#Love how well these match the hot pink envelopes I have at the moment too :)

[mamath]

I've had axolotls on the brain so this painting has made it on to the current shop freebie postcards as well as some other merch I've been working hard on... 👀

[tzuyubb]

Hot Spring Group Pleasure

Pairing: TWICE Tzuyu x CLC Elkie x Male reader

Word Count: 1877 words

Tags: Gangbang, interracial, handjob, blowjob, deep penetration, rough sex, all holes filled, creampie, ahegao, mind break

A/N: Now I understand why writers don’t like to write gangbang smuts 😂 This was pretty difficult to write but hopefully it came out alright.

Tzuyu and Elkie had always been an interesting duo. Elkie loved to push the innocent and reserved Tzuyu’s boundaries, urging her to try new things, especially when it came to her sexuality. So when she heard about this special secluded hot spring in Japan, she knew she had to bring Tzuyu to check it out.

The hot spring was deep in the mountains, with the hike to it being long and arduous. Tzuyu complained ‘Elkie, how much further do we have to go?’. ‘We are almost there. It will all be worth it, trust me.’ Elkie replied playfully.

After an hour-long hike, they finally arrived at the hot spring. At the entrance, Tzuyu noticed a sign, which read “Mixed-gender hot spring. 8-person maximum occupancy. Whole day booking only.” Worried, Tzuyu asked, “It says that it is mixed-gender, do you know if anyone else booked for today?” Elkie winked and replied, “Don’t worry, I’m sure we are alone and, if anyone joins us, I’m sure they won’t be weird or creepy.”

As the pair went through the entrance, they couldn't help but let out a gasp of amazement. The water was crystal clear and steaming hot, and the surroundings were peaceful and serene. They wasted no time in changing into their swimsuits. Tzuyu wore a cute pink one-piece that accentuated her curves, while Elkie wore a matching blue one-piece that complimented her toned figure.

After laying down their towels, Elkie and Tzuyu stepped into the warm water. It enveloped their bodies, the heat soothing their muscles after the torturous hike. They rested against the edge of the hot spring, closing their eyes and letting out a contented sigh of satisfaction. All their built-up tension started to melt away in the rejuvenating waters. It was pure bliss.

However, the peace and relaxation were short-lived, as they heard a rowdy group of men approaching. They were laughing and talking loudly, clearly without a care in the world.

Opening their eyes, they saw six tall, muscular men making their way toward the edge of the hot spring. Wearing tight swim trunks, their dark skin and chiseled bodies were on full display. They were all well-built and undeniably handsome, but what caught the attention of Elkie and Tzuyu were their massive bulges. Tzuyu was taken aback and her eyes widened, she had always heard that black men were well-endowed, and their bulges seemed to confirm that.

Before they could even think about moving away, the six men were already in the water. The group approached the pair with mischievous grins. Tzuyu tried to maintain her composure, but her body betrayed her. She felt a rush of desire, her heart pounding with excitement. The men surrounded them, their eyes roaming over the girl’s bodies.

One of the men, with a deep, smooth voice and a playful glint in his eyes, spoke up ‘Well, well, what do we have here? Two beautiful girls all by themselves in the hot spring.’ With that comment, Tzuyu felt her cheeks flush. Elkie replied flirtatiously ‘You guys aren’t too bad yourselves.’ From that moment, Tzuyu knew that Elkie had it all planned out from the start.

The six men began to engage them in conversation, asking the girls about themselves and making them feel at ease. The girls discovered that they were a group of wealthy American businessmen, visiting Japan for the first time. They were friendly and charming, the girls being unable to resist their infectious laughter and flirty banter.

As the conversation became more heated and sexual, without warning, one of the men leaned in and pressed his lips to Tzuyu’s. Tzuyu was caught off guard, but she didn't resist. She gently pressed her body against his, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. His hands began to roam all over her body, touching and caressing her curves. She couldn’t believe what was happening, but she was too turned on to even consider protesting.

Before she knew it, two of the other men had joined in, their hands and lips exploring every inch of her body. She surrendered herself to their touch, becoming more and more aroused with each passing moment. The heat from the water mixed with the heat of their bodies was intoxicating and she found herself getting lost in pleasure. As she looked over to Elkie, she saw the remaining three men had done the same to her. She felt aroused seeing her best friend's body being kissed, touched, and ravished.

Tzuyu felt their hands wandering lower and lower until they reached her core. Using their large and thick fingers, they playfully teased her clit and pussy over her swimsuit. She let out a seductive moan, feeling a hot wetness growing inside her as she imagined their fingers fucking her pussy. Suddenly, one of the men reached behind her and untied her swimsuit. Tzuyu gasped as it was quickly discarded, leaving her curvaceous body completely exposed and vulnerable to their touch and gaze. The men's eyes immediately went wide as they took in her beauty. She felt joy run through her body, as she noticed the lust in their eyes.

In contrast, Elkie had taken on more of a dominant role. She passionately kissed one of the men, exploring his mouth with her tongue. At the same moment, her hands moved over the bulges of the other two men, gently stroking their hardening cocks over their trunks. She knew just how to tease them, making them hungry for more. Then, after seeing Tzuyu’s exposed body, two of the men ripped apart Elkie’s swimsuit, so that she could share her best friend’s bare state. Seeing Elkie’s exposed toned body made their bulges even bigger.

‘Well boys, it seems unfair that they should be the only ones without clothes.’ one of the men exclaimed. They all laughed in unison, understanding what they were to do.

The six large dark men slowly left the embrace of Tzuyu and Elkie. They withdrew from the water and proceeded to stand next to each other in a line. One by one, they stripped off their swim trunks, revealing six big black cocks.

Tzuyu was awestruck, she had never seen cock’s that large and girthy before. They were definitely the most well-endowed men she had ever seen. She couldn’t help but gasp at their size, feeling intimidated but also incredibly turned on. Upon seeing her reaction, Elkie smirked and asked ‘Are these the first black cock’s you’ve seen?’. Tzuyu replied ‘I mean I've heard stories and seen them in videos before, but never in person. I didn’t realize a cock could be that huge.’

One of the men roared ‘Come and take a closer look then!’

Elkie happily accepted the offer, seductively shaking her hips while exiting the water and walking over. In front of three of the men, she then dropped down onto her knees and gestured Tzuyu to join her. Obediently, Tzuyu shyly got out and walked over, until she was in front of the other three men.

Without warning, Elkie grabbed Tzuyu’s wrist and pulled her down onto her knees. Tzuyu was now face to face with their stiff members. She felt a pulsating between her legs and her nipples became erect. The thought of being with multiple well-endowed men at once excited her.

‘Go on touch it, it won’t hurt you’ one of the men said jokingly.

Using one hand, Tzuyu sheepishly grabbed the shaft of one of the men. Her hand barely fit around it, she was stunned. Holding it up against her forearm, she said ‘Oh! My! God! It’s the size of my forearm’.

Elkie laughed ‘Aww don’t worry, let me show you how to handle these big black cock’s’. She opened her mouth and placed her full lips around the tip of one of the cock’s. At the same time, in each hand, she then held the shaft of two others. She was now ready.

She began bobbing her head back and forth, taking the long shaft deep into her mouth. The black cock stretched her mouth wide open. Her hands then started to jack off the two other cock’s she was holding.

Tzuyu couldn’t hold back anymore, looking at her best friend taking 3 cock’s stirred her curiosity and arousal. She surrendered to her primal desires and held the shaft with both hands, slowly stroking it. As she stroked it, she could feel it growing even harder, the tip leaking precum due to her tight handjob. With her eyes fixated on the massive phallus in front of her, she stuck her tongue out and licked the sweet precum off the tip.

The remaining two men joined in. They grabbed Tzuyu’s hands and placed them on their cock’s. Learning from Elkie, she began stroking them off while giving the other a blowjob.

The sounds of sucking and squelching filled the room. The six men could also be heard moaning and grunting, as their large cock’s were pleasured by two gorgeous women.

But the men didn't stop there; they wanted more. So the four men getting a handjob released the grasp of Elkie and Tzuyu. Two of the men laid down below the two girls with their cock’s standing at attention, while the other two kneeled down behind them. Lifting both girls, they repositioned them so their holes lined up with each of their cock’s. With the tip of their cock’s, the men teased and explored the entrances of Tzuyu and Elkie’s holes, the leaking juices lubricating them.

Then, in one synchronized motion, Tzuyu and Elkie’s pussy and ass were slowly impaled. The girls let out a satisfied scream and their heads spun with pleasure. They could feel the massive dicks stretching them in ways they never imagined possible. Their holes were completely filled in a way neither had ever experienced before. Tzuyu, especially, couldn't believe how good it felt to have three men stuffing their cock’s in her at once.

‘Come on boys! Let’s break these sluts!’ one of the men shouted. Both girls were then relentlessly and roughly fucked in their mouths, pussy’s and asses. Their bodies writhed, overwhelmed by the sensation of all their holes being thrust into at once. They could feel themselves losing control, their euphoric moans muffled as their bodies were used for the men’s pleasure. Hearing their muffled moans only increased the gratification and desire of the hungry men.

After hours of persistent fucking, each of the men had reached their climax. They departed the hotspring and left Tzuyu and Elkie exhausted and strewn on the ground trembling with ecstasy. Each of the girls had a gaping wide pussy and ass, which leaked with cum. Their eyes were rolled back, mouths opened and filled with the men’s seed. They were in heaven, their minds and bodies broken.

As Tzuyu lay there slowly recovering, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment. She smiled, thinking ‘I can’t believe I was just gangbanged by three black men with massive dicks’. She was eternally grateful for the experience Elkie had given her, as it was one of the hottest and most memorable moments of her life. Tzuyu was no longer the innocent girl she once was, but a whore who craved and worshiped big black cock.

[smuttyaf]

You Can Be My Daddy

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝.

wc; 13.9k | masterlist

gonna post this gem to deflect from my hiatus. sorryyyy!

tw: reverse harem threesome, degradation, and choking.

Cherry.

You remember that day so clearly. The middle of June and how the breeze ran across your skin to the sweet juice of fruit gracing your lips. It was the name given to you one early afternoon when lying with your stepfather in the ruby field past the meadow of your home.

Red dye straining flesh before tongue peeked out to relish in the juices, such innocent actions changing the duration of your relationship from then on.

Inked hands and wet kisses exchanged around trees that left sprouting leaves to lie shadows amongst your bodies. Such a beautiful sight of the both of you enveloped in each other and tasting the bitter fruit on lucid tongues, it was a moment of pure pleasure where something new blossomed.

And now there’s bunny.

That day consisted of the usual sight of oak and large antique trophies found on either side of the private school walls. Plaid skirt with the Phillips Academy logo embroidered along your chest as you made your way to your class to the beat of your mary jane’s.

You listen attentively watching the brunette teacher paste himself across the room, his own thoughts and teachings expressed throughout the hour. Broad shoulders, wide frame, and chiseled features sculpturing the middle age man that’s been on your mind since meeting in the doorway.

It was only your luck that your conscious slipped and had you stumbling over the chalk left in your hand, pink panties being on display when leaning down to pick up the mineral and return it back to its respective place.

It’s was those actions that made you stay behind in class and speak to Mr. Styles. Conversation dwindling on doing well in your studies to the length of your skirt. Obviously, you played dumb, unsure that the slight alterations to the uniform were revealing, it was never an issue before but it was known now that it was.

Now it was your turn to corner him, tease him even more when acting coy to the games you play. His nails scratched amongst the wooden desk with bulge pressed snug amongst his trousers as he stumbled over your name.

“Please bunny, I want you to respect me as I respect you.”

Oh, how those words meant absolutely nothing… a few seconds after that his lips were on yours before you fell to your knees. Wet tongue swallowing his thick cock down your throat to the point your voice grew strained.

That moment was everything to you, having your way with the man of your dreams. So tall, so firm, and the swelling head between your lips tasted like heaven with the salty taste of him.

That afternoon it was set in stone your game at hand, how you attain whatever you want with a simple bat of your eye and how it’s even worse that you get away with it. Displaying the messy strokes of his seed painting your tongue to soon swallow it down and shine a brightly lit smile at the principal.

You were too good at this… having your way with seductive hips, plump ass, and gorgeous face to match. You’re a tease and take pride in it; smiling cheerily and pushing your breasts together just right to show your teacher the soft skin he wants to touch and squeeze.

And it was going good, actually it was going really well for a few weeks. Nickname written neatly across your paper, curve spine and different colour panties everyday. It was hot and exciting! Everything you could ever wish for, but obviously that could only last for so long.

A slip up of love notes to reservations over the relationship only made you decide to make it known to Mr. Styles that you had options, and if he doesn’t want to act accordingly you’ll rub it in his face the treatment he wants with someone else.

Leaving hickeys along Luca’s neck or catching his gaze on you two when he drops you off to class. Mr. Styles' sight on the adventurous hands wandering down your backside to the kiss placed on his cheek, you wanted him to feel bad for not choosing more alone time with you, for allowing his thoughts to eat him up and not trusting in you.

All you asked of was one thing and he couldn’t even do that, how irritating… how annoying… it pissed you off not being the center of his attention like all your other toys.

But now, oh… you’re nearly bursting at the seams.

Thinking you were having your way so easily with your taunting game, it was only right for karma to turn around and bite you in the ass because just as you thought you had one up on him, the annual Phillips Academy parent teacher interviews came up and sure enough both of your parents were attending.

You tried to figure out an excuse, tried to say you had a stomach ache or a killer migraine but obviously that didn’t work on your mother, so instead you sucked it up and tried your best to not sweat the inevitable situation, and sure enough it was haunting.

Brown skin met with white, and you wanted nothing more than to drop dead right then. Both holding eye contact and stiff grip that you had to find a way out of the exchange, something that won’t show you sweating.

Immediately you dismissed your presence with your mother, a weak mention of a drink to try just to ease your thoughts. You didn’t know how the hell you managed to find yourself in this situation, your stepfather and teacher in the same room and now talking to each other, this was perfect… just perfect.

Your mother sits the translucent cup down while placing a hand to her chest, her throat clears at the same time she shakes her head gently.

“That is quite sweet for the dinner,” She comments, sight looking over the glass bottle before bidding you a smile. “But you’ve always had a sweet tooth, haven’t you.”

Your lips tug at the end, a gentle and soft grin as you nod your head. Fingers lifting your own cup to your lips and swallowing the sugary grape tinged juice before your eyes flick towards Mr. Styles and Malik, both nodding to each other in unison. The sight makes your stomach turn.

“Excuse me dear, I need to go to the powder room.” Your sight following your mom as a happy expression still plasters itself across your face as you bow your head. You watch her decorative rings toss the plastic into the garbage before leaving out the door to be alone with your thoughts.

The hammering beats of your heart quake in your chest, pads of your fingers clenching into the warmth of the cup that leaves sweaty prints along the surface. A deep breath travels through your nose with lashes fluttering as your mind completely blanks.

What the fuck did you actually get yourself into? How did you end up here? You thought you had all your lies in place, that an instance like this would never happen but yet, here you are; bambi eye and plush lips scared from the outcome of all your deceitfulness.

Shaky hands left up the cup and bring it towards your mouth as you swallow back the remaining juice. Shoulders flex back concedingly, tongue swiping across your bottom lip before you throw your trash away and take another deep breath.

With whatever slither of confidence you have within it charges your walk towards the two men. Poised spine, alluring hips and doe eyes, you know it’s the sight they love, the sight they adore and maybe, just maybe, you won’t face any consequences to your actions.

The subtle tap of your repettos sound against the old floor boards before halting, your left hip popping to the side as your arms cross over each other on your chest. Bottom lip sucked between your teeth yet chin still tilted high despite the uneasiness flowing through.

Your view falls on the jet black strands falling across his forehead as his hazel eyes pierce through you. Lengthy lashes and rugged beard captivating your sight till you switch it towards the teacher; stubble cheeks and daunting green hues. Their aura radiates a connection unbeknownst to you, one that sends a chill down your spine.

“Speaking of the devil…”

The words come off as a teasing bite, accent thick and sight roaming over your frame as if plotting to have his way with you just like the many times he would tell you about over the phone, except this time it’s different, this time there’s a glimmer of deception.

Firm shoulders and board chests tower over your appearance as both their view latch onto your petite frame and doe eyes so oblivious and worried over the two men standing next to each other.

“Father...” Voice quiet and sincere as you look towards him. Fingers fitting against your arms as you try to keep your composure.

And you watch closely, the way his hand leaves his pocket and runs over his jaw, teeth kissing together as he shakes his head amused at your appearance. The fat flesh of your lips run over each other with eyes blinking between both bodies in amazement at the sight.

“Y/N…” Your step-father counters, head leaning to the side as he smirks down at you so coy and scared.

“Still being promiscuous, are we?”

Mouth runs dry with throat growing strain and fingers running clammy against the material of your blazer. The pounding in your ribs reaches your ears and sends nervous shockwaves throughout your brain.

Lashes flutter hesitantly between the two as you feel the creases between your toes begin to slither with sweat. Your teeth clench down on each other, nails scratching into polyester at the same time your lips fall apart.

He’s fucking with you, he has to be. He can’t possibly know what’s going on between you and your teacher, he absolutely can’t.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Thick droplet of spit eerily sliding down your esophagus, with ears ringing and jaw tight as you refrain from looking at the teacher.

That has Mr. Malik chuckle, deep and amused to the point that Mr. Styles joins along too. It has your eyes darting to him, heart causing painful shocks to run throughout your chest as the pads of your fingers begin to cause pain in your biceps.

This isn’t possible… are you even registering what truly is happening in the moment… are you in the Twilight Zone? You have to be, because the two men in your life are laughing together like old pals or something.

The taps of your mother’s heel rattles your spine, her heavy footsteps has your sight tearing away and looking towards her with an irritated smile, thankful she can at least save you.

Her perfume floods your nose as her own teeth shine in annoyance, her hand wraps around your shoulder as she brings you in dramatically to squeeze you into her body.

“My apologies dear, and Mr. Styles,” She smiles towards you before turning towards your stepfather. “Jessica managed to mix up the meeting with the Allen’s so we have to cut the day short unfortunately.”

A deep exhale leaves you as your grin turns to happiness. Thank god! This was perfect, literally saved at the right moment. Your feet flex in your shoes as you roll onto your toes, head swaying to the side to catch sight over your father who looks completely unfazed.

“We still have a couple more teachers to see, no?” Mr. Malik questions while giving your mother his full attention.

“Yes, but I really need to make it, I’m already ten minutes behind.”

“It’s okay love, you go and I’ll see the rest of them. Your viewings are always quite short.”

Your smile flattens, plucked brows pushing together as you try to comprehend if this is actually happening. It certainly can’t be real… you really have to be dreaming. Just when you think you’re about to get off scot free here is your father dangling his own satisfaction in front of your face.

Your throat grows strain, fingers curling in on each other while you fall to your heels. Your eyes roll obnoxiously as your head turns and catches sight on your history teacher. Flesh between his teeth and raised eyebrows, you can tell there’s a playful glint of happiness in his eyes, something you’ve never witnessed before.

“You’re a lifesaver! Thank you!” Cheerful voice rushes as she leans in and kisses both of his cheeks.

Now your heart is erratically beating to the point it���s the only thing that sounds through your ears as if white noise. Your mother rushes to hug you again before saying something that you don’t even comprehend because you’re completely fucked.

The strands of her hair trail away in breeze of blurry vision and slow breathing, nails digging into your cuticles as your gaze pans between the two men, your stepfather smirking charmingly and Mr. Styles with lip between his teeth.

You wish there was just a few more minutes for you to grasp everything thrown at hand. To collect your thoughts and lie accordingly but you don’t get that chance, not right now, not in this moment.

Eyes flick between brown loose curls to dark straight hair, from prickly bread to thick one, to piercing green eyes to alluring hazel hues. You’re ruined, absolutely ruined… and when looking between the two men does your mind really scramble.

There are only two choices you have; twirl around with tail between your legs or confront the issue at hand.

And because those are your only two options the sound of your heels tap against the floor as your vision fades from every single nerve swallowing you whole. Anxiety wasn’t even the word to describe how you’re feeling, and frankly you want it to evaporate immediately.

Without a second thought your feet are turning against the hardwood, arms falling to your side as lashes shelter your vision as you inhale deeply and place one foot in front of the other. Your chest surging with every beat of your heart as you try to think straight.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Bradford accent clouding your ears as your wrist is caught within his palm. The grip over you has your body twist around and look at your stepfather with fury in your gaze. You would rather die than remain standing here at this moment.

“We’re not done here.”

Fingers curl into each other as sight never breaks, your teeth clench down on each other with toes curling into your shoes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

There’s really nothing you can do. You can’t turn away and hide, you can’t plaster a smile as if everything is okay, you can’t do anything but accept this for what it is.

So with that your posture relaxes. Shoulders slouching, jaw loosening, and deep breath escaping. For once you lost at your own game. You’re not in control anymore and only in this moment do you realize that you haven’t been as soon as these two met.

There’s a silent connection between them, from their eye contact to stance. Something unknown is brewing and it makes your stomach quiver. Never in a million years did you think this would happen, but it is, and you’re caught red handed.

“Mr. Styles was actually telling me about your most recent essay, a plus was it?” His attention turns towards the teacher who nods his head in agreement.

“Yes, it was written exceptionally well.” Mr. Styles continues while raising his hand to his chin and rubbing the skin there.

“I was so intrigued when he told me about it that we agreed to go to his classroom and look over your work.” Your eyes flick between the two men who look at each other with pride. “I’ve always loved your writing, so you won’t mind, now would you?”

You don’t even say anything as your father releases your wrist and smiles down at you happily. Of course he’s thrilled with whatever endeavor he has planned, if you were in his shoes you would be as well.

The two men walk past you in your dazed out state and continue to chat with each other as if best mates in the span of half an hour. You don’t even try and further understand this situation but instead tread slowly behind the two men as they walk down the long corridor before making their way up to the third floor and into your familiar classroom.

Because of the events taking place today everyone seems to be remaining on the first floor which just leaves the rest of the school eerily quiet to the point goosebumps prick your skin, especially when your the last one to step through the door.

Your hand hooks around the knob as you step backwards and close it. View looking over the two men as one goes through his desk and the other leans into the structured object.

“Come here dear.” Mr. Malik orders while gesturing towards you.

A tight limb smile spreads as you roll your eyes and lazily make your way towards him, heels sounding against the floorboards as you pass the rows of desk to the left of you and stand next to your father.

At the same time Mr. Styles rounds the desk with paper in hand, thumb peeling the three layered essay apart while he looks over the lengthy written sheet. His sight skimming down the page before he hums pleasantly.

“Marie Antoinette is very known to the point of being called famous, but yet it is not for any good deeds. She is most well known for her selfishness and self indulgence.” He reads before passing the papers to your father who nods his head while examining it.

“Seems like you and Marie have some things in common.” Mr. Malik comments while turning to look at you peering up at him.

Your jaw tenses before slight flicks towards Mr. Styles, his view already locked on you; and normally you would be happy that you have his attention, especially with the way it obviously looks over your frame, but right now, in this moment, it’s something you dislike.

“Wouldn’t you agree?” Your teacher continues playing off your father's words which only leaves you a mess of nerves.

You’re the one who’s supposed to have them on edge, have them on the tip of their toes. You’re the one who’s supposed to have them reeling with discomfort, not the other way around. Yet, here you are with sweat slithering in every crevice of your body in the position that you love to put them in.

“N—no.” Voice barely even heard as your lips curl into each other.

“No?” Mr. Malik reiterates only making you look back towards your father.

