out from between her and the bed to press onto her clit to help her finally reach the end goal. 

“Wanna cum with you, please y/n.” Natasha’s words encourage you to press, her walls now impossibly tight you can barely move. But you're right on the edge, the same as her. 

“Cum baby, cum with me.” You mutter onto her lips as both let go. Natasha’s hands scratching down your back as her orgasm sends her to cloud nine, your own orgasm causing your body to still while you release inside of her. 

It takes a moment for you to both calm down, heavy breaths now replace heavy moans while you rest your weight on top of her, your forehead meeting her own, causing your breaths to mix together. You go to move out of her but you're met with her hands holding you close once again. She needs this touch, this connection you both do. So you stay nestled inside of her, deciding to pull her body into your own before rolling over and allowing her weight to now cover you instead. Breathy, tired moans falling from both of your lips while you adjust to another new position, both still so sensitive from how hard your orgasms were.

Natasha rests her chin on your chest while she looks at her. Her eyes hazy and full of love, her hand falling onto your cheek while she strokes your cheek. You move your head to press a kiss onto her palm. 

“Let’s forget everything that has happened in the last month. From now on, if something happens, no matter how upset, hurt or angry we are, we always let the other person speak too. No more pushing each other away.” You mumble to Nat, her eyes never leaving your own. 

“Okay, I promise. I love you” Natasha voices back. 

“I promise too. I love you, and I don't want to feel anyone but you.”

[sincerelyrki]

say it, you’re mine

your brothers best friend has always been there for you, even when you ask him to fake date you to make your ex back off.

pairing : brother’s best friend! sunghoon x fem!reader

warnings : suggestive. making out in public. sunghoon marking the reader (biting, etc).

wc : 1.1k

a/n : first time posting a written work in this account… kinda scary ngl. i’m not tagging my perm taglist on this post because it’s only for smaus. not sure how i feel about this one so please feel free to leave feedback <33 my asks are always open ;) also pt 2?

“Is he still watching?” Without looking away from your lips, Sunghoon nodded in confirmation, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he hummed at you.

“I think we need to make it more believable, will you let me kiss you?” Your eyes widened as Sunghoon grabbed your belt loops, unhesitatingly pulling you into his chest. 

You looked up towards your brother's friend in shock, the thought of your ex watching fading with the overhead stereo.

Sunghoon felt your breathing hitch as he leaned down, his head tilting as his lips ghosted against your warm cheeks. “I promise, one kiss and he’ll never look at you again.”

Sunghoon wasn’t lying, he’d been waiting years for this moment to arise. A moment where he could press against you, feel your smoother lips melt into his as your cute noises sounded out from between his lips. 

He could practically feel himself starting to throb, his need for you growing as the reality of the moment flourished throughout his veins.

His breathing now matched yours, his mouth almost salivating the second you nodded your head. “You promise he won’t bother me again?” 

Sunghoon barely managed to swallow his scoff of disbelief, a daunting smile growing on his lips as he shook his head at you. 

“Baby, have I ever lied to you?” He once again leaned in, this time towards your lips. He paused for a second, his nose brushed yours, his minty breath filling your senses.

“No one would ever bother you again.” A wolfish grin grew on his face as he saw your confusion grow, your innocence stirring an undiscovered feeling beneath his skin.  

“I promised, didn’t I?” He softly cooed, his hand lifting to wrap around your bottom jaw. His thumb traced random circles against your soft skin, his calloused fingertips tracing down until it reached your chin.

In a needy daze, you nodded. Your patience wore thin the longer his lips hovered over yours.

A quiet whine left your lips as his thumb gently pressed against your bottom lip, putting just enough pressure to make it shape under his touch. 

With his thumb still firmly pushing against you, he pressed his lips to yours with an open-mouthed kiss. He used his finger to pull your lips further apart, his entire hand moving down to gently wrap around your neck as his tongue wrapped around yours.

Sunghoon tilted his head to the side to get a better angle, his lips never leaving yours. He used his other hand to push against the back of your waist, pushing you further into him.

The second a small noise left your lips, Sunghoon was almost sure that he had popped one against you, his chest heaving as the noise reverberated down his spine. 

The vibrations travelling from your lips to his was something he’d never experienced before, but it was just enough to create a dangerous addiction. 

“You taste so good” Sunghoon whispered out in between kisses, his voice coming out almost unintelligible due to the state of his lips. 

“Fucking want to kill everyone who’s ever kissed you before, you’re only mine.” You pulled back to breathe, heart racing as black dots filled your vision due to lack of oxygen. “Say it, say you’re mine” 

Sunghoon pressed one last kiss against the corner of your lips before sucking a spot near your ear, your pulse directly beneath it. 

“Say it” He almost growled, his teeth pressing deeper into your skin. You gasped in a pleasurable pain, eyes squeezing closed as your mouth dropped open in breathless pants. 

“Only yours, I've only ever been yours.”

Sunghoon gently licked against your indented skin, your words pushing his mind into a deeper, unknown, mindset.

His sucking grew more deprived, and the feeling of not being close enough to you entered his mind in a spiralled web. 

Sunghoon had never been as thankful for a club as he was now, the ability to kiss out without getting an odd look thrown his way driving him crazier than he thought was possible.

He looked up from under his lashes, only his eyes visible from over your shoulders. His eyes connected with the very ones of your long-forgotten ex, the other man’s jaw dropped as he glared at the two of you. 

Sunghoon held the eye contact, making a show of trailing his hand up the bottom of your shirt, your back arching to accommodate his touch. 

His cold hand contrasted your warm back, a quiet gasp leaving your lips as he transferred his cold body temperature to yours. 

Sunghoon felt his pride growing the longer he watched your ex's reaction, his cheeks burning red as he cursed the two of you under his breath.

“More, please” Your needy whine brought Sunghoon back, his gaze softening at your begging. Sunghoon pulled off of your skin, small bite marks littering your once spotless neck.

“After you” Sunghoon threw you a teasing smile, his hand wrapped around yours as he slightly bowed in front of you. A quiet giggle of amusement left your lips at his dramatic play, heartwarming at the sight of his genuine smile.

Sunghoon allowed you to pull him through the crowd, his body almost completely pressing against your back as he trailed behind you. 

Sunghoon looked over his shoulder, and with an exaggerated smile, he winked at your ex. 

He should’ve known Sunghoon would leave with you, known that you’d always end up with him. 

The loud shout followed by a glass breaking was enough for your wasted friends to notice your departure, shocked looks getting thrown around as they placed the dots together.

“I’m going to kill Sunghoon.” Your brother stood from his chair, his eyes rapidly moving across the entire room in search of his best friend. 

His other friends shared looks, Jake taking the initiative to grab onto your brother's shoulder. “She’s safe with Sunghoon, you know he won’t let anything happen to her.”

And he was right. Sunghoon would never let another person touch you, especially not after he finally made progress with getting with you.

“You’re right, he’s probably helping her brush her teeth or something.” From behind your brother's back, the rest of his friends all shared looks, only nodding with false hums of agreement as your brother looked toward them.  

“He’s definitely putting something in her mouth” Jake grunted in pain as an elbow got dug into his side, small snickers leaving his lips as your brother shot alarmed looks at him. 

“What does that mean?” At the lack of response your brother grew more anxious, his voice raising a few decimals, “Jake? What does that mean?”

[xomakara]

what do you think about brat!reader that has a fixtation on pulling jaehyuns hair during sex but since he enlisted, brat!reader couldn’t do it because of his short hair and has been bugging him about it through the phone whenever he calls to check in on her and when he comes back home during his break, brat!reader is still pissed about it but jaehyun is in a loving way annoyed with her brattiness and puts her in her place ( if you don’t mind could you write something along the lines of this too 🤗🤗🤗)

Completely Yours

SUMMARY |  Jaehyun gives you unconditional love before he enlists. PAIRINGS | Jaehyun x Reader RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+ GENRE |  husband!Jaehyun, soon-to-be-dad!Jaehyun, smut, established relationship CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, oral sex (female receiving/male giving), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal penetration LENGTH | 3,543 words TAGLIST | — NETWORKS |  @k-vanity @ksmutsociety AUTHOR’S NOTE | Hi anon, I know it's not exactly what you requested but I did include a hair-tugging kink in there lol. I hope you still like it regardless. I finally managed to finish this and sure, it's not as long as the other Jaehyun fics I've written, I still hope you all like it. My brain has not been braining for this fic and it has drove me crazy but I really wanted to get this posted before Jae enlisted. I also want to thank @caelesjjk for the gorgeous banner! Please reblog, like, comment, I love you all and I'm gonna miss Jaehyun for the next 18 months. 💚

NCT Main Masterlist

"Come here, babe," Jaehyun's deep voice is sweet like honey. He's sitting up in bed, blankets over his bottom half and propped up against the headboard, relaxed. His fingers are crooked, signaling you over. "I wanna do somethin'."

There's a devilish curve to his lips, hinting at some mischief. With how hot and cold he's been this last week—all touchy one moment, ignoring you the next—it makes you hesitate in walking over. You eye him warily, watching him coo at you. "What's gotten into you? What do you want, exactly?"

"Just want my wife," Jaehyun replies.

You crawl your way between his legs, knees planted on either side of his thighs. "I'm still mad at you. I hope you know that."

"Still?" His hands fit themselves at your waist perfectly. A kiss finds itself placed right below your ear. Another at your jaw, then to the side of your nose. "Baby, it's only the military. You know I have to go. I'll be back soon."

"Not soon enough," your tone is accusatory and petulant; he's aware of this as his fingers dance against the fabric of your silk slip nightgown, stopping just as the hemline hits the junction between your inner thigh and hip. You frown, running your hand through his now short hair. "I miss the longer hair already."

"Gonna miss tugging on it during sex, is that it?" he snorts, blowing raspberries into your neck as he squeezes the globes of your ass with his big hands. You jolt up in response, barely able to smother out the surprised noise from your mouth.

"Y-yeah! I like when it's long...and I get to yank on it and make you make pretty noises. No more stupid buzzcut," you groan, doing your best not to think about what you were going to be without for a whole two years.

"Taeyong's girlfriend didn't complain when he cut his hair," Jaehyun chuckled deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest. "It'll grow back real quick and then I can go back to giving you head while you hold it and tug on it however you like."

“That’s Taeyong’s girlfriend,” you whined. "But you promise, Jae?"

"I promise," Jaehyun bites into the joint between your shoulder and neck and then soothes over it with his warm tongue. He hums, "Time will go by so fast. And, anyway..." his lips are brushing against yours. He still looks so good with the short hair. So handsome when he smiles. His words are full of sureness as he caresses your belly, "you have a piece of me already."

Your heart squeezes at this because he's right. Inside of you, there is already a small fragment of him living and growing, something physical for you to always cherish. "How did you find out?"

His arms wrap around you, snug and warm. Your lips mold against his and he's drinking you in. "I found the test when I was getting the emergency kit before we left for our trip. Why didn't you tell me, baby?"

"I don't know. I… I was nervous. Not about having a baby with you. I'm afraid of...afraid of being by myself without you," the grip around you grows tighter at your confession. "How can I get through the next 18 months without you? Who is going to help me when I get fat and angry with hormones?" You laugh, watery at the sudden sting of tears brimming behind your eyes. The words start to flood past your lips now that you've confessed. "Who will hold my hair back for me when I barf, or massage my aching feet at the end of a long day?"

"I'm always a phone call away, baby. All you have to do is reach out," he hugs you tighter, pressing his lips against the side of your throat. "The guys are always here too, Taeyong's girlfriend and our family. Don't feel like you have to go through any of this alone."

"Promise me you'll call every day? After your shifts? Come home during your breaks?" your hands fidget against his shoulders as they dip beneath your slip, gripping at his bare waist, eager for him. His hips buck into the air a little. You're breathless. "Please?"

"Whatever you want," there's a tentative motion as he strokes a line up your spine. His hands cup your cheeks. "I'll give you everything."

With the tip of his tongue, he nudges your lips apart and slips past. Jaehyun deepens the kiss by nibbling the corner of your lip, slipping into your mouth as you gasp at his little bites, swallowing his moans when you wiggle around in his lap, grinding down slowly.

One thing you and him do very well is kissing. You used to kiss until your mouths would begin to tingle with numbness and you'd have to separate to catch a breath before diving right back in.

Jaehyun tastes the same. His kisses are addictive, hot and demanding like the man himself. "Let me love you in the meantime. Let me spoil my gorgeous wife until the second I leave."

"Jaehyun, the guys are outside," your husband hasn't kept his hands to himself, palms drifting lower to hold the swell of your ass as you attempt to sit up and off him. But the man isn't having it.

"I'm sure the guys are all at the lake or goofing off somewhere," Jaehyun muttered, his lips dragging down the line of your throat to leave marks as he pleases.

"Can't believe you invited the guys on our trip...ah," your complaints weaken out as he gently teases your nipples through the fabric of the slip, touching the wet bud of the other until you start to squirm. "Ah! Babe, knock it off," you squeak, glancing at the door. Your knees tighten their grip at his sides.

"Can't help myself. Got a hot, pregnant wife sittin' on me," it's meant to be a joke but all it does is send your mind on an out-of-control tangent. His eyes drop. "Now, are you going to take care of the problem, or will I need to do it myself?"

"Not my problem that you popped a boner," a squeal of surprise passes from you when he rolls you onto your back, switching your position easily. There's something hungry, unbridled and impatient in Jaehyun's eyes as he regards you. You flush at his heavy gaze and spread your legs so he can nestle further between your thighs. "Jae."

"What does my sweet, gorgeous wife want?" his thumbs slide across your nipples as he takes a deep breath.

"I...fuck, Jae," you huff and grind up against his crotch. Your throat feels like it's tightening. Heat pools in your tummy as the flush moves further down, towards your tits, neck. "I want your mouth."

"Good thing I'm hungry, too,” he smirks.

"Jaehyun," you snap at his teasing, arching when he pulls down the straps and slides the nightgown down your frame.

 "Can't wait to taste you," the bottom hem goes as far as your middle before bunching. A bite to your nipple has you whining, trying to muffle the noises by biting the knuckle of your thumb. "Lift yourself up a little so I can get this out of my way."

Your panties join the crumple on the floor. Then, you spread your legs so that one wraps itself around his shoulder while the other is lifted up and set in the crook of his elbow. His hands lay flat on your belly, right above your pelvis. He nips and kisses all the soft, unmarred skin that he's familiar with. Your heart begins to flutter, making you tingle down below.

"I can't believe that I'll miss you being all round with my baby," Jaehyun murmurs against your stomach. Your body aches for him as the days he has to leave start to come close. There's still time, but that won't matter soon when the separation will set in.

"At least you'll be home during your breaks," you gulp and your head dips back. A light kiss is placed directly on your clit. "That'll make me feel a little better. We'll see you and you'll spoil the hell out of me with your undying love and affection."

"Exactly. The time will be fast, so let me enjoy the moments I still have with you," Jaehyun slides your labia apart and licks a broad strip from your clit to your core. "Mhm. So damn perfect, it tastes good, too."

You squeeze his arm tightly and gasp, his breath is hot and making your whole body tingle with sensitivity as you writhe against the sheets, and he takes this as a signal to keep eating you out.

The long length of his tongue darts inside your cunt as he swirls the tip over the sides. He goes deeper, spreading you wider for his convenience and flicks at a sensitive part that has your legs tensing. He watches, with pleasure, how you shiver when he curls his tongue upward. Then, he presses right under your hood, applying a relentless pressure to the aching spot that has you trembling. The muffled and delicious gasps and whines of ecstasy are music to his ears, as are the satisfied moans you make every now and then when his lips engulf your clit, the vibrations that shudder through the sensitive organ adding to the intensity.

His hand continued to caress your belly. The reminder that a life was slowly forming in you both warms him and makes his throat clench at the same time. He will miss it. Miss your swollen belly, your changing figure, your shifting moods, and cravings, and how his little spitfire will get all hormonal on him.

Jaehyun retracts the point of his tongue from inside and replaces it with two of his fingers. A continuous stream of arousal slips from his digits when he sinks in. He thumbs the side of your engorged clitoris as he pushes into you as slow as his body would allow. There were times he wasn't willing to take it slow, was almost rough, but now was not one of them. He only wanted to hear you fall apart before his departure and milk it for all it's worth.

Fingers moving expertly in you, he moves up to kiss your breast, taking the other nipple into his mouth. His tongue swipes across the protruding nub in a circular motion, pinning the pebble with the point, as his other hand continues to stroke you in perfect harmony. Jaehyun pinches your nipple, lashing the hard, reddening, little peak until you moan at him, back arching and your knees knocking his shoulders.

"What else do you want, my love?" Jaehyun breathes, curling his fingers. "Tell me."

"Jae," you breathed out.

“Tell me, babe. Come on, use that pretty voice of yours,” Jaehyun coaxed.

“Inside!” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

"Inside? Yeah?" he murmurs. He laps a bead of your cream from the corner of his lips. Aroused, your nipples stand firm as he thumbs them again.

"Put your cock in me," your nails drag a line over his shoulder. "Make love to me."

"Damn, my baby's so impatient," the tone in his voice, all rugged and husky from not saying a word until now, goes straight to the center of your core. The slight quaking that makes itself present in his legs goes unseen to you.

Jaehyun captures you with a brief yet searing kiss. You hum with delight, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding on as he presses his lips to yours. You nudge his nose with the side of yours, offering a smile when he looks into your eyes. The moment lingers for several seconds with him observing you as you catch your breath.

"Tell me," Jaehyun touches his forehead to your collarbone, nuzzling his head on your skin as he feels your pussy constrict around him. He flips his head and kisses where your shoulder meets the collar. "Tell me how you want it."

"Love me, babe. Please," you whisper, eyes meeting him. The head of his cock pushes into you just enough for him to rock deeper in and stretch you slowly. He drags his length through your swollen pussy, slipping in and out to coax himself hard again and again, always returning to his place inside of you, opening and filling your throbbing heat, molding your softness and wetness around his hard cock.

A ragged exhale leaves his lungs as Jaehyun runs his hand down the outside of your leg, clutching your ankle in order to wrap around him. You wiggle against his torso and then rest your leg higher up along the center of his back, knee nudging his tail bone, wanting him deeper inside of you, rolling your hips and chasing the high he knows that you desperately need. Jaehyun rewards you for it by sliding in more, up to the root.

"Oh, shit!" you curse and tighten around him.

He's silent; he loves having sex with you, but there is no room to talk when all you can hear are the squelch of his thrusts and the rickety noise made when his cock enters your throbbing sex and his heavy grunts.

"Almost there?" Jaehyun is quite close, breathing heavily as his skin starts to shimmer in the sunlight.

He pushes inside of you until his hips knock your own. He circles his pelvis, massaging your clit with his dick. The pressure on the swollen nub has you whimpering, struggling to meet his movements until it starts to sting and ache from the constant stimulation and you begin to move away, but he stops the motion with one of his big hands splayed on your hip and holds you steady.

“Jae!” you cried out.

"Hm. Is this what you want? You want this?" he groans, rocking his hips, punctuating the word with another nudge of his cock against you.

A yes bubbles from you, the word leaving your mouth followed by the most desperate moan when the swollen glands hit just the right spot. The ridges on his pelvic bone brush along the top of your slit and bump your clit each time his hips rut forward. The thickness of his penis is evident as he repeatedly pushes and pushes until you take every inch inside.

"Gonna cum?" the man mutters in his most raspiest tone. "It's okay to cum," he grunts, pounding into you harder than before. "Gonna love you the entire time...even if it takes me all night."

You sob with delight as a flash of electricity moves from your pelvis to the very top of your scalp. It was white behind your closed eyes as a shattering pleasure moved down the middle of you. "Ah! Shit. Oh, Jaehyun!"

A single moan escapes his parted lips, sounding strangled and wrecked, before Jaehyun catches and swallows it. He moans it deep into your mouth with one last hard shove, the final shove of his cock. You feel the burst and heat spreading inside. He makes a beautiful face, gasping with the sensation that overtakes him and you catch his orgasm just in time. It's euphoria the way his expression, eyebrows upturned, lips slightly opened. He moans out a gasp and throws his head back, full and handsome, before tipping his chin and pressing his forehead against yours.

You touch his jawline lightly with a fingertip and he opens his eyes to look into yours, finding those crinkles in the corners. The sweat is coating his skin and you admire the red that paints his cheeks and lips. You reach up and run a gentle hand over the skin there, down his chest, before finally letting it settle over his rapidly thumping heartbeat.

"You've made me a complete mess," you huff out with laughter, full of warmth. The light-hearted sound makes a smile appear on Jaehyun's face.

“Don’t worry,” Jaehyun chuckled, “I plan on fixing it for you in a minute. Think you can handle another round?”

"Definitely."

Some months later

"Look at my little princess getting all big," Jaehyun cooed from the tablet screen in your hands. "Daddy can't wait to be home."

"Oh, you care more about your daughter than your wife now, huh?" you situate the phone on the phone stand so that you could bounce the baby in your lap, wiping her chin after the last of her suckling your breast. It was close to time for her to nap, the lightness in the tone of her fussing notifying you.

"I love both my girls. I can't wait to see you both," he mutters, his gaze softening at the two of you.

"We both miss you," you coo, standing to pace about the room with the infant at your chest. There was no stopping the fond look that passed onto your face. He'd been a daddy for three months, was lucky to be there for your labor, and held his beautiful baby girl for the first time in the delivery room. From that moment, your heart had never been fuller. "Here, honey, say hi to daddy."

The phone was in position so the small baby girl could be seen in your arms, waving at the camera with her fist.

"That's daddy, yeah, that's him! That's daddy," you whispered sweetly, resting a kiss on the downy hair atop her tiny head as she babbled. "Say 'hi!'"

"Daddy will be home soon in a few hours," he says, his free hand raising in a wave to the phone. "Then, daddy can hug and kiss his little princess for real. All good in the nursery? Do I need to bring anything home with me?"

"No, the room is finally fully finished, thanks to the family and the guys. No toys needed, no blankets or clothes," you beam. "But... you can pick up her a few diapers." 

You continue on walking the baby around until she begins to doze off, arms twitching in her sleep, her head laying on your chest, fuzzing and twitching like a kitten. A wide grin spread across the man's face, warm and genuine at the sight, feeling like something within his chest had been suddenly twisted in a pleasing way.

"Only a few more months and I'll officially be home, my love. Then we'll be together, our whole little family. My whole world," he smiled, making silly faces through the tablet. "Babe, I gotta get going now. Johnny is almost here to pick me up."

“Hurry home, fast,” you urge.

“As fast as Johnny can drive,” Jaehyun calls as a goodbye and winks at you.

“Oh god. That might get you home quicker, but I am begging you,” you plead, “Don't let him speed.”

"No promises!" he calls as a goodbye and winks at you.

With that, the call is done and you situate the baby on the playmat, turning on a baby video with music as she snoozes away. You sit, with legs curled under you, waiting for his arrival.

Ten minutes, fifteen minutes, half an hour and still no Jaehyun. He should've been back by now.

After a couple more minutes, the door unlocks and you look over to the door, your husband comes barreling through as quick as his legs will allow. "Jaehyun!"

His feet carry him in an instant, catching your jaw gently, cupping it before dragging the pad of his thumb over your cheek with a love-sick and tired smile gracing his features. 

"I'm home," he whispers softly, lifting you up in a bear-like hug and carrying you the short distance to the sofa before setting you in his lap. "God, how have you been, sweetheart? How's my baby girl?"

"Good and asleep. Tuckered herself out today, too," you lean over him, peering over the back to spot the infant sleeping. "We're both really glad you're finally home." 

You breathe out, laying a loving kiss against his brow. "How long is this break? Do I get to keep you to myself for longer than a day this time?"

"This time is a week," he grinned and hugged you closer, hands going up and down the span of your back. "Just a week. You can keep me to yourself for a week. Plus my hair is a bit longer now for you to pull..." he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and making you swat at his broad chest.

"Quit! The baby is sleeping," you chide him. But, Jaehyun was quick to make up for his lack of brain cells by leaving open-mouthed, lingering kisses over your neck, not holding back while nipping gently here and there. Your breathless hush becomes a broken groan.

"Did I ever tell you," his voice dropped, turning rough, as he grazed his teeth over the shell of your ear. His smile was wicked and inviting. He'd never looked as handsome as in this moment to you. "I love you so, so much?"

You clear your throat with a chuff, fight a shiver, and narrow your eyes at your husband. "Many times, but remind me once again."

Jaehyun looks you in the eyes, giving your buttocks a hearty squeeze. "Let me prove it, instead."

[pathologicalreid]

sunday morning | S.R.

in which spencer comes home from a case and shows you how much he missed you

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: sex, very soft, mention of contraception (please practice safe sex), established relationship, fingering, explicit consent (consent is sexy), creampie, (i don't know what else i need to put here I've never posted smut on tumblr) word count: 1.44k a/n: this is my 69th post on this blog and i have the sense of humor of a fourteen year old boy. also i feel like this is not very good but i am hypercritical of myself. have not written smut in years. Bear With Me.

Sighing, you rolled over in bed just to be met with sunlight. Beams of light peeked through the closed blinds of your bedroom, causing you to reach up and rub your eyes. Propping yourself up, a smile crept on your face when you noticed your boyfriend beside you.

He wasn’t there last night when you went to sleep, so the BAU must’ve returned sometime in the middle of the night. He looked so peaceful, gently lit by the sun. A single curl had fallen in front of his face in his sleep, moving gently as he slept.

Unable to help yourself, you moved closer to him and tucked the loose hair behind his ear. Freezing when he stirred, you slowly rested your head down on his shoulder and let your body melt into his.

“Good morning,” Spencer whispered, his voice was deep and a little warbly. The way it usually was in the morning.