Your tongue peeks out your mouth to run over your bitten lip, deep breath escaping your throat as you let your eyes close.

It’s time to face the facts. You’re stuck in a room with two men who you’ve led on just for the fun of it. Here you are left standing between these two because having your way with them just does something to your mind, to your body, and spirit that you just have to toy with them. But now you’re here and surrounded by your own faults and deceitfulness, having nothing else to do but accept that you’ve lost.

“You’re really smart cherry, so just use that beautiful brain of yours.”

Eyes immediately flash open at the call of your nickname, nails releasing from their previous hold as your chest turns towards your father who smirks down at you. His hand placing your essay down on the desk while his own body follows suit and goes parallel to yours as he watches you fumble.

“Father—”

“—Sir.”

At the same time he corrects you, the rough pad of Mr. Styles finger is dragging up the revealing skin of your thighs, his warm breath fanning over the right side of your neck only putting you further in uneasiness.

“What is this?” You question as your teacher steps closer to the point you feel his erection against your backside.

“What you always wanted.” His voice panning over your neck so warm and sultry that your knees tremble.

Spit runs down your throat slowly, sight looking over the way your father's lips twitch into a smirk. Once again, his head shakes in utter disappointment.

“Speechless?” Mr. Malik says while leaning towards you to the point there’s little space left between you both.

“The first time she doesn’t have anything snarky to say.” Mr. Styles chuckles into your neck that has you absolutely feening.

Even though you’re scared shitless you can’t deny that the scene before you is remarkably hot. Both men squish you against themselves as they lure you in with their teasing movements. It has your adrenaline pumping. The fact your teacher has his thick cock nestled between your clothed cheeks while your father looks down at you so content with the situation at hand. You’re flushed and bothered, and quite frankly you’re excited for whatever is in store.

“Tell us bunny, why did you lie?”

“Yes, cherry, tell us why?”

Both nicknames run across your skin that leaves goosebumps in their wake. It’s nerve racking but it feels too good to not fall prey to their taunts.

They're both so handsome; tall to the point they tower over you, delicious cologne flooding your nose as rough hands feel over your body. You simply couldn’t resist them, not when they have you like this.

“I thought it was only me?”

“So did I… especially when it’s just us two at home… all alone…”

The mention of your life outside of school with the older man has your teacher grip your flesh even rougher, heavy huff escaping him showcasing itself clear that the comment made him jealous and you can’t help the way your heart skips a beat at the near thought of him being possessive over you.

Your father bites down on his bottom lip, his hand dragging along the desk to soon fit itself along your stomach and slither its way up your side and begin to fondle your breast. The charming glint in his eye is distinctive to the many times you two have fooled around, it’s your favorite feature that you’ve distinguished since the beginning of your relationship, and without even thinking a whimper slips out.

Immediately your fingers curl into your side as Mr. Styles continues to rub your hips roughly, his own waist rutting into you that your lashes flutter in pure satisfaction. This feels so good.

“I’m sorry.” Whisper trailing out so soft and quiet that you sound innocent and so sweet, like you didn’t drag them into your game; but the only difference now is that the two grown men sandwiched on either side of you are smarter than that.

Both of them laugh hauntingly, touch continuing to roam and grope to the point you're a moaning mess under their touch, especially when your father fits his other hand between your legs and feels you through your soiled panties.

A deep breath spills from your lips while both hands go to wrap along his wrist, eyes bulging and chest flexing towards his as Mr. Styles shoves you deeper when grinding against you. Thin fingers glide through your folds making you feel the dampness of your panties press against your heated skin.

“You hear that, she’s sorry.” Your stepfather breathes against your lips, so close and teasing that you shiver under the pressure.

“Oh, that’s so hard to believe.” Your teacher smiles against your skin that the air you ingest does little to calm your pinching nerves.

“Do you think that little apology is enough for us?” His hand gripping your breast even rougher as his fingers gently feel over your wet clothed hole. “After everything you put us through?”

Your head shakes slowly, eyes never breaking contact as you continue to let them feel over your body. He is right, after all the tricks you play that barely audible plea isn’t enough, especially with the way they touch and tease you it’s clear the apology that they’re looking for isn’t something that you can just say to squeeze yourself out of this situation.

“Having my job on the line…” Mr. Styles coos while pressing his lips into your thumping pulse.

“And my marriage…” Mr. Malik so close to your lips that you whimper at the near feel of him.

“So we think it’s only right for us to have our turn with you. The way we want.”

Warm breath falls over your lips so alluring and dominant that you can’t help yourself from surging forward and locking yours with his. The cool spearmint on his tongue travels through your lips and along yours as they wrap around each other.

It’s been months since you’ve gone without the delectable taste of him that it has you moaning immediately from the touch and the way he floats across your tastebuds. So sweet yet musky, so strong yet soft.

You missed him so much… the way he tastes, the way he feels, how he completely envelops every twitch that itches through your body. A high moan rakes through your throat, head swaying to the side as Mr. Styles begins to nip and suck at your neck, the slick feel of your skin growing hot and bruised only makes your ass back into the teacher further while your father continues to fondle you.

Plush lips slouch amongst yours with ease as the alluring taste of him is so delicious that your fingers curl even tighter around his wrist. Teasingly his mouth pulls away, teeth biting into flesh and tugging gently which only further reminds you of your need for him.

“Miss me?” Hazel eyes peeling open to watch your lips part, heavy breath drawing in as his index finger curves deeper into your hole. The restraint of your lace panties peeking into your flesh has you shivering.

“Yes.” You sigh with grip loosening and head cranning towards him.

The answer to his question has Mr. Styles nails sink deeper into your skin as they rake along your waist. Such heavy motions leaving scratches to the point it sends chills throughout that you can’t help but shudder at the feel.

The split ends of his curls rub against the temple of your forehead which causes your sight to turn and look towards him who doesn’t hesitate to lean forward. His lips sinking onto yours and enveloping the sweet taste of him. His saliva sweeps through your bloodstream tasting of honey and him, and just like that you're back to moaning underneath his touch.

Your tongue accepts the way he fills your mouth and fights for dominance. So rough and demanding as he rubs his muscle against yours in pure satisfaction. The two flavors of them mixing together and injesting themselves throughout your system was heaven and you simply just want more of it.

Your fathers hand prodes away at your hole shallowly, his own breath fanning across the other side of your neck as you continue to whimper against the man french kissing you.

It’s the combination of their grips gracing your skin and lips pressing love into exposed flesh that has you pull from the exchange out of breath. Heart pounding in your ear and nails pinching into the material of your step fathers blazer.

The feelings coursing through is something you never felt before; both men giving you the attention that you love so much, that you crave so much and adore… the attention that you truly deserve. It was intoxicating and better than anything you can imagine, it’s why your eyes have a screen of submission crossing over, and why you look towards your dad with your cheeks all heated and lips bruised.

“Can I sir?” Voice coming out in a wisp of uncertainty but desire. The sound being so pleasant that it has your father smile down at you.

“Can you what?” He reiterates, fingers leaving their position to run up your folds and play with your clit.

It makes you whine, head bobbing a bit as Mr. Styles lands heavy pecks into your neck. His hands now feeling across the ends of your skirt cup your cheeks and force you forward into your dad.

“Can I have you both… please?” Lashes blinking up at him as your lip sucks itself between your teeth.

Such words falling from your mouth has your father’s signature look tug across his features, his grip leaving your legs and fitting his fingers into your mouth. He watches closely the way they enter and how you don’t hesitate to immediately suck them.

Tongue twisting around skinny fingers tasting the muted taste of yourself as doe eyes stare up at him as he continues to fit them deeper and deeper into your throat. The pads of his digits collect the saliva draping along the service, heavy grip rubbing along your taste buds making you softly moan at the feel.

His version goes dark, eyes flickering as his sight drinks you in; plush lips and wet pussy just letting his fingers slide through your heavenly mouth, it makes him groan lowly, touch drawing away and running your spit across your lips, his touch tracing your cupid’s bow as your mouth parts erotically simply loving the attention.

“Cherry… my dear… you never had a choice.”

Those words have your skin burn even brighter, flesh still flexing against his fingers as he smiles hauntingly.

So this was their plan when left alone, lead you to the third floor where no one would be and let them have their way with you. This was hot, like extremely hot, nothing that you could’ve imagined before.

“Why don’t you get on your knees.” Mr. Styles breathes into your ear, his palms feeling over your ass before landing a soft smack that has your father chuckle so sinisterly that it makes your pussy throb.

Your head nods just at the same time your father pulls his fingers away, his body stepping back slightly as his hands fall to his belt only leading you to bend your knees. One hand balancing itself behind you on your teacher's thigh as the other holds onto your father's hip.

Jingling of metal sounds throughout the space before it's being met with slacks drawing down skin. Mr. Styles shuffles closer amongst the floor while your body positions itself better in front of them as if repenting for the sins about to happen.

Big round eyes dazzle in the soft light as you watch both of them reveal their erect cocks. Your father is lengthy and skinny compared to your teacher, all thick and girthy, it has you licking your lips with sight looking between the two completely captivated.

The left hand perched along Mr. Styles thigh creeps up his pelvic bone while the one situated on your father's hip roams amongst his skin to grip his dick. Fingers encasing around his length and tugging downwards gently as you don’t hesitate to lean forward and suck the head of his cock into your mouth.

It’s salty and sweet, just the way you like him which has you moaning immediately. Lashes batting up at him as your lips sink further letting spit coating him in every inch of your mouth descending further till he reaches the back of your throat. Eyes flick up at him as the swollen head of him tickles your uvula, the fingers wrapped around him slides down with ease as you draw back up his cock.

Leaning forward your lips to pierce together to let a heavy droplet of spit paint his cock, your fingers drawing up him to curl around the extra coat of lube to drag back down.

Humming pleasantly your head turns towards your teacher as the hand on his hip carries his cock towards your mouth. Tongue stretching out to run along the underside of him as you look up, his brown curls tossed behind his face as he begins to undo the buttons of his dress shirt.

Unknown ink being exposed along his flesh that has you grinning against his warm cock, mouth drawing from the base of him and humming pleasantly at how good he looks.

“You’re so handsome.” You comment before you run your tongue across the slit of his crown.

It makes Mr. Styles hiss immediately, his hands going to either side of your face with a smirk drawing across his lips as you tear away smiling at him.

“So pretty…” Mouth parting as you finally envelope him. Velvet walls sucking him in lovingly as your hand curls around the width of him.

Spit encases the erect flesh as he fills up your mouth. His grip over your jaw forces you to swallow him down just like the first time. Nose brushing along his groin just as he tags the back of your throat.

Your eyes roll at the feel of your airway closing around him, the hand wrapped around the base of his cock curls around the underside as you trail back up his cock. Saliva strung along the head of him to your tongue swirling around his crown before you’re moaning and pulling away.

Mr. Styles hands fall from your face as your sight looks over your step father who begins removing his blazer just as your mouth wraps around his dick. Tongue circling around his girth as your fingers glide up and down his lengthy cock while twisting it in opposite directions.

That’s how your knees end up bruised in the passing moments, lips moving between the two cocks in front of your face as the men before you begin undressing and treating you like the object that you are.

Swelling crowns diving deep till they touch the back of your throat, hands carding through your hair with each exchange urging you to take them further and further till you’re pulling away begging for air.

Tears breech your waterline as your chest burns in pain, your throat strains itself with each descent of their wet cocks abusing your throat. It aches but in the most beautiful way because the sight bestowed upon you is absolutely remarkable.

Such handsome grown men using you as their toy. Sexy tattooed skin, tall firm bodies and their gorgeous spit soaked erections leaving you drunk at the sight. Touch running across flesh as their lips part, electing moans as their sight never tears away from watching every movement you make.

Twisting wrist and red tongue sending pleasure to both as they observe how eager you are at this moment compared to before. How dainty and scared to now swallow them down so needy and submissive.

“Here, come here,” Your father rushes as your lips pull away from the underside of his cock. His grip is rough as he drags you up by your shoulders, palm pushing you into the desk as the other lands a deafening smack against your ass.

“Fuck!” Raspy voice crying out as you feel his fingers roughly shove your panties down your legs. Without waiting a second his fingers are drawing down your folds collecting your juices before thrusting into your dripping hole.

A moan carries out of your sore throat, nails curling into the gloss over the oak desk, as your eyes catch on the intricate detail of the butterfly tattoo plastered along Mr. Styles abdomen.

His hands carry your chin away from the table to press his lips against yours. Soft lingering peppermint tongue gracing yours as your father drags his fingers out to thrust back in.

His touch collects the juices you expel to curl into your pussy so beautifully that you can’t help but to break away from the kiss with a moan. Sight flickering open to catch Mr. Styles' green eyes watching the way your lips fall apart to sing such a beautiful tune.

His thumb leaves your chin to swipe along your bitten flesh, rough pad of his finger tugging at the skin before he’s leaning over and peppering soft kisses against your whimpering mouth.

“Take this off.” Your father orders interrupting the affection being displayed as his free hand tugs at your blazer.

Mouths part away from each other as you raise off your elbows, hands pulling at the ends of your school uniform as Mr. Styles helps with tugging it down your shoulders. The clear buttons of your button up are next as he begins undoing them to reveal your bra clad chest.

Your hands immediately go behind your back to unclasp it, your bouncy breast displaying itself with swollen nipples that your teacher can’t help but lean down and capture them between his lips. Warm mouth sucking you in so heavenly as your father slides his fingers in so gracefully that it was impossible for you to not contain yourself from every nerve consuming you.

“Please sir, please?” You call just as your dress shirt runs down your shoulder when letting your hands run through Mr. Styles curls.

Your father’s fingers thrust back in leisurely feeling your slick nectar encase themselves around every fold of his skin as your sweet wetness adds comfort as he continues to thrust into your plush walls.

Feet shuffle amongst the floor as Mr. Malik dots kisses down the wings of your spine, his fingers continuing to curl into your pussy as his lips trail down your back. His knees flexing as his other hand grips your backside roughly pulling your cheeks apart as he lets his face descend down your lower back to lie between your cheeks.

Wet muscle slithering along your asshole just as his fingers draw away to spread your other cheek apart to run his tongue down your pussy. A harmonious moan floats from your mouth at the adventurous pleasure floating between both holes.

A warm vibration floats along your skin at your father moaning from the taste of you. Tongue trailing out from his mouth to replace where his fingers once were. Strong yet tantalizing touch dipping into your pussy to taste your juices that has your toes curl at the feel.

Such sensual touch roaming all over your body has your heart pounding in your ear. From Mr. Styles sucking your nipples into his mouth to your father continuing to spread your ass even further to let his love run though, the feeling roaming throughout is absolutely unexplainable.

Your chest falls deeper into your teacher, fingers dragging out of his hair and down his neck with another moan escaping into the air.

Every object in the room bears witness to the sinful actions taking place. How grown men have their way with a girl who played them both in the first place, how her actions lead her to be bent over the desk ready for anything in store. How this crude behavior on the premises of the school should leave everybody in the room full with such disgrace however does the exact opposite.

It has your father groan against your pussy in pure arousal as his lips curl against your sweet ones as he draws up your slit to bury his tongue into your asshole. “Yes, fuck, yes.” Bitten flesh curling into your mouth trying to restrain yourself from drawing blood from your teacher's skin.

Mr. Malik's right hand peels away for you to spread your cheeks once more. His mouth pulling away just in time to land a thick saliva teardrop running down your second hole to lead down the slit of your pussy.

His breath floats up your back, his hand smacking your heated ass cheeks once more before taking himself into his hands. Without second thought the crown of his cock runs over the mess as his lips skim across the nape of your neck leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“You like this, huh?” Voice in your ear as if a second conscious while he continues to rub himself along you. “Like being our toy to play with… to use…”

Rough grip landing another demanding strike that jerks your body closer into the grown man still feeling along your breasts; and to add the pleasure does your father finally thrust into your pussy.

Every inch of him drags down your walls slowly to let you feel every inch of him, make you remember all you've been missing out on when someone else has been on your mind. He wants it ingrained in your mind everything you forgot about when not back home and under your covers.

“Tell me baby, tell me,” Teeth biting at your ear lobe just as his hips meet your backside. The feeling of his lengthy cock pressed tightly against your sweet spot leaves you shivering once again.

Mr. Styles pulls away from your swollen nipples, his lips running up your chest to consume every whimper falling from your lips.

Just as much as he wants to admire the beauty of your face completely drunk off pleasure he can’t help but feel jealousy surge through him. The way your lashes flutter to your nose twitching, it just leaves him with thoughts of him only being the one who should be making you feel like that.

It’s why one of his hands wraps around your throat to allow your gaze to connect while the other takes your wrist off the desk and brings it towards his cock, your fingers immediately wrapping around him as a whimper floats out of your mouth when your father thrusts back in.

“Such a dirty girl.” Mr. Styles says against your parted lips. His mouth swallowing every moan crawling out as your eyes shine and let your touch drag down his cock. “Like getting fucked by your step-dad, huh?” His grip tightening around your throat as your head bobs with each stroke pleasuring every part of you.

That’s the thing you loved about your father the most, the fact he fills you up so beautifully, so lean and lengthy that it tags your cervix each time that has you a panting mess begging for more. Your dress shirt is messily running down your arm, skirt hiked up with a screen of sweat roaming over your skin as you continue to bounce to each drum of the assault fucking you into oblivion.

“Mmm I missed him…” You sigh, lashes batting as your wrist loosely jerks your teacher off. “I missed him so much.” You mumble intoxicated with the way his cock drags down your walls enticingly.

The comment only makes Mr. Styles bite down on his lip, nostril flaring and eyes burning a different hue of green. His touch tenses against your skin as the look over your face combined with your breath hitching urges himself to draw away from you and force your head towards his cock.

Your father smirks, his hand continuing to spread your cheeks to watch where you both meet every time he thrusts back into you. Creamy discharge wrapping around him to glisten in the soft light and run over every protruding vein that displays his desire towards you, and now the scene before him with you proclaiming how much you miss him right in front of the man who has your attention while at this boarding school, his paste only increases.

“That’s my good girl, that’s my cherry.” His other hand running up your spine to hold the nape of your neck and control your movements as your mouth wraps around Mr. Styles cock.

Each stride into your pussy causes your mouth to move down his dick further as your grip continues to grope down the expanse.

Plump lips sucking him down as your father pinches your sweet spot each time he draws out to plunge back in. You’re so turned on with both men having their way that your pussy emits squelching sobs every time he rocks back in.

The oak desk jerks with every pound of his hips as he fucks you into the desk. Pen, name plate, and even the chair tucked into the table shuffling with each time you're being plowed into the table. The two bodies in the room relishing in the feeling of them using you after all the mind games you put them through, it’s completely thrilling to them, especially to you.

One cock sending undeniable pleasure while the other stretches your throat. You could die right now and be happy at the feeling of them spreading you apart and using you as their toy.

“Fuck… sir…” Mouth tearing away from your teacher's cock leaving a string of saliva from his head to connect to your lips.

Knees flex forward as your right foot subconsciously lifts up towards your calf as you feel your nerves pinch and tug up your spine as your pussy continues to accept every jab. The hand perched next to your stomach tears away from the table to sink between your pelvis to try and rub your clit.

“No, no, no,” Mr. Malik coos as his free hand captures your forearm and wraps it around your back halting your movements.

“Gonna cum my way,” He grunts with grip twisting your skin while he continues barreling down your walls. “Or not at all.”

“Sir,” You plead with fingers tightening around your teacher's cock as your head continues to jerk forward.

“C’mon cherry, come on my cock.” Mr. Malik demands, his hand slipping away from your neck to collect your hair in his grasp and turn your head around.

His sight watches your eyes barely remain open as your chest inhales heavily at the physical touch racing your heart erratically. His dominating touch peels your vision back as the other restricts you from doing anything further to your body that he doesn’t want.

“Do it baby, just the way I like.” He continues to egg on as his hips now sound throughout the room only making your spine curve further into the desk.

And Mr. Styles watches everything happen; the way your eyes roll, brows itch together as your voice elects the most beautiful moan just in time as your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably. His hands by your temple run through your hair seeking to comfort as gasps begin to travel between your lips.

“Mhmm,” Your father hums in encouragement as his paste never halts but continues as he fucks your through your orgasm. “That’s my cherry.” His grip releases along your wrist to drag down your back and hold your hip.

“That’s my good girl.” He groans as your plush walls continue to tick around him in the feverish aftermath of your climax. “Right?” Hand in your hair tugging your head gently as your eyes completely glossed over in lust nod up at him.

His lips tug into a smirk before his sight cuts towards Mr. Styles, tongue peeking out of his mouth before his free hand falls from your hip and collects himself as he pulls out. The feeling of him leaving you empty only has you crying out pathetically.

The two men switch places; this time your teacher is perching one of your knees up onto the desk as the other pushes your skirt even higher up your hips. Your father steps in front of you with a glistening cock and swollen balls that have you licking your lip at the sight.

“Oh my god.” You moan as you feel Mr. Styles replace where Mr. Malik just was. His thickness expands your walls just to apply even more pressure against your cervix as he continues to spread you out when nestling himself between your folds.

Your head turns with hands balancing you along the desk, view cascading down the muscular teacher holding your sides as he presses himself tightly against your dripping lips. Mouth parting open in pure arousal as draws away to thrust back in only making you feel like he’s stretching you out more then your father.

“Daddy,” You cry, nails curling into the wood as sight never breaks away from his hips drawing back and hair framing his face with stride. “You feel so good.”

Compliment trailing out without second thought as you whimper in complete enjoyment of him fucking you right after your dad just did. His cock fills you up so heavy and delicious that you’re shivering at the feel, mouth hanging open and brows relaxing as he strokes into you heavenly.

Mr. Malik teeth clench down amongst each other at the sight before him, how you’re so enthralled with the feeling consuming you that the teacher bestows that his hand goes behind your neck, grip tightening to try and turn your attention but however, you’re not budging.

“Yeah… you like this, don’t you bunny?” Teasing voice of your teacher floating into the heated atmosphere as his eyes never tear away from your bouncing breasts and submissive face.

“Yes, daddy… you feel so good,” You gush at the same time you let your hips retreat back into his only having the head of his cock tag your g-spot each time.

“That’s right,” He grunts with one hand leaving your hips and tugging at the collar of your dress shirt to drape it off your arms and leave your upper half completely nude.

“That’s my good bunny.”

That nickname so foreign to your step-father makes his grip even tighter as he finally directs your attention to look forward. Baby hairs collecting with sweat by your forehead as your mouth continues to expel harmonious moans at the feeling conveying throughout your body.

Mr. Malik's upper lip rubs against his nose as his head shakes disappointedly, his chin tilting for a moment before his head is leaning towards your ear.

“Look at you being the whore you are.” Such disrespectful words that should turn you off doing the complete opposite as you sigh pleasantly at the comment.

“Like getting fucked by two men? Like getting passed around like the dirty slut you are, huh?” His other hand going towards his cock as you continue to moan and whimper as your body jerks into his chest from each thrust.

“Every time I’ve asked you something you’ve been ignoring me… but not him.” His teeth kissing against each other as his grip continues to tighten. “Calling him your daddy before me, you’re so fucked up cherry.”

A high pitch moan escapes as Mr. Styles' paste increases, his waist clapping into your backside as your vision continues to bob between your fathers caramel skin and the chalkboard nailed to the wall.

“All that I do for you and this is how you repay me?” Voice filled with dissatisfaction as he raises up and brings his cock towards your mouth.

“Mm- I’m sorry,” You whine, eyes looking up at him sincere as your hand leaves the desk to curl around his dazzling cock.

“No, you’re not.” Mr. Malik comments while shaking his head once more while continuing to urge your head down. “Sluts like you are never sorry.”

The crown of his dick breaks through your lips and has you taste your climax as he forces you to take all of him. His hand once holding himself cards through your hair and collects the strands into a makeshift ponytail as you swallow him down.

“Yeah, do what you’re meant to do.” He grunts as your head bobs from the thrusts behind you that control your movements from inching further and further down him.

Mr. Malik was more than furious that he had to find out you were being devious and giving yourself away to men who weren’t him. From your failed previous attempt to the one fucking you on his desk he’s pissed off. He should never have to share you nor have to confront the issue that you’ve been ignoring his every demand unless being controlled to do so. You have him fighting to restrain himself from demanding more attention out of you as you lie spread out taking another man’s dick.

And it wasn’t helping that he was pleasuring you in ways he just was. Vibrating mouth and burning skin displaying itself each time Mr. Styles thrusts back into you and how your pussy emits the sweetest noise that he wants on repeat. He wants to tear you off of him, punish you the way he wants, but right now, the feeling of your throat gasping for air from being too drunk off the sensations combing through he’ll take what he can get until you finally return home.

“Holy shit!” You groan as your mouth pulls away to allow air to fill your lungs. Swollen lips falling apart as you both find the perfect rhythm of his cock filling you up just right as your hips meet his every time.

“That’s right, take it like a good girl.” Mr. Styles encourages as his hand twists around the cloth along your hips and pulls you closer to him only making his cock delve deeper into your walls.

“Yeah, a good girl who likes to get double dipped, right?” Your father’s teasing voice including himself as he watches your tongue escape your mouth to lick the slit along his head.

“Yes, fuck, yes.” You moan with one hand leaving the desk and curling around his cock to twist it down the expanse of him. “I like it… I like it so much.” Words coming out drowsy and needy as you look over his dick glistening in your fluid as your teacher continues to bury you into the table.

“Yeah, you love it don’t you?” Mr. Styles encourages as one hand leaves his hips to land a smack against your already bruised flesh that leaves you crying outl.

“Daddy,” You moan, eyes squeezing shut as you feel tingles begin to run up the bottom of your foot. Stomach fluttering against the now sweaty service as your pussy continues to accept every tormenting thrust.

“Dirty fucking slut.” Your father breathes out as your hand curls up his shaft with a tight grip as your head begins to sway. Goosebumps spreading along your body as your limbs begin to shake at the waves rippling through.

“I can’t.. daddy… sir…” Fumbling over your words as your mouth parts and hips still against your teacher. Your hand halting its movements as your body lies across the desk with no effort to balance yourself from your orgasm racing through.

“Tell daddy you love it, tell me bunny.” Mr. Styles calls as he never slows down. Aggressive thrusts continue to bruise your cervix with each jab unable to resist the pulsing feeling over your climax wrapping around him.

“Mmm my god, I love it,” You cry, your hand leaving your fathers cock to drag against the table as your heart thumps against your chest. “I love it so much.” Blabbering into the desk as your eyes flutter and mind goes completely blank, the only thing coherent is the dick sending sensation through every bone in your body.

“Look at her,” Mr. Malik comments, his fingers drawing through your hair as you moan into the desk with spit dripping from your lips so high off dick that you’re on a whole other planet. “Cock drunk, innit.” He chuckles mischievously, having fun at breaking you down.

“Yes… I’m so… in love… I love this so much,” Moaning the words out sloppily as your nails drag down the expanse of the glossy service trying to regain consciousness.

A drumming beat swells along your pelvic bone as tears prick your eyes from the feeling encasing itself all over you. Such heavy thickness spreading you out to leave your pussy a soiled mess with puffy lips and drench folds. It’s mind numbing how immersed you are with the arousal coursing through your body, how every limp lies weak and tired as you lose control of your muscles and lie squirming along the desk.

“You’re so good… such a good girl,” Your father coos as his fingers continue to card through your hair.

Chest continues heave erratically as Mr. Styles hips begin to roll into your body, his grip controlling your hips to relax as he pastes himself. Sweaty fingertips persuading movements as the two men watch over how consumed you are by such pleasure. How your body twitches against the desk and mouth humming every few seconds trying to grasp a single comprehensive nerve.

“Letting us use like this,” Mr. Styles adds with thrust dragging slowly down your walls. “You’re the best bunny.” As his face leans down to press kisses amongst the wings of your back.

Again, annoyance flares through your father. His eyes shift away from your wrecked expression to cut his eyes towards the teacher who pays no mind to him when he dots his love along your shoulder. Fingers escape your hair to run along your neck before he’s leaning forward in your ear.

“I can make you feel better cherry,” He mutters while enveloping the sweet smell of your perfume that he’s missed so much when nestle in this spot. “Haven’t you missed me?”

“Yes sir… please?” You moan without hesitation as the feel of his thick beard rubs against your skin, so prickly yet smooth that it eases the adrenaline coursing through.

The familiar chuckle running across your cheek only reminds you just how much you’ve missed how playful and commanding he is over you. How you’ve missed his lengthy cock touching you just right as he roughs you up just the way you like, oh how you missed him tremendously.

“Switch.” Mr. Malik states as he pulls away from your face. His sight watching closely as Mr. Styles lands one last kiss along the shoulder opposite of him before he draws out of your bruised pussy.

They round the desk once again; this time Mr. Malik positions you on your back with the ends of your skirt running across your stomach and erect nipples on display. It’s the view before him that is just another reminder to your father why he’s so in love with you and the games you play. How cherry red and swollen your pussy looks, all wide and exposed with your juices glistening in the light that he can’t help himself but to lean forward and suck your lips into his mouth.

Tongue dragging up and down your stretched hole as he hums pleasantly from the mixed taste of you on his tongue. “Sir…” You moan delightfully, eyes rolling erotically as your back flexes against the damp desk.

“Always treat me so good,” You gasp just as he runs his flesh over your clit and circles it around his taste buds making you quiver against the feel.

He groans against you, one hand leaving your hip to collect your fingers along the desk and intertwine them together. Reassuring touch displaying itself in the heated room that Mr. Styles can’t help but feel envious at the pleasure he now brings you. He takes himself into his own hand and shifts along to where your head lies across the desk, his grip tapping his dick along your cheek.

Without hesitation your mouth is opening yet barely giving the needed attention as your father continues to swirl your bundles of nerves along his tongue.

“C’mon bunny, you can do better than that.” Mr. Styles comments just as another moan escapes your mouth with head falling back from Mr. Malik sucking your pussy back into his mouth.

“But daddy, it feels so good.” You moan with sight tearing away from your fathers nose rubbing against you to look towards your teacher who flares up at the comment.

He collects his dick back in his hand to tug himself off as he leans down, other hand holding your locks to lift your head to the point you get an even better view of your dad lapping his tongue all over you.

“I bet I can eat you pussy better than that.” Mr. Styles whispers so alluring that it has your heart singing at the words. “I know I make you feel better.” He continues with stubble rubbing against the temple of your forehead only making your eyes roll once again.

Both men in your ear jealous of each other having their way with you was the last thing you expected especially since they were the one who came up with this plan. Yet, both of them are possessive of your attention and telling you how much better they can make you feel compared to the other, god, you can really die happy right now.

“Daddy always knows how to treat you right, always knows what to do.” He mutters as he continues to jerk off to the whimpers falling across his neck.

“Yes, yes you do.” Moaning along to his words as you watch your father lick back up your folds sloppily to swirl your clit along his tongue once more before pulling away and positioning himself over your swollen hole.

“That’s my bunny… my good girl.” Mr. Styles encourages as he feels your breath hitch amongst his skin. “Aren’t you daddy’s good girl, c’mon, tell me.”

“I’m daddy’s —Oh, fuck!” You cry out just as Mr. Malik pushes in, his cock easily descending down your wall as finds his paste and brings himself back to reminding you of what you missed out on.

The solid feel of him thumping against your walls so stretched and ruined from these two has your mouth hanging open. Sight still watches closely as his long cock drives into your drenched pussy while you have the best view of it happening as your teacher continues to prop your head up for you to watch.

“Come on love, get it out.” Mr. Malik smirks as his hand leaves yours to collect your bouncing breast. “Tell us how much you love being a dirty little slut.” He adds with other hand gripping your knee and pushing it towards your chest as he takes lengthy rough strides into your pussy.

“Love being stretched out, huh? Having me and your teacher share you. Such a dirty dirty girl.” He continues to gas as he bruises your sweet spot with little effort in such a short amount of time.

“Oh my god,” You moan with sight blurring towards your father and hand reaching out to grab Mr. Styles’ body.

You’re completely overstimulated and frankly every single time your step dad draws his hips to thrust back in you feel as if you want to explode. His head continuously rubs along your g-spot and leaves you a soaking mess of sweat and your sweet fluid. This feeling is so foreign, from two different cocks barreling down your walls to the third climax already making itself known, you might just pass out.

“This is so hot,” You whine as nails draw down your teacher's skin as you both continue to watch his cock disappear and have you jerking up the desk as a result of the new position. “Fuck this feels so good.” As your repetto heels dangle in the air as Mr. Malik’s lean body continues to plow into your tired pussy.

“Don’t stop, please.” You encourage as your gaze begins to trail away and sight become clouded from your eyelids drifting you away into the pleasure barreling down your spine.

Your father doesn’t object or even halt his alluring motions to tease you. He continues to fuck you just the way you like; fast and hard to point he’s leaving little space between your hips as he thrust back in not only loving the way you feel wrapped around him but also the look crossing over your face.

Heated cheeks, glossy eyes, and twitching nose as your mouth expels hesitant moans as if unable to control yourself from coming undone for the third time. Looking as if on another planet from the expression crossing over as if discovering a new found wonder. Your jaw goes slack, sight becoming drowsy and spit falling from your bottom lip as the grip you have along your teacher's chest tears away as one cards through your hair and the other goes to rub your clit only increasing the pleasure coursing through.

“Jesus… fuck… I can’t—” Words being cut off as a squeal rips through your throat as a wave of arousal squirts along your fathers abdomen.

The feeling so intense it has your thighs shake against his never ending thrusts as your movements never halt from the pads of your fingers continuing to circle along your bundle of nerves. “Mmm, sir… sir… sir.” Humming his name as your hand leaves your hair and presses against his jolting hips.

Your waist retreats into the desk at the overwhelming feeling crashing over you. How the plummeting assaults of his thrust made a mess all over your father and the school floors.

Mr. Malik lets his strides relax, his touch along your breasts feeling over your side as pulls out. The empty feeling of him leaving as well as the aftermath of your orgasm has you crying softly.

“Look so pretty, baby.” He comments before he’s leaning down again and slurping the remaining juices just projected.

“Holy shit.” You sigh as your hold travels to his hair tickling amongst your inner thigh.

Your step-father is doing everything in his power to spark all your memories together and Mr. Styles finds it obvious, and sure enough it has him fuming. It already pissed him off that you had a father figure, making him seem like he’s the only one. But, it wasn’t even that. It was the fact that he plays with you the way he wants, and the way he’s been imagining and dying to do ever since he felt you wrapped around him.

He gets to spend all this time with you and have your attention whenever needed but with him he has to fight and play petty games with his own student. He’s jealous, how can he not be? He finally had you just to discover there was someone else which only makes him having to prove himself even further by having mark his territory someway, somehow.

“Switch.” Mr. Styles demands letting his grip over your hair gently place you back on the table. Mr. Malik’s eyes cut towards the teacher before his lips are sucking your folds into his mouth once more. Flesh parting with a pop as he pulls away from his turn.

“Mmm… sir,” You whimper as his handsome face comes into view, his touch drawing up your stomach as you bat your eyes at him. “I missed you so much.”

“I know baby, I know.” He coos as he takes himself into his hand and examines the way your breasts shift to how you look completely ruined.

“I missed you too… how good you are to me, I missed you so much.” He reveals which only has Mr. Styles reeling. His eyes turn away from the sight before him as he collects himself to push into your pussy.

“Fuck,” Your view turning away from your father and towards the teacher slowly stroking himself in you.

“Mhmm… look at me while I fuck you bunny.” Teacher boasting concedingly as he gently nestles his hips alongside yours before pulling away and drawing back in steadily that it has you crying out.

“This feels so good,” You moan. One hand drawing up your body to rest along your fathers chest as the other goes towards your pussy and feels where you two both meet.

“Yeah, that’s what I like to hear.” He grunts as he begins to jerk his thrust roughly into you that you’re jolting up the desk and whining pathetically.

Mr. Malik lips twist into his mouth as he looks over you enjoying yourself as the teacher has his turn. He pays attention to your erect nipples and swaying head as your nails curve into his skin and drag down the expanse, you’re loving this experience as if on a whole new high that you want to ride on forever, and your father can’t help but moan lowly at the sight at how used you look.

Messy hair, sweat collecting around your temples as you spread your legs wide to continue to let them assault your pussy any way they want. You’re so eager, ready to please and deliver this perfect pussy on a platter to these two men just by persuading words and alluring touch. God, you turn him on more than you’ll ever know, cause as much as he hates sharing you, watching your face completely blissed out and screwed was sexy.

His free hand collects yours running across his chest and guides it towards his cock. Fingers immediately wrapping around him and jerking the lengthy cock in your palm as your other hand feels each time Mr. Styles presses himself snug against your pussy before drawing out with all his girth to slot himself back in roughly and repeat those devious motions.

“Oh. My. God.” Words falling out with each aggressive thrust as he never stops stretching you out.

“You’re pussy is so wet,” Mr. Styles grunts in pleasure, absolutely loving the way you feel around him with the added feeling over your fingers lingering alongside his wet cock whenever pulling out.

“It’s fucking amazing,” He moans before his hands are wrapping around your thighs to pull further into him.

Body drags amongst the heated service as he tightens his grip to make you feel every inch of him as he dips back into your slick walls, so bruised and tired as he continues to stretch you out. It burns in the most pleasurable way possible, the difference in cocks filling you up to the point you're intoxicated off such emotions coursing through.

Thick member coated in a mixture of fluid from all three bodies adding comfort to sore walls that aid you in feeling as if being underwater. The head of his cock pounds away at your cervix until he pulls out, letting you feel every veiny pulse of him thump against your tired walls to breech yourself along your wide hole before pushing back in again.

“Daddy… I love the way you make me feel.” You whimper as your hand tightens around your father as eyes look towards your teacher who leans forward.

His mouth parts to welcome your touch sloppily pressing against his when his hips strike into your pussy beautifully. The jolting of his waist only makes your lips bump each other messingly as he drinks in every sound you make.

“Daddy.” You whine pathetically as your neck no longer finds the strength to look over him fucking you but to fall against the clammy desk and catch sight between the two men captivated by your prescence.

“Bunny.” Mr. Styles grunts as his lips descend down your neck and goes over the hickeys scratching the service.

The frayed ends of his curls bob in your vision as your father's eyes detect every twitch combing over your frame. His feeling through your hair as he steps closer to you which only encourages your mouth to lean over to suckle the crown of his cock.

“Ah fuck, cherry.” Mr. Malik groans as his head leans back in distraught at how you drive him insane so easily.

Hearing both of your nicknames pass through their lips while having their touch roam all across your skin to fill you up repeatedly that it doesn’t surprise you at your climax making itself known in just a matter of seconds. The most exhilarating feeling sparks every vein in your body with shivers in adrenaline at your fourth climax overtaking you.

Sinking pleasure builds up in your abdomen once more that only leaves you to relieving yourself by letting your fingertips rub against your clit and have another wave of arousal trickle out of your pussy. A broken whine ripping from your throat as your eyes tear up by being so enthralled due to the feeling overcoming you.

“That’s it baby,” Mr. Styles breathes against your skin as his hips never stop their riveting motions. The feeling of you pulsing around erratically has him groaning at the feel. Tiny squirms blanketing him in pure warmth and wetness that his hips stutter when drawing back.

His love pulls away from your neck to look and watch the way you wrap around him all snug. Your pussy lips rippling against each movement of him into your exhausted heat still accepting every jab into your soiled box.

“Daddy…” You whine once again as your hand pulls your fathers cock away from your mouth to collect his balls and fit them in their place. The delicate feel of your lips sucking them into your mouth has Mr. Malik scratch your scalp lovingly.

“Jesus Christ.” He moans while letting his free hand enclose around his cock and jerk himself off.

Swollen glands glistening in the glow of the room as your lips obnoxiously slurp all around him and hum pleasantly while Mr. Styles still rocks into you. It has his eyes roll at the sight; seeing your mouth stuffed and put to work as your pussy lies spread out and abused on his desk. It’s the sight alone that has his hips twitching once more, with vision blurring as his neck cranes down just about ready to fall apart.

“Holy shit.” He sighs, as his grip against your thighs begin to leave bruises in their wake at the feeling of you wrapping around him is on a whole nother level. “You’re such a good girl, such a good fuckin girl.” He grunts as he can’t help his next thrusts from being messy and uncoordinated as his toes begin to curl.

The compliment is so reassuring that subconsciously you bat your lashes up in the position you're laid in, the connection between your step father and you as you suck his balls into your mouth so greedily like you were starving only made it right for him to cum at the sight.

The grip in your hair controls your head as he pulls you away from his sack and lets his seed paint itself across your cheek to dribble into the middle of your tongue. Yet, at the same time your teacher is emptying himself into your disheveled hole as he continues to fuck himself through his orgasm as your father taps away the remaining fluid he expels along the tip of your lips.

“Mhmm… that’s my cherry.” Mr. Malik hushes before he’s pulling away from his position over you. The hand that wrapped around his cock collecting the cum along your cheek and fitting it into your mouth just like the beginning of this escapade.

“My favorite girl.” He adds, as he watches you moan around his fingers and twirl your tongue around the digit.

Mr. Styles continues to thrust himself in sluggishly, the overwhelming feeling of his cum and your own juices overflowing in your pussy that with each draw out of the tired walls does traces of your combined fluids drip and run down your swollen lips.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathes out before his hand is released from your thigh as he takes himself in his hand. Cock sliding out of your pussy to let the mixture ooze out of your warmth in a thick cream pie that has you moaning at the feel.

“Mhmm…” You hum, with sight looking between your father dragging his wet finger amongst your bruised lips to swipe your saliva amongst the flesh to your teacher who watches your sore pussy dazzle in the light.

“That was good, wasn’t it baby?” Mr. Malik questions while letting his touch trail across your skin to bring your focus back to him.

You immediately nod your head. Tongue escaping your mouth to run across your lips and offer an exhausted smile as your fingers shake nervously amongst your overused clit.

“It was amazing.” You breathe out as you feel your teachers come begin to seep along the folds of your cheeks as your father begins to sit you up in a better position.

“I’m glad… but you do need to hurry up and dress. Your mother is probably on her way back by now.” The mention of your older peer is enough to have your burning thighs closing amongst each other as your elbow fixes your posture on the desk as you lean forward, an overpitched whine tearing through your throat at the soggy feel of liquid running down your inner thigh to the way your pussy feels so used.

“W-what’s wrong?” Mr. Styles questions while stepping forward and taking your hip in his hand as Mr. Malik gives him cut eye at the affection while he rubs your back.

“She’s fine, just worked up. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” He remarks while leaning forward and pressing his lips against your sweaty temple. Your teacher's nose wrinkles at the sight, and wanting to help you in any way possible he leans over the desk where his discarded blazer lies and pulls his handkerchief out to collect the fluid still spilling out amongst his desk.

The cool silk material has you whimper slightly from the feel, eyes fluttering for a moment as a lopsided grin tugs at the end of your lips.

“Mmm thank you so much daddy.” You remark that has your step father pull away from your feverish skin to watch Mr. Styles collect the rest of his seed before he’s walking towards the garbage bin to throw out the material. It’s only right for your father to be possessive at such words falling in front of his face; does his grip over your chin only grow tighter when he breathes into your ear.

“When you get home you’re getting more than a punishment for this.” It has your eyebrows knot together but still doesn’t stop the dreamy look crossing over your face.

“Why? I thought this was part of your plan?” Sarcasm evident in your tone that makes him pull away and roughly turn your body towards his still looking as if he’ll like to destroy you.

“You think I like having your attention elsewhere?” He questions while his free hand grabs your forgotten dress shirt and wraps it along your shoulders. “Now hurry up and dress.”

Without objection you do, and like always your father is there to help you put yourself and him back together to keep the facade alive. Collar tucked high to conceal the bite marks roaming around, skirt being unrolled to cover the red smacks daunting along your skin, while you wipe under your eyes to remove any marks of distress from your promiscuous endeavors.

Just like before when you stood between them so scared of what they have in store in your refined pressed uniform, you manage to still hold that innocent appeal after everything that just happened. Mr. Styles watches closely. The way your father fixes the buttons along your chest before running his palms over the creases in your blazer, his eyes fixing you up and making you look perfect like he’s done this a million times before, and he can’t help but feel upset that he won’t get to experience that with you.

As if feeling his gaze your head turns and connects with your teacher. Smile tugging amongst your lips as he pretends to not watch the affection taking place as he continues to zip himself back up.

You knew that the threesome happening was too good to be true, and hell, you’re surprised you even lived through it after the constant back and forth of them spreading you apart and pushing you past your limits. Sure, it was intended as a punishment, and your father did make it known that it would be way worse when home, but you can’t help but feel sad that you only have a month left with Mr. Styles and didn’t want to leave it to just this.

“Father?” You say loud enough for the two men in the room to hear. He hums acknowledging you as his hands continue to fix your uniform.

“Don’t you think I’ll need a tutor for my summer classes?”

It makes both men's eyebrows perch on top of their foreheads. The teacher sucks in a surprise breath as your father kisses his teeth in frustration at your never ending games still taking place.

“You don’t need a tutor for that, your courses will be easy.”

“But sir… please.” You pout with eyes batting up at him which he only shakes his head at. Your vision rolls concededly before your head is shifting around and looking at the teacher who remains with his eye contact still on you. “Come here.” You gesture for him to make his way over, which he does, and to that you're happy about as you lean your head on his bicep.

“Please father… wouldn’t it be fun to do this again. I love having you both share me… it feels so good.” You continue pleading while your free hand goes to drag up his suited chest and slide up the nape of his neck. “And just imagine, in the abandoned maid quarters, how fun and exciting it’ll be!”

Mr. Malik watches the way your eyes beam with excitement and how your teeth shine at the endless possibilities that could happen this summer if giving the teacher the opportunity to privately tutor you from home. He knows it’ll make you happy, knows it probably top everything he’s ever done for you in the years that you’ve been sneaking around, but he’s unsure if that’s what he wants.

He likes you all to himself, no one else having you - despite this instance - but fuck, he can’t deny how hot it was to see you spread out and so fucked and used in a spam of an hour just between the two of them. He doesn’t want to admit that it turns him on, but it does. And maybe, just maybe, there might be a perfect alliance brewing from this day forward.

Hazel sight connects with green, and as he bows his head in a silent nod of gratitude of going along to his plan his head leans away from the sight of him and back to you, still needy and ready for anything in store that he smiles recklessly at the view.

“We’ll see.” He says, which only makes you pout and tear your hand away from his skin. Arms crossing over your chest as your eyes continue to bat up at him to get what you want like you always do. “Stop doing that. Now hurry to your dorm to fix your hair, we don’t need any questions, now do we?”

“No.” You huff before you're leaning off the teacher's arm and sliding off the desk. Mr. Malik makes space to let you pass him and begin to head towards the door to continue fixing up your appearance.

But, it would be unlike you to not be the tease you are, to not get what you want whenever asked. So as your hand turns the door knob and you twist around to look at the two men who spit roasted you in this room, you smirk at them before dropping your eye into a wink.