Lifting your head and smiling softly, you rested your chin on his chest, “I was trying not to wake you.” You lifted your arm and cupped his cheek with your hand, “When did you get in last night?”

He hummed in response, “We landed at one.”

A quick glance at your alarm clock told you that it was just past eight. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” You sat up in bed, “I can go make breakfast.”

You moved to climb out of bed, but Spencer pulled you back down to the mattress. “Not just yet,” he whispered, moving you so that you were straddling his hips. “I missed you,” he murmured, resting both of his hands on your waist.

“I know, I missed you too,” you whispered, trailing your fingers over the exposed sliver of skin between his t-shirt and boxers, savoring the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

Moving his hands ever so slightly, Spencer reached underneath your t-shirt and put his hands on your bare skin, “I really, really missed you.”

Leaning forward, you put both of your hands on either side of his head, “Oh,” you breathed. “Did you want to show me how much you missed me?”

He didn’t answer, instead, he wrapped his arms around your torso, tugging you down until your bodies were flush with each other. This gave him the leverage that he needed to flip the two of you over, leaving his body placed neatly in between your legs.

You reached down and pulled at the fabric of Spencer’s t-shirt, letting him take the hint before he pulled his shirt off, allowing you to run your hands on his soft, warm skin. Threading your fingers through his hair, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his.

Desperate for friction, you lifted your hips slightly off of the bed only for them to be pushed back down by his. Through your remaining clothes, you felt his hard cock pressing against your core. The sensation elicited a small noise from the back of your throat, causing Spencer to pull away from you slightly, “Needy girl,” he whispered.

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t have much time to dwell on the nickname while Spencer was pulling your shirt off. He wasted no time between taking off your shirt and attaching his lips to your neck. At first, they were light kisses, but they quickly evolved into slower kisses along the hollow of your throat.

He took his time making his way to your chest before he enveloped your nipple in his mouth, using one hand to prop himself up and the other to massage your other breast. You moaned breathily under his touch, “You’re so good at that.”

Spencer hummed against your chest, sending vibrations down to your core. He detached his lips from your chest with a pop and looked at you with lust-glazed eyes. Leaning back, he hooked his fingers in the elastic waistband of your pants, tugging your shorts and underwear off and gently guiding your legs through the cloth before discarding it on the floor.

Sitting up slightly, you reached out for him, bringing him closer to you before you slipped your hand inside his boxers. He hissed slightly at the contact, causing you to hesitate, “Are you okay?” You whispered, withdrawing your hand from his cock, and instead placing both of your hands on his shoulders.

 He nodded, “I’m okay. It’s just been a while, and I don’t want to finish too fast.”

You tilted your head to the side, “What do you want?” You offered, letting him take control of the situation.

“I want you to come on my fingers,” he told you, slowly dragging his hand down your side before letting it linger on your hip, using his thumb to rub circles on your hip bone.

Meeting his gaze, you nodded, “Okay,” you breathed as your heart pounded in anticipation.

You adjusted your hips slightly as he cupped your pussy with his hand, “You’re so wet and I’ve barely touched you, baby.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to respond before his finger slowly entered you. Spencer was playing now, moving his hand at a torturously slow pace as he watched your every reaction. “Spence,” you whispered, reaching out for him.

You clenched around his finger, and he readjusted so that he was laying his head on your stomach like he was listening to what it sounded like inside of you while he fingered you. Weaving your hands in his hair, your lips parted as he slipped a second finger in.

With the position he had in between your legs, your range of motion was severely limited, forcing you to just feel. When his pace quickened, so did your breaths.

Gently, he placed his thumb over your clit and started rubbing in small, tantalizing circles. You tugged slightly at his hair, causing him to curl his fingers inside of you, “please,” you whimpered, beginning to feel the orgasm building in your core. “Please, just like that,” you said breathily.

He looked up at you then, never changing his pace, “Come for me, baby.”

At his words, your orgasm washed over you. Spencer’s fingers worked you through the pulses as small whines escaped your lips. You sighed and closed your eyes when he moved his hand, leaving you aching and wanting more.

“You’re so pretty when you come,” he whispered, “so, so pretty.” Your eyes fluttered open and you looked up at him, he had already shed his boxers, “Do you need a second?”

Shaking your head, you peered up at him through your lashes, “I’m ready,” you whispered, crossing your arms at the back of his neck. It had been just over a week since the last time you’d had sex, but as he pushed into you, you were grateful for the foreplay.

His breath hitched as he bottomed out, “god, I missed this.”

That was all the encouragement you needed to lean up and press your lips to his, using your tongue to coax his mouth open as you wrapped your legs around him, keeping him close to you as he started moving in you. “You feel so good,” you encouraged him as he began to pick up his pace, lewd sounds filling the room.

Your walls clenched around him, causing his pace to falter ever so slightly. “Fuck, I won’t last if you do that,” he told you, reaching down to where your bodies met and playing with your sensitive clit again.

“Then come in me,” you whispered, you were diligent with your birth control, so that wasn’t something you were concerned about.

Once his head dropped into the crook of your neck, you knew he was a goner, slamming his hips into yours one last time. The sensation of his warm cum filling you finally pushed you off the edge, milking his cock for everything it had.

As the both of you came down, Spencer littered light kisses on your neck, causing you to sigh with contentment. Slowly, he pulled out of you, and you bit your lip to keep from whimpering at the loss of contact.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before disappearing to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth. “I can clean myself up, you know,” you whispered.

“I know, but I like taking care of you,” he answered.

Smiling softly, you smoothed his hair back, “I love you,” you told him before getting off the bed.

“I love you too. Where are you going?” He asked, watching you get up, his eyes following you attentively.

Raising your eyebrows, you turned to face him, “Shower, are you coming?”

please remember to like, reblog, and/or comment

[exocaliii]

❦︎ You've Been Walking, You've Been Hiding

(pt. 1) (pt. 2)

| Kang No-eul / Guard 011 x fem!reader |

side! | Se-mi / Played 380 x fem!reader |

Summary: For six years, you've watched your best friend and only companion mourn a child she barely got to know. Now, you're given a chance to finally rid her of this lifelong guilt.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: mentions of self harm, death, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, occasional use of Y/N even though I try my best to avoid it lol, some jealousy and yearning, very plot heavy guys no porn this time...

A/N: first fic yay!! it's incredibly plot heavy (like seriously look at the word count man I haven't even reached the Mingle game yet😭😭) and tbh i've already written most of pt 2 (which dives far more into the romance part), but please please lmk what you think so far!! :D seriously any comments or messages or whatever are appreciated!! this is the "I wrote this cuz no one else did" fic

—

It’s been nine years since you've met her, and she’s still the most beautiful woman you know.

Her head is tilted back, shallow breaths filling the silence. You don’t make a move until you see tears flow down her cheeks, and by the time she raises an arm to cover her face, you’re already by her side. There are no words or even glances shared as you use the sleeve of your jacket to wipe the tears off her cheek. Though, for a split second as your hand lowers, you swear you see her head tilt in your direction, and maybe you’re hallucinating it (god knows what could happen after two bottles of whatever hard liquor that was) but your eyes meet for a brief second.

It’s a bit too much for you, and you need this night to end. Besides, you had someone to meet. She knows that.

“It’s late, Eul.”

It’s an unspoken suggestion for her to drive you home, but she doesn’t move - just looks over at you with a heated gaze and that’s all it takes. Whatever emotion she was trying to express is unknown to you, but it’s familiar in a way that deeply disturbs you. You’re the last person she should be looking at like that.

“...Alright then,” you whisper, placing your head on her shoulder. She doesn’t react, but she doesn’t move to push you off either. You should leave. You both know this.

God, you’re pathetic.

—

250 million won.

Fucking scammers. Who could even pay that much?

Your meeting with the head of some shady smuggling group based in North Korea went… alright. They were willing to help, but less optimistic than the last. What really went wrong was the price they were charging to help search for No-eul’s baby. Even if you worked your current job for 16 hours a day for an entire year straight, you wouldn’t have enough.

The thought of seeing her hope dwindling once again made you want to pull your hair out.

Perhaps it was this heartache that made you call the number on that card.

—

She’s known about the games for six years.

She signed up to kill people every summer for five years.

Today is the first day she’s genuinely, completely thrown off guard.

When she twists the scope of her rifle, she almost accidentally fires a bullet straight into your face with a twitch of her hand. Even after leaning back and rubbing her face in exasperation at her own mind supposedly playing tricks on her, she leans back into the familiar pad of the rifle to see your face once again. You look the same as the last time she saw you, which was barely two days ago. The strain in your face, the fear that twists your expression into one she recognizes from seven years ago - God, what the fuck did you get yourself into?

She lets out a shaky breath and readjusts her grip, her nerves making her hands quiver just enough that she has to lean back again to roll her head to relieve some of the newfound tension in her neck. When she finally lays her cheek back against the rifle, she’s quick to refocus her attention to another player, one that 012 (or was it 010?) failed to kill. It’s a disgusting ordeal, but she deals with it the only way she knows how to, even as her mind wanders.

Survive this game, Y/N. Do not leave me behind.

—

All you can do is clutch the number on your chest - 037 - after what had just happened. After you watched a woman’s blood splatter onto a young man right next to you. After you watched him flinch and die moments later, right at your feet. It feels like a fever dream when money begins to drop into the piggy bank above the room, and you’re told each 100 million won added was somebody’s life.

That woman and the boy were, combined, only 200 million won to the pile. You want to vomit.

You drown out so much of it, but when you hear talk of money being passed out to the “winners” of the game you all just played, you’re disturbed to find it’s only reached about 75 million. You’re even more disturbed by your immediate desire for more, more money to fill the pig’s empty stomach (and more lives lost, apparently).

When it comes time to vote, you can’t bring yourself to care much about the man who claims he had played these games before. His pleas mean nothing to you, not when you have 250 million won to conjure up in the next month to continue the search for No-eul’s sweet daughter. You hesitate for only a split second before you hit the O, and you force yourself to drown out the fearful cries to your left as well as the howls from the hungry wolves to your right.

A blue patch is placed over your chest, but you do not cheer with the rest of your side.

—

When night comes, sleep refuses to come to you. It feels like a punishment now, especially as you look at the young girl just diagonal to you. 095. She shakes like a baby in her bed, and the red X on her sweater shows you why.

Have you damned this poor girl to death? Maybe even the kind old lady lying across from her?

The sick feeling in your gut prompts you to get up and head over to the side door. Three knocks prompts nothing but silence, but you refuse to give up so easily. With another set of knocks on the door, this time hard enough to make sure the guard on the other side (at least you hoped there was even anyone on the other side) heard you, you spoke up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel well, can I please-”

Without you saying another word, the door practically swings open.

Standing across from you is a pink guard with a triangle mask. The rifle at their side draws your attention immediately, and some paranoid part of your mind wonders if they only opened the door so they could shoot you for interrupting their quiet time. However, the guard surprisingly only takes a small step to the side after a strangely tense silence.

“...Thank you…”

You scuttle past them and immediately head to the bathroom. The moment you enter, you rush to the sink, turn on the faucet, and let a stream of icy cold water fall from your cupped hands onto your face. For a second, this helps your heart rate slow.

What brings it back up is the sound of the door opening, and what spikes it is the fact that it’s not a fellow player that walks into the silent bathroom, but the guard. Based on their height alone, you can tell it’s the same one. This is even more frightening somehow.

Did you do something wrong? Should you have just stayed in bed? Why did you pick-

“Why are you here?!” The guard’s raspy voice interrupts your thoughts. Her question (you now realize it’s a woman) was just barely quiet enough to not be considered a yell, but the frantic nature of it still makes you blank out. You’re so afraid that you end up completely missing the familiarity your body feels at the sound of her voice.

“I-I’m sorry ma’am, I just need to wash my face, I’ll-”

You’re interrupted once again by the guard’s movements, but this time, she’s practically ripping down the red hood of her jacket to pull off her mask. She doesn’t even need to take off her face covering by that point, because a single short glance at her eyes, the ones you knew so well, were enough.

“No-eul…,” you choke out, staring as she pulls the face covering down completely to reveal the face you’ve known for nine years. Her hair is sweaty and sticks to her face in a way that you recognize from her summer shifts at the fair.

Seeing her here is only comforting for a short moment though, because the pink of her uniform against the green of yours is still visible in your peripheral as you take in her confused, almost panicked expression. Her eyes scan your face for an answer, not nearly as patient as she typically is, and when you refuse to even make a sound, she takes a small step closer.

“Answer me. You shouldn’t- God.” She runs her gloved fingers through her hair in poorly hidden frustration as she sighs and turns away for a split second. “You shouldn’t be here. Not in a place like this.”

You don’t respond, but she can very much see the frown on your face after that last statement.

“Then what the hell are you doing here?” It doesn’t take much for you to regain your snarkiness, but it clearly throws her off guard.

“It’s just a temporary job, and you know why I need it, so answer me.”

Yes, you know full well why she needs it.

“...I need it too, Eul.” It’s not enough for her. You sigh before accepting your fate. “She needs it.”

For a second, there’s silence. She’s confused, and you watch as the gears turn in her head and she slowly comes to understand the intentions behind your words - understands the blue O plastered on your sweater. Somewhere in the blank expression she’s trying so hard to keep up, you can spot the shame, the guilt, and the sadness washing over her at the realization.

“Don’t look at me like you pity me. This was my choice to make.” I don’t regret it.

When she fails to even acknowledge what you just said, you simply sigh and move over to the wall, sitting down with your legs pulled close to your body. As if it were muscle memory, she joins you a moment later.

For what feels like forever, you two sit in silence and stare at each other. She can’t stop glancing down at the patch on your chest, and you can’t stop glancing at the mask she placed at her side. When she notices this, her expression gets even more shameful, and she lowers her head.

“Eul…” She doesn’t answer you, but you hear the soft exhale she releases when she hears your voice. “Eul, I don’t blame you.”

You reach over in a bold move and take her gloved hands. They’re mostly steady, but you know her too well by now. Even the slightest tremor is enough for you to practically feel the shame washing over her in waves. When you attempt to hold eye contact with her again, she breaks it uncharacteristically fast.

“You should’ve never come here.”

You sigh heavily and as she begins to pull her hands back, you tighten your grip on them and lean forward.

“I want to find her, No-eul. Please let me try.”

She’s damned you, just as she damned her daughter. She’s sure of it.

—

Whilst others around you are quickly gathering into groups, you find yourself lost in the crowd. No one pays you any mind as they shove past you to team up with people they had been interacting with, but what could you do when you’ve really just been ignoring most of the people here?

It’s humiliating when you find yourself inching towards a group of men that side-eye you and turn away before you can even ask to join their group. To be fair, if you were them, you probably wouldn’t want the meek girl in the corner either. It’s life or death, and you can’t blame them for picking the former. All you can do is sigh and turn away, but before you can go far, a hand gently grabs your upper arm and spins you around.

“Hey, you have a team yet?”

380.

She’s a girl you made eye contact with only once, right before your late night trip to the bathroom. From her appearance, you would’ve expected her voice to be a lot more gruff, but it’s soft and gentle and draws you in immediately. In a place like this, it's normal that you find yourself easily drawn to any sense of safety you can find (especially when your usual safe haven is hidden behind a mask that dozens of others are wearing - others that are probably far more willing to shoot you in the head for trying to stick to them).

“No.” An awkward silence fills the space between you two before you remember why she’s even asking such a question in the first place. “Do you want to…”

You don’t get to finish that question - thank god - before she chuckles and shakes her head slightly, answering you by taking you by the hand and dragging you over to her group.

Standing with her back against the wall, an armed guard keeps her eyes trained on your every movement. When 380 takes you by the hand, her grip on her rifle tightens just barely.

—

In a twisted way, you almost found the last game to be fun. The cheers of the spectators, 380’s tight grip on your arm and quiet encouragement after you failed the first round of gonggi, it’s all kindness and attention you never typically receive. You can almost bring yourself to completely ignore the fact that you’re pretty sure you just got yourself thrown in with a group of two drug addicts (you don’t know how they managed to sneak substances into this seemingly sterile environment, but it’s very obvious they succeeded in some capacity).

What wasn’t fun, however, was watching the previous losers get gunned down by people in the same outfit as the woman you were empathizing with just last night. You’re actually 99% sure she was one of them, which makes it that much worse. You pity those who lost, and for a second, as you watch a young boy fall to the ground with blood seeping out from a single hole above his heart, you feel an indescribable hatred towards those putting these people down like dogs.

But then No-eul’s face flashes in your mind and you feel the ghost of her hands on yours, and it all fades away.

“What’s your name?” Your train of thought is interrupted by a soft and familiar voice. You turn to face 380 and are slightly thrown off at the sight of 230, 124, and 125 also waiting expectedly. Albeit with some hesitance, you give them your full name, and 380 nods in acknowledgment.

“I’m Se-mi.” Her choice to leave out her surname isn’t lost on you, but you ignore it for now. After all, you don’t really know this woman, and she doesn’t know you.

“Two beautiful names for two pretty girls.” Maybe you should’ve left out your surname as well. “I’m the legend: Thanos! I’ll revive half the world with my lyrics, so watch out.”

After Thano’s little declaration, you couldn’t really pay attention to the other two (Min-su and Nam-gyu, if your memory serves you well). The short shy boy that had been trailing Se-mi when she asked you to join the team was just as quiet as he was before, but now that you’re really paying attention, you realize that he bears a striking resemblance to someone you knew.

Laughter rings out as you chase him through the yard. Short legs, shorter than yours, don’t take him too far before your open palm collides with his small back, causing him to practically faceplant into the dirt. His muffled cries come out soon after, and even with your sorry attempts to soothe him, your aunt still comes running out, scolding you for playing so roughly with her young son.

It’s the last time you’ll see them, even if you didn’t realize it then.

You break your gaze away as you shift uncomfortably at the sudden memory - 125 is not your cousin, he’s a stranger.

You glance around the room for a bit before deciding you’ve sufficiently distracted yourself. When you draw your focus back towards Se-mi, you see her staring off into the distance as well, having made the wonderful decision to not pay attention to the drug-riddled rambling of the rapper who had become the de-facto leader of the group. As if she can sense your gaze, she breaks her staring contest with the wall across the room to turn her head in your direction.

As your eyes meet again, you don’t look away, and you’re pretty sure she smiles a bit at this.

Smug.

—

When it’s time to vote yet again, you’re just as set on your choice as you were before. The guilt of voting for the games to continue even after seeing 095 cry and beg for her life weighs heavy on your heart, but the money just isn’t quite enough for you to quit yet.

When you drag yourself back over to the side cheering and throwing their fists in the air for the death games to continue, you have to stop for a second and close your eyes.

No-eul’s face is so clear in your mind, and so is every memory you have of her crying over her lost daughter.

It’s easier to stand with these people when you remember what you’re fighting for.

—

Even with the confidence you felt in your choice, your guilt isn’t dispelled and you can barely bring yourself to eat the dinner provided to you. You push around the egg with your spoon, head cradled in your hand as you stare down at the ground; it’s a pitiful scene, and you’re probably scaring off any potential future teammates, but in the moment, you truly couldn’t care less.

“Does it taste that bad?” The voice is teasing, and you immediately know who it is before she even sits down beside you.

“I’m not hungry right now, that’s all.”

“Bullshit,” she says with a laugh, and you finally look up from the speck on the floor just to shoot her a dirty look. She responds with a mischievous one in kind. “You feel bad or something? Starving yourself isn’t gonna change the vote on your chest.”

With a heavy sigh, you shove a spoonful of rice in your mouth just to shut her up, but all you do is earn another laugh from her. It’s a nice sound to hear, but you'd jam your spoon into your neck before admitting something like that to her.

“Where are the other three?”

She raises a brow and slightly leans back, revealing Min-su almost tucked into her side like a shaking child. If you all didn’t share your ages earlier, you would've thought he was only in his late teens with the way he was acting. “Thanos and Nam-gyu are digging into their candy stash again, if you know what I mean.”

A loud unprompted Woo! C’mon Man! from across the room confirms her answer, and you scoff.

“Addicts.” Another laugh from her, and finally, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough with trying to eat when your body damn near wants to reject it. “So, why are you here then?”

“Same as everybody else,” she looks over at you with an expression that says ‘obviously.’ “I’ve got some debt I’m trying to get rid of.”

You’re about to clarify that you actually meant to ask her why she was here, next to you and not why she was participating in a bunch of death games, but you push that thought aside for now. Curiosity takes over as your eyes try to uncover something, anything in her expression.

Piercings, careless attitude, but her eyes are soft when she looks at you and Min-su. She seems smart enough. Beautiful as well. How the hell did someone like her get into enough debt to want to participate in something like this?

“Aren’t you afraid of dying though?” It’s a weirdly deep question that you regret asking as soon as it leaves your mouth, but she only does her signature smirk before answering you.

“There are plenty of things out there that can kill me too. This place isn’t so different.” Except for the fact that you’re now living with the possibility of being shot for failing a kids’ game, but alright, you can accept that answer. When faced with your silence after her answer, Se-mi lifts a hand to gently grab the blue patch on your chest, examining it with apparent interest.

“How about you? Why did you choose to die?”

It’s an incredibly morbid way to put it even though from her tone, you can tell she’s obviously joking. Either way, it makes you grimace and destroys the confident demeanor you tried to hold up to match with hers. What could you say to a question like that? That you signed up to get money for someone else? That you could maybe even have lived a debt-free, semi-peaceful life without this other person, but you would rather die without her?

“It’s… yeah, it’s debt money for me too.” The lie leaves your mouth easily, but Se-mi doesn’t look convinced at all. Her doubtful gaze burns holes into the side of your face, and you’re beginning to desperately search for something to take her attention off you. Your reprieve comes in the form of the slight movement you spot behind her.

You don’t actually know this woman, and for now, you don’t intend to.

“Min-su, how about you?” Her intense gaze finally breaks, and she shifts to look at Min-su as well.

“Huh?”

“Why are you here?” You force your voice to be softer this time, less urgent to match with his jumpy nature. He’s calmer now, but there’s still shame evident in his expression even though he hasn’t even told you two anything yet.

“I… I just had some student loans, that’s all.” Se-mi makes the same face she made at you towards him and he winces, obviously unwilling to spill his secrets. You almost feel bad for the guy, especially with the way Se-mi is beginning to pester him a bit now. Seems like two unnecessarily vague answers were pushing her buttons a bit, and the idea that you’ve managed to irk this carefree woman is kind of satisfying.

After a while of listening to their back and forth (which mainly consisted of Min-su asking Se-mi how she’s so calm in ten different ways), out of pure boredom, you decide to test the waters one last time.

“It’s not really debt money for me.”

This catches their attention straight away, and Se-mi looks far more interested in this answer than your previous one. You drop your eyes back to the ground in preparation for your admission.

“Then what’s it for?”

“I’m planning on giving all the money I win to someone else. They’ll use it for their own... personal reasons.” Not exactly the full truth, but it’s part of it and you think she deserves at least that after recruiting you to her team.

For a second, you expect laughter to break out right in your face. You prepare to answer questions about why you would risk your life for someone else’s goal, but it never comes. Instead, when you look back up, all you see are two pairs of understanding eyes, not a hint of mockery in their gaze.

If anything, Se-mi almost looks proud of your answer.

“Actually… I joined the game to try and help my mom out a bit, that’s all. I wasn’t able to get a good job after school, so I want to make up for it.” Min-su’s words sound like those of a young boy still trying to understand the world around him. “I’m all she’s got left now.”

What was someone like him doing in an evil place like this?

“Man, you two are making me feel kinda bad,” Se-mi says, chuckling to herself before leaning back a bit to look at you square in the face.

She doesn’t doubt Min-su’s story, and even though she doubted yours for a split second, she sees nothing but genuine honesty and a hint of embarrassment in your eyes. This revelation fills her with relief, and for the first time, she spares you both a genuine smile.

“I figured you two were nice, generous people when we teamed up.” The newfound but genuine friendliness she exudes surprises you, but it’s a welcome change. “I’m glad I might just be right, and I’m hanging out with some good people for once.”

“Well, I hope I could say the same about you.”

She throws her head back in laughter at this, and you begin to think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to know these people after all.

—

“Can I use the bathroom please?”

This time, you don’t bother to knock, and as expected, your voice is all she needs to open the door and step aside. It was actually surprisingly quick this time too, as if she had been waiting on the other side already.

The air is tense, a feeling you never really associated with No-eul, but it’s late and the earlier conversation you had with your two new friends didn’t do much to dispel your undying anxiety about tomorrow. You can feel her gaze on you even from behind that mask, but you pay her no mind as you rush your wet hands across your reddened face and hair. The cooling effect is instant, and now, you finally feel ready to face her.

“Take off the mask, please.” Your voice is more exasperated than you intended it to be, but you can’t cover up the fatigue you’ve been feeling since the start of the games. It’s probably more of an emotional exhaustion thing, but you don’t want to think about all that right now.

As she’s going through the process of removing the layers covering her face from you, you begin heading over to the far end of the bathroom, eventually dropping to the floor with a heavy sigh. She’s staring at you expectedly.

“The gloves too.”

She doesn’t protest or even sigh, simply pulling them off her hands before shoving them into the pockets of her pink tracksuit. She takes this opportunity to run her fingers through her hair, bangs previously stuck to her face being pushed back out of the way. In that process, she reveals a red, clearly fresh cut on the side of her face. You practically jump up from the floor and stomp right back over to her.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Don’t worry, it was just a tussle with some of the other guards.” Your hands gingerly cup her face as you tilt it to examine the wound. She can feel her skin tingle where your fingertips gingerly graze it. “I handled it.”

You sigh heavily at her dismissal of the open wound on her face and walk around her to grab some paper towels, turning on the faucet to let cold water flow onto them.