“Thank you so much for the fun this evening, I can’t wait to see what this summer will have in store for us.”

[cupids-archives]

ugh i love ur writing sm!! could u do a macaque oneshot w a kitty reader whos a virgin? and too sensitive for her own good :(( - 🩰

cw: oral, fingering, mentions of fluid and hypersensitivity, over stimulation, brief mention of kidnapping, dubious consent.

maybe he’s a sadist. Or this is some sort of sick joke.

your ears twitched, a reflex you’ve had whenever your body sensed danger, you knew from the moment he sat you down. Pulling down cute little pink skirt that something was wrong.

Macaque had some sort of glint in his eyes once you suddenly whimpered you were a virgin, he could’ve known as soon he saw your little pussy, but you were sooo nervous that you had to shout it out before he could even get to the best part.

“aww, really? You’re so adorable.” He pushes one thick furry finger against your white underwear, nudging against your clit. You whine— it’s pathetic really. He just groans at the sound, your face welling with thick tears. God he can almost cum right there.

“It’s really a wonder how you’re a virgin.. your telling my nobody has ravished this pretty pussy yet? Please.”

“no, no I’m not lying, I’m really sensitive right there—“

He circles his finger around, watching as your body moves against you and presses itself onto it, desperate to find relief even from his single digit. “Oh? What’s this? Have you been pent up lately?”

Of course you don’t respond , your eyes rolling into your head as his finger leaves you, instead focusing on removing your soaked panties.

Macaque leaned down, becoming face to face with your pussy, his hot breath felt torturous against your bottom, but not more than when he stuck his tounge out to kitten lick your entrance, his fur sticking to your clit and you couldn’t resist but hold on to it.

His pace was vigorous. Pulling at your tail until you echoed his name like prayer. His mouth sapped up any fluids he could reach, his left hand curling inside you,while his mouth laid waste to your aching clit.

“please! I wanna cum!” You couldn’t even talk to him earlier but now your back arched against the bed, humping your captors face with your tounge lolled and your eyes closed and tightend. He removed his fingers and flicked at your clit with his rough tongue, looking up as you came undone. Your cum leaving a wonderful taste on his heightened senses.

“if you reacted like that to my tongue, your going to feel amazing on my cock my love.”

you don’t do anything but spread your legs, your brain mumbled, maybe you subconsciously think macaques your mate? but you crawl until your stomach, lifting your ass up, presenting your wet pussy to him,

“Fuck. Is this what horny little kitties do when they want their masters cock?”

You didn’t even register when he took his own pants off, but your breath hitches in your throat when his tip presses against your entrance. “Please be gentle…” you mumble into the bed.

“I’ll try.” He’s swift when he envelops himself inside you. Your body caging around his as you try and match his thrusts. He’s much slower than you imagined, only as in attempt to not hurt you in your first time together, it’s no use though his cock stretches you in a way nothing else can’t. His top pressing against your cervix with ease, all while he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re so perfect my love, I’m so glad you’re here with me—god. I wanna put a baby in your little pussy— fuck!”

You grip onto the sheets, claws coming out as you cum onto his cock, your mouth wide. He’s soon to follow, squeezing your hips against his own and you can almost feel his cum entering your womb.

[genshinboys]

Thigh job with Genshin Boys - Xiao

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Fem reader x Xiao

When you enter your flat, a handsome but grumpy Yaksha is sitting cross-legged on your bed resting his chin in the palm of his small hand. He grimaces and shoots something that can be referred to as a death stare in your direction. 

Here we go again. You think to yourself as you close the door behind you.

„You are late.” He basically growls at you fixing you with another menacing glare.

„It’s nice to see you too, Baby.” You approach the sulking adeptus and lean in to kiss his forehead but, alas, he backs away and frowns in turn.

„Oh, no kisses then?” A smile on your face but a sneer in your voice makes his blood boil.

It is like a match in a powder barrel.

„Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N!” He warns. „I know all of your cheap tricks.”

You let out an annoyed huff. Arms crossed on your chest.

„Why would you even ask when I saw you following me all the damn time, hmm?” You accuse your boyfriend, gazing right into Xiao's averting eyes.

„I wasn’t follow-,” and then he goes silent knowing fully well that lying isn’t an option with you.

„So?” You nag, hoping for any kind of response. „No need to be this jealous, Xiao.”

„Don’t get weird ideas in your head.” The boy deadpans. „I’m not jealous!” He defends himself but it doesn’t sound convincing enough even for his own ears. He blushes and turns his head away.

You let out a sigh and smile warmly at your boyfriend’s pettiness.

Does he even realise how cute he is? You briefly wonder and then you reach for his silky hair and ruffle it affectionately.

It’s been a taxing, full of ups and downs journey since you met the haunted by karmic debt Yaksha. At first, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You were just another bothersome individual and he could not care less about your existence. It was unnerving. He was snarky, seething with rage for no reason, hiding his feelings for so long that it seemed to you that they were going to explode inside of him one day leading to his utter despair and demise. You got to know about his past and the weight of his karmic debt from Zhongli. You took pity. Somehow you felt compelled to help the boy, regardless of his repulsive demeanour. The golden-eyed Yaksha was of a different opinion, though. 

Xiao didn’t want you to get close to him. He couldn’t make any sense of your stubbornness. Why would you even want to have anything to do with him? Him? 

A barbaric monster, eaten up alive by remorse and regret. 

A blood-thirsty fiend whose sole purpose of breathing is to slaughter and spread fear wherever he shows his face. 

These were the thoughts so deeply engraved in his unfortunate soul that he couldn’t allow anyone to come near him.

He perceived himself as a hollow, barren of any human emotions vessel. The only feelings he was familiar with were pain and the burden of his legacy that he is forced to carry up to this day.

Bizarrely, as time had passed he was taken aback by some unfamiliar sensation of tightness in his chest. It wasn’t painful. Nothing that would come close to the distress caused by the divine will. It wasn’t permanent, either. It only happened in your presence, as Yaksha would hesitantly observe. Sometimes it got even worse. It would be accompanied by this fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

„Why are you this close? Huh? Do you have a death wish?”

„Move, I don’t have time to sit around and be idle like you do.”

„You have no respect for the adepti. Stop fooling around.” 

The more he pushed you away the more you were determined to lure him in. You couldn’t stop laughing when one day Zhongli informed you that the troubled Yaksha came to him to seek advice regarding this weird tightness in his chest and an upset stomach when you were around. 

And so, you smile fondly at your boyfriend as he yanks your hand away not liking the way you tousle the emerald green strands.

„I’m sorry XIao. I didn’t mean to be late. Just wanted to buy some jewellery.” You point to your thigh to get the adeptus’ attention back where it should be, which is you, not the wall.

Xiao glances at your thigh doing his best to remain impassive and uninterested. Unfortunately, his eyes widen a little and his mouth is somehow stuck hanging open as if he were to say something but the words never come out.

„You saw me bargaining with the shopkeeper, nothing wrong about that, right?” You explain to the adeptus currently captivated by the glimmering golden chain adorning your thigh.

Xiao has a lot to learn when it comes to dealing with his own emotions. You are acutely aware of that. He doesn’t know how to react, how to show that he cares or process what he feels. He doesn’t also entirely understand the purpose of half of the things that you insist on doing to him. Playful bites, tickling, holding his hand in public. He doesn’t question these actions even though it’s all a novelty. He does know for sure that it makes him feel flustered and all hot inside. 

Does he despise it? No. 

Would he like for you to continue? The answer to that question is definitely affirmative but Xiao is not going to admit it out loud. 

He also has no clue how to initiate all of these things. Is he supposed to bite you back as well? What if he hurts you? Everything is so overwhelming as he’s endured years of solitude and sadness. You have to patiently teach him everything from square one. Nevertheless, it’s incredibly rewarding and you find yourself falling for him a bit more with each clumsy kiss, a shy but warm hug and an awkward attempt at complimenting you.

However, despite being not well-versed in sexual encounters, Xiao does pleasantly surprise you by catching up with everything real quick. 

So, as his eyes are fixated on the trinket, you once again run your hand through his lush and long hair.

„Why would you even buy it? Pointless.” The boy retorts grumpily this time showing no signs of objection to your tender gesture. He moves his head up a little, losing himself to the tingling sensation going down his scalp.

„So that you can stare at me like that with those needy eyes?” You answer truthfully, barring the real intent behind your actions.

He snorts and his face turns into that lovely shade of pink and then deep red within seconds.

He would absolutely turn his gaze away if not for the fact that you take his chin in your hand and thrust his face upwards forcing him to look you straight in the eyes.

„If you don’t like it you can take it off.”

„No need.” 

You chuckle softly.

„Let me make amends for my delay.” 

You take a step forward and place your knee on the verge of the bed. Xiao drinks in the view of your thigh-highs squeezing into the meat of your legs. The chain shimmering lightly right above the lacy material.

„You can touch it, Baby.” You encourage the nervous Yaksha.

Visibly tensed, he reaches for the exposed skin and lightly traces the chain with his unsure fingers. It almost tickles but you let him do as he pleases and soon Xiao attempts to fully envelop your thigh with his greedy hand. He does cover half of it at best, but he seems satisfied and proceeds to squeeze it. It feels soft to the touch and he shivers at how warm and inviting your legs are in contrast to his icy-cold and sweaty palms. Bewitched, Xiao aches for more and he selfishly pulls you in so that you are now kneeling in front of him on the bed.

He stops breathing when you swiftly unbutton your shorts and undress for him. You let his eyes roam over your half-naked body for some time enthralled by the way Xiao’s pupils dilate in awe.

You lean into him as Xiao pulls you towards him for a messy kiss. It isn’t gentle as usual but full of passion and urgency. He whines when you bite on his lower lip but then you gently stroke him with your tongue to ease the discomfort.

Slowly, very very slowly, your hands go down his torso only to finally stop at the bulge in Xiao’s loose pants. You tug at the waistband and Xiao lifts his ass a bit to help you strip him naked. His penis, hard and heavy, resting now on his lower belly. He hisses when you palm his hard erection and that simple touch sends jolts of electricity down his spine. It leaves him intoxicated once you start gliding with the heel of your palm up and down the underside of his member. You repeat the movement and Xiao’s body jerks in response.

„Don’t tease.” The adeptus pleads through gritted teeth.

„I’m so sorry, Baby. Gonna make you feel real good.”

Xiao can feel himself growing impossibly harder when you place your feet on either side of his hips. When he looks down he can see your wet folds and the pinkish colour of your tight hole. Lying on your back, you prop yourself on your elbows so that you can look at Xiao’s face in the process. You scoot a bit closer to the confused boy, your bum is right in front of his erected shaft. You take his cock in your hand and guide him in between your thighs. In the beginning, you try to be delicate. You gently rub the tip of his cock, circle his shaft with your fingers and with a fisted hand spread his pre-cum all the way down to his pubic hair so that he is thoroughly lubricated. You wouldn’t like to hurt the boy during the whole ordeal. 

His breath is shallow. Excitedly, you clasp your thighs together and start playing with his dick. You rotate your hips and massage his cock. It slides in and out and Xiao growls feeling ecstatic. You exchange between rubbing him with your thighs or gliding your hand along his cock, starting at the very top and working your way down to the bottom until Xiao can’t stifle his cries anymore. A few more strokes and he is definitely going to beg. 

Xiao is on fire. It feels too good to be true and he wants this moment to last forever. He licks his dry lips and moans wantonly thrusting his hips forward. He meets you mid-way and the friction it creates every time he pushes his dick in between your legs leaves him gasping.

„You’re making me cum, Y/N.” He cries out for the last time before it is too late to warn you.

„Then cum for me, Baby.” 

Obediently, Xiao shoots his thick and heavy load all over your lower body. For a moment the world around him seems out of focus and it makes him dizzy. He pants heavily and can’t catch his breath. He feels as if he was drowning. But then, your loving arms envelop him and he is safe again. You gently stroke his chest hugging him from behind. He melts in your embrace letting his head rest on your shoulder. His erratic heartbeat slowly going back to its usual rhythm.

„I think it looks pretty on you.”

„Hmm?” You want the boy to clarify what he meant.

„The chain... Looks pretty.”

„Oh.” 

Shakily, he reaches out to put your hand into his and he squeezes them together. 

„I’ll never let you lose yourself again, XIao. I love you and I will protect you forever.”

Xiao recognizes the familiar feeling of tightness in his chest. A single tear rolls down his cheek but he hurriedly wipes it before you can notice.

„Shut up.” The boy responds angrily and kisses you breathless. 

Other boys:

Albedo

Diluc

Kaeya

Childe

Zhongli

Kazuha

[scuttling]

Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

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

[venusiangguk]

hand-picked | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / famous!jk x sex worker!oc

>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, teaser, drabble

>>word count: 2.8k

>>warnings: glory hole au!!!, cocky jk, bad boy jk, stripper oc, sex work, sexual tension, awkward tension, hand job, blowjob, cumshot, cum on tits, pay for play, semi-anonymous sex, dirty talk, dishonesty...  that’s it i think zzz

>>notes: if u don’t like sex workers ur ugly and i hate u 😌 also ty to @wheresmymoniat​ for betaing n helping me out, ily <3 *repost bc tag issues don’t mind me 🙄*

>>summary: glory holes weren’t a real thing... at least until you’re on your knees for a stranger, cock in your face, with nothing but a curtain between you.

Despite your nerves, you grasp the semi-hard cock in front of you, attached to a nameless person behind the curtain. For a moment you wonder what the hell you’re doing, but the soft sigh that you hear brings you back to the present. You stroke up and down, watching as he starts to become fully aroused. The foreskin rolls over the pink tip on every upstroke. You bite your lip. The silence is awkward, but you think maybe the whole situation is.

 “So... what do you do? Like… not specifically of course, but are you an idol? An actor? You can be vague…” 

 Behind the curtain, Jeongguk, whom you don’t know the identity of, stiffens just a bit. Will his voice give him away? Maybe, but he was never one to turn down an opportunity to boast about himself and his achievements.

 “I’ve done it all,” His voice is airy, softer than he would like, but your hand on his cock is speeding up, and so is his breathing. “I’m good at all of it too.”

 You hum at the man’s response. Cocky. “Isn’t saying you’re good at a lot of things just another way of saying you’re not good enough at one thing? So you have to compensate by spreading yourself thin?” You gasp a small giggle when you feel the cock in your hand jump a little at your words. “Did you like that? It wasn’t meant to be degrading, but if that’s what you’re into-“

 “It’s not- that.” He doesn’t know if he’s denying your psychoanalyzation, or your keen interpretation of the way his cock reacted to your psychoanalyzation but one was more inaccurate than the other. He actually was great at most everything he did, no need to overcompensate like you assumed. 

 Your small hand tightens, and you rub your thumb at the underside of the head, you let out a small pleased noise when you see a bead of precum well at the tip. “Really? You’re starting to leak a little.”

 You sound amused and humorous and if Jeongguk had it in him he would be annoyed or even upset at the way you’re talking to him. You were basically hired help, a means to an end. He glances down his torso at his hard cock in your tiny, well-kept manicured hands. Your nails are a dark red, burgundy color. It complements your skin well, he thinks. He can’t see much of you, just your forearms, along with the bottom part of your tummy and your legs. You’re sitting on your knees between his spread out thighs, feet tucked under you. From the tight black leggings you’re wearing and the slim-fit long sleeve white crop top you have on, Jeongguk can tell you have a good figure. Your waist is tapered in, tiny and cinched, and your hips are wide enough to accentuate it, letting him know you’ve got a petite hourglass frame. You aren’t too skinny though, there’s a softness to your body that he likes. It’s not like he needed the tight fitting clothes to know what your body looked like, though. He’s already seen more of it than he is right now. His mind flashes to the club.

 You may be hired help, but you were hand-picked by him. 

 “It’s just-“ He contemplates what to tell you and settles for, “It’s been a while.”

 “Since?” You push. You hear footsteps outside and you hand stops, scared for some reason that you’ll get caught doing something bad. As if the door wasn’t locked and being guarded. Behind the black curtain, his hips lift just barely, urging you to keep going. Don’t stop.

 “Since someone’s helped me.” Jeongguk’s head rolls back when your hand starts moving again. It’s been at least a few months since he’s gotten off with someone, his hand being his only companion. After the situation blew up even more than it had in months prior, his leash was tight. No wiggle room at all. He was suffocating and desperate. He almost cried when his team propositioned this arrangement, embarrassing as it was.

 When he speaks, his voice is soft and everything is said with a sigh. He sounds so relieved, like it feels so good to be in your palm, like he’s been waiting for your hand on his cock forever. You blush, and right your thoughts. You don’t even know who he is or what he looks like. Still, you ask, “Does it feel good, do you like it?” Tone soft to match his.

 Jeongguk nods and swallows thickly. Eyes still closed, letting the pleasure slowly work its way through his veins. Then he remembers you can’t see him. “Yeah.” He breathes.

 You hum and keep up your ministrations. Not slow, but not fast either. You’re not quite sure what he likes yet, but the soft moans that flutter through the curtain at least let you know what you’re doing isn’t wrong. 

 “I like your hands,” He surprises you by saying. “They’re so small; soft,” A more vocal sound falls from his lips when you twist your hand on the upstroke. He’s chuckling when he says, “Kinda strokes my ego a little bit.”

 You glance at the cock in your hand. It’s pretty. Thick and pink. A pleasant kind of heavy in your hand. The veins running over it are subtle enough to not be ugly or intimidating. The only intimidating thing about it is the size. He’s big. And you’re sure he already knows that. 

 You snort. “I don’t think you need that stroked.”

 This makes him laugh a little harder. It’s a nice sound. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” He hums, you think you can hear a smile in his voice. It’s quiet again for just a moment before he says, “Will you- faster? Make your hand a little tighter too- yeah, like that.”

 His hips sink into the chair when you comply with his requests before he’s bringing them back up, subtly thrusting into your palm. You fight back a moan; you shouldn’t be getting hot for someone you don’t even know right? This was strictly business. Still, you can’t help the slight shifting you do, squeezing your legs together for a little bit of pressure on your pussy.

 Jeongguk notices. “Are you turned on?”

 “No!” You squeak.

 “You can touch yourself,” He offers.

 “No!” You insist, “I-I’m fine.Thank you though.” You say dumbly.

 He doesn’t say anything more, focuses on your hand on him, tugging just how he asked. His hand rubs over his stomach, flexing as he teases himself, his own light touches mixed with your strokes brings goosebumps over his skin. “Feels, so good.” He groans, eyes watching your hand under the curtain.

 Encouraged, you bring your other hand up and massage lightly at his balls. They’re hairless, the only hair he has is the small trimmed patch above the base of his cock. He’s well kept and has good hygiene. That alone was attractive to you, stranger or not.

 When you palm his balls, his legs spread as far as they can with his black cargo pants still around his calves, his big black stomper boots keeping them from being shed all the way. “Fuck,” He moans deep and loud for you. One of his hands comes down past the curtain and reaches for you before he quickly pulls it back. You think you saw a flash of ink on it, but you can’t be too sure, mind kind of fuzzy with poorly hidden arousal. The opposite hand comes into view, and your mouth parts in awe as he covers your own hand with his. It’s so much bigger than yours, completely enveloping it as he strokes himself off, using you in a way. Then again the whole arrangement was you both using each other. 

 “You’re mouth- put your mouth on it,” He sighs, pleasure just dripping from his lips. His cock is rock hard in both your hands, and you can tell he’s getting close.

 You hesitate. “Will… will you be able to see me?”

 Jeongguk comes out of his desire induced high a little bit and realizes what he said. He wants it, fuck does he want your mouth, but he probably should have asked. “No, no. I’ll lower the curtain a bit more if you want, and you don’t have to swallow. You don’t even have to suck it if you don’t want- like I know we have a thing going on but I would never like- force you I-“

 He’s rambling a tad so you cut him off. “I want to, I think,” You whisper, taking in his intimidating size again, “I just- if I can’t know who you are, you can’t know who I am.” You blush feeling a little childish.

 Jeongguk keeps the fact that he already knows what you look like and more or less who you are, at least on a surface level, to himself as he moves the curtain to the next lower notch, the bar resting just above his pelvis now. He can’t really see much of you at all anymore. “That’s fair, yeah, just-“ With your confirmation that you do in fact want to suck him off, he can’t keep the lustful neediness out of his voice, “Please.”

 You take a deep breath as you wrap both of your hands around his cock, the tip still poking out the top. Tentatively you lick at his frenulum and the sound that comes from behind the curtain is obscene. His hips twitch and everything. You want to hear his noises, all of them, so you do it again. You flick your tongue fast over the most sensitive underpart of the head, before placing wet sucking kisses to the same area, almost making out with the tip of his cock.

 “Oh my god-“ His body is pulled taut, and his hands are gripping the chair that he’s sitting in. “Fuck that’s- I love that.” He says, head dropping back, mouth open in a silent moan. 

 You moan against the tip of his cock, not able to hold yourself back anymore. Wrapping your lips around it, you take the head all the way into your wet, hot mouth, and suck. You lap up all the precum that leaked out, and point your tongue to play with the slit. The man behind the curtain is loud for you, letting you know just how good you’re making him feel. You get so lost in it that you don’t register him raising the curtain bar just enough for him to slip his hand past and push you off.

 “S-sorry,” He says, panting, “I was about to cum.”

 You make a small sound of confusion. “That’s okay, I can swallow- If you want me to.”

 Jeongguk shakes his head behind the curtain. “No, I- I wanna watch… see your hands stroke me off.” His request is quiet but his cock pulses in your hand, needy and hot. Already begging for release, despite you not being at it for that long.

 Wordlessly, you start stroking again, gathering the spit that’s on his tip to make the slide easier. It doesn’t take much time at all before his thighs are flexing and you can see the lower part of his abs tensing. 

 “Close,” He whispers.

 Jeongguk watches as your tiny hands fly up and down his cock, grip tight just like he showed you. He’s doing his best to not fuck up into your hands, wanting to just rely on you and your movements, but it’s hard. Small eager little thrusts of his hips show you how ruined he is. And it’s just a handjob. He knows. If he was present enough he would probably be embarrassed by how angry and red his cock is, swollen and hot in your palm. And he’s just so wet, leaking all over the place making the strokes of your hand loud in the room. 

 He watches as you hunch over some, to where he can see everything below your neck, and your free hand comes up to your shirt. He sees you struggle a little bit as do your best to get the collar down under your bra, with only one hand before squeezing at your tits. “Do you want to cum on them?” You whisper.

 “Fuck, please.” He whines high pitch and needy, all reservations out the window. 

 You hum, and work your arm faster over his cock, the rapid movements making your tits jiggle. “Do it, cum for me… cum all over my tits.”

 You can’t see him, but Jeongguk’s face is lewd. Pleasure so apparent on his features, it almost looks painful. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes are wet and glassy, so overwhelmed by finally getting help after so long of cumming by himself. He’s chanting soft, pornographic yeah’s and yes’s until his whole body curls in on itself, you can see the way his legs tremble as he moans, “Fuck, I’m cumming.”

 He forces himself to keep his eyes somewhat open, lidded and heavy with arousal, as he shoots all over your chest. You’re moaning with him behind the curtain as you work him through his orgasm, despite no physical pleasure being given to you, and that makes another small shot of cum dribble from his spent cock. You lean forward, careful of your identity, and wipe the leftover milky substance on your already soiled skin and black bra. You slap the slowly softening cock on them for good measure and Jeongguk groans.

 You keep playing with his cock, not sure if he’s the type to like it or the kind that wants you off right after he finishes, but he winces and reaches his hand under after not too long, stopping you.