“Fuck, No-eul, you’re not even participating in the games and you’re still finding ways to get injured.” Your hands are still shaking a bit when you come back over to her, gently dabbing the dried blood off her cheek. Her gaze is heavy on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look her in the eye right now. Not when you can practically feel her eyes all over your face, your body, every part of you.

As she stands there, No-eul’s mind begins to wander. How can you stand here, right in front of her after everything? Sometimes she genuinely believes you’re an angel sent from heaven to give her reprieve from the pain in her life; a gentle soul, who, even now, overlooks her greatest faults.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes out, gently taking your trembling hand in hers and pulling it away from her face. There’s an uncharacteristic softness in her expression, but you’ve seen it enough times to understand what it really conveys: guilt.

“You don’t have to apologize for something like this,” you say, clearing your throat as you turn to throw the paper towel away. “If you say everything’s fine, I’ll believe you.” Like always.

It's silent for a moment - almost peaceful - before her face twists as if she's just recalled an unpleasant memory.

“Who was that girl you were with? 380.” You scoff at her sudden question and turn around with pure confusion on your face.

“What?”

“She brought you over to those drug heads earlier. It’s not safe to hang around people like that, especially not in a place like this.” You bite back a response that said, well, you're currently with one of the guards that were gunning down people earlier, so how does that work?

“God, No-eul, it’s just a shitty temporary team-up kind of thing,” you laugh slightly at your own words, making sure to leave out your already growing attachment to two people in your little group. “What, did you expect me to try to do this all on my own?”

Her growing agitation is evident as her jaw visibly clenches and she turns away a bit, resting her hands on the back of the rifle slung around her shoulder. “I’m saying you should choose better, they’re the type of people who would drop you in a split second if it meant they could survive another day.”

“You think I don’t know that? Two of them are constantly high out of their minds and the other two-” You interrupt yourself with a sigh, shutting your eyes as your head droops; unfortunately, you can’t actually think of any reason you could have to distrust the unexpectedly kind girl and the shy boy you’ve grown acquainted with.

If they turned their backs on you, you would be lying if you said it wouldn’t phase you in the slightest.

No-eul begins feeling guilty again when she watches your shoulders drop and your eyes dim at the realization of the shitty situation you’ve found yourself in. Even so, her eyes don’t miss the unchanging patch on your sweater: a blue rectangle, neatly stitched with an O in the center. She bites her lip and curses under her breath. Always playing the hero, even at the expense of yourself.

She slowly walks back over to you, lifting up a single hand to trace the patch that signified your choice to give your life for hers.

“The issue isn’t the money,” the broker exclaims, his voice a mix of pity and exasperation at her persistence. “We’ve searched, we’ve been searching for years now, but a one-year old alone… especially after her mother deserted…?” Her expression hardens and he winces at the unintentional cruelty in his statement. “It’s almost impossible by now, No-eul.”

Her anger is barely contained when she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder, and a newfound calmness washes over her in waves.

“We understand the circumstances, sir, but please, please keep searching.” His expression softens slightly at the kind, weary smile on yours. “We’ll handle the expenses, all we ask is that you believe in this search too.”

She almost wants to cry at the sound of your sweet voice.

“We still have hope.”

“Get out of your head, No-eul.”

She’s startled back to reality when she feels gentle hands caress the scars on her wrists. Instinctively, she goes to pull away, but you step forward at the same time and press your body against hers, keeping a firm yet gentle grip on her wrists, fingertips still tracing the marks of the pain she’s held onto for seven years.

“Please don’t forget, this was my choice.” Your voice is muffled against the crook of her neck, but it’s just as gentle as she remembers it to be. “I still have hope.”

With those simple words, she feels the dream she’s held onto for years glow just a bit brighter. Closing her eyes, she leans head to rest atop yours, gently removing her arms from your grip to wrap them firmly around your body. You don’t hesitate to reciprocate her hold.

“Me too.” Your grip on her tightens just barely. “I still have hope too.”

—

A/N: WOW SORRY PLOT DUMP ALERT!! I love some good set-up but I hope the yearning was enough to make up for the lack of obvious romance like smut..

Never posted on Tumblr before too so I have no clue if I did this right (like formatting)! again, any thoughts on the fic are appreciated and ill probably (hopefully) finish part 2 soon! that part will prob be better cuz the relationship between all characters are all set up now. might cross post on ao3/wattpad but haven't decide yet

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

You Could Have Cut and Run

Prompt Day 10: Shopping | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Single Dads AU, Meet Cute, On the Hunt for Elusive Holiday Toy of the Year

They have it. They fucking have it.

Steve is fucking thrilled as he reaches down for the very elusive Lego set that was specifically requested for Christmas. He's checked every damn store within twenty miles, even braving Toys "R" Us. And nothing. Just bare shelves. He really didn't know what he was going to do if he couldn't find one. 

It was number one on her list, everything else a distant second.

He had promised, not thinking anything of it. It's a Lego set. He figured he'd be in and out, it in hand, within fifteen minutes.

Oh, how wrong he'd been.

But there one finally is, hidden at the back of the endcap. Steve squats down, pulling it towards himself, only to feel it being tugged on from the other side. He doesn't let go, but peeks to see who he's playing tug-of-war with.

There's a man with long, shaggy hair sticking out from under a stocking cap looking back at him with big, shocked brown eyes.

"Uh…" Steve trails off, and isn't sure what the etiquette is here. He really needs this exact set. It's the one thing his daughter wants.

"Oh, that's a relief, I thought maybe there was a gremlin down there," the guy says and Steve laughs. He was expecting a fight, not jokes.

"This is awkward," Steve says. "I suppose you really have to have this exact set, too?"

The guy nods. Then asks, "Flip for it?"

And Steve nods, agreeing. A fifty-percent chance is better than zero-percent, and he really doesn't want to brawl in the middle of a toy store.

The guy lets go, and comes around to Steve's side of the aisle.

"I kind of thought you might run," he says, and Steve laughs.

"Didn't even think of that. Damn," Steve teases, reaching into his pocket for a quarter.

"I'm Eddie," the guy says, and Steve looks up.

"I'm Steve. For your kid?" Steve asks.

Eddie nods, "I've already been to six stores. This is the only thing she really asked for."

"Same, man. Same," Steve says. "Why is this damn thing so hard to find?"

"I don't know," Eddie admits. "It's not like it's a Tickle Me Elmo."

And Steve laughs, it's definitely not. He's lived through that, and wishes to never do it again.

"How old is your kid?" Eddie asks.

"Nine. A girl," Steve says.

"Mine, too!" Eddie laughs, and it makes Steve smile. Steve moves to flip the coin, but Eddie covers the quarter in his fingers. "Wait. How would you feel about a playdate? So they both can enjoy it?"

Well, sure, why not? 

Steve can't look at another store. He can't.

So, Steve smiles and nods, "Absolutely."

"We're new to town," Eddie says, "a friend might be nice."

Steve's not sure if he's talking about a friend for his daughter, or himself, but Steve would be game for either.

"Same!" Steve says, "We just moved here last month."

They exchange numbers, and flip the coin for who will get possession of the set. It's Steve, and he promises they won't open it until they are all together in one place.

So, it looks like Santa is gonna come early.

A week later, after some back and forth with scheduling, Eddie sits on the brand new couch in Steve's house. Steve's glad it showed up yesterday. Having guests over to an empty house would have been pretty weird. He wants to come off as cool and fun, not a potential serial killer.

Eddie looks over at him, "You know, I kind of thought I'd never hear from you."

Steve crinkles his brow, "Why?"

"You won the coin flip, you could have cut and run."

Steve laughs, goading him, "Is that what you were planning to do?"

"No!" Eddie shouts, a little too loud, and both girls look over at them. They wave them off, letting them know everything is fine, that they can keep playing, keep getting to know one another, as they put together the coveted set.

"Sure, sure," Steve says, and Eddie elbows him. Steve giggles. He likes Eddie. They've texted back-and-forth all week, and as much as it felt like setting up a playdate, it also kind of felt like they were getting to know each other to set up a date-date as well.

Two single dads, two girls the same age.

It's straight sitcom fodder. 

Waiting for the pizza to arrive, Eddie slides his socked feet under Steve's thigh. Steve looks down, and wraps his hand around Eddie's ankle, holding on. Returning the signal, as tame and PG with the little eyes and ears around, as it might be. 

It's weird to say, but this has felt natural, and a little bit fated, from the moment they met. Steve feels at ease with Eddie, like this was all somehow meant to happen. Like they knew each other in another timeline, or something equally implausible. Usually Steve would move slower with introductions, way slower, before entangling his girl in any sort of relationship he starts.

But it feels like she's somehow the one that guided him in Eddie's direction, by sending him on that wild goose chase.

Even, still. He feels like he has to be sure.

But there's a little voice in the back of his head assuring him that he is sure, as dumb as that sounds. They just met. They've spent a couple hours together. That's it.

Eddie pulls him out of his head.

"You know, they aren't gonna get that whole thing put together today," Eddie says.

"Guess we'll have to do this again next weekend," Steve answers, and squeezes Eddie's ankle.

"Won't that be a shame," Eddie teases, and by the grin on Eddie's face, he's definitely down for that. And when he slides his hand on top of Steve's, rubbing his thumb against the back of Steve's hand, Steve is sure of it.

"Definitely a tragedy," Steve banters back, looking forward to seeing where this will go.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

[notsopersonalcharlie]

Touch Me, Belle

Biker!Bucky Barnes x afab!reader SMUT

Warnings: MNDI 18+, alcohol, dom!bucky, daddy kink, choking, bondage (handcuffs), oral (m and f receiving), mentions of thigh riding

More Biker!Bucky content here

Notes: Potentially the filthiest thing i've written for public consumption. I am on a writing rampage right now. Biker!Bucky is fueling something in me.

You stared down at the shining ring on your finger. You had done it about a hundred times in the last two hours. All of your friends were at the bar, along with the entire staff of the bar and garage, and all your favorite regulars. Sam made a drink called the "Engagement Gimlet" and you were nearing too drunk too stand. Maybe it was just the mass of muscles that had barely left your side all night and you hadn't had to use your own strength since he asked you to marry him. Maybe you never had since you met him.

"You like it?" Bucky's arm was wrapped around your middle, his tattooed arm in contrast to your white button down. You looked over your shoulder at him. His pink lips were wet with beer from his last sip and you kissed him. You couldn't help it, he looked good enough to eat.

"I love it. I love you," you whispered as you pulled away. His eyes were slow to open as he took a deep breath, the feeling of his chest inhaling and exhaling pressed to your back. The lights in the Howling Commando were adding a delightful neon tinge to the already firework-inducing night.

"I love you too, belle." When his eyes opened all the way they were dark with want, and you bit your bottom lip to stop the string of words you almost used to beg him to leave right now. It was your own engagement party. You couldn't bail early.

"You ready to go soon?" he asked, already finishing his drink, the pint glass small in his big hands. You were fixated on his arms and you had to blink and take a deep breath before nodding.

"Words, honey." His intent eyes on you and the rumble in his voice sent heat right down to your core.

"Yeah, ready to go."

"Finish your drink." You did without question. He had put on the tone he always did at the end of the night. The kind that said, do as I say and you'll get exactly what you want. You already had everything you wanted, and you still wanted more, but Bucky was intoxicating. His bright blue eyes steered you through the bar as you finished, saying goodbye and letting you throw yourself into hugs without taking too long.

The cool air of the late night felt amazing on your skin after being in the bar all evening. It also accentuated the incredible heat between your legs.

"-and congrats again and many times over!" Steve called as the door shut behind Bucky. Your car was parked right next to his bike, but they could stay there overnight. You stood staring up at the full moon and Bucky's hands came over your shoulders, thumbs rubbing at your neck. The little groan of relief you let out sent him into motion, his arm coming around your shoulders, steering you to the right down the sidewalk towards home. The walk was silent, tension building in the quiet air, occasionally intercepted by a plane overhead.

Bucky unlocked the front door, and quickly turned, making a wait motion as he went into the house. You sat down on the cushioned bench you had placed under a trellis across from the front door so you could read outside on the weekends. Read and watch Bucky workout shirtless in the makeshift gym he had built in the second spot in the garage. Your tiny car and his motorcycle took up the other half normally.

You looked down at the diamond sparkling in the moonlight and suddenly felt overwhelmed by emotion. You had spent years in an abusive relationship thinking that all you ever wanted was that man, his attention. You spent those years thinking being in love was supposed to be hard, supposed to be sacrifice on the way your house looked, what you did every night, the restaurants you went to, and the friends you kept.

Now you were sitting in the flower filled garden of a cottage you had decorated, sitting on a bench waiting for what you imagined would be an exceptionally sweet surprise from a man who would crawl on his knees after you if he had to. And you didn't even have to feel guilty that he had done all of this and you hadn't done anything in return.

"You okay honey?" Bucky's quiet panic brought your teary eyes to him.

"Yeah." Your nose twitched and you looked down, taking a deep breath before standing up from the bench and looking back at him, more tears rolling down your cheeks.

"I love you so much." Bucky laughed, wrapping one arm around you and the other coming up to wipe away your tears.

"I love you too. I can't wait to spend my whole life with you." His voice was quiet and conspiratorial, but you knew his love for you was anything but a secret.

"This might be the best day of my life, James Barnes." He beamed, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. He still tasted like beer.

"I think I might be able to make it just a little better." The sweet voice was gone, the conspiratorial whisper had turned to a rumbling dark promise. You didn't respond, just took his hand and let him lead you into the house. Battery powered candles were turned on down the hallway, leading you toward the bedroom. More candles were set up there, bathing you both in warm yellow light. In a contrast that only Bucky living in this floral and pink home could be a party to, on the bed were white and purple flower petals and amongst them black handcuffs.

"Making it better?" Bucky asked from behind you, his hands traversing your torso, grazing across your breasts and up to your throat. One hand wrapped lightly around your neck, directing your chin to one side as he pressed hot open mouth kisses to your skin. The other was already at unbuttoning your work slacks.

"Absolutely," you breathed, eyes closing as your head fell back against his shoulder.

"You know, honey," he muttered, his hands moving to unbutton your shirt. You hummed for him to continue, pressing your hips back into his as you slipped the slacks over your thighs and kicked them off.

"I knew the first moment I fucked you that I would have to do it for the rest of my life." Your skin flared ever hotter. The first night you fucked had been loud and messy and drunker than tonight. You had given into every urge you had ignored for years, and Bucky's hand pressed to your throat, the way his tattooed skin looked next to yours when he forced you to watch him fuck you in the mirror, it was the hottest thing that had ever happened to you to that day. And then you got it whenever you wanted it.

"And now I can." Bucky rid you of your bra, his mouth running wet kisses across your shoulders and neck before settling you on your knees amongst the flower petals. He was fully dressed still, but he smirked at you before cuffing your hands in front of you.

"You don't get to lift a single finger tonight." You opened your mouth to rebuttal that you never had to, but his sharp look stilled your tongue.

"If you start running your mouth, belle, I will absolutely blindfold you before I take my clothes off. And I know how much you love to watch me." Bucky had been anything but comfortable in his skin before he met you. Tattoos were to cover extensive scarring on his left arm and the rest had been to make it less obvious. The first time he had noticed you drooling over him, he had felt self conscious. You had fucked that right out of him the same way he did to you.

You nodded in understanding.

"Words, honey."

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl." You watched hungrily as Bucky shucked the leather jacket off, exposing his tattooed arms under a brown shirt which was also quickly removed. You couldn't help but press your thighs together as you watched his muscles move, taking off his black jeans down to just dark boxers that hugged his massive thighs. The one time you mentioned how hot you found his legs, Bucky made you straddle one thigh, over a tattoo you particularly loved, and watched you ride it till you came, one hand lazily on your hip. Now you couldn't look at the tattoo without thinking of that moment. And Bucky knew it.

"Still thinking of that moment, huh baby?" Your eyes snapped up to meet his.

"Maybe I'll make you do it again today." You licked your lips, pressing your thighs together harder. He stepped closer to you, till he was looking down at you, hair falling over his forehead into his eyes. He looked dangerous, the hunger in his eyes would have been terrifying if he wasn't all yours. Two fingers under your chin to force your eyes to meet his. You didn't even notice your mouth had fallen open till his tongue slipped against the tip of your tongue.

"You're the hottest thing I've ever seen." His finger pressed to your lips were quickly replaced by his own mouth, tongue invading your mouth as he forced you backward on the bed, nearly tipping you over, but his hand snaked around your waist to keep you upright.

Bucky's knee slipped between your legs and as soon as your covered cunt came into contact with his leg, you moaned into his mouth, unable to stop your hips from rocking against him. One strong arm stopped your movements.

"Uh uh, honey, I intend to devour you entirely before you have to do any work at all." Your cuffed hands were resting on his chest, and he gently slipped his head between them so you could lean up and kiss him as he laid you back on the bed. His weight was all encompassing and put you in a trance as his hands roamed your body and his tongue mapped every inch of your mouth.

He rubbed the heel of his hand against your still clothed core, and you whined, holding yourself from moving your hips again.

"Learning already, belle. So smart." You shivered at the praise, head falling back against the sheets as Bucky's kisses moved down your neck and sternum, leaving marks across your skin till he got to the lacy thong that stood between him and what he really wanted. He made quick work, so quick that they were still wrapped around your left ankle when he got his mouth to your clit.

"Fuck, Bucky I-" His first finger was entirely a surprise, and it was quickly followed by a second. Your first orgasm rolled up just as surprisingly, the slight crook of his fingers and the expertise of his tongue sending you over the edge. You screamed out his name, bucking into his face as he finger fucked you through the end.

"That quick, honey? You must have been aching for me at the bar huh?" You looked down at Bucky, his hair a mess from your hands running through where they could reach and the bottom of his face soaked in you. His wet fingers rested against your thigh and the other hand pushed your cuffed wrists away.

"Always, daddy. Always." Bucky pressed little kisses to your thighs before pushing up to his knees so he could grab your wrists, pulling you up toward the headboard by them and leaving you to push with your legs. Flower petals stuck to your skin as he working the cuffs. You were entirely vulnerable to any onslaught he came at you with. But not entirely unable to retaliate.

As he unclipped the cuffs, you leaned forward and nuzzled against his covered cock where it strained inside his boxers. His abs rolled above your head as he pushed his hips back and you redirected your tongue through the tattoos there, lapping up the light sweat he had already began.

"You're a fucking menace," he huffed, finally getting the clips together behind the headboard and moving back away from you where you could no longer move to him.

"Only for you."

"Oh you will learn to be less of a menace." He sat back, and you looked at the artwork across his chest and mingling with the hair on its way down into his boxers. You were going to be marrying a work of art as much as the hottest man you'd ever seen.

"You only have the rest of our lives to teach me." Bucky was back between your legs right away, fingers and tongue alternating to bring you through another orgasm and close to a third. You whined when he pulled away, grinding against nothing.

"Have you learned your lesson, menace? Or should I keep going till you can't anymore and come all of your tits?" He shot back, slipping his boxers off. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, the scrawled artwork and hair that accentuated the way down. Your moan sounded more like a plea.

"I learned my lesson, daddy, please fuck me." He pretended to think about it as he leaned over to where he had left the condoms. He had flower petals stuck to his chest and thighs.

"Daddy, please I want your cock in my mouth." He stopped mid-action, staring at you already near fucked out, hands above your head. The ring he had placed on your finger a few hours before sparkled in the candlelight. You had never begged for that.

"You sure, belle? You were just begging to be fucked." Your red-lipped pout turned into a shy smile.

"I wanna see it shining when I touch you," you said quickly, feeling the betraying blush across your cheeks. Bucky's sharp blue eyes turned soft and sincere, and he left the condom forgotten on the side of the bed as he quickly undid the cuffs around your wrists.

"Touch me, belle." You pushed him over at the shoulder and he went easily, both of your gazes locked on your left hand wrapping around his cock. To hear what you said was entirely different than the experience, and when you moved your wrist, the light caught it and Bucky moaned.

"I love you, I can't wait to fucking marry you." Your lips slipped over the tip and his head fell back. You put your other hand to work on his balls and your saliva coated everything, your ring still shining in the darkness.

"Belle, you gotta stop, I wanna-mmm fuck, honey." You were slow to stop, but you did, and quickly found yourself on your back, Bucky looming over you again. He was quick with the condom this time, and your eyes rolled closed when he pressed into you. Bucky pulled your leg over his hip, using the leverage to slam into you, his own words getting incomprehensible as he fucked you and you screamed his name.

"Touch yourself, baby, I want to c-" You were already almost there, and as soon as you clenched around him, Bucky came, hard, hips stuttering as you hit your third orgasm of the night. He chanted your name like a prayer as your heat held him in till you were both boneless and panting. It took a few minutes of getting cold and sticky, but Bucky finally found his senses and pulled out, pressing light kisses to your cheeks and nose.

"I love you, James Barnes."

"I love you more, belle. Would you care to join me in a nice hot shower before we talk about how that was the hottest fucking thing over." You giggled, letting him manhandle you to your feet. You pressed yourself to his hot chest, and you stood there for another few minutes, your head to his collarbone and his pressed to your hair.

"I can't wait to marry you. I meant it then and I mean it now."

"I don't think I can wait particularly long," you responded, taking a step back. He was smiling at you like you hung the moon. You certainly looked the same and you followed him into the bathroom.

[mickandmusings]

sunday kind of love

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: for six days a week, the miller household is nothing but hustle and bustle from the crack of dawn each morning until midnight each night. life is fast-paced and hectic between work and school, full of responsibilities and deadlines. but, for one day each week, all of it is forgotten for a day of pure relaxation.

or

why sunday is the best day of the week, according to joel miller.

warnings: pure fluff very little plot; reader is a housewife (not like 50's housewife don't worry, only mentioned); unmentioned but envisioned slight age gap; first piece with no y/n; I wanted it to feel like a cozy autumn morning; author is desperately in love with joel miller and wants to be his little wife; this was a random thought from my brain, so it's purely self-indulgent, enjoy :)

*this is probably the smallest and most plotless thing I've ever written, sorry friends.*

-

The air is still.

It lacks the usual chaos of a normal morning in the Miller household. Joel's alarm isn't blaring loudly enough to be heard in the hallway. Sarah's pitter-patter of footsteps down the stairs do not sound. The sound of Tommy's truck engine roaring in the driveway, and, eventually, his rattling for food in the kitchen, never reached the sound barrier. There's no bustle of Millers chattering aimlessly in the kitchen, or the clashing of various pans and plates for breakfast. The radio in the kitchen doesn't play the morning news after a Top 40 hit, and the TV hasn't been turned on since earlier the night before. The house is entirely silent, safe for the hum of the running central heating system, and the quiet clicking of the analog clock in the kitchen.

Up the stairs and through the door on the left lies one Joel Miller, weary brown eyes still closed in sleep, chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. Beside him, or, more aptly, curled into his side and resting against his frame, is his wife. She's been awake for nearly fifteen minutes, simply watching her husband sleep next to her, watching his eyes twitch as he dreams, his lips parting with soft snores. She smiles, her heart warm with the thought of him finally getting the rest he deserves. She was grateful for her husband's hard-working nature. Joel's contracting business allowed her to stay at home, and she and Sarah always had everything they needed and most of what they wanted-Joel was hopelessly in love with his wife, and could easily be persuaded into almost anything by one look from his daughter. His wife did realize the toll it took on him, as much as he tried to hide all of his fatigued movements as he stumbled through the door each night. She'd pleaded and argued with him about contributing in her own way, but he'd shut her down with a sweet kiss and a stubborn refusal each time. Now, she watched him rest, the kind of deep sleep he needed.

For once in the history of possibly the entirety of its existence, the Miller house was quiet, mostly asleep, because there was nothing on the agenda. No work, no school, no after-school soccer practices or late night projects, there was simply rest, a whole day to do absolutely nothing.

She gives Joel's sleeping form one last smile before giving his bare bicep a light kiss. She slides out from under his arm as silently and stealthily as possible, not wanting to disturb his earned peace. She does so successfully, sliding the duvet back over her now empty side to keep the spot next to him warm even in her absence. She pads across the carpet, tossing one of Joel's well-worn sweatshirts over her frame to combat the chill. Autumn had finally fallen over Austin, and its bite was evident in the morning, but she welcomed it into their home like an old friend-autumn was perhaps her favorite part of the year.

Her sock-clad feet pad down the carpeted stairs with practiced ease, her arms stretching above her head, hoping to shake out the sleep still encasing her bones. She lets out a yawn, bringing her arms into her chest as she scrunches, finally releasing her sigh as she shuffles over to the kitchen. She makes quick work of starting up the coffee pot, watching as it drips for a moment before shuffling over to the living room. She greets their feline friend perched cozily in an old armchair by the window, scratching behind her ears as the furry friend nuzzles against her hand. Her hands move to push open the blinds of the windows, letting in the early morning light, which her aforementioned friend seems to enjoy, plopping into a spot where the sun shines on the carpet. She chuckles at the cat, moving over to light the fall scented candle sitting atop the tall entertainment system, she clicks the lighter and the flames flicker in a wave, as if to greet her.

The sudden quiet of the coffee pot alerts her that her morning caffeine fix is finished, and she hastily pads back into the kitchen and pours a hearty amount into an oversized mug. With the first sip, she feels her entire body sigh in content, the perfect start to her perfect day.

She finds herself gravitating back towards the dining room, plopping into one of the well-loved chairs and curling her legs up to her chest, enjoying the view out the glass of the back door. The trees had already begun to shed, the grass covered in shades of red and yellow. Joel would grumble about the mess, but she would speak highly enough of the changing scenery that he'd forget all about his complaints. She's watching a neighborhood dog make his rounds around the houses, sniffing mailboxes and greeting the morning runners, when footsteps on the stairs alert her of someone else's presence now up and awake. Judging by the heavier footfalls, she assumes it's her husband and she internally groans, she'd hoped he would get more sleep, he deserved it.