 “Please,” He whines.

 His voice is fucked out, and your pussy aches, needy and wet in your panties. “Oh, sorry…”

 He laughs lightly. “No, no. Don’t say sorry… You’re like- so good.” Jeongguk sighs to himself out of your view. He’s leaning back in the chair, while running a hand through his sweaty hair. Little tremors of pleasure are still coursing through him, when he closes his eyes, blissed out, dazed and relaxed. Finally, after months of being pent up. “So, so good.” He murmurs softly, distractedly. 

 His hand that reached under the bar to grab yours to stop you, is lazily rubbing over the back of your hand, hold light and subconscious against his thigh. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it and you blush, shyly pulling your hand away. He doesn’t show any sign of even noticing and you both settle into a soft quiet, only your breaths sounding in the room.

 “Um.” You say eloquently.

 “Fuck sorry.” Jeongguk says, scooting the chair back to put his now soft cock away. He rolls his eyes to himself. Way to get stuck in the afterglow by himself with his flaccid cock in some girls face. “Let me get you a towel.”

 “Should I put the blindfold back on?” You ask.

 “Uh- Yeah.” He says stilted. This is weird. You just made him cum so hard he almost knocked out, and now he’s making you cover your eyes so you don’t figure out who he is. 

 You hear the hesitation in the man’s voice and assure him that it’s okay, while grabbing the blindfold you tucked into the waistband of your leggings. You knew how it went, you signed the papers. Patiently you wait until you hear him coming back and sense a soft moist towel being shoved under the bar. You blindly grab it with a soft, “Thanks.”

 “I’ll go wait in the bathroom so you can- I don’t know…? Get ready to go I guess.” You hear his heavy boots retreat to the bathroom, that’s located on his side of the curtain, assuring that he wouldn’t be seeing you on his way.

 With the blindfold off, you go about cleaning yourself. Your knees crack when you stand up after being sat on them for so long. Wincing, you run a hand through your long hair and walk over to the table where you left your bag. You leave the used rag in its place and you shoulder the purse. About to make your way to the door, you pause.

 “I’m uh- leaving?” You yell unsure.

 “Okay,” He yells back through the door. “Did you- did they- your- did they give you the-“ He stutters, not sure how to ask if you got paid.

 The wad of cash in your purse is heavy. Figuratively and literally. “Yeah, they did.” 

 “Okay… Good. I’ll um see you next time?” He sounds hesitant and shy. 