Sure enough, when she turns, she meets his big brown eyes peering back at her lovingly. He's clad in an inside-out shirt he'd likely pulled from the basket of clean clothes inside their bedroom-she hadn't got around to folding them just yet-and his gray boxers, hair sticking out in every direction, still messy from sleep. He yawns and rubs his face, rubbing sleep from his eyes as his steps draw closer and closer to her. He leans down to kiss her good morning, his mustache tickling against her skin. It's a sweet front for his real goal-quickly sliding the mug of coffee out of her hand for his own taking. She says nothing, letting him think she's fallen for his charms blindly, as if it was something he'd never pulled on her. He gives a sly grin as he brings the mug to his lips, taking a gulp before pulling a face and drawing the mug back to his wife's waiting hands.

"Should've given me a warnin', baby, that was...awful."

Joel did not much care for his wife's seasonal flavored coffee, and he particularly hated the pumpkin-infused brew he'd stolen a sip of.

"Oh boo hoo, Miller, you're the one who stole my coffee."

Joel rolls his eyes, shuffling to their kitchen to brew his own pot of coffee. He shuffles back over, quickly picking his wife up into his arms and slides into her chair before plopping her back into his lap. His wife rolls her eyes, leaning into his chest as silence falls over them. His left hand rests on her hip, his thumb rubbing small circles onto the spot, the morning sun bouncing off the gold band on his hand. The only sound between them was the dripping and soft rumbling of the coffee pot and the morning birds singing through the windows. Without a word, both halves of the couple enjoy their lazy morning, happy to have momentary bliss. Soon, Sarah would be trampling down the stairs in search of breakfast and coercing her father into taking her to the movies, but, for now, Joel sits half-awake with his wife in his arms, staring out at the beauty of an early Sunday morning in Austin. In a feeling he's only just grown accustomed to, Joel feels content, peaceful. Well, until he notes the heaps of leaves covering his front lawn.

"Damn leaves already fallin', have'ta to go buy a new rake."

His wife sighs as he plops her back into the chair, running his hands through his hair with a grumble as he fixes a steaming mug of his own coffee. So much for her lazy Sunday.

-

[meowmeowriley]

Ghost had been on his phone since Soap had entered the rec room. Not unusual, he tended to read emails or news articles in his spare time. No, what was unusual was that he had his phone sideways. Occasionally tapping at the screen with a thumb. Gaming then.

The 141's resident emo was full of surprises, one being that Ghost loved video games. The man had an old Playstation 3 that might as well have been his first born, the way he adored it. If the PS3 were his first child, then his Xbox One was rebellious problem child, the way he cursed it constantly, threatening to dismantle it and use its husk as a doorstop. Something about changing constantly, and adds on startup had been his most recent rant. He swore he loved it too, but the favoritism was obvious.

Ghost would be found in his room on one of the two consoles nearly every evening. With how often Soap found him gaming, this behavior shouldn't have struck him as odd, and yet it was the first time he'd ever seen the man play anything on his phone.

"Ya winnin', Lt.?" The glare he earned for that comment had him cackling as he fixed himself a midday coffee.

Soap sat down on the sofa with Ghost and turned on the TV. Ghost continued with whatever he was doing.

Beneath his mask the man's brow was pinched, he chewed his bottom lip, and each tap of his thumb was marginally more firm than the last. Ghost was seething, then.

Soap abandoned his show and instead watched something much more entertaining; Ghost's apparent descent into madness. He huffed on occasion, shifted in his seat, hunched his shoulders, and glared daggers down at his phone, a look that could make any of the rookies on base cry and wet themselves.

Soap was delighted. After he finished his coffee he jogged back to his room and snatched his journal so he could draw Ghost having his fit, he wanted to commit it to memory.

Soap was nearly done with his sketch, though it was a bit more than a simple sketch, nearing realism with how much detail he'd poured into Ghost's stormy eyes, when Ghost spoke quietly and for the first time in nearly an hour of them sharing space. "This game is for godless heathens." 

Soap nearly lost it, just barely managing to smother the laugh that bubbled forth. He coughed to hide what little escaped him, and used his hand to hide his face, scrubbing down to erase the smile that tried to give him away. "What, ah, what're you even playin', Ghost?"

"Tile Towers, on Webkinz."

Soap did lose it then. He'd seen the now ancient stuffy in Ghost's quarters, a scraggly looking leopard, but couldn't wrap his head around the man actually playing the game, let alone getting this angry over a mini game for children. He laughed so hard it hurt, tears streamed down his face, and Ghost booted him off the couch without even looking away from his phone.

***

Written by someone who recently found out that webkinz classic has a mobile app, and rediscovered their utter hatred for Tile Towers. Why do I keep playing it? It's awful, fucking stupid! And yet I keep. Going. Back. I'm also miffed that my original account has been deactivated. I've only been absent for like 13 years! Come on! 🤬

[holybibly]

IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part II

Part I If you haven't read it

Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au

Word Count: 9.4k

Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.

WARNING: only!18+ unprotected sex, Dom!San, Dom!Wooyoung, Sub!Reader, fingering, choking, degrading, pet names, spit kink, manhandling, threesomes, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, overstimulation and more.

Tag list: @staytiny816 @woosmaid @jiminssluttyminx @liknws @pearltinyy @haebaragisworld @bts-iris @bleachpolaroid @wisejudgedragonhairdo @ginger-coffee-addict @pricessthings @rockstarsanie @lilmackiee @minaizum1 @shotahime @vixensss @meljoongiee @ivsjake4evr @love-me-a-little @seonghwaddict @onmykneesforateez @meeitany

A/N: Okay, we're here. I couldn't be more excited. Really, they've got a lot going on and I hope you're all ready because it's gonna be intense, hot and messy. Seriously, I really appreciate everyone's feedback and consideration for this series. It's become one of the most popular things I've written, but it put some pressure on me, because I'm worrying about whether the second part would please you. Well, I think we'll see.

Enjoy the chapter, even though it's practically nothing but smut.

The third and final part! takes us back to where it all began, but not without an emotional roller coaster ride. By the way, I wanted to point out that T/N doesn't remember what she promised them a year ago. So don't be surprised by the plot changes in this issue. In the finale, we're sure to get a hot threesome.

I'm still learning how to write smut, so please be gentle with me.

Besides, I can't help but talk about the results of the poll. The majority vote was for Alpha/Beta/Omega!au, and honestly, it's one of the ideas I'm most excited about, and I was hoping it would be the winner. I look forward to your comments. In general, feel free to write me about anything.

dividers by @cafekitsune

Much love, everyone.

Now. The morning after graduation.

It's a late, lazy morning when you wake from a deep and well-earned sleep. You blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the bright golden light flooding the room, which refracted through your bedroom's stained glass. It was beautiful and annoying at the same time, just as Hongjoong himself, who had inspired you to do this.

You should have shaded the windows last night before you went to sleep, but that was the last thing you thought of as lying in bed between the restless, wet San's and Wooyoung's bodies. You were more preoccupied with the touch of their rough hands on your heated body, the warmth of their breath on tender skin, and the sounds of their hoarse moaning right by your ear.

They were an absolute mess, slowly driving you crazy. Emotions raged in your stomach, making you feel guilty, embarrassed and… lustful. You practically dozed off at dawn, when the boys managed to calm down a bit and fall into a deep sleep.

The apartment is incredibly quiet; you can't hear a single sound, and only the soft sniffle on your neck, with the feeling of warm breath dancing across your bare skin, breaks this peaceful silence.

Wooyoung is still fast asleep, clutching you in his arms like a favorite teddy bear, his leg wrapped possessively around your thigh as it always has been. Even when he was asleep, he couldn't bring himself to let you go for a second.

You ran the palm of your hand over the sheet and felt nothing but the cold under your fingers. Sannie has been awake for a while now, and for a moment you're annoyed by this fact. You wish that he was still in bed with you, soft and gentle as he always was. So that the three of you could spend this special morning together. The graduation robes are scattered all over the room in a mess of things, and all you want to do is push them further and further into the wardrobe and forget about them forever. The dog days are finally over. You are now official free.

Sensual, full lips touch the sensitive spot on your neck, and the sensation sends shivers down your spine. The throat is suddenly dry, sweat begins to form on your neck from the abruptly increase in desire, and you close your eyes tightly, aware of every touch and breath coming from Wooyoung more clearly than before. It's as if your whole body is completely focused on him, reacting to every fleeting movement and every sound with even more eager devotion.

You're still too receptive from last night, and you need more space to try and keep all those dirty, depraved thoughts from taking over and you. You studiously ignore the slight shiver of excitement that is happily tickling your breasts and causing the muscles in your lower abdomen to ripple in a pleasant way. You bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning in frustration as the images and sensations of the night flash in front of your eyes. You need to stop right now. It's too bad, but it's too sweet.

You start to wriggle, trying to get away from Wooyoung, who is still sleeping, but he just pulls you closer to his chest, as if he wants to dissolve into your body completely, and you melt.

Wooyoung has always been so insatiable and greedy for any kind of physical contact that you can offer him, like an adorable little puppy, that you can just wag your finger at him and he'll come running to you. He always had "too much space between you"; it was important to him to hold you constantly, to touch soft skin with his fingertips, to leave butterfly kisses in every possible place, to knead your thighs and squeeze waist possessively, to pull you so close that there wasn't a centimetre between you. You were his darling, soft and sweet girl in all the right places, and he just couldn't help himself.

San used to tell him that he was being a bit greedy and that he needed to learn how to share you with others. After all, sharing meant caring, and you were also his chagi.

Yes, you wanted to be taken care of, and that frightened you to the depths of your most forbidden fantasies. You wanted to be nervous about them; you wanted them to use you as they pleased, to make you take everything they had to offer, even if it destroyed you completely.

Your desire for them was more than you should have as friends. And that feeling had only grown stronger over the past year.

But despite Wooyoung's obsession and possessiveness, his touch always soothed you. He gave you the comfort you needed whenever you felt the need. And in the end, his hands would always nudge you in the direction of San, so that he could have his own moment of sharing with you. You were their own personal cuddly toy, and that was fine with you, because there was no place in the world where you could feel more protected and cuddly than in their arms.

But at the moment, you wanted nothing more than to get away from his touch and calm down your excitement. You'd been so needy since last night, and Wooyoung had only added to your frustration.

He's shirtless, his skin warm and smooth, and you can be sure it's golden like caramel where the sun has licked it. Delicious. You can almost taste him on the tip of your tongue, and suddenly you're tempted to sink your teeth into him for a taste, but you just bite down harder on your lower lip and stifle a moan.

You need to stop being so intensely... aware of him.

Maybe you were still drunk from the last night; after all, you couldn't remember exactly how many shots of tequila you'd consumed before dragging Yunho into the ladies' room to start kissing passionately. And you found yourself in an even more suggestive position with Seonghwa after another round of colourful, unnamed cocktails.

From then on, every innocent act made you feel lustful and hungry for intimacy.

Was it karma or something? You weren't sure, but you were more inclined to think that it was the lack of passionate sex you hadn't been having for a year now. You hadn't been able to find anyone suitable for a long-term relationship after you'd broken up with Suho, and boys-toys hadn't given you any pleasure.

You wanted more than ten minutes of gasping under the covers with awkward fingers poking into the pussy. They were cum faster than you were able to get yourself aroused. Pathetic.

You needed to satisfy that hunger that was eating you from the inside out, that oppressive feeling of emptiness inside you that could only be filled by a big dick that you could choke on for the rest of your life. A thick and long one, with visibly bulging veins, that could really hit all the sensitive places inside you, causing you to have orgasm after orgasm. And having not one but two perfectly matched options handy hasn't made things any easier.

If you offered to suck them off, Wooyoung's dick would be in your mouth in no time. He was always a fireball, passionate, and impatient, and San…San liked to play with his food before getting down to business. You were in awe of how perfect their dynamic was with such different personalities.

You wanted to see how attractive they would be when a warm throat closed around their cocks, when their beautiful faces were contorted with intense pleasure, and when you heard them moan out your name.

Damn it.

It's moments like these that make you realize that moving in with Wooyoung and San was the best and worst decision you ever made. Unless you count buying a pair of designer jeans that make your butt a magnet for people's hands.

The time went by far too quickly for your liking. It was easy to get lost in the succession of school days, week after week, punctuated by movie nights, spontaneous outings and a seemingly endless stream of student parties. Everything in your life changes. From the big renovation of your apartment, which was Hongjoong's job - he was still over the loss of his favourite vintage sofa - to the move in of San and Wooyoung. Things started to move at an even faster pace the day the boys dragged their suitcases into the dark space of your ultra-modern living room, to a general "You should have done this a long time ago".

It was a spontaneous and hasty decision. But what could have gone wrong? It's always been the three of you, and you had no idea that sharing space would have any effect on your relationship. God, how wrong you were. They played cat and mouse with you, testing your mettle and your patience. The memory of that moment is still so vivid in your mind.

"Come on, chagi, try it; it's quite tasty." San brought a spoonful of the dark green liquid, which Wooyoung proudly called the best hangover soup in the world, to your lips.

Jung Wooyoung and his ego, of course.

"Go ahead, baby; be good and open your mouth. It'll make you feel good, I  promise." That last sentence was full of innuendo, and it didn't take a genius to see it. In fact, everything that came out of Wooyoung's mouth was absolute filth.

He was practically purring in your ear, touching your delicate skin with every word, and you swear you could feel the touch of his tongue on your earlobe. Oh, fuck. His hands slid down your shoulders, deftly kneading the muscles that had gone stiff, his thumbs sliding up the vertebrae of your neck, and he dug a little bit into the hair at the back of your neck. In that moment, you were ready to do anything for him, whatever he asked.

"That's my Chagia, so docile and sweet." San would continue to feed you slowly with a spoon, smiling sweetly at you as if it were the most pleasant thing in the world to do. From time to time, he would wipe away the drops of liquid that ran down your lips with his thumb, as if in a romantic drama. You were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. But San's meaningful raised eyebrow made it clear that it was better to let him take care of you without resistance. San's language of love had always been to serve, and he took every opportunity to remind you of that.

The silence around you was nice and cozy—you'd even say relaxing—especially since you could still feel the humming bass of last night's music in your head. And all in all, you weren't feeling your best. Hell, that shit you drank last night was strong. This went on for a few more minutes until the plate in front of you was empty and Woo's face was pressed against your cheek in a cute puppy way. 

"Woo, and I wanted to talk to you about something, Y/N," San began, his voice suddenly becoming so sweet. He took your hand gently, his thumb stroking your knuckles lazily. He obviously wanted something from you.

"Sure, I'm all ears."

"We'd like to move in with you, peach, what do you think?" Wooyoung was pecking at your cheek, acting like a real sweetheart, but you knew every one of his tactics to get what he wanted.

"You're not going to get it if Woo keeps licking my cheek."

"But, Peach…" He whined, pursing his puffy lips in a resentful manner. Okay, he was cute as hell, but you were never going to tell him that.

"Chagi." You turned your attention back to San, who looked like he was confessing his love to you: Are this hearts in his eyes? Or are you still drunk?

"Agreed, we are practically living here anyway; I even have my own toothbrush in the bathroom. It's just a formality." He was awfully proud of it, squaring his shoulders and imagining himself under your gaze.

"We want to take care of you, baby."

And this is where you should have told them to fuck off and forget the way to your apartment, change the locks, and give San his toothbrush back. But whether it was the soft and somehow loving look of San's cat eyes paired with deep, sweet dimples or Wooyoung's gentle hands that started to knead your shoulders again in a languidly seductive way, you nodded affirmatively.

They were right; you were all practically living together. The amount of their stuff in your flat was unreal—the T-shirts you slept in, the perfume bottles left everywhere, study notes, games, pajamas and scarves, Wooyoung's luxurious leather jackets, and San's books—you could start a collection, but their stuff was just as much yours. It was also the constant cause of your and Suho's fights; he was always jealous of you and them, completely unaware of the dynamic between the three of you. They'd been glued to your thigh for years, and the fact that you had a boyfriend wouldn't change that. Narrow-minded prick.

"I think you're right. Let's give it a go."

"My little darling." San gave a dazzling smile, showing off his dimples even more, and pressed your hand to his lips. God, Choi San was a real menace. It was hard to believe that this pretty cat in front of you was none other than the one who was caught many times having rough sex in the middle of the university library. Once, he was even caught in a threesome, but you didn't want to point the finger at Wooyoung for putting him up to it.

"Yeah, that's our girl." Wooyoung pressed his lips to your cheek once more, salivating as much as he could along the way.

"Jung Wooyoung!" You squealed, wiping the drool from your cheek in disgust, but Woo was already happily scurrying into the living room, laughing loudly.

"We'll look after you, chagi."

That was San's last sentence before he ran his tongue over your hand, licked his fingers like a cat, and ran after Woo with an evil giggle.

"Choi San, come back at once!"

You are going to have so much fun here. Too much fun for your own good.

"Mmm… Peach, you are already awake." The soft touch of plump lips on your shoulder means that Wooyoung has woken up and wants to have your full attention.

"It has been some time. But I don't want to go anywhere. How are you feeling? Last night, when we came home, you and San were really drunk.

Wooyoung hugs you even tighter, nestling his face between your shoulder blades and taking a deep breath of your scent. Your skin is tickled by the tips of his long hair. A light touch on your lower back sends a jolt up your spine, making you arch slightly in his arms. Wooyoung is always like this; his defiant and needy attitude shouldn't be anything unusual for you, so you should stop reacting to him like this.

"Thank you for looking after us, peach. You're always so nice. Sannie and I don't deserve you." He kisses your neck. This time the touch lingers a little longer, and a feeling of excitement rises in your chest. "We haven't caused you any trouble, have we, little girl?" He purrs as he rubs his nose up against your shoulder. You couldn't help but notice how San's habits have become Wooyoung's habits, and vice versa. Now you have to put up with all that twin feline energy.

You turn to face him, and even after a night of sleeping with his hair tousled and without his usual cheeky grin, Wooyoung still looks pretty damn good. He's comfortable, a little sleepy, but no less seductive than he ever was. Woo has always had this sensual aura about him. Underneath the overt sexuality and the bitchy attitude, there was something else—something dark and seductive. You want to kiss him right now, so badly. Your hand runs through his silky hair, letting it fall in soft waves on either side of his face. Dark strands that are long enough to be pulled through easily. The world's handsomest boy.

It's all too easy to fall in love with him.

He kisses your palm playfully and pokes his nose into it like a cat hungry for affection, and you don't mind his purring with pleasure.

You wonder what he's going to sound like when he cums, God, you need to help yourself.

"Let me think." You run your fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. It's a deceptively gentle gesture before you pull hard on the roots of his hair, causing him to cry out in surprise.

"Oh, babe, why?" He purses his lips in offense, hoping you'll fall for his cute look. But you've known Wooyoung for years, and judging by the mischievous gleam in his eyes, he knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Firstly, you robbed me of my chance for great sex with your whining and dragging me home. Secondly, you behaved horribly when I tried to persuade you to take a shower and you kept me awake until the morning by clinging to me and fidgeting on the bed. Today I demand the royal treatment because you really messed up last night. This was not part of my plan for the prom at all."

Woo smiles back wickedly, practically baring his teeth in a wolfish grin.

"Peaches, are you really such a needy girl? Well, what are we going to do about it? San and I will have to do our best to make it up to you." He suddenly turns you over so that you are lying on your back, sandwiched between the mattress and his lithe body. Wooyoung is hovering over you, his hair falling all over your face, and you can't help but notice how sexy he looks in this position, which is annoying the hell out of you. He doesn't even have to try very hard to send you over the edge.

Strong hands are resting on the sides of your head, letting you enjoy the sight of the seductively bulging veins that run down his forearms. Fuck, you've always had a weakness for his hands, and who wouldn't when they look like this? Woo leans his head towards you until your noses touch, like a predator cornering his prey.

"Baby, I have my doubts that you'll be satisfied with anyone, so don't sulk. And you know Sannie and I will have to approve of someone running their fingers down your knickers." He smiles broadly at you, clearly enjoying your annoyance when you roll your eyes at him.

"Jung Wooyoung, stop it!" Your hand leaves an angry red mark on the bare skin of his chest, and he grunts. It will take all the patience in the world not to beat him to death or kiss him. "I swear I'll wash your mouth out with soap someday." Or maybe you'll lick him from the inside out. "And stop sticking your pretty little nose where you shouldn't. You don't have to worry about who I'm gonna fuck."

"So what if it bothers me? What are you going to do with it, Peach?" He bites his lips in anticipation and raises an eyebrow in expectation, as if he were challenging you to go on.

The way that smug look is on his face makes you feel a little pissed off. You get a little cocky and decide to use the same tactic he did. Wrapping your hands around his face, you're pulling him even closer, resting him on your forearms and your lips nearly touch. He has siren eyes that are deep and mesmerising, and the intensity of his gaze causes your cheeks to flush and you to bite down on your lower lip. The gleam in his fox eyes is proof that he is enjoying every second of your little game.

"Seonghwa kisses you like he's fucking your mouth with his tongue, it's fucking heaven and you can do whatever you want with that fact, baby. I would have ridden him like a stallion in front of everyone last night if it wasn't for you and San's drunken arses". You push him off of you, and Wooyoung rolls over to the other side of the bed as you sit up.

There's something in the air, and you feel you've said something wrong, judging by the way Wooyoung's eyes are flashing with an emotion you can't quite describe. It's a weird mix between anger, envy, desire and something else. But whatever it is, it is making your pussy clench in anticipation of it.

Damn, when did you start thinking with what's between your legs instead of your brain?

He stares at you intently, as if he's trying to decide whether he's going to scold you or fuck you senseless. As lust flashes through his languid onyx eyes like a shooting star, fast but unmistakable, and his pink tongue flicks out to wet his swollen lips, Wooyoung knows exactly what he's going to do to you.

You reach out to stroke his shoulder, and just as you expected, his skin is the most delicious shade of caramel. You can't help but want to run your tongue all over it.

Oh, shit. Now would be a good time to remind yourself: He's your best friend.

"Where`s San?" He asks you.

The expression on his face is, for the most part, neutral, with just a slight hint of lust and anticipation. He slowly licks his delicious lips and looks at you with bedroom eyes. You feel the warm moisture building up between your thighs. If he keeps looking at you like that, you're going to make a puddle of lust where you're sitting right now. You squeeze your thighs tighter to keep the liquid from dripping shamefully onto the bed, praying to all the gods that Wooyoung won't notice.

"I don't know. He wasn't in the bed when I woke up."

"Good."

What the hell is 'GOOD'? You need to collect your thoughts and leave this stuffy room, but the way Wooyoung's eyes slide over your body before, and slowly sucking his lower lip tells you there's nowhere to run. 

"Come to me, sweetheart; I want you in my arms." He is stroking himself on his thigh, the silk fabric of his pajamas leaving no room for imagination as it outlines the taut muscles of his gorgeous thighs. His legs are spread a little wider to draw your attention to where he wants you now, and you can clearly see the imprint of his thick dick through the fabric. Damn. It's completely hard, and you can't help but notice how big it is.

His actions send signals straight to the nerves that control your cunt. The wet heat is running between your legs and your arousal is increasing. A palpable shiver runs through all body as you squirm and writhe under the intensity of his gaze.

The rational part of you is literally beating in a hysterical frenzy. It's your hope that your stupid brain will realise the full implications of what's happening, and that you'll be able to put a stop to it. Even if the boundaries of your friendship were highly questionable, you were friends. While the evil voice in the back of your head was cheering you on: "C'mon, what's the bad that can happen?"

He was inviting you, and who were you to refuse? Not that you wanted to.

They'd go crazy if San and Wooyoung knew what thoughts and fantasies lived in your head every day. Huh. They had no idea their sweet chagia had such a dark and dirty mind. You take a deep breath.

Screw it.

You slowly crawl across the bed towards him. He watches you with a squinting, predatory look on his face until one of your legs has been thrown across his body and you're almost sitting on top of him. Almost, as your thighs struggle to keep you in that rigid position, but apparently Woo wasn't in the mood, and his broad palms force your hips down so you're sitting all the way in his lap. Before you realise what you're doing, you're pinned against his crotch, his hard cock touching your aching clit as you move against him, demanding physical stimulation. The contact was so good that it sent a shiver down your spine, and you almost moaned at the tiny moment of pleasure it gave you. Damn, it was massive—so thick you started salivating in your mouth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You're up to your neck in shit. 

"There you are, starlight, in my hands." His voice, once so high and soft, was now hoarse and deep. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you even closer to him, so that there was hardly any space between the two of you. "Baby girl, are you still upset about Seonghwa?" It's a nickname he rarely uses, and it sends an electric shock through your lower abdomen, triggering a feeling you're not sure you can control right now. He leans in close to you and presses his wet lips against the side of your ear. "Tell me what I can do to stop you being angry with me."

"Kiss me, make me feel good." The evil little voice in the back of your head chimes in with glee. "Blow my brains out until my head feels empty and light." It says.

A whole new sensation takes over. Your body starts to heat up in anticipation of what is to come. Then the room will seem to shrink and the air will fill with a tension and a desire.

"I don't know. You've really pissed me off." You look up at him through your impossibly thick lashes, your lips in a fake pout. You weren't the innocent one; you could have played just as badly as they did. "You'll have to try harder, pretty boy." You let your finger nails run down the length of his neck. Wooyoung tilts his head back to reveal a chin line that could have been carved from the finest marble.

As his hands lazily caress your thighs, lifting your T-shirt higher and higher, your skin burns under his palms. Damn, he's scalding you.

The wetness between your legs is becoming more and more intense as the conversation goes on and on. Your juices seep through the thin lace of your panties, dripping from your pussy, leaving little dark streaks on the silk of his trousers where they touch your thighs. The air between you crackles with tension and desire; you feel yourself sweating; you're so hot and needy; and Wooyoung is no help at all.

His aura is one of dominance, and you swallow in anticipation. A storm is about to break and you don't want to be safe.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do for you, Y/N."

You're done for.

"Then kiss me, stupid boy, make me feel good."

He growls back at you, embracing you on the back of the head and practically forcing your faces together. The palm of his hand clenches possessively on the back of your neck with palpable pain, and the sound that comes out of you is something between a sob and a moan. With the sudden movement, you feel yourself pressing even harder against his dick, and it sends a pleasurable pulse through your clit.

Wooyoung presses his forehead against yours and your lips are just a breath away from each other.

You stare back at him without blinking. His eyes are half closed as he watches you in silence, like a tiger stalking its prey, ready to pounce with its jaws clenched. It is in a low, dangerously calm tone that he speaks. "Are you sure this is what you want to do, baby girl? I'm biting." It's mixed with your sighing and seductive lips, and you can barely make out the words.

"P-please…"

His moan is loud, guttural, and mildly painful, and then…

O MY GOD.

Those soft lips are pressed hard against yours in an urgent, hungry kiss. His mouth is insistent and demanding, his thumb digging into the skin of your neck, turning the touch into a rough grip, and his tongue gliding along the bottom of your lip. Slowly, as he pulls your lips apart, he moves in quickly, and you shudder at the sensual sensation as he runs his tongue over the roof of your mouth and licks your teeth. It should have been dirty and rough, but instead you find yourself moaning with wanton need.

"Wooyoung..." The moan of his name was so desperate, so needy, so full of lust and desire.

"Goddamn, I love it when you say my name."

He kisses you with renewed ferocity, biting your lips almost to the point of bleeding. Wooyoung is too passionate; he licks your mouth with his tongue, and literally shoves it down your throat. He kisses you like he's dying of thirst and you're the only way to make him drink. Spittle runs down your chin, it's wet and dirty, but you can't stop, you don't want to stop. Wooyoung's tongue is practically fucking you in the mouth.

And God, you want more. It feels unreal, too extreme to be a reasonable response to a kiss, the heat between your legs, your clit throbbing with need, your nerves on fire.

Wooyoung lets go of you for a moment and you stare at him with your eyes wide open. Your heart is pounding wildly and your breathing is so ragged that you're practically choking to death. Licking away any remnants of the kiss you shared, his wet pink tongue pokes out from between his plump lips.

His hand slides down your face, cupping your chin and tilting your head slightly so that your eyes meet his, his gaze clouded with lust as if his fingers were digging deep inside you. You can't say a word as a wicked smile spreads across his sharp, enchanting face.

Now you have a better understanding of all those damsels who are ready to spread their legs at the flick of his fingers.

"Tell me you want more, baby. I have a feeling this apology isn't enough. I need to do more than that. I'm so desperate for forgiveness.

"Don't I need to be forgiven too, Woo? You shouldn't be so greedy. That voice, oh shit.

You turn sharply around and find yourself staring into San's beautiful cat eyes. He's so damn good-looking you swallow a groan. It must be illegal for someone to look this good in normal jeans and a plain black shirt. But San had a body worth dying over.

A real girl's dinner.

What the hell are you going to do now? How long had he stayed there?

"San-ah… how…" You find yourself stuttering. Your mouth dries up and you can't utter a word, but even if you could, your brain can't form coherent thoughts. You can't bring yourself to look away from him, and something deep inside you knows that he will punish you if you try.

"What is it, Gongjunim? Did the cat eat your tongue?" He raises an eyebrow at you, a shit-eating grin playing at the corners of his lips. As if in mockery, his soft, patronising tone of voice slides over your skin. San combines a sensual, gentle nature with a seductive one that makes you feel he's looking for a weakness before pouncing. His fucking duality. One moment he's a little sweetheart, the next he's a lecherous demon who wants to sink his teeth into your throat and devour you. "Come on, Chagia, I promise I won't disappoint you; I'm very good at excuses."

Responding to his sultry purr, your pussy clenches shamefacedly.

The excitement of it all makes your brain feel like mush and sets your skin on fire.

You start squirming in Wooyoung's arms, and now that San's here, you belatedly realise what you've gotten yourself into. Is it time for a change of scenery or something? No, you want to stay. Desperately.

You need them to blow your brains out, to make you dumb and submissive and a pretty little toy for them to play with. Sometimes you have to stop before you cross the line, but where is the line when you're literally sitting on your best friend's hard cock?

Hell, you don't know what you're supposed to do - run or beg - but you clearly know what they want to do to you, judging by Wooyoung's dick twitching between your thighs and San slowly licking his lips as he looks at your bare ass peeking out from under your shirt. His shirt.

There must be some kind of telepathic connection between Wooyoung and San. After a few seconds of intense eye contact, San pulls his T-shirt over his head, tosses it aside and slowly walks over to you. The grin on his face seems to have changed; it has become even darker than before. Hungrier.

And you don't think this is a good time to start drooling. But damn it, you want to lick him from head to toe.

Between the three of you, there's a chaos of emotion and desire. It's mixed with adrenaline and a distant fear of what's going to happen. There has to be an end to this game of predator and prey, and why not do it now? Sighing, you finally give in.

In the morning, you'll consider the consequences.

"Maybe you should kiss me too, San-ah, and I'll start thinking about forgiving.

Hot lips instantly press an open, wet kiss to your shoulder. The bed buckles under the weight of another man's body. San's strong arms are wrapped around your waist and his fingers clench your t-shirt into a fist. He's hot, warm and hard, and you can feel the hardness of his dick through your trousers as he presses down hard against you. His mouth is sucking, biting and licking your skin as if his life depended on it. Sharing an understanding look with Wooyoung, San slides his lips higher up your body.

"Sannie…" Before planting a hot kiss on your neck, you whimper as his teeth sink into your sensitive flesh.

The moan that comes from the back of your throat is so deep that for a moment you wonder if it's coming from you at all.

Pure pleasure shoots through you as you feel Woo's long tongue on the other side of your neck. He lets out the sexiest moan deep in his throat, as if he's having the time of his life, savouring every second of the way his lips explore the nape of your neck. You're distracted. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he pulls the skin between his lips, leaving a purple hickey on the back of your neck.

"Oh, my God, boys."

"That's my darling, Chagia." His voice is sultry and seductive, and you can clearly hear the saturi again, as it tends to do at times when San is in a highly aroused state.

"You're so beautiful, my peach." Wooyoung whispers to you, and you just melt away completely.

You whimper as Woo begins to run his hands up and down your thighs and arse, squeezing and pulling. He mooed softly as you made little circular movements with your hips and rubbed his cock against you. Woo punishes you by slapping your bottom if you cuddle too hard. You'll need to be obedient as they play with you.

The sound fills the room along with the collective moaning of Wooyoung's and San's.

"What a dirty little girl you are. I think you need to be taught how to obey." Woo spanks you a few more times and you wiggle your hips in an impatient way.

It feels so good.

San pulls your t-shirt up to your breasts while all your attention is focused on Wooyoung. Your little thong is completely transparent and does nothing to hide your sex or the excitement building within you. They are practically digging into your needy pussy because of the position you are now in. A chorus of gasps and moans can be heard from your best friends as their eyes focus on that big, wet spot. San's greedy hands press you even closer to his body, so that you can feel his full erection on top of your plump, bare bum.

"You're so fucking wet." Wooyoung hisses. "Like a bitch leaking just thinking about our cocks in your tight little cunt. We'll destroy you, Peach."

Before you realise what's happening, Woo's hands slide down your back, your nipples tensing in the cool open air. The soft fabric of your t-shirt falls to the floor, and suddenly, hot wetness envelops your left nipple and he sucks hard on it, the pressure causing pain that turns to pleasure as his tongue touches the hard bud. Your head immediately falls back onto San's shoulder as you open the soft space of your throat to his insatiable mouth. You let out a long groan, and your hand rests on Wooyoung's head, tugging lightly at the soft lengths of his hair.

You feel like you could explode at any moment, even though they haven't done anything to you yet. You're burning, almost feverish, as the growing fire between your thighs reaches unbearable levels. You can't breathe; your skin is hypersensitive. Your head tilts to the side, and you whimper San's name in the most pathetic intonation possible. His hand slides lower and lower, past your waist and your stomach, to the place where you most want to feel him. It hasn't even come close to touching your pussy yet, but the thought of it is enough to make you squirm with excitement.

His hands move down low enough to touch the skin of your naked legs and up slowly, frantically, until he reaches where you are starting to get aroused. The palm of his hand encircles your pussy in a possessive way, the small mound of flesh lying so perfectly in the palm of his hand. You tremble a little at this, and try to spread your legs wider so that his fingers can rub against the moist slit, so that he can dive in between the warm folds until your pussy spreads out beautifully for him, so that he can rub your clit with ease.

"Mmm… what a wet little thing. I bet my Gongjunim has the most beautiful pussy I have ever seen in my life. Fleshy, shiny, and pink - just the way I like it. He gasps for breath. He puts his hands on your hips and rubs his hard cock against the curve of your ass a couple of times. "Do you feel that, Chagia? No one can make me as hard as you can." On your skin, his breath feels like fire. Hoping for a little more friction, you arch your backside. The gesture reveals a hiss from his side.

San's fingers, one tempting back and forth with a feathery touch, spread the excitement building in your slit beneath the thin material. Your pussy clenches around nothing at all in the most uncomfortable way, and you know that he can feel it.

"Do you like this chagi? Wooyoung's mouth on your full, pretty tits? My fingers on your sweet little snatch?" San's tone is almost mocking. His tongue is licking his lips; his fingers continue to stroke your clothed pussy in a leisurely manner; and he watches intently as Wooyoung literally chokes on your breasts. "We are gonna fuck you until you squeal like the slutty little bitch you are." He growls into your ear, and the sound of it makes you pull on Woo's hair with all your might.

And you always had the impression that Wooyoung's mouth was dirty.

A soft moan slips out of the brunette's swollen lips, which are now wrapped so tightly around your nipple that you're sure they're going to leave a mark on it. As he pulls back with an audible pop, you let out a small sound as you look at his ecstatic face. His eyes are half closed, his eyelids flutter slightly and a beautiful flush of colour has appeared on his cheeks. His plump lips are glistening with the saliva and the service he is giving to your tits.

"Are you feeling good, peach?" He chuckles weakly as he watches you fall apart in San's skilled hands, leaving you as beautiful as ever in his eyes. Woo gives your nipple a hard pinch, only to then let his tongue run over it. The sudden change in sensation causes your head to begin to spin, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure.

"Please… I need… more… Youngiee." You stammer out the words, your voice shaking and your body trembling.

"You look so pretty when you beg. But do you want to know something, сhagi? You'll look even more beautiful with your cunt stretched around my dick. I will ravage your tiny pussy, Gongjunim. I'm going to make you mine." San finally kisses you; though it's hard to call it a kiss, he dives into your lips like a hungry man, sucking them so deeply and passionately, with an insistence that you don't even think you'll ever understand.

His tongue is merciless as he explores every millimeter of the inside of your mouth. This kiss is heavenly, and with every second that passes, you find yourself wanting more, wanting him to spoil you in every way that he can. To have his way with you until you have no more patience. And it is these thoughts that make you wriggle in Wooyoung's arms. You try to rub your thighs together, hoping to relieve the unbearable heat inside you.

"The taste is so damn good."

You can feel Woo squeezing your breasts almost in sync, his warm tongue sliding over the plump flesh once more, licking at the aroused nipples, and his teeth scratching the sensitive skin with the lightest of touches. You savour the lightning bolts of pleasure that the two of them cause to bounce around your body. It's almost painful, but you know you're loving this.

Half gasping, half squealing at the sheer, blunt pressure of San's nimble, kneading fingers finding their way to your labia through the mesh of the thong. Your lower abdomen clenches in a reflexive spasm, and your hands are sticky with sweat as you grasp the wrist of his hand.

"Oh, your pussy is so sensitive, isn't it, Chagia?" San cooed with feigned tenderness, and with a strange sadism, he pressed his middle finger against your cunt, sliding it right over the spot where your clit was, causing your hips to shake. The lubrication of your arousal made it much more effective for him to stimulate you, and he would literally bring you to orgasm with minimal effort. He purred softly as you responded, like a big cat purring, and just when you thought he couldn't fuck with your sanity even more, he turned his head and spat on your lips, a glob of saliva dribbling into your open mouth and you choked out a moan.

It's so rough and dirty, but your body responds the best it can, arching into his arms and pressing your breasts even harder against Wooyoung's face.

The brunette moans in response and lifts his foxy eyes to you. You can see the corner of his lips curl into a smirk before he bites down hard on your nipple. Fuck, your life will never be the same. And they haven't even got around to fucking you properly yet. It's like heaven and hell at the same time.

"I want to hear you whimper, Gongjunim." San's hand grips the back of your neck very tightly, causing you to gasp for breath from the sudden lack of air. Your eyes begin to roll up at the possessive touch of his hand on your throat, and you begin to jerk your hips, your clit pressing against Wooyoung's cock, and he lets out a long, hard moan.

"Please, Sannie." You're breathing out.

"Look at her, San, our girl, slobbering like a brainless slut." Wooyoung wipes the viscous saliva from your parted lips, then pushes his fingers into your mouth with a sharp, deep thrust. For a second you choke and begin to gurgle around the long phalanges.

He hadn't removed the rings yesterday and now the heavy metal makes your tongue feel cold. "Think of the way my dick is fucking your little throat, starlight. Suck it hard." You wheeze and gurgle, your saliva bubbling at the corners of your lips, but you have done exactly as you have been told.

It was rough, it was horrible and it was so wet that it was almost disgusting to watch. But Woo enjoyed it; he literally raped your mouth with his fingers in a sort of sadistic sense. A few thick strands of saliva would stick to your swollen lips as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

"Look at you. Taking my fingers in your mouth like that. Such a good girl."

This whole game has been nothing more than a distraction from the main action. There's a short circuit in your body as a sharp sensation pierces every nerve in your body. San suddenly slaps you hard on your wet pussy, the contact sending sparks of pain and pleasure flying across your skin, and you let out a squeal.

"Oh my God. Oh, my God. I'm going to… I'm going to…" You go over the edge as you feel your juices pouring down your legs, your vaginal muscles contracting, forcing more fluid to pour out of you, the combination of their names coming weakly from your lips as your orgasm washes over your weakened limbs.

"Fuck, Peach is so hot… You're squirting." You belatedly realise that Wooyoung is also cumming as he throws his head back in pleasure, his eyes rolling up and his mouth opening in a long, whimpering moan.

You can hardly catch your breath when you feel San rest his chin on your shoulder, his grip tightening around you, whispering in your ear.

"One more gongjunim; give me one more orgasm and then I'll caress you."

"Ah, San." The searing sensation of his fingers roughly pinching your clit through the wet material of your thong causes you to cry out hoarsely in agony. The sound of your wet, sensitive cunt splashing was clear and vivid; the sensation was brutal, but so indescribable you were ready to faint from pleasure.

He's going to tear you apart.

"Cum for me, Chagia. I know you can do it. Sperm for us; make Youngie and me proud of you".

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you swore that your cunt was on fire, your whole body shuddering in electrifying spasms of pleasure that made your toes curl up and your thighs shake. San's hand was still firmly around your throat, holding your head upright as you had your orgasm.

It had shattered you so badly that the fall seemed dramatic, and you went completely limp as the orgasm dissipated, turning you into an inconsolable, whimpering, disorderly mass.

They had blown your brains out.

"There you are, Gongjunim, I got you. You did so well." San muttered, but your mind was too tired to admit it. Amused at how angry and lost you looked, you saw stars as Wooyoung's hand tilted your head to the side in a teasing way to look at your confused face.

"You're no longer angry with us, are you, Peach?"

San removes his hand from your throat and allows Wooyoung to pull your face up to his own. Gentle fingers caress your cheekbones and soft lips wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. At one point, you didn't even realise you were crying. It's such a contrast to his previous behaviour; here he is your usual adored Jung Wooyoung, a little clingy, a little annoying and with an unrealistic maternal instinct. Your best friend.

Fuck. Now it is time for you to start crying for the real time. You begin to sob, pushing Wooyoung away from you in a desperate attempt to get out of his arms. You can feel the wetness underneath you and it makes you feel worse and worse. You need to get out of here now. Your behaviour frightens them to death and San's hands are on your body again, squeezing your shoulders gently.

"Stop, stop for a second, Y/N. It's all right, Chagia. We have you."

You freeze at the sound of your name, like a deer caught in the headlights.

In anticipation of his next move, your whole body tenses like a string. Wooyoung's fingers intertwine with yours. It's a familiar gesture, so familiar to you, so ordinary, so perfected over the years of your friendship. San lets you go when he realises you're not going anywhere, and his face comes to rest next to Wooyoung's as you look at him.

He's handsome, too, to the point of madness, and trembles at the knees. His cheeks are flushed. There's still a lingering gleam of lust and excitement in his eyes, but with a touch of strange emotion. His plush lips are soft and swollen from all the kissing, and his body glistens with sweat. And the reason he looks like that is because of you. You look at Wooyoung and see that he looks exactly the same, but the emotion in his eyes is more obvious than ever.

You want to crawl off his lap and cower in shame in the corner of the room so you don't have to look at all that tenderness and loveliness in his foxy eyes. You can handle his cheeky, flirtatious backside with ease, but this kind of Wooyoung is new territory for you.

"We… shit. This shouldn't have happened. This is the first rational thought to come out of your mouth all day. And you should have said it a lot sooner, before your two best friends made you cum twice with a squirting orgasm.

"Chagia, I think there's something we need to talk about, but first let's get you back to your normal self."

You don't argue; just nod and realize that San is absolutely right. You look like a complete mess, covered in saliva and lubricant. You can feel Wooyoung's cum seeping through the fabric of his pajama bottoms and drying on the inside of your thigh.

You look fucked.

"Yes, I think we have a lot to talk about."

It sounds terribly stupid, but what else can you say? Can we forget it? Or can we fuck again?

All your years of sexual longing for them have turned into a resounding slap in your face.

"Go take a bath, Peach, and we'll talk. San and I will take care of the rest."

For some reason, this sentence gave you a vague feeling of déjà vu. But you pushed the thought out of your head as quickly as it had come.

"Okay."

You finally slide off Wooyoung's lap, ignoring their stares at your almost naked body, there's no point in covering up or acting like a shy maiden, San's fingertips were rubbing your pussy just five minutes ago, bringing you to some kind of crazy orgasm, and the entire lower half of Woo's body is drenched in your secretions. If you've ever wanted to imagine how your friendship would turn out, this is it.

You trudge to the bathroom on your tired legs, pulling off your disgustingly wet thong on the way and throwing it on the floor. You turn on the light, turn on the tap and the whole room is immediately filled with the warm steam of hot water. Outside the door you can hear the muffled voices of the boys, who seem to be having some sort of heated argument, judging by San's irritated moaning and Wooyoung's loud whining.

You don't want to go into details; you still have time to destroy yourself. Your eyes catch sight of your reflection in the mirror. Tomorrow has come much earlier for you, if the fucked-up look on your face is any indication. Dishevelled hair, hickey marks, bruises and swollen lips from biting. What a beautiful morning after graduation!

"Wooyoung, you should have waited for me." San's voice is much louder now.

"As if I'm the only one who fucked her. Don't try to tell me it's all my fault."

You still don't want to join the conversation.

A pink, glistening puddle of something that smells like candy spreads across the bathtub. Thanks to Mingi, you have a whole collection of these colourful bombs. He's always had a soft spot for all things cute and charming, and he's taken every opportunity to spoil you to death with them.

With a tired sigh, you take another look at yourself in the mirror. So, Peach, are you ready for the consequences?

Turning away from your reflection, you lock the door with a click.

[neptuneiris]

Behind the Scenes (01/05)

Behind the Reencounter

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: Due to your work as a make-up artist and wardrobe assistant, you meet Aemond, a very successful young actor with whom you work and all professional relationship breaks down and a secret relationship arises, until you get pregnant and decide to run away from him so as not to ruin his successful and promising career. After almost two years, you and he unexpectedly meet again.

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series masterlist • next part

hello! i'm back with another mini series! yay!

god, i'm so excited about this, it's nothing like what i've written before but the excitement and inspiration got the better of me.

also i must say that i had seen stories with this plot about daddy aemond and i wanted to make my own, adding angst, which i know you like and a story that i came up with that i really hope you like a lot:)

without more to say, enjoy beautiful people, I look forward to your comments, don't leave me without knowing what you think please!

warnings: angst, language, sexual content, smut

Your state of nervousness and anticipation is not much of help when it comes to the first day of your new job.

The film studio is a world of constant activity and you know that just on your first day it's going to be hectic. At least in your area which is Wardrobe and Makeup, it's a completely active area and you have to be available almost all the time.

You let out a long breath and before you leave, you stop in the studio's small nursery where your son, Aenar, barely a year old, spends his day while you work on set.

You can't help but watch him with adoration, a certain sadness and longing, for nothing would make you happier than to stay here with him, but you know you can't afford it.

These last few months have been hard, your income has been complicated and you need the money from this new job to be able to survive and make sure nothing is missing for him, your little boy.

Aenar crawls on the floor, exploring the world around him, while the woman in charge keeps her distance from you and him, taking care of other children. And when his big, curious blue eyes look up at you, he lets out a giggle of joy and stretches out his arms to you.

You bend down with him and take him in your arms tenderly and adoringly.

"You don't want me to leave, do you?" you murmur fondly as you leave a kiss on his cheek.

He babbles excitedly, unable to formulate coherent words, but his smile completely lights up your insides and you respond with giggles and smiles.

You take advantage of the little time you have before work to play and laugh with him for a moment. But eventually your time to leave arrives.

You leave a kiss on his forehead and with a sigh of defeat, you say goodbye.

"Mommy has to go but she'll be back soon, okay, my little dragon?"

His little hands explore for a second all over your face, making you laugh and you leave a couple more kisses on both of his chubby cheeks, loving to hear his laughter and loving to see the huge smile he places on his pink lips.

"I love you, sweetheart."

You leave one more kiss on his forehead and make sure one last time to cover his head well with his cap, taking advantage of the fact that it's November and Winter has arrived to hide his straight hair.

You distract him with all the colorful toys that are distributed on the floor for all the children and take the opportunity to leave, otherwise he will cry if he sees you leaving. You exchange a look of understanding with the woman in charge and finally head back to your workplace.

The trailer door opens with a soft creak as you enter, feeling the mixture of excitement and nervousness run down your spine. You had been looking forward to this moment with anticipation, but also apprehension.

For you knew that your past would come back to haunt you.

But you know you need to be here.

The first thing you see are the lighted mirrors with their respective chairs and vanities in front of them, where makeup and wardrobe experts hurry to prepare the actors for the day's filming.

A scent of pressed powder and beauty products fills the air, creating a familiar atmosphere. And when you barely have time to absorb the scene, a brown-haired girl approaches you with an enthusiastic, warm smile.

"Hi! Y/N, right? The new makeup artist."

She points at you with her index finger and a thoughtful look, without wiping away her smile.

"Hi, yes, it's me," you nod to her, as you return the small smile.

"Perfect! I'm Jess, the wardrobe assistant," she extends her hand to you in a friendly gesture, "Nice to meet you and welcome!"

You can't help but be relieved by the friendly reception, then shake your hand with hers.

"Nice to meet you too, Jess. Thank you for having me."

"Oh we're so excited to have you here, I've been looking forward to your arrival," she confides, "Let me show you where you can drop your stuff off and then I'll give you directions, okay?"

Again you nod, grateful for the kindness of Jess, who leads you toward a row of lockers where you can store your things, then gives you directions.

"First, let's go over the schedule for the day," she tells you, opening a folder with the itinerary for the shoot. "We have this first scene where we need to make sure every detail is perfect. And you'll be in charge of the wardrobe for the main characters today."

She indicates without losing the kindness in her tone and you nod, understanding.

"So, take the wardrobe list for each actor and check that we have everything in order."

He hands you a detailed list, making sure that you with your new addition are aware of every detail.

"After that, we'll move on to makeup," she instructs you, "Sam, our talented makeup artist, will give you a brief orientation on the look we're going for. Don't worry, she's amazing and will guide you through the whole process."

Jess grabs a pair of robes and hands them to you.

"Now, let's get to work on the wardrobe. When you've gone through everything, head over to the makeup area, okay?"

Again you nod, understanding the directions perfectly and dive into your tasks with enthusiasm, getting off to a very good start and feeling completely comfortable.

Besides, this is nothing you haven't done before, as way back when you used to work for the BBC television network right here in King's Landing as well, this was your job, so there's nothing new or complicated for you.

When Jess, frantically going through her checklist, looks up at you.

"Oh, Y/N, we need more pins for costume fixes. Could you go to the prop depot and get a package, please? I'd really appreciate it."

You nod with a small smile.

"Sure, I'll be right back."

With a determined pace, you step out of the trailer and head to the depot which isn't far away and start looking for the package, which you didn't think would take you some time since there are so many packages of different things mixed up.

You search through many huge boxes, until you finally find the package of pins and let out a relieved sigh.

You leave the huge room and close the door behind you, walking back. And as you walk, as you pay attention to your surroundings, you feel a mixture of nostalgia and nervousness, as these hallways, permeated with the buzz of film activity, take you back to memories you've been trying to bury.

You let out a long breath, not wanting to think about it now, and concentrate on your work.

As you enter back into the trailer, everything is immersed in a constant murmur of conversations and the activity of preparations, at the same time as the trailer door closes with a soft click behind you.

You are about to enter the area where the tables and chairs and mirrors and everyone else are when you hear a somewhat familiar voice in a distant echo in the middle of it all, completely stopping your footsteps.

"…they said at the training scene I wasn't supposed to look any different in particular."