 You laugh. “Yeah I guess so.” And with that, you make your way out of the hotel, thinking that he sounds a whole lot less entitled and cocky than he did when you first got there.

~~~

hiii guysss! thanks for reading this lil drabble! This is kind of like a teaser for a longer fic i have on the back burner (let me know if you like the concept and want me to continue!) but i wanted to post something because i havent for a few weeks bc i have been soo busy with school pls i want to cry 🥲 i should be doing maths as i post this lmao. ANYWAY! thanks again for reading, if u liked it, pls like, comment, reblog, or even send an ask! love talking to u guys n feedback is always lovely <3

[pleasantanathema]

Erwin Smith | Out of Breath

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Choking, Slight Dom/Sub themes, Established Relationship, Teasing, Erwin’s in charge but the man likes experimenting

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This is part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read more fanfic I’m writing to celebrate. I just...I had to get my hands around Erwin’s pretty neck and I’m not sorry for it. 💚

          Erwin’s voice was part of his power. It was rich, a distinctive blend of smooth and militant; it was seductive. It felt good beneath your hands.

           He was panting below you, golden hair dipped in sweat and pressed against his forehead, to the pillow. Gorgeous, glowing, gasping, his thick neck encased by your hands.

           “Harder,” he wasn’t begging, he was demanding, “you won’t hurt me.”

           It was addictive to feel the vibrations against your palms, feel his pulse beneath your fingers.

           You could get used to this, to choking Erwin.

           He wasn’t inside you yet, the hard ridge of his cock resting between the hot folds of your cunt. Your thighs already ached from being spread across the width of his hips; he wasn’t an easy man to straddle. His massive hands were on your hips, thumbs circling against your skin as he rocked against you, cock twitching against your heat.

          “You’re so impatient,” you purred, leaning down to slant your lips against his, your breasts flattening against his plush chest.

          “Not used to being teased.” Every syllable kissed your skin.

          You squeezed your fingers a little tighter, felt the resistance in the solid muscles of his neck.

          The moan that echoed from his throat was sinful.

          Your slick was drooling onto his cock, dripping down throbbing veins. You shifted your weight on your knees, sliding your pussy against him, feeling the flared head of his cock brush against your clit, wet folds enveloping him.

          But you knew you weren’t in charge, even with your hands controlling his breath. Erwin had asked for this, wanted to see what it felt like to have his vision go a little blurry, wanted to know what it felt like to be pinned down. He wanted to experience what you had so many times before.

          “Fuck,” you loved hearing him curse, his resolve slowly breaking, “need you, darling.”

          Strong hands were lifting your hips for you, freeing his cock from your soft, teasing cunt.

          “Do I get a please?”

          Erwin smirked up at you, thick brows raising at your request.

          He pressed against your tight hole, and you thought he’d ease you down his fat cock like he usually did, but instead you lost your breath when he slammed himself inside of you.

          A cry poured from your mouth, your hands instinctively gripping tighter to his neck at the shock of pleasure that exploded over your nerves.

          “Please,” he said after the fact, a very satisfied, lopsided grin on his face.

          Your pussy burned from the spread, your body feeling so full as you sat on his cock. He stilled his hips and let you start the pace, hips rolling as you got used to his size. His arrogance spurred you, had you bearing down harder on his throat like he asked.

          His head tipped back from the blurred pleasure, neck arching underneath your firm touch. He groaned, long and deep, the sound making your skin prickle. He liked this—he loved it.

          “You look so-,” you gasped as his cock brushed against your insides just right, “so pretty with my hands around your throat, Erwin.”

          You were sure he’d said those same words to you before. They were foreign in your mouth, but tasted sweet all the same. You watched a pink blush bloom across his high cheekbones. His fingertips sunk deeper into that fat of your thighs, urging you to move faster, to bring him closer to that brink of absolution.

          “Can’t wait to f-feel you cum inside me.”

          Even his ears were burning, flushed with his arousal as you rode him, body bouncing with a quick rhythm. His lips parted and looked so tempting, full and rosy and begging to be kissed. You obliged your desires, slipping your tongue into his mouth and swallowing heavy groans.

          His lips were hungry, greedy, practically fighting against the current of your own. Your moans were soaking into his mouth, his cock drumming inside you and making your toes curl against the sheets. You could swear his cock was made for you, the slight curve of it always pressing against that soft spot inside you that had your stomach churning with ecstasy.

          “Harder,” he murmured again, “you’re strong, darling, show me.”

          You pulled away from his lips, keeping the steady, building pace of your hips as you looked down at him. His hands were gripping your waist tighter, pushing you down against him so he could match you, cockhead skimming your insides over and over again.

          Your thumbs overlapped on his neck, tucked carefully beneath his Adam’s apple. You were careful to keep the pressure away from the center of his throat there, instead curling your fingers tighter against the sides of his neck where the blood rushed to his pretty head. Your arms felt the tension, strength stemming from your triceps, fingers flexing against the solid sinews.

          The way his pulse quickened had you moaning, moving faster, pressing beyond the burn of your hips.

          “S-so good,” he choked out, and his praise had heat spreading over you.

          You loved pleasing him, loved knowing whatever you did brought him delight and satisfaction, you just never expected it to be from fastening your hands around his impossibly thick throat. Sweat was beading against your hands—his sweat—as his body got used to the lack of oxygen to his mind.

          His hold on your hips was lessening, and you marveled over watching him lose himself to the overwhelming experience. You felt so powerful to be responsible for his pleasure, your tight cunt and even tighter hands edging him closer to the edge of euphoria. You couldn’t help but mewl when you felt him swallow beneath your grip, robust neck bobbing and gasping to regain breath.

          Is that what it felt like to watch you come undone below his hands? You wondered if you looked as pretty, if your lips parted in the same way, if it was just as delectable to watch you lose yourself.

          Erwin was slipping, the thrust of his hips against you getting more erratic. You could feel his cock twitching inside you like a heartbeat, a tell-tale sign that you were going to get what you asked for.

          “That’s right, baby,” you felt a little vindictive with the control, teeth gritting as you constricted his throat harder than before, “fill me up, cum for me.”

          You caught his roar beneath your hands as he came, brows pinching together and his hands locked onto your body so tightly you knew you’d see remnants of him tomorrow. But you didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop chasing your own high, which had him gasping as you rode his sensitive cock for all it could give. Hot cum was spilling onto your thighs, the sounds so, so wet as his seed was fucked into you.

          “S-so good for me, little girl,” the words were strangled and they still lit you on fire.

          You came so hard that colors painted the edge of your vision, ecstasy curling over your body like vines wrapping around you. Your own fingers must have become like too-tight tendrils as well, Erwin’s hands wrapping around your wrists and tugging. Even in your fucked-out haze, you were quick to unwind your fingers from their home on his neck.

          Your hands hurt from being clenched. Your body hummed from the orgasm that lingered in your veins, both you and your lover taking a moment to bask in the warm afterglow.

          You caught your breath before leaning down to pepper his lips with kisses, smiling in their quick succession.

          “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

          “No, no, that’s what I intended. Wanted to see how much I could take.”

          You giggled, brushing hair away from his forehead, still content to warm his cock inside you.

          “Sex doesn’t always have to be an experiment, you know.”

          “Next time we’ll see if you can pin me down if I fight back.”

[honeypirate]

“What can you expect from a bug user?”

Shino woke in a panic, those words floating around in his head, echoing from his nightmare.

He quietly moved his sleeping bag off himself and pulled his legs up to rest his head between his knees, trying to calm his breathing and heart rate as his sweaty body cools off.

He runs his hands through his hair and sighs. It’s been so many years since that day yet he still has reoccurring nightmares about being weak.

You move from your bedroll and quietly make your way to him, he sensed you from when your feet touched the ground and didn’t flinch when you whispered his name, trying not to wake Tenten from the other side of the still hot coals from the fire, Kiba and Akamaru in the trees keeping watch.

Your arm came around his back as you kneeled beside him, he turns his body towards you and hugs you back as your arms envelop him and you hum softly, hands softly rubbing his back like always as his heart calms down.

During the day, no one would guess that you two were this close. No one would guess that Shino trusts you this much. To everyone else you were just from neighboring clans and close friends who went on missions together.

It started when you had a nightmare one night when you were a kid. You went to your roof to get some air and from there you were able to see across the forest to the top of Shino’s home, where he sat as well. After seeing each other a few nights in a row, he gestures to meet in the middle of the woods that connect your clans lands, and since then you’ve always found each other for relief whenever you could.

“Are you okay?” You whisper into his ear and he nods into you but his hands have your shirt tight in his fists. “Stay?” He asks in a broken voice and you feel your breath hitch

“Are you sure? We’ve never..” he leans back and looks at you, taking a shaky inhale “I’m next for watch, then you’re last after me. Stay.” You feel your cheeks warm and your heart flutter and you nod slowly.

He moves so you can lay down next to him and he pulls you into his arms against his chest as his bugs zip up his bag with you both in it.

You didn’t want to think about what the morning will be like, didn’t want to overthink about it, your brain was screaming to tell him you loved him but you just couldn’t open your mouth and say the words.

You fell asleep quickly against his chest and before you know it he was lightly running his fingers across your forehead, brushing your hair back as he whispers your name.

“Y/n” he whispers and you take a deep inhale as your brain come backs to consciousness “it’s time” he says and your eyes flutter open.

You look up at him in the dark for a few moments with a soft smile before nodding and sitting up

“Okay. Thank you Shino” you whisper back and climb from his bed to go back to your own to slip on shoes and grab your pouch and headband.

Shino watched you get ready and thought about how it would be to have you sleep beside him every night and wake up together. Getting ready for the day together and getting breakfast before you both had to go to work and train your own shinobi. He imagines coming home to you and sleeping by you, being with you always and when you look his way and smile, the light from dying fire lighting your face, he knows that’s what he wants.

The sunrise warmed your face and by the time you jumped from the trees into your camp, the other four were awake. “Good morning” you say with a smile and are met with tired eyes as they wake up. When you meet shino’s look he smiles softly “good morning” he says softly back and your heart feels as happy as you look when your smile softened and you sigh softly holding his gaze for a few more seconds before you started to pack up your own things.

He keeps glancing over at you every few moments as you pack up camp, watching as you meticulously, in the same routine as always, roll up your bed and put your things in your pack. By the time you’re all ready, it’s like no one was ever here to begin with, it always makes you smile to see how well you could disappear without a trace. He loved that smile.

“When we get back,” he says as he catches up to you as you run through the trees “would you like to get dinner with me?”

You look over at him with a little grin “like a date? Or just dinner?” You ask and your grin spreads when the ear you can see turns pink

He clears his throat “a date”

You guessed his feelings matched yours when he asked you to stay, but you didn’t expect him to move so fast. When you really think about it, it makes sense when you finally know how you feel you don’t wanna wait around anymore, especially as shinobi.

“I’d love to” you say and smile “after we debrief, I’m all yours Shino” he nods, cheeks flushing matching his ears as he falls back into place.

The debriefing when by swiftly, the mission a success and your wages given. Afterwards, you head to dinner with Shino and unsurprisingly, much to your relief, it was like it always was. It was easy and light, you felt comfortable with him. Nothing was different.

He brushes the hair from your face and you suck in a sharp inhale, a gasp from his warm touch. You lean into his touch and watch the corners of his mouth twitch into a tiny smile, making your heart race.

Okay so maybe one thing was different.

When you leave the restaurant you have the biggest pleased smile as his fingers lace with yours.

Two different things.

But the difference felt so right, like it was always meant to be like this.

The walk to your home was silent, spent in stolen glances and smiles, like you both knew a secret that no one else did. When you finally arrived outside your door, the exhaustion from your mission was hitting you both. You knew he wanted to go home and shower but there was a selfish part of your heart that didn’t want him to leave.

“Thank you Shino” you say with a smile as you slip your key into the lock but don’t turn in, just let it hang there as you look up at him.

“Do you wanna get breakfast with me in the morning?” You ask and he lets out a breath of relief as he nods

“Please” he says and gives your hand a small squeeze but doesn’t let it go

You reach up and cup his cheek “so I’ll see you in the morning?” You ask and he nods “I wouldn’t miss another date with you” he says and steps closer, dropping your hand to pull you to his chest

You sigh and bury your face into his neck, either the exhaustion or just feeling it’s the right time you don’t know but something compelled you and you didn’t stop the words when they touched your tongue

“it’s always been you Shino” you whisper “it’ll always be you”

He pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours “it’s always been you for me too” he whispers before his lips gently press into yours.

[hispipsqueak]

Happy New Year

Bakugo x F! Pregnant Reader Fluff

Summary:

You and Bakugo have been keeping a secret, and plan to reveal it at your New Year’s Party.

A/N: Here’s some sweet fluff to end the year. I have a soft spot for Dad!Bakugo and had to write something adorable for him. I hope you enjoy it and your new year is full of happiness and love! Also, I had to look up so much stuff about pregnancy. I hope no one finds my search history :P

TW: Pregnancy. mild cursing. Otherwise, super mega fluffy!

“Why do they have to come over?!” Bakugo grumbled for the thirtieth time. 

You looked up from the pan you were currently scrubbing. 

“Katsuki...they’re our friends! Plus, we are going to announce the big news.” You looked down at your small baby bump.

You and Bakugo had found out you were going to be parents nearly 5 months ago and you both were extremely excited. You had waited to tell everyone until it was deemed safe by your doctor and with the new year approaching, you figured it would be easy to gather everyone you loved to spill the news.

Of course, Bakugo was going to make it difficult though. 

You knew he was just as excited as you about the addition to your little family, but whereas you were open about discussing all your fears, thoughts, and anxieties, Bakugo was a little more closed off and channeled the extra stress into other things.

You went back to washing the dishes and felt your husband’s biceps wrap around your body, his hands softly resting on your belly. He nuzzled into your neck.

“We could just send a text and stay in together. Watch the fireworks from the balcony, relax. Plus, are you sure you want those loud idiots stressing you and the baby out?” He murmured into your ear.

You giggled and swatted him with the dish rag. 

“I literally live with a walking explosion and you’re worried our friends are too loud? I mean sure, maybe Present Mic, but I doubt he doesn’t already have plans.” You trailed off, before he spun you around and lifted you up, bridal style.

“That’s enough, off to bed with you mama. You’re too snappy tonight and clearly not thinking straight.” He chuckled as you squealed into his chest.

“‘Tsuki, you’re so annoying!” You laughed as he gently tossed you into bed.

He crawled on top of you, pressing your body into the soft mattress and mountains of pillows you insisted on sleeping with.

“I may be annoying, but I’m also the father of this little brat inside you.” He muttered, vermillion eyes shining. You smiled up at him.

He had grown up a lot since your UA days. While he still had his hot-headed moments, he was playful and more considerate of your feelings and you knew he was going to be an amazing father. He even changed his screensaver on his phone to your sonogram, though he would never admit it. 

“We’re gonna have fun, babe. It’s gonna be a good night with all our friends and we can finally be open about the baby. Plus, it’d be nice for our kid to meet all their aunts and uncles.” You grinned, thinking of how your friends would react to this.

Katsuki groaned, rolling over. “Kiri is gonna fucking cry, I know it.” 

You laughed and curled up next Bakugo. 

“Yeah...probably.”

-------

New Year’s Eve was finally here. You had been busy preparing everything for the party tonight and your heart fluttered at the idea of sharing your big news with everyone. Bakugo had to finish up some last minute stuff at the agency so he was going to be home right before the party began. You were pulling another tray of baked sweets out of the oven when your phone chirped.

You glanced over to see another message from your group chat with the girls.

Mina: Can’t wait to see you Y/N, I MISS YOU

Momo: Are you sure you don’t need us to bring anything? We don’t want to be bad guests.

Ochaco: We can also help set up if you need us to! 

Y/N: I’m totally fine. Katsuki arranged for food to be delivered and Sero and Kirishima are picking up all the drinks for tonight. Just bring yourselves!

Y/N: Also yes, before you ask, I am making cookies.

Mina: HECK YES! :)

They started arranging transportation plans and you clicked your phone off, to focus on transferring the cookies onto a cooling tray. Once that was settled, you jogged upstairs to get dressed. Luckily, you weren’t really showing yet so your friends wouldn’t immediately know when you greeted them, but you still wanted to wear something loose and flowy.

You settled on a deep red dress that cinched right under your chest and opened in an A-line skirt. You rifled through your jewelry box until you found the necklace Katsuki had given you for your birthday. It was a large black teardrop shaped diamond on a simple thin silver chain. You reached behind your back to clasp the necklace and felt a warm hand enclose yours.

“I didn’t even hear you come in.” You smiled looking at your husband in the mirror. He finished attaching your necklace and met your eyes. 

“I just got here. The food’s here too, so everything’s done. I just need to get dressed.” He said, twirling you around so you were facing him. He rubbed your tiny bump. “How’s the brat been today?”

“Surprisingly chill. Though the baby did require a couple pints of ice cream for breakfast.” You laughed.

“Uh-huh...blame it on the baby.” He chuckled and gave you a kiss on your forehead. You could smell the scent of his body wash, a spicy cinnamon musk combined with his natural caramel scent. He must have showered at the agency and you buried your face in his chest, enveloping yourself in him.

“Stop sniffing me like a dog, crazy woman.” He flicked you on the head and you pouted. He crouched down so he could kiss your belly.

“I’m sorry your mama is nuts.” He laughed before pressing his lips to your stomach. 

You smiled. Though you were excited to tell your friends about the news, you kind of loved having this little secret just between you two. These moments, with just you, Bakugo, and the baby, were magical and felt so...pure. Untainted from anything.

-----

“We’re HERE!” Mina’s voice echoed through your entryway. She was dressed in a gold sparkly jumpsuit and her aura just screamed “Happy New Year”. She was followed by Momo, dressed in a sparkly green dress and Tsu, who wore yellow sundress. Soon the door opened again and Ochaco was ushered in by Deku. You grinned at her blushing face. Her and Deku had finally admitted their feelings for each other after years of pining and they were adorable together. She had on a cute pink knee-length dress that matched Deku’s tie, which contrasted nicely against the dark teal suit he wore.

The rest of your friends piled in slowly afterwards, with Sero and Kirishima carrying cases of booze. You had made sure to stock your house with plenty of non-alcoholic drinks as well but you knew the rest of your friends planned to party hard, since it was rare to all get together.

Once everyone made it in, and Iida stopped arm chopping at Denki for some unknown broken social rule, Kirishima raised his beer.

“Can we just toast to Y/N and Bakubro, for hosting this party? It feels like a million years since I’ve seen you guys.”

You giggled and looked at your husband. He rolled his eyes and looked at you nodding. You turned back to the group.

“Actually, we invited you here because of something else…” You looked down at your belly, and heard gasps.

“ARE YOU…?”

“You’re…?”

“Wait what…?”

Bakugo looked exasperated with the suspense.

“We’re having a baby, idiots.”

A loud cheer erupted from your friends and immediately you were swarmed by the girls, asking a million questions. The guys were clapping Bakugo on the back and as expected Kirishima was already tearing up.

“So manly bro. You’re gonna be the manliest dad!” He sobbed while squeezing Bakugo in a tight hug. Sero and Denki snickered watching this. 

“Get off of me idiot. I’m not the pregnant one.” Bakugo growled trying to pry the redhead off him. Kirishima turned to you and started hugging you tightly. 

“I’m so proud of you guys!”

“You’re proud of them for —”

A ribbon of tape wrapped itself around Kaminari’s mouth before he could finish his sentence. You threw a grateful look toward Sero, who grinned over his beer.

The rest of the night turned into an impromptu baby shower, with everyone fawning over you two. You were asked a zillion questions, everyone offered to babysit, and even Todoroki offered his quirk if you ever needed pain relief (which Bakugo immediately shot down).

“I can take care of my own wife, IcyHot Bastard.” He grunted through his teeth. You smacked Bakugo upside the head before apologizing to Todoroki. You placed your hand back to rest on your belly and felt a small flutter. 

“Holy shit...babe!” You’re mouth dropped. Immediately, the room went quiet and Bakugo rushed to your side. 

“What, what’s wrong??!” He placed his hand on your stomach and his eyes widened.

“The baby...the baby’s kicking.” You smiled, eyes pricking with tears. The two of you looked at each other and you could see tears threatening to spill from your husband’s eyes. He grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, seeming to forget where he was.

“I love you, I love you both so goddamn much” He whispered to you, before kissing you again. 

“Bro, you’re gonna make her have twins!” Kaminari yelled out, before being smacked in the head by both Mina and Kirishima. You giggled and pulled your husband close to you, before he blasted his friend out of the house. 

“Guys, it’s almost midnight!” Momo said looking at her watch. “Ten…”

“Nine…”

“Eight…”

You looked around at all your cheering friends.

“Seven…”

“Six…”

You looked at your husband, who gave you a soft smile back.

“Five…”

“Four…”

You looked down at your baby bump.

“Three...two...one.”

“Happy New Year!”

[domesticblisss]

Nice to Meet You

Jay White x Female Reader Requested Prompt: “Hello! Thank you for opening requests. How about one with Jay White where he’s in New Japan and reader is in WWE and they end up following each other on ig or something and after awhile of messages and such they finally meet and get together? You can change things up if you want I just love the idea of 2 people from separate companies getting together lol ❤️ ” Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 1306 Warnings: Nothing, fluff as fuck with a tiny little bit of angst and some between the lines pinning and a little cursing. Summary: Mutual friends aren't enough for you to meet, but the internet is. A/N: Sorry it took me so long to post it, work has been crazy, then writer's block hit and when the inspirations finally got back to me, I had the shittiest week ever so I couldn't bring myself to write it. I hope it's at least a little bit good, and that my dear requester and you all like it. 💕

He always heard about her and she always heard about him. Only good things.

Shelley always gushed about how their styles were similar, Sabin went off countless times on how they should wrestle as a duo, and against each other, and Candice kept mentioning how they would look cute together.

But the friends in common weren't enough to make them meet each other and their hectic schedule never coincided. Soon, Jay shipped off to Japan full time and she finally got her NXT contract signed.

Jay was the one to take the first step. It was on a late saturday night, one of his few days off, when he finally decided to watch her debut match against Asuka after seeing it trending across social media and different news outlets.

She lost the match, but she gave the NXT Women’s Champion a run for her money. Hard kicks after hard kicks, asuka locks being countered several times, and the most incredibly performed top rope DDT he had ever seen. It was the hardest hitting women’s match he had seen in a while and he was amused with her talent, so amused he had to let the world know.

“@thisisfuryWWE nxt debut match was the best one I’ve seen in a long time. Can’t wait to see more of you 😉”

The message made her smile, the recognition from someone she always thought so highly of warming her heart.

“@JayWhiteNZ thank you! this means a lot coming from the #switchblade 🔪❤️”

With that came the mutual following on social media, then the likes, the casual comments turned into dm’s, turned into phone number exchanges, and soon, they didn’t know a life without each other.

Every day a “good morning” text would be sent by whoever woke up first and “sleep well” texts closed off the night. The time zone was messy, but they always found a way to talk to each other, losing count of how many nights were poorly slept and the amount of coffee they drank on the morning after.

Little “this made me think of you” messages were sent whenever a dog picture or a meme came their way, friends' dinner/lunch dates through FaceTime became a thing and every Instagram post got commented with an inside joke. Friends and fans started to notice the change in their relationship and soon their mentions were bombarded with speculating questions.

“Are you guys together?”

“When are the two of you getting married?”

“@thisisfuryWWE and @JayWhiteNZ get a fucking room already”

“I would if she was near me 🙄”

She was the one who took the second step. After a lot of talk with Candice, she finally realised her true feelings towards the kiwi. It wasn’t easy accepting them at first, she took longer to respond to his messages, the “good morning” texts were no more, and her answers were always short, until the fateful day where she completely stopped answering him.

→ I don’t know if I did something wrong, and I am so sorry if I did, but please talk to me.

She knew that ghosting him was wrong and that she needed to tell him the truth, even if her anxiety got the best of her.

The clock on her phone announced that it was 12:45pm, meaning it was almost 2 in the morning for him and that he probably had just gotten back from the monday tapings, tired and wanting to sleep. “Fuck it, he texted me. It’s now or never.”

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

He picked up on the third ring, his long, dyed black hair wet, sticking to his forehead, the droplets of water running down his chest.

“Hey! Sorry it took me a while to pick it up, I was just taking a shower. How are you?” He panted like he had just ran a marathon to pick up the phone. “I missed you.”

She had never seen him so vulnerable, the small tone of his voice shot a tinge of pain to her heart. “Can we talk? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure, just let me put some pants on.” Jay laughed.

He sat the phone down on the nightstand and she kept staring at the cream ceiling of his hotel room, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

“Is everything okay, I was worried about you.” Noises of shuffling fabric were noticeable in the background, paired with a string of curses after what she was pretty sure was him bumping his pinky on some furniture.

“Everything is fine. Is your toe still alive?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

She looked at him, really looked at him. The dark hair dryer, messy and no longer sticking to his forehead, probably the work of him aggressively running the towel over it. His fair skin pink after a hot shower, blue eyes shy, almost anxiety ridden with anticipation of what could happen next. She let out a modest smile, running the words she had thought about telling him countless times in her head.

“What is it, honey?”

“Jay, I- I need to tell you something. I don’t know how to say it but just let me finish first or I’ll die.”

He only nodded.

“I like you. Really, really like you. That’s why I’ve been off these past few days, I’ve been trying to understand my feelings and I ended up scaring myself because I’ve never felt this way for anyone.” she stopped for a few seconds, hands running over face and hair, taking a moment to breath. “Jay, I– fuck, I appreciate our friendship so, so much and I don’t want to ruin it, but I get it if this makes you uncomfortable and if you want to cut ties.”

Jay kept quiet, staring at her through the small screen, smile getting bigger and until it turned into full, hearty laughter.

“Jay, this is not funny. I’m not–“

“This is why you vanished? God, can’t you see I fucking love you too, you idiot?!”

Silence engulfed the pair again as they looked at each other, not believing what had finally happened. They exchanged smiles and lingering stares before continuing the conversation.

“I’m crazy about you, honey.”

“And how are we going to do this, Jay?”

“I am constantly going back home, you can come over when you have some free time. We will figure it out, baby.”

Three weeks of messages and video calls, three weeks of “I love yous” and “can’t wait to see you”, three of the longest weeks of their lives until they finally meet each other.

Jay opens instagram, her story bubble being the first one to show up. He clicks on it and is met with a picture of her in a red envelope dress and white converse, the same one he was wearing, and a caption that said “today is going to be a great day! ❤️🔪”.

🔥 reaction and a “see you in forty, love” reply sent, her phone vibrated in her purse just a few meters away from him. Little did he know she was waiting for him in the landing room, holding a small poster with “Mr. White” written and little switchblades drawn all over it.

She grew anxious as everyone but Jay left the plane, checking the time and if she was on the right gate constantly.

Five minutes passed, five minutes that felt like hours, and Jay finally came out, with sunglasses covering his eyes and his denim jacket in hand. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her, a smile growing on his face as she ran to him. He engulfed her in a tight hug, kissing her lips in small pecks that grew into one big slow kiss.

They touched foreheads after, smiling and laughing, not believing they were finally in each other’s arms.

“Hey, stranger.”

[withoneheadlight]

oh man that one with billy convincing steve to skip work has got me thinking trophy husband billy

Oh, anon! 💗💗💗💗adkahdshdhdkhkhdYESSS. I LOVE this idea!

And I’m SURE he would be the happiest trophy husband. And also the kind that's showy. Has so much fun going over the top with it, being gossip material. All cliché-y, and Diva-like. Basically confirming what everyone thinks about him (about them) precisely because it’s the diametrically opposed to what it really is.

Doing things like:

Mowing the lawn in mini-mini-shorts. Working on his tan on their lovely backyard on the sunny Sunday Summer mornings (in that exact spot where –coincidentally– Mr. Walker, their blatantly homophobic next door neighbor, would have to get out of his own backyard with his eyes closed not to see). Being reaaaally polite with everyone around (Mr. Walker included), smiling and waving his hand like “Hiiii, Janice! How did that new face treatment go?” because they live in a Nice Place now, six years after Robert Harrington made Steve climb his way up the company ladder right from the bottom “Exactly like everyone else”, both as a punishment and a trial; after working their asses out of their shitty one-bedroom apartment, having to prove themselves in every single step (as Steve and Billy, but also as SteveandBilly), but,

Here they are.

And now Steve has a very good job, one he’s genuinely good at, one that pays for much more than hardly the bills and maybe having dinner out from time to time. And they’re happy and they are together and they fucking made it, despite barely anyone around them given two shits. Now, Steve slicks his wild hair back from Monday to Friday, wears the nicest suits, so fitting and sexy and oh so preppy Billy sometimes gets a hard-on just from seeing them all together in the dressing room, hanging in a perfectly tidy line, made of the same material of sins.

So. 

He just doesn’t see the point in not treating himself every once in a while.  Make Steve run late for work or not getting there at all. In no letting himself enjoy the way those tailored beauties emphasize the shape of Steve’s glorious ass. Enjoy the certainty that in a big, stylish, impeccably neat office downtown, Steve’s dad is rolling his eyes all the way back into their sockets.

And also.

In not letting himself revel in the exhilarating feeling of sliding full into this ‘hot-mess trophy hubby’ persona almost everyone around them assumes he is. Steve’s Harrington boy-toy. “That California scum. Must be real good at sucking dick to get a deal like that.” Make the rumors roll down the small streets of Hawkins and under the door of his own father’s house. Thrive in the knowledge that every time Neil Hargrove hears any or those rumors or gets even the tiiiniest glimpse of them two together, going out and about holding hands,  feels like he’s about to puke his guts out thinking about what his son has ‘become’.

And aside from that, he kind of––enjoys, this trophy husband thing, to be honest. It’s been ten years since they got together now. Billy likes to keep things spiced-up. So when Steve is promoted and they move to be close to the new office, along with the house Billy buys a pair of powder pink slippers, fluffy ball of floating fur on top, and a see-through, fur-riveted robe to match. Some days he goes to his morning cockteling&tanning session in the backyard wearing only that (“Heeeey! How ya doin’ Mr. Walker?”). Kisses Steve goodbye long and filthy at the door, where everyone can see, opening the robe wide to wrap it around them both together, pressing their bodies flush, biting at his ear and whispering “Bring me a diamond when you come back, honey bunny” making Steve snort but say "You deserve a million of them, babe" making Billy melt, feel a bit like he's dripping love out of all the pores of his body, making a puddle that will permanently stain the glamorous white marble of the entryway as he waves Steve goodbye, scratches with feign indifference at the trail of fair hairs coming out his flashy-green pants to counteract the way Steve's killer smile makes him blush as hard as the first time, a whole decade away, that cold November night when he grabbed Billy by the collar of his T-shirt and said "I'm gonna kiss you. And then you're gonna punch me. And I don't care.”

It’s like a fucking fairytale. The way things were going? The most Billy expected out of life was live if fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse behind. But now, he’s got the guy of his dreams. He’s got a life he could have never dreamed of. He’s got Steve, now. Steve, who’s good, is caring. Always fights him back. Doesn’t buy any of the shit he tries to pull off. Steve, who's got lips like that moment the earth forgets about gravity when you’re riding down the hill of a rollercoaster. Got eyes that can rip out of you promises you never thought you'd make (like: I do and forever and not even death). That always see Billy when they look at him.

And now, he gets to wake up every morning before he does, put the Moka pot on the stove. Gets to see Steve’s sleepy face right after rolling out of bed, hair still untamed, pouty lips, bare feet dragging over the floor. See the way he beams, smile wide and devastatingly sweet when Billy tells him “I made you coffee, babe”. Gets Steve kissing him like a daydream, laying him over the kitchen table, fucking him before even touching breakfast with his fancy pink robe on.

And Billy thought he would have to change. Give something, to have something. Didn’t really mind. Too lucky to complain. Thought he would have to stop being mean once they got married. Play the tamed part. Thought he was going to have to behave to fit into the rich and respectable life they had landed at. But. No-No. Rich people? They’re way meaner than regular people, turns out. Billy’s just been upgraded to play for the Asshole’s World Championship Cup.

And he’s always been good at sports.

So he goes to the hair salon the afternoon before any important event. Gets a facial. Does his nails. Buys new clothes. Gets all Pretty Woman on himself just so Steve can show him off. And oh. OH. OHHH. Steve does show him off. To his dad. His mom. The whole party. Doesn’t give a fuck about whatever people keeps on whispering behind their backs. Offers his arm to Billy and Billy clings to him, keeps his chin up. He’s never been as afraid of anything as much as Steve not loving him back. He’s fearless now. Because here they are. So he lets Steve walk him through the crowd as the King he was born like. Brilliant. Proud. Letting Billy to deal with the vultures if he fancies to do that.

“Awwww. But look at you!! Anyone can tell you two are soooo in love!”

Fake boobs. Fake Louboutins. Fake Smile. Billy is Queen Bee now. He’s got this.

“Oh, no Miss Treadaway. I dearly appreciate you noticing how good my acting skills are. But it’s exactly as you said to Miss Walton the other day. I only married Stevie here because he’s got a big dick and it’s loaded. And he only married me because of how good I look on all fours. You’re too perceptive to hide it!”

But with Steve’s parents? With Steve’s parents Billy is relentlessly n i c e.  When Robert Harrington won’t even look at him. When Crystal Harrington blows saccharine all over him like in a bad magic trick, deceivingly sweet when she says, “Well William. Maybe it's time you get a real job too now our Steven is running his own branch" cold war buzzing between them when Billy spreads his most honest, open smile, not a millimeter of animadversion showing “But I already have a real job, Crystal. I take care of your son. And there’s also, you know, that side thing I do of running Garage” making her fingers clutch hard around her cup of fine champagne, making Steve’s lips fight to repress a grin, eyes fond, and soft and in love. And Billy will do whatever it takes, endure whatever he has to, if what he gets in return is this:  the way the narrow space keeping them apart feels like inevitability when they're about to kiss.

And everyone thought he was going after the money, when they married. Most still do. But Billy never actually asked for diamonds. Well, not for real. But he gets one anyway. Tenth anniversary and counting. It shines unreal on his finger, as much as this life he has now, as the liquid shine of Steve’s eyes when he says “They come from fire, just like you. I always thought they would fit so well. And looks like I was right” and just a few years before, Billy would have said “This is too much, I can’t take it” too afraid Steve would get the wrong impression too, too afraid to not be up to him. But now, he understands, that this is just another way Steve is trying to take care of him, to show him love. So now, Billy lets Steve spoil him as much as he wants. Take him out for dinner without reason. Hand him a sealed envelope saying, “What about showing me that ocean you love so much?” Kissing him in front of everyone, all the time, ringed fingers intertwined.

Lets him buy them a California King just to make a stupid joke, get Billy Hargrove to blush.

“We can ditch all of this, if you’re not happy. You know that, right? I don’t care about anything else as long as it’s you and I”

Billy shakes his head. “I am happy, pretty boy. Happier than I ever thought I could be” Tickles Steve’s nose with the fluffy, pink fuzz all around his robe until he sneezes and chuckles. “But I wanna know,” he says, tone pouty and tragic “It is true, what everybody says? Am I really a trophy husband?”

Steve shuffles closer, rumbles low in his throat. It’s an early Sunday morning. They’re gonna spend all time left until breakfast fucking in bed. Then cockteling&tanning together ‘till lunch. And then, after, he’s sure he can convince Steve to put on one of those gorgeous suits, let Billy grind against the soft fabric, make a mess out of him. Make him beg and squirm. Pull down his fly real slow, down on his knees. Suck him off. Eat him out. Make him moan I love yous brighter than diamonds when Billy gets inside him. But right now, Steve just kisses him silly, lowers down the covers to take a look down, at his leopard print, see-through, hideous new briefs. The cheapest ones he could find.

Because Billy’s trash. Will always be trash.

“Oh yeah, babe. You are. A fucking trophy. The best anyone could have”

But he’s posh trash now.

💎

The original post (xxxx) xD 💍

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 14

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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SMUT WARNING

[Hermione]

"Is this the moment?"

Hermione vaguely registers Harry's voice, but she's too lost in kissing Ron to care. Instead, she wraps her arms more securely around his neck and smiles through the kiss when his fingers dig into her back.

"Oi! There's a hen party going on here!" Harry's voice is louder now, and he slurs his words, suggesting that his current state of mind is a bit more courageous than usual. No wonder he's so willing to interrupt their kiss.

On their own time, Ron and Hermione eventually surface. They hesitate to break eye contact, which would officially end the moment, but they're forced to look around as soon as they hear a round of applause. They glance around to see that the entirety of the wedding party is staring at them, cheering and beaming.

"Cough it up, Ginny," says Dean, jokingly shoving her shoulder.

"No! You bet they would kiss for the first time tonight," she argues. "That might not be their first kiss."

"Ask them!" says Neville..

"What if they lie?" asks Seamus. "They've been lying to us about this so far. Who's to say they won't keep it up?"

Hermione and Ron share a shocked expression and then burst into laughter.

"Did you all bet on us?" asks Ron incredulously.

"Why yes, we did," says Neville. "You two have been acting quite shifty for the last few days. How long has this been going on?"

Ron and Hermione meet each other's gaze for a silent conversation. Do they tell the truth? She tries to ask with her eyes.

Ron shrugs. "Last night," says Hermione, a blush forming on her cheeks. It's not a complete lie; it feels like the proper start of their relationship. A look at Ron nodding confirms he agrees.

"Did she say last night? Hand it over, everyone!" beams Lavender, shouldering her way into the crowd.

Ginny groans, and Lavender smiles as everyone else rummages into their pockets for cash.

"Hold on," says Ginny, holding her money just out of Lavender's reach. "You said Hermione spent the night in your room last night!"

Lavender shrugs coyly.

"Did you cover for her?"

"Maybe," she shrugs.

"So you knew?"

"I had a feeling."

"That's not fair!" says Ginny. "You had an advantage!"

"All's fair in love and war." Lavender snatches the money from Ginny's hand and saunters off, Demelza and Luna following behind her.

Ginny huffs. "I can't believe she didn't tell me." She looks at Hermione and narrows her eyes. "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"You're not upset about this?" asks Hermione, gesturing between herself and Ron.

"No, I'm thrilled!" she says, launching toward Hermione and throwing her arms around her neck. "Maybe you'll be my sister-in-law one day."

Ron laughs, and Hermione's cheeks turn pink.

I already am.

"Gin, you're freaking them out. They've been together for a day."

"Right, sorry."

"Alright, the show's over, kids," says Ron. "How about we go home and hope that you're all too drunk to remember this tomorrow?"

There's a chorus of groans, but not much protesting, as everyone is already leaning on one another for support and probably dreaming of being in bed. Luna, Demelza, and Lavender are already by the exit.

"I'll go walk with them," says Hermione.

"Sounds good," says Ron. "I'll keep an eye on the boys. And Gin."

"See you at the hotel," she says before trotting off to catch up with the rest of the girls.

The walk back feels much longer than it is, especially with three drunk and distractible girls. To Hermione's relief, the topic of her and Ron passes quickly, and Hermione wonders if they really are too far gone to remember this later.

As soon as they arrive back at the hotel, they split off and stumble back toward their rooms. Ron and the boys aren't too far behind her, and Hermione watches in amusement as he corrals them toward the stairs to the suites. Still sober, Ron and Hermione breathe a sigh of relief once everyone is safely up the stairs.

"Finally," says Ron. He loops his fingers through hers and waggles his eyebrows. "Now that the kids are in bed…" he says, trailing off mid-sentence.

"What do you have in mind?" she asks.

"Fancy a swim?"

Hermione looks toward the pool. Even though the hotel lobby doesn't offer a complete view, she can tell that it's relatively empty and looks a lot calmer and more relaxing than it does during the day. "Sure. Let's stop by our rooms to grab our suits?"

"Or," he croons, tugging her arm to pull her into an embrace. He continues in a whisper, "It's three AM, and we're in Vegas. Knickers will be fine, don't you think?"

Hermione bites her lip. "What if we get in trouble?"

"Live a little?"

Hermione considers skinny-dipping in a public pool living a lot, but as it turns out, adopting a 'what happens in Vegas' mindset has served her quite well this week. "Okay. But if we get caught, I'll be quite angry with you."

Ron's eyes flash with something unexpected — he almost appears excited at the thought of her being angry. "Win, win," he says.

She recalls their first day married and how they argued in his suite and then again at Erised Elopements — she saw the same flash in his eyes back then, and it clicks for her. Ron loves to argue. Hermione can't help but laugh. If he's into a hot temper, he picked the right girl.

He might like London-Hermione, after all.

The back of the pool deck is spotted with miniature hot tubs, capacity of two, as if the resort was built for honeymooners. It's perfect — there'd be nothing worse than a third oblivious guest plunking down next to them. They approach an empty one obscured by a few fake palm trees and set their belongings on the edge.

Ron pulls off his shirt and shorts and offers her a sheepish smile and a shrug, and his neck turns red, almost as if he's nervous. It makes Hermione want to shout at him and remind him how beautiful he is.

He doesn't waste any time stepping into the hot water, and as soon as he does, Hermione laments the lack of view.

"Your turn," he says with a smile. He leans against the back of the hot tub with his arms on the edge.

His gaze feels like a spotlight on her, but she doesn't mind it. With one last glance around to make sure no one else is watching, she basks in Ron's salacious stare as she strips off her dress to expose her matching bra and knicker set. Ron beams as she steps into the water.

"You're so goddamn beautiful." His voice, paired with the look of awe on his face, make his words somewhat convincing. Then his voice lowers, and in a surprisingly commanding tone, he continues, "Get over here."

Heat pools in her lower belly, and it has nothing to do with the temperature of the water. When she's close enough, his arms envelop her and pull her close. Her legs find a home on either side of his thighs, and their lips connect like magnets.

Hermione can feel Ron's immediate attraction to her press against her, so she presses back. He groans through their kiss, and his fingers travel up the back of her thighs and cup her bum.

He runs his tongue along her lips, asking for an invitation, and she lets him in without resistance. Their kiss deepens, and they take their time exploring it. One of Ron's hands slides from her bum to her stomach — she typically doesn't like it when men touch her there, but it feels nice when Ron does it, like an act of appreciation rather than judgment. His hand travels upward and lands at her breast, and he runs his thumb over the lace.

He breaks the kiss, but only to trail kisses down her cheek and neck until landing at the soft flesh below her ear. His teeth make contact with her skin, but only for a second before he pulls away to ask, "is it okay if I leave a mark?"

"Yes." The sound of her voice surprises her, but not as much as how good it feels when he starts to suck at her neck. Without a thought, her hand tangles into his hair, and she presses on his head, encouraging him to bite harder.

It all feels so good, so perfect, and she almost doesn't mind that they're in public. She wants to rip off his pants and have him in the hot tub. Almost.

As Ron gets lost in kissing and sucking on her neck, she tousles his hair, and her mind starts to wander. They'll be back in London in a few days, and Hermione usually wears her hair up at work. She hadn't thought about that when she told Ron to bite harder.

The single thought about hiding a hickey at the office breaks a dam, and more start rushing in. Before Las Vegas, she'd never snogged anyone in public, let alone half-naked in a hot tub. A month ago, she'd have never told a man she was falling in love with him after a few days or slept with him so soon. What happened?

For a moment, it feels as though she's that third, unwelcome guest in the hot tub just watching the pair snog each other senseless. The girl on Ron's lap letting him have his way with her is nothing but an experiment, an example of what would happen if Hermione wore her heart on her sleeve.

Her stomach clenches for the same reason it does when she sees Seamus throwing back one too many drinks, or Lavender basking in male attention, or Luna dancing wildly under neon lights at the club. Before Las Vegas, she would have named it superiority — she's too good for all of that. But she knows better now. It's just envy.

Unfortunately, she built her life in London under the assumption that she was too good for wild nights. Too responsible to just say yes to things. Too uptight to let her hair down, especially to hide a hickey.

How is all of this going to fit into her life in London? She stops playing with Ron's hair.

As soon as she stops, Ron pulls away from her neck. "Are you okay? Was that too much?"

Hermione looks into his bright blue eyes, wide with concern. She doesn't want to ruin the moment for him, but it's already ruined for her. "What happens when we go back to London?"

Ron's hand drops from its place on her chest and meets the other at her lower back. His embrace loosens so she can lean back and see his whole face. "What do you want to happen?"

She hesitates. The thought of going back to her life in London without Ron doesn't exactly appeal to her, so she tells him the truth. "I want to be with you."

"Same." He brushes a hair behind her ear and smiles at her.

"So, where do we start?"

"Married." He makes it sound so simple.

"How married?"

Ron laughs. "Are there different levels of marriage? And is this a conversation you want to have right now?"

"Considering we'll be back in London in two days… yes."

Ron nods. "Okay. Then let's talk about it."

Her arms drape loosely around his neck. "Are we really going to make a go of this?"

"I want to," he says, his voice sincere. "I don't think it's that complicated."

But it is complicated. Do they live together? Share money? Does Ron want children? They've never even talked about their future; they just got married. "There are a lot of logistics to consider."

"I say we play it by ear."

Hermione sighs, and Ron holds her more tightly.

"Look. We'll go back to London and dive into our lives. From there, we'll figure out how to blend our lives together. There's not much we can do from this hot tub."

"We have six months to figure it out."

"At least six months, but I'd like to think we don't have a deadline at all. It's not like some judge will stop in at the six-month mark and declare us divorced because we don't have every loose end tied up. Heck, my parents have been married for forty years, and they still have shit to figure out. They just love each other, so they tend to put the shit on the backburner."

Hermione hadn't thought of it that way — for some reason, six months felt like a strong, hard deadline. Maybe she was just afraid that Ron would be itching to leave, and she'd only have six months to prove she was worth staying married to. She smiles — she'd never have expected the words 'put the shit on the backburner' to give her butterflies, and yet, it does.

"What is your hesitation?" he asks.

"The truth?" She doesn't want to overwhelm him with her insecurities — that's London-Hermione, and she's still not sure he'll like her.

"Of course I want the truth. Can't start our marriage off with lies."

Hermione takes a deep breath before answering. "I'm worried you won't like me."

Ron narrows her eyes at her. "Why wouldn't I like you?"

"You didn't when we first met."

"But I like you now."

"But this isn't really me," she says. "This is Vegas Hermione. Not London Hermione."

"Do you think they're that different?" he says, his head cocking to the side. He lifts one eyebrow as if trying to call her bluff.

"Yes. I do."

"Cool. I can't wait to get to know London Hermione." His tone is so calm, so casual.

"I'm serious, Ron," she says, pulling away so his hands loosen around her waist. "I don't want you to be disappointed."

He responds by gently tugging her back so he can place a well-aimed kiss on her nose. "How about you give me a chance, then let me decide if I'm disappointed? Don't you think I have the same fear?"

"You're afraid I won't like you?" she says, leaning her forehead against his.

He nods as he repeats her words back to her, "You didn't when we first met."

Hermione smiles at the memory of their first disastrous encounter in London. "That's true. You ordered a straw like a psychopath."

Ron laughs. "But you like me now."

"Also true. Now you don't order straws—"

Ron cuts her off by pressing a kiss to her lips. "Oh, it's more than that, and you know it. I think your exact words were that you're 'falling in love' with me."

She lightly kisses him again. "We both said that."

"We did," he says, running his thumb along her cheek. "I meant it, too."

Their lips meet again. It's less hungry than before but more caring and slow-paced, like two lovers that don't have a deadline. His arms tighten against her back, shifting her hips against his body.

"Do you normally say it so soon?" she asks when they surface.

"What, thirty-six hours?" laughs Ron. "Never. You?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "That was most definitely Vegas Hermione."

"Same. Maybe I'll keep that part of Vegas Ron."

He tries to kiss her again, but she hesitates, lost in thought. Such a simple statement sends her mind reeling. She's still worried that Ron won't like her London-self as much, but that's under the assumption that she's going to revert to that person upon landing at Heathrow. She'd imagined London-Ron as the same happy-go-lucky person that she's gotten to know. He's probably different, too.

"You're usually quite guarded, aren't you?" he asks as he watches her expression change.

"Yeah, I'd say I am," she nods. "Aren't you?"

"Yeah. Figured it was the best way to avoid getting hurt."

Hermione chuckles. She uses the same logic as Ron. "How's that working out for you?"

"It's a good way to stay single. A bad way to fall in love."

What they're doing might be short-sighted and naive, but Ron makes a good point. If love is at the bottom of the deep-end, she'll never find it by dipping her toes in the water. Maybe getting married in Vegas was the equivalent of getting pushed into the pool.

"Maybe Vegas will have changed us." Her fingers find Ron's hair again, and she can't help but play with it.

"Or at the very least, woken us up a bit."

His lips find hers again, and this time his hand starts to wander from her lower back down toward her knickers. He slips his hands underneath the lace to grip her bare skin and groans as his hips grind against hers.

She chuckles at his reaction and dips her fingers inside of his waistband, where they brush against his erection. "What, do you want me or something?"

"Cheeky," he laughs. "And absolutely. But as much as I want to have you right here, I'd like a little privacy."

"Back to my room?" she whispers in his ear.

"Yes, please."

x

After pulling their clothing over wet underwear, Hermione leads the way back up to her suite, hand in hand with Ron as he follows closely behind. Her dress is uncomfortably heavy as it soaks up the water from her bra and knickers, but she doesn't mind — she knows she won't be wearing it for much longer.

Ron seems to have the same thought because the moment the door closes behind them, he spins her around to face him, pulls her close, and runs his hand down her back. She shivers at the contact.

"Let's say we get you back out of this dress," he whispers in her ear. She doesn't protest as his fingers dip under the hemline to tug it up and over her head, once again leaving her standing before him in nothing but her lingerie.

Ron then pulls off his shirt while she unbuttons his shorts until he matches her, almost naked. His hands grip the bottom of her thighs, and with the help of a small hop, he pops her up to waist height. She wraps her legs around him to lock herself in place and captures his lips with hers.

Instead of hauling her to the bed, he makes his way to the bathroom, shoulders the door open, and sets her onto the bathroom vanity. Without removing his lips, Ron reaches around her back to unclasp her bra, letting it drop to the tile below.

His pants join her bra on the floor, followed by her knickers. Hermione arches her back as Ron's mouth travels down her body, kissing every square inch of skin it can find until it lands at her breasts. Hermione can hardly believe they're under the same fluorescent lighting where she picked apart her appearance a few mornings ago because right now, she's never felt sexier.

Ron echoes her thoughts by trailing kisses from her breasts, across her stomach, and to her thighs, which open for him without protest. He dives his tongue between her legs and groans as if she's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. Her eyes flutter shut as he steadies her lower back with one hand and slips a finger inside her.

"Oh my god, Ron," she mumbles, tangling her fingers in his hair to hold his head in place. "Keep doing that."

Pressure starts to build at her center, and she leans her back into the mirror to give him a better angle. One leg drapes lazily over his shoulder, and his free hand moves from her lower back to her thigh to hold it in place. She continues to press his head into her as his tongue circles her clit.

"Ron, I'm gonna come—"

As soon as she says it, the movements of his tongue slow down, his fingers pause inside her, and the pressure comes to a frustrating plateau. She groans and wraps her other leg around his head to lock him in place. She can feel the vibration of his chuckle against her.

"I'm so close!" she whines, and he removes his mouth from her to gaze up.

"Oh, I know."

What a tease. "Fuck you," she adds, aiming for a playful tone.

"Gladly." As Hermione rolls her eyes, Ron beams, "Marriage with you is going to be so goddamn fun."

He rises to his feet to turn on the shower and steps inside, motioning for Hermione to join him. Pouting, she hops off the vanity and meets him under the warm running water. "You owe me an orgasm."

"Oh, calm down," he says as he guides her back to the wall. "I'm going to finish you off right now."

She bites her lip and spreads her legs as Ron lowers to a knee and runs his nose along her center. He then takes his time kissing and nipping at her inner thigh until Hermione clears her throat and raises an eyebrow at him.

"Jesus, woman," he laughs. "So needy."

But it works — he attaches his mouth and lets his fingers travel inside her to work their magic, and it doesn't take long to get back to where he had her before. The hot water dripping down her body only intensifies the sensation of his lips on her, and this time it's her breath that gives away how close she is to release. Ron keeps his contact this time, his tongue moving slow, rhythmic circles around her center until she reaches a peak. He holds her up as she collapses against his face, grips, and tugs at his wet hair, and his name involuntarily escapes her lips as a high-pitched, breathy moan.

Ron holds his tongue on her until she comes down, cycling through a few waves of pleasure before her legs can hold her up again. Then, he kisses his way back up her body until his lips find hers.

"Worth it," she says when he breaks away. He starts kissing her cheek and neck, and she whispers in his ear, "now what?"

"I want to fuck you."

"I bet you do," she says as she slithers out of his embrace and reaches for her shampoo bottle. "You'll get your chance."

Ron smirks at her as she starts lathering up her hair. "Tease."

"It takes one to know one." Hermione smiles at him as she plops some shampoo onto his head before rinsing her own.

She takes her time cleaning herself, and Ron follows suit, but they both know exactly what they're doing with every 'accidental' brush of his cock against her hip or breasts against his back. It doesn't take long before his hands are on her again, rubbing soap over her body under the guise of helping her get clean. He runs soapy fingers over her chest, her neck, and down her legs, then flips her around so her breasts press against the hard, cold tile. She shivers as his hands run up and down her back, and then his body melts against hers, his erection nestled between her legs.

"Please?" he croons into her ear.

Teasing him is deliciously fun, but there's only so much she can take before she absolutely needs him. "Yes."

She widens her stance and feels his knees bend behind her as he positions his erection at her entrance. To allow him access, she arches her back, tilting her hips up toward him, and he slides in, groaning with pleasure as he fills her from behind.

He moves slowly at first, exploring the limits of this position before picking up his pace. His hand plants to the wall beside her head, and she watches his knuckles turn white as he grips the tile, moaning along with him as each buck of his hips presses her against the wall.

The pressure rises again, and she can sense they're both close to release. To her surprise, he slows down and settles his face next to hers.

"Hermione," he breathes into her ear, "You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen, you know that, right?"

She hopes to god the question is rhetorical because she doesn't answer, instead turning around to face him. His lips crash into hers as one leg at a time swings around his hips until he's holding her against the wall. Their position is perfect for his cock to slip right back in, and he resumes his thrusts, each one harder and deeper than the last, until they both lose themselves in pleasure.

Her legs drop to the shower tile. Panting, he leans against her, embracing her. "Let's do that again sometime."

Hermione laughs and places a kiss on his cheek. "Whatever you say, hubby."

Still covered in soap, they step under the water stream, kissing until every bubble washes off. Ron reluctantly turns off the shower and steps out to grab them each a towel.

"How did I get so damn lucky?" Ron mutters as he towels off. His voice is low and quiet, as if he's wondering to himself.

"I could ask myself the same question," she says before placing another kiss on his lips. The kiss lingers as they breathe each other in.

Hermione can't wait for more showers like this.

Once dry, Ron settles underneath the covers. Not bothering to put any clothes on herself, Hermione dives in beside him.

They settle underneath the blankets together as if it's something they've done one hundred times before. Only when Ron wraps his long arm around her waist like a protective seat belt does Hermione realize that it's the first time they've knowingly shared a bed. His embrace feels safe and secure, just like the harness on the Deathstick, and she'd almost be willing to drop through the sky again if his arms were around her. Almost.

Even though he's quite a bit taller than her, his knees fit perfectly behind hers. Just like they did in the shower. Hermione closes her eyes and listens to his breath as he buries his head in her bushy hair, now frizzing as it dries. Her own breathing settles into a rhythm, and she's about to drift into sleep when Ron speaks.

"My lease is almost up." His voice is low, almost a whisper, but even so, there's a tremble to it.

Hermione feels a smile forming on her lips. "Are you renewing?"

"I was planning on it," he says. "Before."

Before. Her smile grows bigger. "Before you accidentally got married?"

"Yeah."

It should be a big decision for any couple, but it doesn't feel that way. Not at all.

"Move in with me?"

"Really?"

"Head-first, right?" She can almost feel his eyes widening. "I have a huge shower. You'll love it."

Ron lets out a long breath and chuckles into her hair. "I hope you don't mind that my favorite color is orange," he says as he tightens his embrace.

"Oh god. I hate orange."

Ron uses his nose to move aside some of Hermione's hair and presses a kiss to her neck. "Well, marriage is about compromise, love."

Hermione imagines her flat adorned with orange curtains and art, Ron's clothing scattered around her room, and his dirty dishes in the sink. "We're gonna drive each other barmy once this honeymoon phase is over, aren't we?"

Even though he can't see her, Ron must sense her smiling too and know better than to take her complaint seriously. "Can't fucking wait."

Hermione snuggles up closer against Ron, her head in the crook of his neck. It's a good thing he doesn't take her too seriously because the reality is, she can't fucking wait either.

[guqin-and-flute]

In Your Hands--Ch. 2 [Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[Chapter 1]

[This whole fic is the second chronological installment of the Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[First Installment] [Ao3 Series]

Yanli is determined to set about evening the exchange of their gifts after she finds a little chest full of her favorite floral incense on his pillow next to her when she wakes. She would like to collect information as he does, sifting through conversation to remember errant tidbits about interests but he is as frustratingly tightlipped on the subject of himself as he ever is. Agreeable to any attempt to draw out his preferences to the point of obfuscation. “Don’t you love this color, A-Yao?” elicits a kindly, “It’s very lovely,” no matter the color in question. She thinks it might be his way of not being a bother, because he certainly isn’t doing anything intentionally. Little does he know that, in reality, it’s making things more difficult on her.

I will know you, she thinks, watching him with keen eyes as they all eat breakfast together and talk. I will give you what you want, if only I could find out what that is.

He catches her watching and tilts his head, smiling in question.

“How are your dumplings?” She asks as an excuse, gesturing. 

“Oh, very good. Would you like some more?”

This man. 

His plate holds a bit of everything on the table, including one of A-Xian’s favored spicy dishes--while it’s something, she already knows he had grown up in Yunmeng and can tolerate spice. She just doesn’t know whether he likes it or not.  

It has almost become a game, to her, if not to him--though she thinks it might be, at least a little, for she sees the flash of satisfaction in his eyes when he lets her take his arm and breathes deeply, taking in the scent of the incense she had let envelop her as she dressed that morning. “You smell wonderful,” he murmurs and she feels herself flush up her neck, even though it had been the whole point of steeping herself in it to begin with.

“Thanks to you.” When she lays her head on his shoulder--partially in thanks, partially to hide her pink cheeks--she feels him lean closer.

She wants to delight him, to see him pleased and surprised into a genuine smile. But more than anything, she truly wants to know more about him. 

There is an inkling of a clue when she buys a guan for him made of graceful silver arches that form a lotus that seems to sit upon water that is reminiscent of the hair pin he had gotten her. When she presents it to him at bedtime, he seems surprised. He lets loose a soft, “oh,” turning it this way and that in his hands. Watching him, triumphant, she slides out her own pin and twirls it next to the guan, allowing her hair to begin its tumble down. “We’ll match.”

For a moment, he simply looks between the two ornaments, one hand coming out to slide his fingertips down the beaded chain of hers. Then, he smiles at her, and it’s wide and very nearly new. “We will.” 

“You like it?”

“Of course, it’s beautiful! I will like everything that you choose to give me.”

She scrunches her nose and tweaks his cheek. “Well, that’s hardly fair! How will I know if you truly do and aren’t just pretending for my sake?”

Turning, he picks her hand up from the bed and chastely brushes his lips across her knuckles. “I will like them because you are the one who gave them, A-Li.”

And at long last, it’s something! Because she thinks it’s true. Perhaps, for him, like it is for her, it is not the usefulness, or the beauty of the thing, but the loving it was given from. She has kept the little drawings A-Xian has given her since he was young, the little carved creatures of wood and soap that A-Cheng used to whittle her (though, realistically, they are little more than blobs she was told are bears and the like. Whatever they look like, they are blobs of love.) She has them lined up on a shelf in her old room, and has brought a few over to the room shared by A-Yao. They make her smile to see because they were made for her; love in a little scene she can revisit through touch again and again. Sometimes, she simply holds them and remembers how it used to be.

This, she decides, is probably what she should focus on for A-Yao--a shelf of happy memories and the knowledge he is loved. 

So, when she is sitting in her favorite pavilion one bright and breezy morning and He Si, one of the servants, delivers a gorgeous new calligraphy set to her and informs her with a barely contained grin that her husband has sent it, Yanli sets to work. After she unpacks and marvels over shiny new things, of course. It’s all sleek and beautiful and of the highest quality.

All morning, she uses his new gift to write him notes that she spends the afternoon ferreting away into places he will find them--like in his pockets or his desk drawers or under his spare boots. Some of them are little lines of poems she cherishes, one or two are shy sketches of the butterflies that had visited and twined through the fluttering, gauzy green curtains as she wrote, and more, still, are idle little thoughts she thinks will warm him. ‘I will be pleased to see you at dinner.’ ‘Remember not to work too hard.’ ‘Have a good day.’

She even gets the joy of seeing him find one while on a walkway, tucked in between 2 delivered missives with the help of He Si’s sleight of hand. The brisk, dutiful stride to business pauses and Yanli watches his slightly bowed head as he reads, the sunlight sliding down his hair like silk. When he looks up and around, she slips behind a delicately carved pillar on impulse so that he can’t see her. Then, she peeks back around. He’s looking back down at the slip of paper in his hand, his mouth a small curl of aching fondness. This one had said, ‘thinking of you.’ Warmth spreads through her when he folds it, neatly and carefully, into his fingers and presses his knuckles to his lips, closing his eyes. It is a moment of him with no mask in sight and she would feel sheepish for intruding if it didn’t bring her such happiness just to see his own. Even after he resumes his purposeful stride and disappears indoors, she is grinning, glowing, and allows herself a moment to seek out He Si to review the heist. “Did it please him?” the girl demands, excited. “What did it say?”