You frown, thinking that maybe you're mishearing and are mistaking that voice for someone else's.

But still you advance just three steps, sharpening your hearing with a wary face, waiting, wanting to make sure.

"And which one of these for that scene?" you hear one of the girls in charge of wardrobe.

You wait for the answer from that attentive and completely cautious voice, thinking that it must probably be a figment of your mind that wants you to believe things that aren't.

"I think the brown one," you hear that voice say back to the girl.

Your heart stops completely in that instant.

No.

It can't be.

You think completely incredulous and terrified.

You stand completely paralyzed and with a face of total shock as the sound of that voice continues to echo softly throughout the interior of the trailer, flowing conversation between him and the makeup artist.

The pulse in your throat beats with a mixture of surprise and anxiety, suddenly losing strength in your body, so you lean against one of the walls as you feel an emotional vertigo begin to emerge.

All those buried memories, suddenly resurface, as it is no imagination of yours and you know it is him because his voice has not changed and you could recognize it anywhere.

It is him.

He is here.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of your emotions, but you can't, and you can't believe this is happening right now, on your first day of work.

Completely cautious, you slowly peek out, wanting to be even more sure and wanting to see that it's all just your mind making it up.

But as soon as you catch a glimpse of that signature flash of platinum hair, your heart rate begins to race faster than normal.

And there he is, with his hair pulled back in a small low bun as he discusses the details of the scene with the makeup artist, a scene that resonated with similarities to moments you and he shared in the pass.

Disbelief completely invades your eyes and your entire face as you watch him, surprised to see him after exactly one year since that day. You notice every gesture and every feature that is still etched in detail in your mind.

He, oblivious to your presence, continues the conversation, but something in your expression begins to tremble.

You go back in time to the spark you both shared in the corridors of that studio, the looks of complicity, the many nights you shared together and the whispers in the dim light of the dressing rooms.

But you also remember that day, when you saw him completely frustrated but willing to be there for you, where his manager and his entire team talked to him about the consequences and you also remember everything he promised you, on hidden, which is why you decided to run away when you were only three weeks pregnant with him.

A lump forms in your throat and standing there, watching him, after so long, tears begin to invade your eyes.

But Jess announces your presence as she emerges from the back where the dressing rooms are, watching you at the entrance completely static and with a look she can't instantly identify.

"Y/N! There you are! Did you get the pins?"

And that's when it happens.

Saying your name loud enough for everyone inside the trailer to hear, it catches his attention, who confused and attentive watches where Jess is heading and that's when the gazes meet.

And in that instant, a spark of recognition crosses the face of Aemond, Aemond Targaryen, the man you decided to run away from so as not to ruin his career and the father of your child.

His healthy eye opens wide and surprise and disbelief overcome him as he sees you, right there, less than five meters away from him, the woman who carried his child with her and whom he sought so much after she disappeared completely from his life.

Silent, with the urgency of tears threatening to overflow, you step back, watching him cautiously and fearfully, at the same time beginning to tremble all over.

"Y/N," he utters your name with a tone of surprise and longing, as if he can't believe it, beginning to slowly rise from the chair.

You recoil further, as all the sadness, pain and anguish wash over you as you remember the past and think at the same time of your son, your sweet little boy.

However, your first instinct is to run away. Again.

Without a word and without looking back, you turn around and exit the trailer quickly before you could no longer hold back and tears involuntarily flow from your eyes, taking with you the image of Aemond and the echoes of a past you cannot escape and forget.

You don't care about your job, you don't care that you left everything just like that, you only think about running away and going quickly for your son, crying and completely terrified.

Aemond watches you walk away, unable to move and unable to speak, with a look of deep disbelief, surprise, bewilderment, regret and remorse while the people around him do not understand anything.

He knows that he made many mistakes in the past and he knows that you have a right to feel upset and hurt. But he also knows that you also made mistakes and you recognize that too.

But for now, you run away and he stands still, losing strength, where you both barely process what just happened and at the same time travel to the past, where it all started and where it all ended.

ALMOST 2 YEARS AGO.

At just twenty-one years old, you barely graduated from college and landed a great job opportunity with the BBC television network to work as a professional makeup artist and wardrobe assistant.

And now at the age of twenty-two and having been working for the network for two years, your life couldn't be better.

You have the job of your dreams, you have achieved so much despite the fact that your parents had no faith in you for choosing to study something that didn't guarantee you a future, and now your income is enough to allow you to live an independent life where you lack nothing.

When then, a new project comes up, a new TV series where you participate full time and where you are passionate about what you do.

That's when you meet him, one of the main actors of the show, Aemond Targaryen, a young, successful twenty-four year old actor who has already attracted the attention of the show business in his early days with a very promising future.

But it was not only for his incredible talent, he was also recognized and attracted a lot of attention for his unusual appearance, beautiful bright blue eye and a peculiar long platinum hair.

In his interviews he explains the origin of the genetic descriptions of him and his family, which is what causes a lot of doubt in every interviewer and also in his fans, wanting to know his origin.

That's why when they tell you that you will be assisting him in his makeup and wardrobe, you can't help but feel nervous but also a little excited to work with him.

And when the day finally arrives, Aemond Targaryen is actually quite a nice and accessible man to work with.

In the first few weeks of working and shooting the show, your interaction with him was completely professional.

You take it upon yourself to bring out the best in his image for the screen, where he does his part, always being friendly, willing and cooperative with you to follow directions and achieve the perfect look.

Always both of you at the beginning had normal and casual conversations to start forming trust, where everything becomes routine.

And it's not until he would say anything silly to make you laugh and where you both got to the point where you allowed yourselves to talk completely freely without being judged.

The shared laughs and casual comments created a comfortable and relaxed atmosphere, where the relationship started to become more friendly and slowly stopped being so strictly professional.

And when you least expected it, you looked forward to working with him, doing his makeup and wardrobe, enjoying his company.

Even when he would arrive first at the trailer to get ready, he would look forward to your arrival.

And when you arrived, you couldn't help but smile a little shyly in his direction because of his intense gaze on you through the mirror, making you feel a little nervous.

As you carefully applied his makeup, Aemond couldn't help but notice that attention you paid to every detail on him, having you so close to his face, being a moment he also longed for it to come.

And as the days passed, accidental brushes and gestures that went beyond professionalism began to emerge.

During makeup sessions, the glances became more intense and prolonged, as if you were looking for something beyond the superficial appearance, where you noticed how he was looking at you beyond the professional surface.

But it wasn't something that bothered you, on the contrary, it made you feel inexplicable sensations that at the same time pleased you, knowing perfectly well that he wasn't like that with anyone else in your area, only with you.

And you both also made sure to act that way only when it was just the two of you or to do it subtly when you were around other people.

But you also knew the dangerous game you were both playing.

However, it was too late, you really started to like him too much even though you knew that the idea of him and you could not be possible.

In the film industry, relationships between colleagues are technically not allowed or frowned upon. Rumors and speculation about romances can alter fan perceptions and, in some cases, affect job opportunities.

In addition, you both have studio contracts and other projects in progress. And acting in such a way, where the intention of both is more than clear, can affect casting decisions and the perceptions of directors and producers.

And for Aemond, being an up-and-coming young actor with a solid fan base, the revelation of an affair can bring negative criticism to his public image.

His manager and team have told him that maintaining the coveted bachelor image may be convenient and commercially advantageous for him in his projects to attract audiences, as he is attractive and very talented.

Even though he had an accident as a child where he lost his left eye and now wears a prosthesis, that attracts more attention from people and they want to know more about him, causing him to be more relevant.

But all this mattered little to Aemond as he shared more moments with you.

As the relationship became more enjoyable, his feelings and emotions became more and more evident and so did yours, starting to overcome the barrier imposed by the entertainment industry.

And one day that line of professionalism that both were trying to maintain but was becoming increasingly difficult, finally broke down completely.

On a filming afternoon, you and Aemond meet in the wardrobe area, where you make sure he looks perfect in his required clothes for the day and he stands completely still, cooperating and watching you at all times.

The conversation between the two of you flows naturally, as it has so many times before, but this time, something in the air seems different, like a gentle tension.

"After we finish this final scene, we should go celebrate, don't you think?"

He suggests with a soft little smile, but his eye reflects an intensity and that desire he can't hide when he's with you.

"Sure," you say with a willing little smile, still securing his clothes, "With John, Rose and Lana?" you mention your partners.

"No," he murmurs, shaking his head softly, "Just you and me."

You look directly into his eye with a slightly surprised and bewildered look, not expecting to hear that, beginning to feel nervous at his words and also at the proximity of the two of you.

"But…" you look at him a little incredulously and with a small sad and disappointed smile, "We can't."

"Yes we can," he tells you softly, "We just have to be very careful and not tell anyone."

You watch him with a small spark of amusement on your face, smiling softly in his direction, not believing he's serious.

And it is at that moment that the looks on both of your faces makes it clear that the connection you both share is deeper than you both believed and where Aemond, more than anything else, makes his true intentions clear and wants to put them into practice, after so long.

A complicit silence surrounds the two and it is as if time stands still for an instant.

Aemond, with a soft expression, unable to contain himself any longer, gently takes your face in his hands and you let him, because you want him, even though you shouldn't.

"There's something I've wanted to do for a long time," he confesses, his voice laden with sincerity.

You, intrigued and captivated by the intensity in his eye, his beautiful blue eye and the closeness of the bodies, look at him with attention and desire.

"What is it?" you murmur, almost in a whisper.

And without another word, Aemond leans toward you and closes the distance between you, bringing his lips together with yours in a needy but slow and deep kiss that you reciprocate instantly.

It all happens in an instant of surprise, followed by a sweet surrender to the attraction that had grown between the two of you.

Time comes to a complete stop as you both sink into that first kiss, where Aemond's hands gently grip your waist and you respond with the same intensity by locking your arms around his neck and clinging to his lips.

You don't want him to stop, you don't want any of this to end.

Everything feels perfect and just as you imagined in your fantasy mind of wanting to live this moment.

And the moment doesn't end, as he pulls you further into the dressing room while still kissing you, leaning you against a vanity and pressing your body completely against his, making you gasp and respond to his needy kiss in kind.

Unfortunately, the kiss doesn't last as long as you would have liked, as a voice screams throughout the trailer.

"Next scene in five minutes! Everyone to the set, please!"

You and Aemond part abruptly, with surprised and terrified looks on your faces, instantly keeping your distance and pretending nothing has happened.

You head along with him toward the set, trying to hide any trace of the intimacy you both shared moments ago. And as you immerse yourself in the frenetic pace of the shoot, the complicity between the two of you manifests itself in small gestures and stolen glances.

And that's when the little relationship secretly begins.

Keeping the relationship a secret became a balancing act for both of you. As the connection you and he shared intensified, the need to hide the relationship became more and more crucial.

In the trailer and on set when you were around more people, as he did you had to learn to act as naturally as ever, carefully concealing any trace of intimacy.

Encounters became completely secret, kisses and caresses behind dressing rooms or in the trailer when you were alone, always alert to the possibility of being discovered. Even in the dressing room, it became a meeting place, where they could enjoy a moment alone.

You could also talk freely by call or text, but both he and you preferred to see each other in person.

That's why on days off, which were few, Aemond always took you to more private places. One night, for example, he took you to dinner at a small restaurant outside of town.

If it wasn't a restaurant, it was to invite you to a small coffeeshop and more discreet places, out of the reach of prying eyes, where he still had to go covered by his characteristic hair.

And when neither of them had the spirit to be always alert, you went to his apartment or he to yours, where they could act with total freedom and even go further.

In Aemond you found a friend, an accomplice and practically the perfect man for you, not because of what he possesses and who he is out there for everyone to see, but because of who he really is, inside.

You simply couldn't help but fall deeply in love with him and that fortunately he reciprocated as strongly as you did, wanting you and only you.

And although the fear of discovery added a touch of dangerous excitement to the relationship, the weight of keeping it all a secret was beginning to generate emotional conflict.

The strain of keeping up appearances and the constant need for vigilance began to wear on you. And as the relationship progresses, you can't help but wonder if there will ever be a chance to be free with Aemond.

But you both know it's not possible.

Much less will it be when one day, Aemond lets you know the news.

"I need to talk to you about something," he says in a serious and defeated tone, taking your hands in his.

He has come unexpectedly to your apartment and that seemed strange to you, but now that he is telling you this and behaving like this, you know it is for a reason and it is not a good one.

"Is everything okay?" you ask him intently and with your brow furrowed.

He sighs before answering, looking sad.

"Production and my manager are pressuring me to fake a relationship with my co-star in a promotional campaign. They say it will help generate more interest in the show."

And there are the consequences of having this relationship on the quiet with him.

Aemond's face contorts in anguish as he sees the expression on your face of mild surprise and definitely not expecting to hear that.

"I promise you that I refused and did everything in my power not to do this Y/N, but I didn't accomplish nothing and…. I-It shouldn't take more than three months, I swear."

He explains, but the sharp pain in your chest is already there and remains, as you begin to imagine what this is all going to be like.

You press your lips together in a thin line and not knowing what to say or what exactly to do, you let out a long breath and watch your hands with his, processing what he is telling you and what he will have to do next.

Even though you understand the demands of the industry and everything about marketing, still the idea of Aemond faking a relationship with someone else makes you feel weird and uncomfortable.

But what can you really do? Nothing.

This is his job and you're not going to get upset with him when you know it's not his fault and that this is what he does in order to make a living.

"When?" you ask him watching him with your soft gaze but with a slightly sad expression.

He lets out a sigh.

"I don't know, I just know that they are already setting everything up," he tells you frustrated with his low and serious voice, "But I need you to be okay with this, Y/N," he looks at you worried, "I know it will be hard for both of us but I don't want this to affect us when you know the truth behind everything and why I do it."

You watch him for a few seconds without saying anything, as you feel a lump in your throat and also feel the helplessness he conveys for all of this, as he really doesn't want to do this.

But he must meet the professional expectations of the production company and you have no choice but to support him.

"Well," you say softly, trying to hide your hurt look by forcing a small smile to reassure him, "These are the production company's decisions and you must do it. And you don't need to worry about me, you know I'll support you."

He takes his gaze away from yours for a second, letting out a longer sigh than before, then takes your face gently in his hands.

"Of course I worried about you, sweetheart," he murmurs with tiredness, then draws you into a tight, tender embrace.

He leaves a gentle kiss on your head and even though he is relieved that you understood, he still feels remorse and anguish because if he were you, of course he would disagree and it would hurt quite a bit.

But this is work and he really doesn't have much choice.

And when you least expect it, the moment arrives.

The next few weeks are a complete whirlwind of emotions for you as you watch the fictional relationship of Aemond and his co-star, the famously gorgeous actress Cerelle Lannister, prepare to come to light.

Joint promotions take them both to photo shoots and interviews where they must show complicity and affection. And seeing Aemond sharing moments that used to be just yours and his, now in the public sphere with someone other than you, becomes a painful test.

One evening, you see photos of Aemond and Cerelle having dinner at a famous restaurant downtown and all the photos show the complicit smiles and affectionate gestures.

And even though you know it's part of the act, you can't help but feel a knot in your stomach seeing them together. And even worse, seeing how the public is fascinated and in love with their relationship.

It is for all this that you no longer see him frequently and there is only communication by messages.

And when he finally has a space in his schedule, he takes the opportunity to see you, where you at all times try to look as if you are not affected by all this, so as not to worry him and frustrate him when you know he has a lot of weight on his shoulders.

He still apologizes and tries to make it up to you, but in the midst of your soothing words, the pain is reflected in your gaze.

And that's what you do for the next few weeks, you continue to support him from the shadows while he and Cerelle put on a show and are the center of attention.

At first you had told yourself not to see anything about them on the internet, but you can't help it and you see the pictures, read the headlines in the magazines and with each new performance, you feel a slight sharp pain in your heart.

When the day of a big awards event arrives where directors, producers, script writers, the academy members, the press and of course the actors and actresses attend, where precisely Aemond and Cerelle attend together as a couple officially in front of all public eye.

Images and videos of the two sharing laughter and affectionate gestures spread through every social network, while you, from your apartment, watch the scene with a mixture of pride as this is important in Aemond's career but also feel a deep sadness that threatens to overflow.

You wish it was you instead of her.

It's been months since you and Aemond started this relationship behind everyone's back and you want that, to be able to touch him and be with him in public.

But you can't.

And you can't stand this anymore either.

You decide to watch movies and change the channel, not wanting to focus on them anymore, trying to ignore your emotions and your wounded heart, not wanting to do anything else tonight but just forget and stay in the comfort of your bed.

After two hours, your phone starts ringing, indicating an incoming call and when you look at the screen, Aemond's name appears, but you decide not to answer.

You don't feel like talking to him, you don't want to get upset with him when he is not to blame for anything and start an unnecessary fight, so you prefer not to talk.

But after that call, Aemond insistent calls you a couple more times, in which you decide not to answer as well.

At your lack of response, he can't help but feel worried, thinking that you must be feeling bad because of him even though you understand why he's doing all this. And once the rewards are over, he in covered takes his car and drives to your apartment.

As he drives, his mind is filled with thoughts of how to talk to you and find the right words to ease the tension in both of you. But the nervousness doesn't let him think clearly nor has he forgotten the overwhelming awards he had to attend to.

Once he arrives at your door, he just hopes you're okay, even though he knows you're not and knocks three times.

"Y/N? It's Aemond," he says cautiously and hopeful that you will open the door, wanting to speak and see you.

The silence lingers for a few moments before you finally open the door, where the slight surprise of seeing him here at this hour is reflected in your gaze, not understanding anything. And he just sighs, feeling guilty.

"You didn't respond to my calls or messages and I got worried," he explains to you briefly and in a soft voice, "I needed to see you."

Despite all the emotions you're feeling, the fact that he's come looking for you shows you that he really cares about you and wants to do everything he can to make you okay.

You watch him silently for a moment and nod slowly in his direction with a look of understanding.

"I'm fine," you reply softly, wanting to convince him as well as yourself.

"No, I know you're not," he insists, concerned, "I-I… I know this is all very difficult and I don't want you to feel pressured, but…" he lets out a frustrated sigh, "I'm here to talk if you need to."

Appreciating his sincerity silently and seeing how terribly worried he is, you let him in.

The two of you have a difficult but necessary conversation, where neither of you have any intention of ending this thing you have together and where he's willing to show you that he doesn't care about Cerelle, just you.

"I only want you, baby. You and no one else," he murmurs lovingly and with desire in his gaze, closing his eye and catching your lips in a needy, deep kiss.

You respond in kind, gasping into his lips and bringing your hands to stroke his hair, clinging to him completely as he brings his hands to your waist and ass, squeezing the soft skin of both your ass cheeks.

"Do you mean it?" you ask in the middle of the kiss, beginning to feel the wetness between your legs.

"Yes, I fucking mean it," he replies against your lips, biting and sucking on your lips again.

You moan as he begins to leave a trail of kisses all over your neck, biting and leaving little marks on your sensitive skin, making you shiver all over your body and begin to feel the hardness in his pants against your pelvis.

Absentmindedly he brings one of his hands up and caresses one of your breasts over your shirt, making you moan and continue kissing him as he brings his hands back down to your thighs.

"Oh, Aemond," you whine.

"Fuck," he murmurs in delight, making you wrap your legs around his torso and feel directly on your needy clit, his cock hard and in need of release, "Such a needy little thing, arent you?"

His mouth roams and kisses every exposed part of your skin, as he pulls you along with him towards your couch, making you sit on top of him and you desperately begin to seek relief as you cause friction between your bodies.

He groans into your mouth, feeling his cock throb and ache.

"Can I take this off?" he grabs the edge of your shirt and you nod desperately, needy.

You are not wearing a bra and when your breasts are out in the open, Aemond lets out a curse as he stares at your breasts fully aroused to take one of your nipples into his mouth, making you arch and bring his face closer to your breasts.

Not long after that he too takes off his shirt and you free his cock from its confines and then start riding him, unable to wait a moment longer.

"Shit," he hisses, "You feel so good, baby. So fucking good."

You moan loudly as he brings one of his hands to your already swollen clit and starts massaging it with two fingers, making you moan and making you move your hips with more fervor on top of him, as your skin slaps and rattles with his beneath you.

That night, not only does he fuck you on your couch, he fucks you on your bed too, not being able to get enough of you, loving to see your whole face contorted in pleasure as he fucks you against your bed hard, his cock continually thrusting in and out of you, the sound of skin against skin being heard.

You bite down on his shoulder and wrap your legs around his torso again, feeling him deeper, as Aemond kisses you and draws his eyebrows together in concentration and pleasure.

"Are you going to let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again, baby? I want to feel you fucking cum all over my cock."

He brings his hand to your clit again and begins to massage it furiously, wanting to watch you crumble and feel you do it around his cock, while you moan and bite his shoulder and neck.

"Oh y-yes, Ae-mond,"you moan.

You close your eyes, escape a quiet moan, arch your back fully and feel the whole wave of euphoria wash over your entire body, seeing stars behind your eyes.

And with one last hard thrust, Aemond cums inside you letting out a grunt and hiding his whole face in the curve of your neck, leaving a couple of wet kisses once you both come back to earth and melt into each other's arms.

A few weeks later, you're back at work and Aemond starts filming a new movie for Netflix, so you don't see each other as often as you used to.

Aemond's schedule is very tight and he still does everything he can to be able to see you and spend time with you, while you in comparison to him have more free time but can't spend it with him because of his work.

And it is in that same time that you start to feel strange, but you hadn't connected the dots until the signs became too obvious to ignore.

One day, while working on set, fatigue suddenly overwhelmed you and a persistent nausea made you realize that something was going on. Suddenly lack of appetite appeared and seeing things too sweet or chicken or meat meals made you sick to your stomach.

Or also weird cravings started, which your mind started to scare you with possibly confirming what you were thinking.

During a break in the filming, you discreetly retreat to the bathroom, feeling the need for a moment to yourself. And as you look in the mirror, you notice the pallor on your face and the different glow in your eyes.

Completely terrified, you wait for your break from work and rush to the pharmacy, buying three pregnancy tests of different brands and supposedly the best.

And once at home, everything is silent, as the seconds tick by and you feel like you are drowning in your own thoughts.

You're not ready to be a mom, in fact the thought of having children was never something you wanted or wanted in the long run, because you're still young, you have your dream job at only twenty-two years old and to stop focusing on your dreams and goals to focus on those of a child… it's not something you want.

But the pregnancy test you hold in your trembling hand confirms your suspicions, as do the other tests, all positive.

Fear totally grips you, not only because of the fact that you are pregnant, but because of the implications this brings to your life and also to Aemond's life.

God, Aemond.

You think completely terrified, starting to cry, feeling the pressure in your chest.

You know this will stop and totally ruin his career.

You imagine yourself facing the critical gaze of the media, the headlines of magazines and news websites, as well as the constant speculation about your personal life.

You feel completely scared and hopeless, having no idea what Aemond's reaction will be, but you know this is not good, a baby, right now is not good, not for you and certainly not for him.

But you must tell him. You know you must. Regardless, how could you keep something like this from him?

It takes you two days to finally get up the courage to tell him and as you wait for him in your apartment, the pregnancy test rests in your trembling, sweaty hands, feeling completely frightened amidst all the silence around you.

Your eyes burn from crying so much, you feel like you have no strength, you feel weak and you haven't been able to sleep well and you don't even want to imagine how you will be later when Aemond finds out and everything between you will probably go wrong.

The sound of the door makes you jump nervously, knowing it's him.

You feel more fear and uncertainty flood you but you force yourself to get up from your couch and head to open the door, feeling that you will burst into tears at any moment.

As you open it, Aemond's handsome face and his usual smile was nothing like your face, being quite the opposite, so noticing your state his smile drops and he looks at you completely distressed and worried as you let out a few tears silently.

"Hey, hey," Aemond holds your face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. His concern is palpable in the way his eyes search yours for answers. "What happened, baby? Are you okay?"

You sniffle your nose, inhale deeply and keep your eyes closed for a moment, only causing Aemond more unease when you don't utter a word.

"Y/N, what happened?" he insists, his tone laden with anxiety and seriousness.

"I'm really sorry," you murmur sadly to him, feeling each word weigh heavy in your chest and a sense of hopelessness creep over you.

"You're sorry, for what? What happened?" he asks again, completely confused and uncomprehending.

"I'm… I-I'm pregnant," you mumble in a broken voice, as if uttering those words would make reality more concrete.

Aemond's face remains completely static, his eyes wide open, watching you as tears slide down your cheeks. The gravity of the news is reflected in the tense silence that appears between the two of you.

"What?" he mutters under his breath, barely audible but laden with disbelief.

You nod slowly, reaching out to him for the proof you hold in your trembling hand. And every second that passes as he analyzes it feels like an eternity as you wait for his reaction.

But he barely processes the information, takes the evidence between his fingers and the seconds stretch out like hours as you feel your heart beating too fast.

But Aemond's face shows neither anger nor joy.

And finally he reacts by bringing his hands to his hair, his eye fixed on the evidence for a moment and then looking at a spot in your living room, beginning to see frustration and surprise invade him more.

He lets out a sigh and turns his gaze back to you in a desperate manner.

"Hey, baby," he says to you now nervously, "Are you absolutely sure?"

You nod slowly.

"I did three tests, all three came back positive."

He brings a hand to his forehead, averting his gaze from yours for a moment. His eyes reflect tumultuous thoughts, a mixture of thoughts ranging from disbelief to concern.

"But how?" he watches you blankly, still with surprise painted in his gaze.

"You didn't use a condom and I took the pill, but it didn't work," you tell him in a hopeless voice, trying to explain the inexplicable.

"Oh, fuck," he murmurs, biting his lips and bringing a hand to his chin.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean for this to happen either," you admit to him, your tears streaming down your cheeks.

You feel the need to apologize as if this burden is something only you should carry, the vulnerability clear in your tone of voice and on your face, which worries Aemond more at seeing you in such a state.

"Hey, no, don't, don't do that, don't apologize," he says instantly, turning back to you and placing a hand on your cheek, "We're both part of this, you understand me? You're not to blame for anything and I'm not going to leave you alone," he assures you, completely honest and determined with his words.

And despite the gravity of the situation, you feel a huge relief come over you knowing that you are not alone in this, as he looks at your sad face, with your dry tears and red eyes.

And then he places a soft kiss on your lips and encloses you in a comforting embrace that is all you need at that moment.

You knew that Aemond would eventually have to tell his manager and his team as well, however, you didn't expect him to do it on the same day you let him know the news and you didn't expect all his people to start working so soon on this, on your pregnancy.

You call his agent and in an instant he, along with his publicist and his team of public relations people, invade your apartment.

And his agent, Criston Cole, doesn't have time to start reproaching him for having had a secret relationship with you all this time, although the anger is there but the important thing is the baby on the way, where he can't do anything either because it's already in your womb.

So he only talks about solutions.

And it is precisely because of these painful solutions for you that you decided to run away and disappear from his life to save his career and also your child.

[tinygrove]

Decent Man Pt.1

The second part

Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader

Author's Note: I've decided to split this into 2 parts just to give myself a chance to work on the ending but I was eager to get something written. This is the first fanfiction I've wrote, or at least posted on this account so I hope it's not too bad.

Summary: You're newly wed to Lord Stark after having only been courted for barely a month. Although the anxieties of having to perform as a 'royal' wife start to eat at you, Cregan proves to be a decent husband.

You must have done it, how else would you be alone in his chambers. Blocking out all the noise and going through the motions would only get you so far. You couldn’t even remember the vows. Lord Stark had arranged for there to be no bedding ceremony, perhaps an act of mercy. You’ve heard some lords complain they simply want their lady wives all to themselves, untouched and unspoiled. You were neither. You weren’t sure if your Lord husband was either. 

You hadn’t learned much about him during your courting, not that it lasted long. Your father practically jumped at the opportunity for a stronger alliance to the most powerful house in the North. It must have appeased Lord Stark as well, seeing how quickly he’d agreed to the marriage, it had barely taken place a fortnight after you’d met. Now though, you were in his room, none to accompany you but your ladies in waiting. A few had come with you from your own keep, or rather your fathers. And one or two had been appointed to you since coming to Winterfell to stay. You could hardly form the words to tell them you could undress yourself. Maybe it was the cloak weighing you down, making it harder to breath the harsh winter air. You let it slip off your shoulders and yet you still feel heavy, a weight in your chest and a hard lump in your throat. 

Hearing the thick wooden door swing open and shut after heavy footfalls and quick scurrying of feet made the pit in your stomach sink even lower. “Are you well?” He asked, definitely due to your silent stewing. The whole night you’ve been lost in your own thoughts. 

“Yes, I am well, thank you.” You force a courteous smile to you face, although more brief and sour than you’d intended. You figure you’ll have to do a lot more of that in the coming years. “You do not look well.” Your not sure he says so in a demeaning way, more so that he’s seen through your flimsy facade. Or maybe he’s focused on the way your hands desperately seek purchase on your gown as your eyes start to brim with tears. You can’t control it when they start to spill. 

“There is no need for us to,” He gestures between you with a sigh, trying to supplement actions for words. “Consummate the marriage tonight, if you do not wish it.” He tries to search your eyes for any sort of answer but you avoid his gaze. “Did you hear-” 

“Let’s just get it over with.” You say, voice low and wavering with all it’s strength to keep it from cracking. Another stray tear falls down your cheek as you reach behind yourself for the laces of your gown but two large hands hold your arms still. 

“You truly think so little of me? That I would– Like I said, there is no need to consummate the marriage tonight.” He brings your arms out from behind your back, holding your chilled hands in his. His fingers and palms are calloused, yet his grip gentle. “I barely had a chance to court you before we wed, perhaps we might come to know each other before; that.” Your eyes flicker down to where his hands encompass yours, and he quickly recedes after catching on but strangely, you find yourself missing his warmth. 

As your eyes find his once more he continues. “I shall have a few ladies in your service prepare a chamber for you. I know you’ve not had space for your things but I assure you they’ve been taken care of. In the mean time though you’ll need to take your rest here.” He turns to make for the door and surprisingly a part of you longs for him to stay. The brief bit of kindness he’s shown to you is more than you can say for those that attended your wedding. Your father truly had not exaggerated the icy attitude of those in the North. Lord Stark however, to see his wintry exterior slowly melt away has made it almost impossible to detest him. “I will see you on the morrow, my lady.” He opens the door and a cold breeze comes over you, yet you don’t shiver, the cold only emboldens you. “Thank you, Lord Stark, for your kindness.” your voice is somewhat steady now, no longer fighting an imminent sob. He nods at your words, “Cregan will do just fine, my lady.” You’re alone now and the chill is gone. All the warmth radiating from the hearth is slowly becoming too much to bear even as it smolders to embers. The absence of your Lord husband leaves you feeling alone now, more than you’ve ever been.

[reiderwriter]

The One Thing You Can't Have

Pairing: Spencer Reid × Female Reader (DBF! Spencer × Hotchner! Reader)

Summary: After five years away, you move back to your hometown. Reconnecting with many of your father's friends and coworkers, you start to get suspicious when you lose multiple pairs of panties. Or; Spencer risks it all by stealing Hotch's adult daughter's underwear. And maybe her heart, too.

Warnings: Day 15 of Kinktober - panties, mentions canon character death, age difference (ten years), panties, underwear kink, underwear stealing, masturbation, sexual fantasies discussed, PinV Sex, clitoral stimulation, partial creampie, mentions of emergency contraception

A/N: It is done! I shit you not the writing time on this is longer than most of the fics I've ever written, it took me so long that I don't have any other fics prewritten for Kinktober now and have to spend the day hastily writing them... But it was worth it. As always, you can find all my work in my masterlist and all my kinktober fics here. My requests are open until the end of the month, so if there's a specific fic you want, don't hesitate to let me know!

With your family the way it was, you'd dealt with a lot over the years. Aaron Hotchner loved his wife and kids, but that hadn't been enough to protect you from George Foyet. When your mom and kid brother had gone into protective custody, you'd been away at college, and apart from a protective detail, they'd not seen fit to move you anywhere special at all. Foyet was so caught up on your mom that he'd forgotten you existed.

When you got the call from your dad that Foyet was resurfacing, you'd known in your gut that you had to go back. You'd ditched your handlers and driven through the night but when you arrived at the house you'd grown up in, all you could see was police lights and caution tape.

You'd run as fast as you could into the house, but a pair of strong arms grabbed you and lifted you away as you screamed and sobbed. Derek Morgan held you firm as he tried to calm you, but you barely registered his words.

"My mom is in there, my dad too, and Jack, let me fucking go, Derek." You'd only stopped raging when they'd bought out the first body bag. And then the second.

The anguish that filled your lungs stole your breath and you didn't know it was you screaming until your throat was red and completely sore. Another set of hands led you away and into an ambulance, skillfully anticipating your needs.

"Y/N, look at me. Look at my eyes, we're going to breathe together, okay?" Staring up into his dark eyes you suddenly remembered that you needed the air to breathe, his calm voice bringing you back to life.

He was wearing an FBI vest but you'd never seen him before. Not a surprise since you'd avoided everything to do with your father's job for the last five years. You only really knew Derek from when he'd been sent to deliver the news to you about Foyet's initial targeting of you.

The Man in front of you was young, but still older than you. He was tall, but he'd shrunk himself down into the space, leaning over you so that he was the only thing you could see. He looked tired, but he was the only thing for miles around keeping you grounded and you clung to him in desperation.

"My Name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I work with your dad. You're Y/N, right?" His voice was soft and even, like he was taming a temperamental animal. Even though you knew what he was doing, trying to calm you so he could deliver a devastating blow, you let him do it, drinking in each word as total calm swept over you. You nodded at him and waited for him to continue.

"Your brother is fine, he's at your aunt's house, he didn't touch him. Your dad is in the hospital and they think he's going to pull through, but he was stabbed a few times so he's going to be weak for a while." You searched his eyes for the words he wasn't saying as panic rose in your body.

"My mom, where is my mom? Haley Hotchner, she's… She should have been with Jack, where is she?" The look in his eyes was enough to tell you what in your heart you already knew. Your mom was in that bag and your family was broken, again.

You don't know what happened next, but you knew you were bundled up in Spencer Reid's arms and clinging to him for dear life. You knew he'd somehow got you to your aunt's house, and you knew he'd stayed until you were ready to let him go. Even years later you don't know how long he'd held you. Maybe only minutes, maybe hours. He had let you sit and grieve, finding small comfort in the contours of his body.

After that, college wasn't a priority for you. Your brother was only a baby, and he needed you around, so even the three-hour drive upstate seemed too far to be away from him. You stuck around, taking your courses as remotely as they'd let you for the semester and struggling for it.

Your dad felt guilty, of course. For your mom, for the derailing of your life, and for the way he had to keep leaving because that was the job. In all honesty, you didn't mind being home more at that time.

There was Jack, who was great, and your Aunt was so much like your mom that sometimes it was like she was still with you, even a little bit. And there was Spencer, too.

After it had become evident that you were going to fail the only required course you were taking that semester (algebra was your enemy), your dad had sought out the only person he knew with a good grasp of mathematics and no weekend plans and roped them into tutoring you. Which meant that your weekends were suddenly fully booked by him.

He seemed a little different from the first time you’d met him, but that was a given considering the circumstances. He held himself a little taller, and more relaxed as he talked about the kinds of equations you were supposed to use and formulas you were supposed to memorize. He was attentive but not too close, and he’d shown up with shorter hair and now that you could see more of his face, more of his neck, you found yourself getting distracted by the oddest things. The stubborn but small stubble on his neck, the way sweat trailed down his face, the movement of his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed, the way the breeze from your open window tousled his hair.

It took you a distractingly long time to realize that you were physically attracted to him, but when you did realize, it was suddenly all you could think about. You spent most of your days working on math so you’d have some excuse to call or text him. The mornings before your lessons together you’d taken to hogging the bathroom long enough to shave, wash and dry your hair and apply a natural but still skilled amount of make-up. You were surprised that neither of the big bad profilers had caught onto the stench of your puppy love, because you were dripping with desperation.

He never budged of course, too oblivious or too noble to lay a hand on an eighteen-year-old. Or just smart enough to know not to lay a hand on his boss's daughter.

You certainly weren’t making it easy for him though.

“Spencer, what do you think of my outfit today? I’m going out with some friends from high school tonight for a meal, do I look okay?” You’d twirled for him innocently, knowing full well the speed of your spin would throw your already short skirt up past your panties for a split second.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about clothes, Y/N. Maybe ask your dad.” His flush was evident enough that you knew it had worked but his hands were rigid by his sides and he carefully guided you back to the topic at hand.

It turned out that after a semester of tutoring, you’d become such a whizz at mathematics that you’d passed with flying colors. You’d been so excited to tell Spencer that you drove straight to Quantico, using the family pass your father had given you for emergencies to gain access. Spencer didn’t know what hit him when you launched yourself into his arms and wrapped your legs around him, but he’d somehow stayed upright as you buried your face once again in his neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, Spencer! I got an A, the Professor was so shocked by my improvement that he asked me if I’d cheated. When I dropped your name, he freaked.” Spencer’s eyes were wide and blinking frantically as his hands struggled to find a place to hold you. You’d worn another scandalously low skirt and it seemed the only way to pry you off of him was to put a hand on or dangerously close to your ass.

You enjoyed watching his internal struggle, and so did quite the number of FBI agents, until your father spoiled the fun by walking out of his office to check the commotion.

“Y/N Hotchner, get down from there, now.” Your father rarely raised his voice at you, choosing a softer approach to parenting than many would expect. That meant that on the rare occasion that he did feel the need to speak up, you shut your mouth and listened. Detangling yourself from Spencer’s arms with an awkward smile, you tried your best to nonchalantly bounce over to your father and explain why you were there.

He motioned for you to follow him to his office, and you complied, letting one ear stay clear to focus on the sound of Reid being teased by all of his coworkers about the scene you’d just caused.

Your dad didn’t exactly scold you for the incident, so much as he tried to insinuate that you should head back home, and then head back to college, too. With months between you and the Foyet incident, he’d been hinting at letting you get back to your life for a while, but your stunt with Reid had him suddenly addressing it more overtly.

To say that your family dinner that night was a pain in the ass was an understatement.

“Y/N, Daddy said you went to his work today!” Jack had started the conversation, and you knew the tactical warfare was beginning.

“That’s right, buddy! I had to thank Spencer for helping me with my schoolwork.” You smiled at your brother before turning a suspicious glance toward your dad, who sat peacefully eating his dinner. The fact that you were even all eating together should’ve alerted you to something going on behind the scenes.

“Uncle Spencer is the best!” It wasn’t Jack’s fault he’d just given your father the best ammunition he could’ve asked for.

“Do you agree, Y/N? Do you think your Uncle Spencer is the best?” He was using his calm interrogation voice and you hated it.

“Dad, please, he’s not that much older than me, it’s weird for me to call him Uncle.”

“He’s ten years your senior, Y/N. You know that right?” You didn’t move as your eyes locked together with his, as he seemingly asked a more serious question in the subtext. You weren’t ready to answer it though, and so you buckled under the pressure, looking away first and eating the rest of your meal in silence.

Without saying much of a goodbye to any member of your father’s teammates, you decided that it was about time you continued with your life, not letting the actions of George Foyet hold you in a standstill any longer. You went back to college full-time, got your degree, and got a job in a city near your college town. You came back home regularly, but in the five years since your mother's death, you hadn’t talked to or heard from Spencer Reid.

Job opportunities were better in D.C. though, so after growing up and having some time away, you came right back to your childhood home, ready to start over. It was only temporary, of course, and you had a job lined up, but apartments were so hard to come by, especially ones that were actually livable, that you needed to do a lot of searching to find one that felt right.

So your dad’s home it was. With Jack a bit older and constantly away at school or clubs or friend’s houses, and your dad’s schedule the way it was, you’d practically got the house to yourself. And after living alone and with female roommates for half a decade, you’d almost grown too comfortable in your own skin. The summer between your move and the start of your new job was hot and sticky, and you found yourself taking more and more cold showers after your morning workouts.

Normally at 11 a.m., you had the house to yourself, and you’d happily stroll around in a small towel and dry yourself off. If your father or brother were home, you’d cover yourself up a bit more, sure, or just head to your room quicker, obviously.

So emerging from your shower, the last thing you expected was coming face to face with Doctor Spencer Reid sitting on your couch, the one that was directly on your path between the bathroom you’d just emerged from and the room you needed to be in. You cursed your father and his practically-sized apartment as you floundered your way through a greeting of the man you hadn’t seen in five years.

“Spencer, hi. What... What are you doing on my dad’s couch?” You clutched the towel close to your body, trying not to shiver as he trailed his eyes over your body, eyes just as big and wide as the last time you’d seen him.

“We were on our way to a local crime scene, he went to grab something from…” His voice trailed off as he pointed towards the master suite where you could now faintly hear the sound of your dad on the phone to someone.

“Right. Great. I should probably…” You gestured to the room and quickly started making your way toward it, trying not to visibly cringe at the most awkward post-shower interaction you’d ever had.

“What are you doing here?” His voice shot out quickly, and you whipped around so fast, that you almost panicked and dropped the towel completely.

“Oh, I… Did my dad not mention? I got a job at a company nearby, so I moved back. I’m staying here with Dad and Jack until I can find a decent apartment.”

“Oh, wow. Well, it’s nice to have you back. It’s been like five years since you left, right?” His tone was bright and he was nodding his head, but the words set fire to your nerve endings as you remembered that you’d practically run away from him. Even after half a decade, he was having a physical impact on you.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. You have a good memory.”

“You know, I get that a lot.” His grin ignited something in your chest, and you gathered the laundry you’d left on the sofa and quickly excused yourself before you could prove yourself more of a idiot than you could already make a case for.

Spencer watched you go, wondering just when Hotchner was going to emerge from his hiding place to attack him for so openly ogling his half-naked daughter. He stood on the spot staring at your door for a moment too long before dragging his eyes away. Unluckily for him, what he found on the floor had him panicking all over again.

“Y/N, your forgot…” He grabbed the lacy material in his fingers and went to open the door before stopping, realizing that you were probably completely bare behind that door now. The thought sent him into a tailspin, and he once again stood clueless for a beat too long with a pair of your freshly laundered panties in his hands.

He considered dropping them back on the floor, but he didn’t want them to get dirty again after you’d washed them so nicely. He should’ve just left them on the sofa for you to find later, but when Hotch’s voice grew louder and clearer behind him, fear took over and he shoved them into the closest hiding space he could find. His pocket.

“Callahan found something for us at the ME’s office, she’s meeting us at the precinct, let’s go.”

And just like that he was out the door, and he had officially signed his own death warrant.

You never noticed that the first pair went missing. When it became a pattern though, you did become suspicious. Three pairs of underwear in thirty days seemed a bit much, and unless your building's laundry machines were eating them, you had no clue where they could've been.

It's not that Spencer even meant to do it any of the times he did. But when he'd returned home that first day, overwhelmed with the caseload he'd been handed and found the offending item still right there in his coat pocket, the blood had rushed straight to his head.

He'd spent a half hour in agony staring at them, trying to smooth them out so they wouldn't get crumpled, his dick twitching at every slight movement he made. It had been quite a few months since he'd had sex, never really one for casual hook-ups. But if the result of several months of celibacy was stealing underwear then he thought maybe it would be best to have sex sooner rather than later.

He couldn't resist the temptation. Popping the button of his pants, he'd taken his cock in his hand and worked his way up and down his shaft imagining you dropping that towel. He imagined you wearing the panties and nothing else as you replaced his hand with your mouth, desperate to please. Taking the panties in his hand, he began directly masturbating into them, wishing so needily that you were still inside them.

When he shot his load, he soaked them through, and the shame that overcame him was intense and swift.

You never realized that he'd somewhat avoided you after that, doing his best to stay away for fear he'd let his perversions rule his actions. You had somehow made yourself unavoidable though.

The first time he saw you again it was at one of Rossi's family get-togethers. It had been years since you'd seen some of the members of the team, so you were really looking forward to it. Plus, Rossi had boasted of a recently installed pool and jacuzzi within his invitation, and you were excited to check them out with the fine summer weather actually staying fine.

You'd brought your bikini with you and changed in one of the ground-floor bathrooms, wrapping another towel around yourself before you finally made your way to the pool. But once again, wrapped in a towel, you'd come face to face with Spencer Reid.

"Y/N, I didn't know you were coming." He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and this time worked especially hard to not let his gaze travel all over your skin. He regretted his entire existence as he realized he'd have to hide his micro-expressions around countless profilers, some of whom were present and accounted for when you'd last been seen together.

Derek was going to give him hell.

"Yeah, Uncle David invited me! I'm so excited for the jacuzzi, I haven't been in one since college."

"You call Rossi 'Uncle David?'" The thought had tickled him, humor sparkling in his eyes as he finally smiled at you.

"Why yes I do, and if you're not careful, my dad is going to make me start calling you Uncle Spencer again." You skipped off merrily after that, leaving your spare clothes and your discarded ones in the bathroom Reid had obviously been waiting for.

His smile soured as he realized the impact of your words. Uncle Spencer. Huh. Some fucking "Uncle" he was. He washed his hands thoroughly, having spilled some kind of drink down himself before greeting you, as his eyes fell to the pile of clothes you'd left neatly in the corner.

He tried to tell himself he couldn't do it again, but curiosity and arousal lit up his entire body and carried him forward. Jeans, a t-shirt, socks, and shoes were left tidily discarded, but he couldn't obviously see any underwear. There was a second pile of neat clothes and he looked at that one thoroughly as well, but after a minute it was evident that you'd hidden your unmentionables from clear sight.

He heard the happy cheers and smiles from outside, and painstakingly attempted to pull away, but he couldn't. Rooting through your things, he found them. He found two of them, really. The used underwear you'd likely just taken off, and the fresh pair you were going to change into. Spoiled for choice he sat in a stasis, mentally cursing himself for being so stupidly horny.

It would be wrong to take another pair. And certainly wrong of him to take the clean pair which you'd instantly noticed were missing when you tried to put them on to wear them.

The used pair though. He held them delicately in both hands, the slip of material not as fancy as the ones he'd used before, but somehow more enticing.

Letting his cock rule his thoughts he brought them up to his face and inhaled deeply, and it was like a bomb going off in the back of his head. He had to have them.

Organizing the bathroom into the exact layout as he'd found it, making sure not even a hair was out of place. The panties were safely in his pocket, and he took a minute to get his body physically and mentally under control before exiting the bathroom and rejoining his friends.

The next time he'd taken some, they'd really been handed to him like a gift. One month back at home, and you felt slightly stifled by the overbearing presence of your father. You needed a nice, messy night out, and you sure got it.

The friends you'd reconnected with had taken you out to a slew of clubs, and by the end of the night, you were tripping and stumbling into anything and anyone in your path. It was as if you were magnetically drawn to every object in your way, unfortunately, one just happened to be tall and lean and caught you before you could tumble off again.

"Y/N?" He looked down at you, confused as he took in your intoxicated state.

"Uncle Spencie!" You relaunched yourself into his arms, reminiscent of that day in the bullpen. "Uncle Spencie I can't believe you're here!" You giggled into his neck as you buried yourself there, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck as you pulled away to grin at him again.

"Y/N, how drunk are you?"

"How you are drunk, huh? Why don't we ever ask that question?" You sent yourself into a fit of giggles as your friends watched the scene play out behind you.

"Girls, this is Doctor Spencer Reid. My daddy is his boss. Isn't he cute?" Your arms still wrapped territorially around Spencer, you introduced your friends who cackled approvingly at your drunk shenanigans.

"Y/N, you need to let me go, the others…"

"Others? Is daddy here? AARON!! AAAAROOOOOO-" He clamped a hand over your mouth and moved you to the side of the road to hail a taxi as fast as possible. Apologizing to your friends, he quickly stuffed you into the cab and gave the driver your address.

"Uncle Spencer, I just wanted to see my daddy and his other friends. Why are you being so mean?" The exaggerated pout on your face had him dragging a hand down over his face as he struggled to pull a seatbelt over you.

"If your dad had seen you wrapped around me like that, he'd have killed one of us."

"Both of us," you nodded and giggled. Your short dress was riding up your thighs, the leather seats of the car feeling unbearably hot and sticky under your skin. You shifted uncomfortably a few times, your underwear eating into your skin in an uncomfortable manner.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" He sternly whispered the words into your ears as he grabbed your wrists. It was too late though, you'd already worked your underwear down your thighs enough that they'd reached your knees and then fallen around your ankles.

"It felt bad, I didn't like it." You leaned your head back and let your legs hang open slightly, just enough that Spencer could see the taxi driver angling for a look.

He snapped a hand between your legs, closing off the view before snatching up the underwear from the floor and pocketing it. You didn't know nor care though, the motion of the car rocking you off into a deep sleep. He'd ended up having to carry you up to your apartment, getting you ready for bed, and leaving just fast enough for Hotch to not catch him hanging over his unconscious daughter.

And he had a third pair of your underwear.

He spent his days wondering just what the fuck was wrong with him, and his nights jerking off to your scent, wondering just how willing he'd be to climb into bed with you and if he'd have the strength to say no.

He was normal enough in your interactions with one another. You'd seen each other at various case celebrations, at parties hosted by the team members, which that summer were high in total. You couldn't resist the temptation to flirt with him, but it was only when the two of you were well out of earshot of anyone who might frown upon it. You didn't think he even noticed that's what you were doing anyway.

Spencer did notice. And he kept noticing and was disgusted by how much he wanted you. You were Hotch’s daughter. He’d seen pictures of you as a child, he’d held you while you cried over your mom and the stress of having to be a responsible adult after everything happened with Foyet, he’d known how much you hated having to grow up quickly when you had Hotch for a dad, and he felt gross that despite all of that he wanted to fuck you so badly that he’d resorted to petty thievery and letting you flirt with him under your father's nose.

It was towards the end of your summer at home when you finally noticed the missing pieces. You'd even almost mentioned it to your dad before thinking it through a bit more. If it wasn't some laundry mix-up, he was going to go full FBI on every man who came close to you, and that was a risk you weren't willing to take.

In the end, you were thankful you said nothing.

The BAU team had been out on a case for ten days, the largest amount of time they'd been away since you'd moved home, and you'd decided to greet them as soon as they returned, congratulate them on a job well done.

You knew they were already heading to their regular bar after they finished their paperwork, but you had some morale to boost in the meantime, so a donut delivery plus enough coffee to stay awake for hours was in order.

They'd practically thrown themselves off the jet and into the box of donuts, each of them thanking you for the happy greeting after what had to have been a hard time away.

"Y/N, you didn't have to do this, but thank you. The team really appreciates it." Your dad had looked at you with a proud look before showing you up to his office, letting you wait on his couch until everyone was finished.

You got bored quickly and asked if you could help with anything, which is how you became your dad's errand-runner. He sent you to the printer to pick up papers, you'd run to get him more coffee from the pot twice and he sent you to ask the others about their progress. Which was totally fine had they not looked like paperwork-writing zombies on the verge of collapse.

"Y/N, head down to Spencer's desk, he should have a file on the geographical profile I need." He hadn't even glanced up to ask you that, but he did shout a thank you out the door, so you suppose he could be forgiven for now.

Bouncing down the stairs you noticed Spencer was deep in the middle of reading some files, doing that speed reading thing you'd heard him talk about but never witnessed.

"Spencer." He didn't look up, too focused on the words in front of him. "Spencer, my dad needs a file."

"Go-bag. Reading, give me a minute." He still hadn't even glanced at you so you pulled yourself around his desk to search for his go-bag yourself. It was on the floor, and you pulled it towards you, settling down on the floor to open it up and look for the files you needed.

You probably should have had more reservations about rooting through Spencer's things because just as you pulled the zip fully open, it seemed like his eyes shot wide and he threw his head in your direction, finally distracted from his work.

"Wait, don't look in-" He whisper-screamed the words at you frantically, but it was too late. The first thing your hand had closed around in the bag was small and delicate and somewhat rumpled, and your hand had a mind of its own pulling it out into your lap so the two of you could see it.

Your panties. One of your missing pairs of panties was in Spencer Reid's go-bag.

Both of you sat there for a few moments, neither of you moving, the eye contact not breaking one second as you both stared at each other in fear and surprise.

He cleared his throat quietly and whispered down at you, "I can explain…" but he didn't get a chance as you swiftly grabbed the file you'd come for - helpfully pulled into plain view by your rustling about - hid your panties back in your own pocket, zipped his bag up and swiftly ran all the way back to your dad's office.

You sat on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, no longer eager to do chores. Spencer had your underwear. He'd stolen it. He'd taken it across the country with him. He'd…You didn't know what he was doing with it, really, but you knew that every image of him with them had the most dirty, exciting, disgusting thoughts running through your head.

You grabbed your things and quickly headed out after that. Penelope caught you by the elevator as you made to leave.

"No, sweetie, where are you going? I thought you were coming to celebrate with us after this, I was so looking forward to having the fun Hotchner around, not the grumpy, serious one."

"I'm just going home to freshen up. I smell like coffee and Quantico, which when you're not nose blind to it isn't the most optimal scent." You promised her you'd see her there, and with a quick glance back at the office, where Spencer was sat tense, looking like he wanted to either run after you or shout something across the room, you left.

By the time you'd arrived home, there were ten missed calls on your cell, and you didn't have to even speculate about who they might be from because there were texts too.

Spencer: I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, call me when you get this.

Spencer: I know it's weird and I'll understand if you hate me, but please talk to me.

Spencer: Please don't tell your dad.

You'd scoffed at that last one as if you'd ever have been that stupid. But you didn't reply or call him, letting him suffer in silence.

This entire time, you'd been operating on the basis that Spencer Reid didn't see you the way you saw him. That he didn't think of you as an adult but as your father's daughter. And now you were confronted with the truth that he was just as fucking lustful and horny as you'd been since you met him at 18? You weren't letting this opportunity pass you by.

Taking the panties out, you stared at them again, trying to figure out just what he'd been doing with them. You recognized them as the pair you'd lost on your night out, bright red and lacy, eye-catching, and definitely yours. He hadn't even tried to lie to you about that, but how willing would you have been to accept the fact that Spencer had stolen someone else's panties? Or been gifted them? Probably not very.

You'd assumed you'd left this pair in the taxi, not entirely sure how you'd ended up in the car in the first place or why you would decide they were uncomfortable right there. Now you had sudden recollections of Spencer also being there, and suddenly your actions made sense.

He'd not only taken your panties, he'd taken your used panties, and it looked as though he'd used them even more. You decided not to think too closely about how he had used them.

But he'd also got you home safe, making sure your things were stored neatly and tucked you into bed nice and tight. And then he'd stolen your panties.

Thinking about it was frustrating but there was nothing else in your mind at that moment. Spencer taking them out secretly to look at. Spencer smelling them. Spencer wrapping them around his big cock and stroking himself to the thought of you.

You wanted to know precisely what he'd done, and you intended to find out.

Penelope called you as soon as they'd left work, and sent you the location, too, and you decided it was time to get ready to mess with Spencer.

The dress you'd worn on the night he'd stolen your panties was freshly laundered. Usually, you wouldn't wear anything so risky in front of your father, but he'd likely only be there for an hour or two before leaving you be. You pulled out a fresh pair of red panties as well, hoping to jog Spencer's memory a little bit to entice him to talk.

With a quick make-up retouch, you climbed into your car, and within twenty minutes you were walking into O'Keefe's.

Miserably, Spencer couldn't come up with an excuse to stay home quick enough and was tumbled into the car by Derek and Penelope. He had a feeling, too, that he wouldn't be able to leave early, either, which was only confirmed when you walked in wearing that dress.

His hopes to sit and nurse his non-alcoholic cocktail peacefully at the edge of the booth are shattered as he watches you saunter over. It clings tight to your skin, twisting around every peak on your body, revealing every part that he'd spent the last few weeks dreaming about.

He was screwed.

"Hi, Dad! Hi everyone!" You smiled innocently enough, but your sickly sweet smile turned on Spencer was an omen, and he suddenly wanted to be down on his knees begging for forgiveness. Or something else.

Instead of sticking by your dad's side, you make your way to Spencer and force him to shuffle further into the booth so you can sit next to him. It's cramped and you're on the edge still, so you let your hand rest on his thigh for a beat too long as you join the conversation.

"What did I miss?"

"Just talking about the craziest things that have happened to us on cases."

"Reid was propositioned by a prostitute once," Derek chuckled.

"Please, Reid has been propositioned by multiple prostitutes, multiple times." Penelope and Derek continued to joke and giggle about the younger man's apparent cluelessness to flirting.

"I guess they just assumed you were a pervert, Spence. I wonder why they'd think that?" His eyes shot wide as you snuck your hand into his pocket under the table, watching to see if anyone else had noticed the bold actions.

But you looked away from him quickly and didn't let your hand spend too long there, sliding it out slowly, feeling up his leg as you went. He took another sip of his drink before shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His cock had been rudely awoken, and he didn't want it to stay awake, so he attempted to let it fall into a less obvious position.

But as he shifted he felt something else in his pants, and curiously he put his own hand into his pocket. You'd returned your stolen underwear to the thief.

He took in a shaky breath and held them inside his pants while he willed himself to calm down. Partly because you were in public and partly because your dad was present. He almost had himself under control when you decided it was time for your next move.

"I need to go get a drink, I'll be back soon." You stood and pushed away from the table, bouncing away swiftly. He watched you go from the corner of his eye and then had to do a double take as you pushed yourself up against the bar ordering your drink.

You stuck your ass out, not enough to make it look intentional to anybody but him, but just enough so he could see the red underwear you had on underneath your dress.

He downed his drink and made his excuses before making his way right to the bar where you stood.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, so close behind you that you felt his breath in you before you heard his voice.

"Buying a drink, what does it look like I'm doing?" You scooted your ass back until it was pressed up against his crotch and he groaned, hard and loud in your ear.

"Y/N, you can't do that, your dad is right fucking there."

"I sure hope my dad isn't fucking over there, that'd really be a sight I didn't want to see." He shut his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before he put his hands on you. Grabbing your hips, he walked you closer to the bar so that your ass was no longer on display, nor touching him in any way, then he moved to your side and left only one hand firmly touching your back so you knew not to immediately try something else again.

"This is your last warning. Now, you're going to order that drink and then you're going to walk back to that table like a good fucking girl, or so help me god, I will show your dad just how much of a slut you're being." His voice was a dark growl and you felt your panties growing more wet with each syllable, nodding instantly as the bartender came over.

For a minute, he'd genuinely thought that had worked. You'd ordered your drink without another word and then turned back to the table and walked nicely, having pulled your skirt back down a little bit. He'd thought he'd won until the second he'd sat down when Aaron Hotchner had grabbed his coat and stood up.

"Spencer, you're not drinking? Can you drive Y/N home tonight? I’m leaving now, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave so early.” You watched as his jaw twitched, taking only a second to compose himself before he agreed.

“Great, have a fun night sweetheart,” he said, kissing your head, before turning out and leaving with Rossi.

“Now, Spencer, what was that you were saying about good behavior at the bar? It was really so very interesting to me and I’d love to hear more.”

You spent the next half hour draining your drink and his self-control, stroking a hand down his chest as the others comfortably ignored your purring at him. He answered all your questions coldly, but every time your hand trailed a little bit too low he stopped it with a heavy hand and a warning look, letting you know that you were still getting to him.

Once you’d finished the first drink, you got up and moved to the bar once again, making sure that his eyes were on you completely as you swayed your hips on the way over. You pulled exactly the same move as you had earlier and made sure he knew you were going to be hard to handle the entire night.

When you returned, he was the only one left at the table, the others having scattered to the dance floor, the bathroom, and the bar. Taking the chance you climb directly into his lap.

“What’s wrong, Spence, you’re looking so lonely over here?” You rest your hands on his shoulders and let your ass fall to his lap, grinding down gently to feel him underneath you.

“How could I be lonely when you’re out here throwing yourself at me like a cheap whore?”

“Oh, we’ve already established how much cheap whores love you today, Spencer. Why would you be so surprised that I’m having the same reaction?”

The others slowly started returning so you pushed away from him for a second, straightening your clothes before they noticed anything amiss.

“Y/N, I need some youthful arm candy, come to the dancefloor with us!” Penelope pulled you from your seat and you laughed as you followed her, sending a wink back over your shoulder to Spencer.

He sat grinding his teeth as you continue your games on the dancefloor, swaying your hips suggestively, not sparing him a single glance as you practically exposed yourself on a dancefloor. He decided he’d let you have your fun and then march you out quickly. He moved his timeline up exponentially the minute he saw a man saunter up behind you, whispering in your ear before walking you over to the bar.

Downing his drink, he made his way to your side, pulling you away from the man quickly.

“We’re leaving now.” He said, leaning down to your ear as he grabbed your coat and pulled it around you.

“Man, what do you think you’re doing?” The man who had pulled you away was visually drunk, looking rough and dangerous as he leered down at you.

“She’s not interested and she’s too young for you anyway.” He said, very close to flashing his badge to get him to back off.

“What, you her dad or something?” He scoffed, but you turned on him with a wide smile as you leaned your head back against Spencer’s chest.

“He’s my daddy, actually.” With a wink, you left the bar, letting Spencer chase after you as you walked directly over to your car. Throwing him the keys, you jumped into the passenger seat.

“I’m taking you home now, you’re being reckless, you’ve had too much to drink.”

“Reckless how? It’s not like I’m the one who has been stealing my boss' daughter's panties for the last month.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You jacked off into my panties and now you’re pissed I caught you…wow.”

“Can you just shut up? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like me to tell him how you put them back in my pocket tonight, right?”

“Was that a threat, Spencer?”

“If I was going to threaten you, Y/N, you’d know.”

“You’ve changed, you know. Since I was a teenager. You’re different now.”

“No, I’m not. I’m very much the same.”

“You’re hotter now. I don’t know how that is possible because fuck did I want you back then, but now…” You let your eyes trail down his face as he continues to drive, jaw tense. His side profile had always been pretty, but with the bags under his eyes now more pronounced, you thought about what it’d be like to trail your mouth down his neck, what you would give to sit prettily on those lips of his.

Your tongue darts out to wet your own lips, as the fantasies grow to fill the car. Suddenly it’s his hands between your legs, making you moan like the whore he’d accused you of being earlier, it’s his tongue down your throat as he fucks his fingers into you, completely ruining you.

When you pull over, you’re certain that he’d heard your thoughts, because you didn’t recognize where you were at all.

“Spencer, this isn’t my dad’s house.”

“No, it’s mine. Get out of the car.” Suddenly obedient, you do exactly as he tells you, jumping out of the car as swiftly as you can and letting him march you up the stairs, right through his door and all the way to his bedroom. He pushes you forward gently but with a firm enough hand that you know he wants you on the bed. He doesn’t touch you any further as you prop yourself up on your elbows, but moves to another part of the room, grabbing something from a drawer before throwing it at you. Throwing them at you, you supposed, because when you looked down, you found your other pairs of missing underwear on your lap.

“I’m sorry for being so fucking dirty and disgusting, but you need to stop saying those things to me before I do something we both regret.”

You don’t reply, sitting and breathing heavily for a second before pushing your body further up the bed and reaching down. His eyes drink you in as he watches you hook two fingers underneath the underwear you’re wearing and drag them down your legs, not caring that he can see everything. You let go of them as soon as they’re hanging off your leg, holding them out to him.

“Peace offering?”

He’s on you in an instant, crawling on top of you so he can shut you up with his mouth, his hands, his whole being. You welcome him greedily, letting him take control as he pins your hips down underneath his.

“Little slut, you want me to fuck you so bad?” He says, a hand at your chest, pinching your nipple hard through your dress as you moan and writh underneath him. “Throwing yourself at your father’s friend like this, huh? Must be a little whore.”

He doesn’t let you respond, shoving two fingers into your mouth as you obediently wrap your lips around them and start sucking. Pushing your dress up, he groans at how wet you already are for him, swiping a finger over your clit carefully as you moan around his fingers, the vibrations shooting straight to his cock.

Lifting his hips, he unzips his pants in a second, not stopping to contemplate the consequences of his actions. His cock is pressed against you, gripped in his hand, but it’s hot and it’s heavy and fuck do you need it inside of you. He teases you with it as you whine around his fingers, trying to top from the bottom and grinding your hips up into him. He removes his fingers from your mouth reluctantly so he can hold your hips down.

“Spencer, don’t fucking tease me. Please just fuck me now.”

“Are all of you Hotchner’s this fucking bossy?” You roll your eyes, ignoring his question as you move to grab ahold of his cock, lining it up with your cunt and pushing it in slowly. A hand over yours stops you before it can get any deeper.

“Wait, I haven’t put a condom on yet.”

“Then you better make sure you pull out before I have to tell my dad exactly who it is that made him a grandaddy.” His hips snap up into yours then and with a few shallow pumps he’s fully sheathed inside of you as you scream at the feeling. You’d spent years thinking about this moment, but you’d never imagined he’d fill you so perfectly, stretching you out in all the best places.

His fingers return to your clit, working you up into a frenzy as you arch up into him, wrapping your legs around him to allow him better access. He growls into your ear with each thrust, before grabbing fistfuls of your ass and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He pulls out quickly, repositioning you and holding your legs open wide as he stands between your legs, lining his cock up and pushing into you once again, immediately regaining his pace. He lifts one knee onto the bed, again pushing your legs down into the bed and opening you up further to him. The new angle hits deeper inside of you than you were sure anyone had ever been, momentarily leaving you breathless and soundless, listening only to the noises coming from your cunt.

Wet slaps of skin against skin, the arousal trickling down your leg to stain his sheets.

You regain your breath just as he knocks it out of you again, pushing you over the edge as you cum, hard, on his cock. Your head goes dizzy as you struggle to come down from the bliss he’d pulled you up into, legs twitching as he continues pounding into him.

You’re vaguely aware of some loud moans and screams, and it takes you an entire minute to realize the sinful noises are coming straight from your mouth.

“Fuck, Spencer, so fucking good for me, you made me feel so good, thank you.” His hips stutter inside you then, and you feel a heat flood you.

“Shit,” he pulls out quickly and sprays the rest of his load over your pretty black dress, falling down on top of you and reclaiming your lips passionately. You stay locked together in that embrace for god knows how long, rolling around back and forth in his bed until he finally detaches himself, pulling your clothes off and throwing a large old t-shirt over your head before grabbing you like an oversized stuffed toy and leading you into the depths of oblivion.

When you wake up in the morning, the pounding in your head is exaggerated considering you hadn’t really drank that much the night before. It takes you a shocking amount of time to realize that the pounding wasn’t in your head though, but instead a loud banging against Spencer’s door, ordering him to open up

You’re so comfortable though, you try to ignore it. Until your father’s voice is pouring through the paper-thin walls.

“Spencer, open the door, right now, or I’m kicking it down. You have five seconds.” The Spencer in question shoots out of bed immediately from beside you, scrambling to pull on pants and make his hair look like you hadn’t been tangled in it all night before running to the door.

You similarly panic around the room for a second, searching for a hiding place and grabbing your phone before settling on the absolutely genius position of under the bed.

You hear the confrontation like it’s happening right over you.

“Aaron, I really think you’re going to regret this.” David Rossi’s voice is calm, trying to talk some sense into your father, but he isn’t having any of it.

“Where is she? I told you to drop her off at home when she was finished drinking, but she wasn’t there when I woke up.”

“I can explain…” Spencer trailed off, and you cursed the man for being such a bad liar. That line hadn’t worked on you, either, so you doubted it’d work on your dad. Opening your phone, you check the time. 11:47. You quietly cursed yourself as you opened the multiple messages from your father.

You decide to help Spencer out by replying to one of them now.

“Hey, Dad. I ran into an old friend last night, and Spencer made sure we both got back to her’s safely. I’m still at her apartment, but I guess I forgot to text last night because I was so tired, sorry for worrying you!”

You heard his phone ping with the message, heard the tense silence as he read the message slowly, and heard the incredibly loud ping of your own phone, screaming from inside Spencer’s room as he replied.

Unfortunately, your dad hears it, too.

Pushing past Spencer, who in his defense is doing a great job of taking a stand by slowing down your father momentarily, Aaron Hotchner bursts into the room just as you poke your head up from the side of the bed.

“Morning, Daddy.” You try, hoping to sweet talk your way out of this whole situation.

“Living room, now.” He says, hesitating for only a moment. “You’re dressed, right?” You almost laugh at his pathetic tone before considering the situation, just nodding and walking out behind him as you try to make Spencer’s shirt cover more of your body than it originally did.

There’s a gleam in Rossi’s eye as you walk past him, head hung in embarrassment. You sit guiltily on the couch, and Spencer finds his way next to you, and you suddenly feel like two children about to get the scolding of a lifetime.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, and you grow suddenly angry at the indignant tone of his voice.

“Dad, I am 23 years old, I do not need a lecture for spending the night out.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, sit down. Spencer? Anything to say.” You slump back into your seat and wait for the answer just the same as your dad is, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, you feel a blanket being thrown over your legs, and it isn’t until then that you notice how cold you’ve been. He takes the time to wrap the material around your body, making sure you’re comfortable before he even thinks about looking up at your dad.

“Hotch, what is it that you want to know?” He levels his stare with your father, and it seems to dampen his anger a little bit. They’re having a silent war right now, in some kind of expressive language that you’ve never been able to decode, and somehow, it seems that Spencer is winning.

“Did you use protection?” Your sharp intake of breath is about all the answers your father needs, and you realize how majorly you’d fucked up by letting the conversation get this far.

“Dad!” you shout indignantly. “That is frankly none of your business.” He doesn’t look at you though, not even sparing you a glance as his eyes stay focused on Spencer, trying to figure out something you’re not even sure of yourself.

“For god’s sake, Dad, I’ve been in love with him for five years.” All the eyes in the room snap to you then, and if you hadn’t been feeling shy before, you certainly were now.

“Y/N, you’re barely an adult.”

“I’m sorry that’s entirely rich coming from the guy who had a child straight out of high school. I’m an adult, which is why I’m allowed to make my own mistakes and decisions, and I’d really prefer your support instead of your judgment.” Your father tries to speak again, to protest some part of what you just said, but unlistening, you groan in frustration and just climb directly into Spencer’s lap.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Spencer panics below you for a second, before resting comfortably on your legs, far enough down that he is spared your father’s dirty looks.

“Aaron, I think you’d better hear the girl out. She reminds me a lot of someone I know, so hard-headed these youths of today are.” You are intensely thankful for Rossi’s presence then and you send a thankful smile his way, just as your dad grumbles.

“Uncle David is right, you should listen to Uncle David.”

“Until a few days ago, you were calling Spencer “Uncle Spencer” so I’d be quiet if I were you, Y/N.”

“Heard.” He pauses for a second to think, the years finally etching into his skin as he breathes out a sigh of relief. You suddenly feel bad for not being home when he woke up, and you can only imagine how it must’ve felt to not know where you were, or if you were safe after everything that he’d already been through.

“I’m not against this, I suppose. But I swear to god if you ever go missing on me again, I will have an entire agency out for you.”

“You know where I’ll be, Dad.” He nods then turns to Spencer.

“You’re going to take her to a pharmacy in the next three hours to get emergency contraception, and then the both of you are going to come - fully clothed - to my house. It’s been a while since we had a family dinner.” You smile brightly up at him, and within another minute, it is just you and Spencer in the apartment alone.

You looked back up at him shyly and tried to awkwardly climb out of his lap, but he pulled you right back into him.

“For the record, I think I’ve only been in love with you for 37 days. Is that okay with you?” All of the confidence drains from your body as you struggle to find the words.

“In my defense, it’s not that I didn’t love you back then, it’s just that you were so young, I think I never considered it. And when I realized that you had those feelings, I felt so guilty about it, I never stopped to let myself think about what else I was feeling. And then you were gone and I didn’t have to think about it again, and then you came back, and I’ve been doing a lot more thinking now, and I think that-”

“I think that you should shut up and kiss me, Spencer Reid.” You said.

“Heard.” You giggled as he pressed his lips up into your own, pulling you further down into him as he held you tight. You didn’t come up for air for a long while, drinking as much of him in as you could as he gave you his heart.

“You know what this means?” You said, finally pulling away with a gasp.

“What?”

“You don’t have to steal my panties anymore. I can just give them to you now.” He lit up red underneath you and groaned as you laughed at his pained expression.

“As long as you never mention that to your father, I think we’ll escape this job and lives intact.” He said, a faraway look telling you he was likely running probability on those ideas right at that second.

“Just remember, my dad has two weapons and the ability to move you halfway across the country should he choose to.” You pressed your forehead against his, chuckling once again at his pained expression. “But also remember, that I’d happily follow you anywhere, Reid.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Hotchner. Oh, no, that was weird. We’re going to have to get you a new name sooner rather than later.” You gasped as he lifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you back to the bedroom.

“Spencer! What are you doing?”

“We need to go brainstorm some new names, too weird to call you Hotchner. And I do all of my best thinking in bed.”

“Really? I do mine in the shower,” you teased, holding tight to his shoulders as he continued forward.

“We can definitely try that next.” He said, carrying you through the door, and closing it shut behind him, hoarding your attentions for the rest of the morning.

[weasleyreidstyles]

between the shelves

for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge!!

prompt 1: "is it that, or is it because you're in love with me?"

pairing: theodore nott x reader (no house specified)

warning(s): none

~∞~ a short little drabble – i've never written anything for theo so i thought i'd give it a shot.

There are many beautiful mysteries within the castle walls. That includes Hogwarts' expansive library that holds every book one could think of, and more. It's earthy tones and the smell of ink on parchment paper permeates the air at all hours of the day and the rustle of books is the only sound, besides idle chit chat that fills the vast room.

Right now, you despise the library.

The table that you and your potions partner had chosen was small and crammed into a corner of two towering bookshelves and the heat that magically swept through the room seemed to be set to sweltering hot as you sat, clinging to the fabric sleeves of your cardigan, which you refused to remove. There are potions books strewn across the table, which you absolutely abhor to look at, especially as his deft finger trace featherlight patterns against the worn covers as he jots a note down onto a separate piece of parchment for the assignment the two of you have been tasked with completing.

It all seems physically impossible. The fact that you're totally abysmal at potions, paired with the way Theodore Nott made you so nervous. Sitting in the sweltering library with him, is the last place you want to be right now.

He was one of the most popular boys in your year. Star quidditch player; top of all his classes without even having to try; he had more friends than you had fingers and he was just so godsdamn attractive. Everyone either wanted him, or wanted to be him in some capacity. Sometimes when you looked at him, jealousy festered in your gut because how can he sit in lessons so nonchalantly, but still remain just below Hermione Granger in all of them? And how can someone be made to be that fucking attractive?

It was not fair.

But more often than not, when you catch yourself staring at him (it happens more frequently than you'd care to admit) you find yourself constantly picking out the little things about him that make your heart soar.

Like the way his nose twitches irritably when his slightly curled hair falls over his eyes, yet he refuses to get it cut shorter.

Or the way his mouth tilts into a devious smirk that has people swooning instantly.

When he's on the quidditch pitch, his agility could rival the professional. He was truely a real talent and he could have an amazing future career, you think.

But the most fascinating thing about him are his eyes. Theodore has the most captivating eyes you've ever seen. They are a kaleidoscope of blues and greys that you find yourself wishing to get lost in.

Unbeknownst to you, Theo looks up from his note taking and watches as you stare off into space, the potions book in front of you long forgotten. His lips lift into that arrogant smirk that you seem to admire quite a lot as he abandons his own work in favour of staring you down.

You must be miles away in your own mind because you barely concentrate on the fact that he's looking so deeply at you, that he may as well have been staring right at the makings of your very soul.

"Have you got a staring problem, dolcezza?" he asks, his deep voice a mixture of smooth and raspy. It makes your heartbeat pick up in speed as you're jolted from your wandering thoughts.

"I'm bored." You mumble, moving your hands, which are resting on your lap, to lay upon the table so that you can lie your head down. "Potions is so draining and it's so bloody hot in here."

"Is that it, or is it because you're in love with me?"

You sit up abruptly, eyes wide and mouth threatening to gape like a fish out of water as he merely stares back at you with his brows slightly raised. His smirk is widening, almost to a full blown grin. Gods he's so pretty, is all you can think as you roll your eyes at him.

He lets out the lightest of snickers as you ignore him and open your abandoned book, in favour of evading his gaze. But he could already see the blush crawling further and further across your cheeks.

"You can admit it if you want to, darling." He says teasingly, his voice is arrogant and silky and it makes you blush even more. "I don't blame you. Everyone seems to be in love with me."

He smiles prettily at you as you glare at him from across the table.

"No one like an egotistical brat, Theodore." you retort, but there's no bite in your words – there never is when it comes to him. And as he stares you down, you swear you can see the reciprocation in his gaze, but it's gone almost instantly when he turns back to his own notes.

One day, you'd tell him how you felt.

Today was not that day.