“It’s a secret,” Yanli teases. “And oh yes it did.”

It continues in this manner almost daily, when his gifts allow it; he gives her a parasol and she invites him on a walk under it with her; he buys rich embroidery thread and she weaves a delicate braid for him to wear or display a pendant from. He presents her with a fine silken handkerchief that she returns only days later, embroidered and thoroughly infused with the incense he had given her, draped over his pillow. Sadly, she didn’t get to witness this discovery, but she does see him slip it from his inner pocket as he removes his outer robes, that evening. As she watches him from the bed, Yanli resists the most absurd urge to bashfully pull the covers up over her nose and asks, “You...found it, then?”

Instead of answering, he slowly sits on her side instead of his and spreads it between them on the covers with deliberate care, one side of his mouth tucked up, that dimple pressed in sweetly in the lantern-light. “A pair of mandarin ducks,” he observes, voice quiet, eyes on the handkerchief as he runs his fingertips over it.

“I stitched them myself.”

“They are masterfully done and the colors are beautiful.”

“It was the thread you gave me. I wanted....” The intentions, the symbolism gets caught on her tongue and she blushes. Husband, she has to remind herself. It’s allowed! It’s expected! A long and happy marriage is what one is supposed to want. He makes the prospect of closeness and affection all at once so mysterious and alluring, almost a forbidden thing (though the thought is a ridiculous one, she admits.) “Do you like it?”

He raises his eyes to her and they are night soft. “A-Li, may I kiss you?”

Yanli’s heart jumps to her throat in an anticipatory sort of apprehension and her hands twist in her lap. Anxious without fear; she trusts this and him. “You may.”

Though she had kissed his mouth once before, he had been still, accepting the simple press and nothing more. Now, as he leans in, his hands settle lightly on her jaw, tilting her face up to him, his lips are a sure, gentle slide over hers. It’s odd to have someone so close to her face, and it’s  warmer than she would have thought--not to mention wetter. But not bad. 

Oh no, definitely not bad. 

A-Yao kisses her with the same keen attention he gives everything else; controlled and intent. It feels as if he is slowly sampling her, sometimes the pressure feather-like and almost tickling, and other times an earnest press, inviting her along. The entirety of her skin grows hot at the realization she is being experienced and she can feel her heartbeat as if her entire chest is a drum. He makes it easy, a song that sounds vaguely familiar without completely knowing the next step. She doesn’t feel lost or stupid or silly. She feels wanted. Precious.

When he draws back, her lips are tingling--who would have thought such an ordinary part of her face could produce that much sensation? One would think she would have noticed this before!--and he is watching her carefully. His own lips are slightly pinker and without thinking, she reaches out to touch them, wonderingly. His watchfulness melts at her touch and he smiles against her fingertips--his mouth is warm, like her own when she lifts her other hand to compare. 

“That was….”

“Good?”

“Oh, it was strange but I think I liked it. I--can we try again?”

A-Yao laughs and reaches out as she eagerly shuffles forward on her knees. Yanli allows him to draw her onto his lap sideways but, this time, she reaches out and draws him down. And being the good, patient man that he is, he lets her try again and again as she wishes, moving as she does.

There is no sudden revelation or awakening as she had secretly hoped there might be with such a kiss, (how easy that would have been, if all the whispers and stories and songs had all aligned with ultimate clarity and understanding within her, if it was all at once as easy as everyone else made it seem). But it is new and oddly pleasant to simply be in his arms, closer than she has ever been before, sharing with him. He pulls away and takes her wrist, eyebrows pinched. “You’re shaking. Are you alright?”

Oh. It seems she is. It isn’t fear, but instead a sort of deep trembling that seems to originate from her core, almost like excitement or the kind of giddy terror of a friend chasing you in a game of tag. She smiles up at him. “It’s...new. I think I’m just getting used to it. You’re my first kiss.” 

Something she can’t define as positive or negative before it’s gone passes over his face and he gathers her up, burying his face in her neck, squeezing. She curls back around him, hands stroking his soft hair. “I’m so glad it’s you,” she murmurs, the ghosts of the kisses still shimmering on her lips. “You’re so sweet and kind to me. How did I get so lucky?”

Against her throat, he sucks in a deep, shaking breath before pulling back to deliver an almost perfect smile, the slight tremble in the corner of his mouth the only thing betraying whatever depth of emotion he is feeling. “Jiang-furen,” he says with playful reproach. “You simply can’t steal my lines like that. What will I be left with?”

In response, she clasps his face and leans up to rub the tips of their noses together. "Oh, you're so very clever. I'm sure you'll think of something."

[justfrozenthings]

I Have Loved You Since Forever

Pairing: Anna/Kristoff

Rating: T (just to be safe)

Word: 2,641

Notes: This was just an idea that popped into my head so I figured I would write it because why not. Sorry for any grammar mistakes I have made because I know for a fact that there are some.

Summary: Church bells tolled for a wedding Kristoff has been dreading ever since he received the invitation in the mail.

He sat on a bench in the park absentmindedly running his fingers through Sven’s soft silky fur; the exact bench where he and a particular redhead would meet up to vent about all their troubles and get them off their chests. He remembered the many nights she had called, asking him to meet her at their place so that he could hold her as she cried. Sure, it usually meant getting out of bed at some ungodly hour, but damn he would do it for all eternity if it meant he could bring a smile to her beautiful freckled face. This time, however, instead of his ears being met with the heavenly sounds of her laugh; they were met with the sound of bells from the church nearby, sounding like death tolls with every breath that racked his body. 

There was a wedding being held today; one that he had been dreading ever since he received the white envelope decorated with intricate golden scrolls. 

 Today was the wedding of Anna Arendelle, his best friend and love of his life. Yeah, you heard it right, he, Kristoff Bjorgman, was deeply and utterly in love with his childhood best friend. The friend he had told that he was unable to make it to her wedding during one of their daily park bench meetings. He could still hear the pain of her voice in his head.

 “And why not?” Anna said sternly, trying to hold back the swell of tears in her eyes. He hated that he was the cause of them. “Don’t you want me to be happy?” 

“Anna you know I do but-”

“Then come. Please Kristoff,” she croaked. “It wouldn’t be the same without you there.”

 He stared down at his feet before he gave a deep sigh and stared back into her beautiful blue orbs again. She was wearing the pink beanie that he had gotten her one year for Christmas, and the matching scarf that came with it. Her button nose tinged with a light hue of red from the chilly autumn breeze that spread to her cheeks, her freckles looking like little stars twinkling in the night sky. “I’m sorry Anna, but I can’t.” And before she could say anything else he got up from his spot on the bench and left.

 He couldn’t bear to hear her sobs as he walked away and he wanted so much to turn back around and tell her he was sorry and that he loved her and that he would do anything to never make her cry like that again. But he couldn’t, because he didn’t want her to see the tears that had formed in his own eyes. 

 Kristoff hadn’t noticed, but those same tears that had formed in his eyes the night before came back to visit him. He blindly wiped them away with the sleeve of his old high school hoodie; the purple letters were faded out and hard to read. He had told her he couldn’t make it to save his own heart, but he ended up breaking hers in the process. 

Unable to last another minute on the bench any longer, he got up and whistled for Sven; who, at some point during his flashback, had trotted over to chase the frogs in the creek. He shoved his hands in his front pockets and walked with a slight hunch in his back from all the grief he was holding in as leaves of reds, oranges, and yellows danced and swirled around him. He needed to find solace, and there was only one other place he could do that.

 Bulda’s was the local cafe owned and run by Kristoff’s adoptive mother Bulda and was another place he and Anna often found themselves visiting. At the beginning of their friendship, Kristoff was too afraid to tell Anna that he had been adopted because he was worried that she would judge him. Anna was his only friend at the time, besides Sven, still is in fact, and he didn’t want to lose that friendship with her. She eventually found out through some people at school, though this wasn’t until they were seniors in high school, and when she had asked him about it he figured that there was no reason hiding it. As he readied himself to lose the only human friend he had ever had, Anna placed her hands on his and told him that there was nothing wrong with that. It was at that moment when he realized that he had fallen hard for the feisty redhead sitting next to him.

 Kristoff had smiled back at the memory; if only he had told her his feelings then maybe he wouldn’t be here wallowing in his own self-pity. 

Maybe coming here was a bad idea, he told himself mentally. But before he could leave, Bulda attacked him with a big bear hug. 

 “Hi Krissy!,” Bulda exclaimed as she planted dozens of little kisses on his face. 

He returned the hug causing him to smile only a little bit. It seemed no matter how dire or sorrowful the situation was, his mother always put a smile on his face. “Hey Ma’.” 

 Beulda unwound herself from her son’s embrace, “The usual I’m guessing?” 

“You got it.” He tried putting on the happiest tone he could muster, but it was no use. He knew she could see right through.

“Okay,” Bulda said, eyeing him cautiously. “I’ll be back in a jiff.” 

Not even five minutes later, Bulda had returned with a large slice of her famous Chocolate Eruption cake and a cup of hot cocoa with whip cream, chocolate drizzle, and chocolate shavings. It didn’t take long for Kristoff to notice that Bulda had only brought one fork. Usually, there were two, one for him and one for Anna. He had never been too much of a chocolate fanatic. He liked it just fine, but he’d choose something like vanilla over it any day. At least that had been true, he had realized before he met Anna. No matter what, he was always amazed by the amount of chocolate that such a small person could consume. It was impressive really, he wasn’t going to lie.

 “So,” Bulda sighed as he plopped down in the booth next to him. “What brings ya’ here?” 

“Well, I was in the park and decided to grab a bite to eat.” 

 “No,” Bulda shook her head. “What I mean is what are you here instead of at that church trying to stop that wedding?”

 Kristoff let out a frustrated sigh and buried his face in the palms of his hands before bringing one of them up to run through his golden locks. “Ma’ I can’t just go crash someone’s wedding just because I have feelings for them.” 

“Sure ya’ can. When it’s someone who loves ya’ back that is.” Noticing that her son was still not picking up on what she was saying Bulda continued. “Listen baby, I may be old and crazy but I know true love when I see it. And let me tell ya’ whatever Anna and that Hans guy have ain’t it.” 

Annoyed, Kristoff shoved a forkful of cake into his mouth. “What exactly is it that you're trying to say Ma’?” 

“I’m saying that Anna loves you and that you have a chance to win her over before it’s too late.” She rested her hand on his shoulder, “I know you love her Kristoff. And Anna loves you. Deny it as much as you like, but it’s the honest truth.” 

“What makes you so sure?” he asked, still not buying what his mother was saying. 

“Because I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and I’ve seen the way she looks at him. It’s not the same. She loves you Kristoff. She just needs help seeing it.” He stared at the cake, deep in thought as he ran his mother’s words through his head over and over. “And plus I’m never wrong,” Bulda winked before giving him a peck on the cheek and leaving to go wait on another table. 

He sat there contemplating what his mother told him as he watched cars pass by through the window. He knew it was crazy, but he had to try. If things went wrong? Well, then at least he gave it his best. At least she would know that he loved her. 

Quickly glancing at his watch, he sprinted out of the diner ignoring the honking horns and shouts of angry drivers as he made his way to the church. There wasn’t much time left.

Running up the steps of the church two at a time he burst through the two grand wooden doors. He couldn’t hear any music, which was a good thing he thought until he heard the priest prepare the couple for their “I do’s.” 

“I object!” Kristoff practically burst through the doors of the nave sprinting past the pews and up to where the young couple stood. 

“Kristoff? What are you doing here?” Anna’s brows were furrowed and a look of bewilderment spread across her freckle-painted face. 

Kristoff’s chest heaved up and down, his voice labored with heavy breaths that shook his entire body. “I’m sorry Anna. But I can’t let you marry him.” His honey-brown eyes bore into her glittery blue ones, a small twinkling of hope reflecting in them. “Not before I told you.”

“Told me what? Kristoff, what's gotten into you?” 

“Anna, there's something I need to tell you. I was too much of a coward to do it before and because of that, I missed my chance. So before you marry Hans I just need to let you know that I love you Anna Arendelle.” Gasps spread throughout the crowd and everyone sat there, mouth agape, including Anna. “If the feelings aren’t mutual then that’s fine. We’ll still be friends and nothing will change. I just had to finally get it off my chest.” 

Anna blinked, her shocked expression never left her face. “Kristoff I-”

However, before she could say anything Hans had stepped in between them, he looked at Kristoff like he was some kind of fool. “Gee thanks for stopping by buddy, but unfortunately for you, it was a waste of a trip. Now if you’d please kindly leave so I can marry my fiancée that would be greatly appreciated.” Hans gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“No.” 

Hans, who was currently heading back to his place next to Anna, turned on his heel. “What did you say?” Hans’s eyes shooting daggers into his. 

“I said no. I’m not leaving unless Anna says so.” 

This only seemed to make Hans angrier causing him to fist his hands. However, before he could lay a punch on Kristoff a streak of white ran past him. He was confused at what was going on at first, that was until he turned back to look at Kristoff, the scene before him sending him into total shock. 

Anna had run over to Kristoff and had meddled her lips with his. “I love you too Kristoff. Always have.” 

Hans shook with anger. In a flash, he grabbed a gun from the inside pocket of his tux and aimed it at Kristoff. Then, as if by some kind of miracle Sven came running in biting Hans on his rear end before he could pull the trigger. He cried out in pain, dropping the gun as he did so. 

Everyone was evacuated from the building as soon as the fiasco was over. Fortunately, one of Anna’s friends she had invited worked for the local police station who had called in asking them to send a deputy over with a car so they could bring Hans in for questioning. 

Wedding guests stood outside of the church conversing with one another as if nothing had ever happened, waiting to hear from Anna to see what was going to happen now that the wedding was obviously not going to continue.

“So,” Anna said from where her head sat on Kristoff’s shoulder. “Did you really mean it when you said you loved me?” She looked up to gaze at him, his eyes so welcoming and warm.

 He placed a kiss upon the crown of her head. “Every word.” 

“For how long?” 

 She smiled up at him and he had fallen in love with her all over again.“Since forever.” 

“Me too.” They held each other tighter, relishing in their moment of bliss. “I just can’t believe I was about to marry a complete psycho. I’m just lucky my true prince charming came and saved the day.” Kristoff only responded by stroking her hair, hoping that this would bring her some ease. “Everyone’s still here. What should I tell them? I’d hate to send them back home, I feel like I should give them something.” 

Kristoff tried to think of ideas. “Hmm…we could all go to mom’s cafe.” He nuzzled into the soft skin of her neck and a tiny giggle escaped her dainty pink lips.

“I’d love that.”

  ———

  2 Years Later

Church bells rang throughout the town, but this time they made Kristoff’s stomach swell with happiness instead of sorrow. 

As he stared at himself in the oak framed cheval mirror straightening his bow tie, he smiled at himself. He’d never been a tuxedo kind of guy, quite frankly he’d never been all that into dressing up in general. For today though, he would put up with it. 

While he was excited, he wouldn’t ignore the fact that a tinge of fear had somehow peeked its way through. There was no denying the butterflies in his stomach.

 A knock came from the door and Elsa, Anna’s older sister, peeked her head through once she got the “okay” that it was safe to enter. She asked him if he was ready before mussing up his hair a bit from its slicked-back style and adding any last-minute touches to his tux. “She always did say she preferred your hair when it was wild and free.” With that, she gave him a hug and left to go make sure everything was running smoothly. 

Glancing at himself in the mirror one more time and letting a nervous breath, he left to go take his place at the altar. Kristoff walked down the aisle, which had been decorated with sunflowers, lace, and cream-colored ribbons, each step feeling heavier with anxiousness and exhilaration. The sun hitting the stained glass windows cast colorful hues on the cherry wood pews filled with family and friends. And as the music began Kristoff felt his heart flutter.

There was a parade of bridesmaids and flower girls. Even Sven got to join in having the very important job of being the ring bearer, carrying both rings tied to a white ribbon around his collar.

Suddenly people stood from their seats and the long exciting wait was finally over. Anna turned the corner, arm in arm with Elsa, her bluebell eyes swelling with tears of happiness. Her wedding gown was simple, nothing too extravagant. Its sleeves were made of lace with intricate flower patterns showing off her creamy freckled arms. The dress reached the end of her knees and buttermilk yellow satin ribbon had been tied around her waist. Sunflowers and baby’s breath had been woven into her ginger locks, the sun’s glow giving it a halo effect. She looked like a redheaded goddess. 

She took his hands in hers, promising a vow of everlasting love. They slid their rings on one another’s fingers, thankful for there not being any kind of interruption. It was then, Kristoff realized, that confessing his love to Anna, two years prior, had been the best decision he would ever make in his life. Well, creating a child together from their love, who would be due in nine months time.

Ao3

[boiolay]

Paper Scribbles | Mark Lee

summary: the one mail that made him wish he did things differently | childhood bestfriends!au + idol!Mark

genre: fluff; angst 

warnings: swearing 

word count: 6K

"Mark! You've got mail." 

It was already past midnight when they arrived at the dorm. After working the whole day on the choreography for the comeback, the only thing the boys wanted was to go to bed and sleep for as long as they could. Mark especially. He had been drained out of energy for being involved in so many activities, differents unities, choreographies, composing… He felt like his days had less hours than his members’ so everything else than work, at that moment could wait. 

"Just leave it over the table. I'll take a look tomorrow." He mumbled rubbing his eyes as walked to his bedroom.

"I think you should take a look. It's from Canada." 

He stopped as soon as he heard his home country. It wasn't unusual for him to receive mail from his parents, but they would always tell him they were sending something. He frowned trying to remember if his mother had said something and was almost sure she didn't, but he still turned around walking back to Taeyong letting his curiosity take over him.

"Thanks, hyung." 

"Don't take too long, Markie." 

Mark nodded taking the brown envelope from his hands before the older walked away. Plopping down on the couch, he twirled it around searching for the sender's address. He didn't have a clue where that was, it was definitely from Canada, but the place written on the paper didn't ring any bells from who it could be. 

Until he found your name. 

He widened his eyes and held his breath as he read the name printed on the paper a few more times checking if he wasn't just imagining. It had been years since he last heard of you. And seeing your name written by a handwriting that wasn't his was making his heart do things that he didn’t know it could do again. 

During all those years he hasn't heard of you. But you were in every little thing that surrounded him. You were on his reflection in the mirror every time he saw the little scar under his chin from when the two of you were trying to learn how to skate. You were in the black socks that he wore because you always told him the white ones were lame. You were in the stars in the sky that you used to stare as you laid on the grass from his backyard on a weekday when you were supposed to be studying. And especially, you were in the lyrics of every song he wrote. 

Seeing it, he couldn't help but let his mind wonder back to the days when you were his partner in crime. When everyone in the neighborhood knew that when one of you were seen alone you were planning something. When his parents knew that if he wasn't on his bedroom at a friday night, he would be at yours. When he thought you were gonna be forever. 

It was probably a summer morning when you met. It has been so long that neither of you remembered, and it didn't actually matter. The two of you only knew that you meet in a playground, you weren't even three yet, Mark was feeling too shy to join the other kids on the sand box, so you walked up to him and offered your favorite cookie, asking him to be your friend. Your mother once told him you wouldn't share it with anyone but him. Well, he took a bite from it and threw it on the floor. It made you cry, but as soon as he saw tears rolling down your cheeks, he felt bad and hugged you. That was when your friendship started, and little did you know that you would never leave each other's side. At least until you were fifteen. 

You were together in every memory he had from his childhood. When you started preschool, your teachers instantly fell in love with the two of you. On your first day, you came hand in hand. He had a red cap that was almost big enough to cover his eyes and you had your pigtails bouncing as you made your way to the class. You had the biggest grins on your lips, you were the only kids in the whole class that didn’t throw a tantrum to leave their parents, after all, you had each other. There was no way your teachers wouldn't fall in love at the sight of you comforting the other children. They only found out that the duo meant trouble when, a week later, in art class, you would replace your canvas with each other's faces. At the time that idea of having pink all over your face sounded just right. It would match your dress! 

Another episode that warned what was yet to come was when you were caught trying to sneak your pet rabbit into the school trip. Mark helped you to put it on his bag so you could bring it to meet it's cousins at the zoo. Your plan failed when Mark opened his backpack to put his lunch on it on your way to the school and the rabbit jumped out. Your moms had to hold back their laughters as they tried to scold both of you. 

You wouldn’t stay away from each other even when you were grounded. Whenever your parents tried to punish you for misbehavior or something, you always found a way to be with each other. Once he was grounded because he was caught eating candy in the middle of the night, and that made his parents not let him leave the house in the following day. In the next morning, they woke up to Mark laying on his belly on the entrance hall happily kicking his legs with the door wide open. As his dad walked further to investigate what was going on, he saw you on the porch in the same position as the two of you drew and talked. Mr. Lee just shook his head grinning before inviting you to breakfast. Mark didn't disobey his parents, after all he didn't leave his house.

Mark was really found of all those memories, even though some were told by his parents and others he remembered vaguely, he treasured every moment he had with you.  As he grew up, his memories became gradually more defined so as he could remember the details of them, they also became more meaningful to him.

He was able to remember, for example, you giving him a bouquet of red flowers and wearing a dress of the same colour the night he played the flute on his band for the first time, he had felt so happy to have you clapping excitedly at his performance. Or even when you spent the whole night helping him finish his biology project that was due the next morning even though you had an english test the same day. Of course he didn’t know that, otherwise he would have never asked for your help, but when a friend in common told him that, he remembered feeling guilty and selfish. So he bought your favorite ice cream with his lunch money and stood in front of your class waiting for you to leave, ready to comfort and apologize to you. For his surprise, you came out smiling. 

“Didn’t you fail?” You laughed throwing your head back before reaching to take the cup out of his hands and linking your arm with his. 

“You think too low of me, Mark Lee.” He sighed relieved smiling while you made your way back home chatting. Little did he know that you, in fact, failed, but seeing him waiting for you made it feel like nothing. 

One memory that repeated itself every year, but became more clear in his mind as he grew up was when the two of you would run between the sprinklers of your front yard in the summer, laughing and purposely getting wet to cope with the hot weather. These were his favorite memories. It was something that first happened when the two of you were still little and your parents were too distracted with the barbecue party to notice you sneaking out. When they did, you were in the middle of the lawn giggling and running away from the water jets with your chubby feet. Mark recaled the same scene a few years later, the two of you just a little older with the same happy smiles on your lips. This time, you were being chased by your siblings and were big enough to know how to use a water gun. The last time it happened, always brought a grin to Mark’s lips, all the details were clear as day. 

He ran after you with the smile he always had whenever you were around, you also ran, but away from him. You screamed for him to leave you alone, but the laugher that would come out of your mouth every time he came close to catch you told him you didn't actually mean any of that. 

“I’m serious, Mark! I don’t want to get wetter than I am!” You shouted at him as you faced each other from opposite sides of the sprinkles, you laughed at him resting your hands on your knees. You two were panting from all the running, but you couldn’t be happier. 

“Too bad you will, loser.” He smirked at you and jumped through the jets to get to you. A surprised yelp left your lips, but you reached to take the hose that was just behind you and splashed it on his face. He coughed surprised when the water hit his eyes and you turned it off as soon as you heard him, your eyes widened and your mouth agape as you watched him recover from your sudden attack. As Mark rubbed his eyes, you walked closer to him trying to hold back your laughter with the hose still in hands. You touched his back that was turned to you and caressed it softly talking with the sweetest voice, knowing he couldn’t get mad to you when you did that. 

“Oi, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to-” At that moment, he turned around and jumped on top of you making you fall on the ground. You wiggled under him to try to pull him away, but he held your wrist pinning you down so you couldn’t move. He smirked taking the hose from you and splashing all over you, finally getting his revenge. 

“You son of a bitch!” “Yah! Don’t curse my mother!” 

He laughed as stared at you pouting with your red cheeks and your hair all wet spread on the grass. He couldn’t think of a moment when you looked more beautiful. 

“I’m sorry. I forgot it’s not your mother’s fault you are an idiot.” You flashed him a teasing grin that in just a few seconds turned into a genuine smile. You stared at his sparkling eyes and soft smile that always made your heart skip a beat. His hair was all messy and wet and you couldn’t help, but run your fingers through his strands. He closed his eyes enjoying your sweet touch leaning his head closer to you. 

“Yeah, but you still love this idiot.” He whispered and when opened his eyes to stare back at you lovingly, you grinned leaning up to rub your lips against his and whispered before kissing him slowly and tenderly.

“Well, you are not wrong.”

Besides the good memories you shared, you have always been there for each other, in the good and bad moments. Like when he broke his arm and you did all his homework for three weeks, or when your grandmother passed away and he was there to wipe all your tears. But like in every friendship, you did have a lot of fights, mostly petty ones.

Once you tried to cut your own fringe and ended with just a tuft of hair on the top of your forehead, when he saw it he laughed so hard he felt on the floor out of breath. You gave him the cold shoulder for the next two days. That was until, after your soccer practice, you forgot you were supposed to be mad at him and stormed into his bedroom with your cap still on talking happily about the goals you’ve made. He looked at you puzzled as you laid beside him on the bed, you frowned at his confused face, but soon remembered you were not talking to him. And when you were about to stand up to leave, you saw him smirk and point his chin to your head. 

“Nice cap.” You punched him on the arm, but couldn’t hold back a smile. 

“Shut up.”

Another one was when you gave him spoilers of the new Spider-Man movie. He knew it wasn’t your intention, but he so wanted to see for himself that when you told him about the ending scene he ignored you for a whole day. He only accepted your apologies when you said you would go see the movie with him and would pay for the popcorn. In a minute it was all forgotten.

You were fourteen when you confessed. Neither of you knew when the romantic feelings towards the other appeared. They were just there, hidden, until it bloomed like a flower in the spring, always ready to pop up just waiting for the right moment. It didn’t surprised him tho. It had always been you, just the two of you. Maybe it sprang up was when you held him a little tighter than the other times when he came home from a trip with his family. 

It had been over a month since he had gone to the middle of nowhere, you didn’t talk during that time because he had no access to internet. Of course he missed you, you were everyday with him, how wouldn’t he? What he didn’t expected was that when you came running to him, just a few minutes after they parked the car in the garage, his heart would go on loops. He saw you coming his way with the brightest smile on your lips, your yellow flowered summer dress floating around you and your hair fluttering, for some reason he froze on his spot as watched you come. 

Has she always been that beautiful? 

He only came back to his senses when your body hit on his almost knocking him down on the ground. He automatically wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly against him not wanting to let you go and hoping you wouldn’t hear the drums inside his chest. When you pulled away, too soon, he stared at you with shining big eyes and you smiled shyly under his gaze. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.”

“You grew taller.” It was only then that he noticed he had to look down to talk to you now. He just nodded, lost of words, as you kept looking at the changes on the other. You stayed like that, secretly admiring each other’s features until his brother cleared his throat beside you.

“Are the lovebirds gonna help or we’ll have to wait until the wedding?” He was used to people teasing you like that, but you would always shrug it off or roll your eyes. However, this time it felt different. He saw you blush and mumble saying that you would help his mother before walking inside the house, he felt his ears burn and widened his eyes at his brother making the older laugh. 

Or maybe it was when he said 'i love you' after you gave him a bowl full of watermelon on one of your movie nights. You would always tell each other that, but that time it had a different meaning. It didn't held the same teasing tone as before. He had said it with so much tenderness and had the softest look on his eyes. It was such a usual moment, the two of you just chilling in the living room, you wearing his hoodie even being summer. You have said it was a bit chilly outside, but later he would find out that you liked to be surrounded by his scent. 

It just felt right to say at that moment. And he did it.

You just smiled extending him the bowl, ready to say it back like everytime you did something to him. But when you looked down at him he saw you freeze for a moment as you stared deeply in each other’s eyes. The same words you would always tell the other felt completely different now. And you could tell which that meaning was by his eyes that shined and overflowed with affection, admiration and love. When you smiled shyly with your cheeks tinted bright red and sat beside him, closer than you would before, he knew you were alright. 

"I love you too, Mark."

And it was just like that. You confessed to each other in the most intimate, yet innocent way it could have happened. And you knew. There was no need for other words. You reached over to lay your hand between the two of you and he gently placed his own on top of yours with a smile on his lips and his heart beating wild. He looked at you with the corner of his eyes and saw the most beautiful smile on your face as he laced your fingers together.

Not long after that you shared your first kiss. You guys were too shy and flushed to do it before, but just like the rest of your relationship, it just happened. 

He was walking you home after your first official date, or, after going for some ice cream. It was like before, but now he could hold your hand whenever he felt like. When you got to your front door, he reluctantly let go of your hand and pressed his lips together standing in front of you. He shifted his weight from one side to the other and saw you playing with your feet as looked everywhere but him. You both felt what was about to happen. Mark was nervous and he knew you also were, after all, neither of you had any experience in anything that was happening.

He cleared his throat softly and wiggled his body back and forth moving his gaze to you. 

“So… I’ll come tomorrow. And we can go to the pool or try that muffin recipe you found…?” “Cool. That’s cool for me.” 

“Cool.” When you raised your head to look at him, he chuckled softly noticing you had a little bit of ice cream on your chin. How cliché, he thought. 

“You complain that I’m a messy eater, but look at you.” With a warm smile, he stepped forward and held your jaw with one hand while the other gently rubbed the stain out of your skin. Your faces were closer than they have ever been. Mark saw the blush on your cheeks, but didn’t say anything as he felt the blood flood his. He stared at your wide shining eyes and you both couldn’t held back a smile. All the anxiousness from before completely dissipating as you drowned on each other’s eyes, he suddenly felt at peace. Feeling your breath against his skin, he closed his eyes. The only thing he remembered after that was his lips on yours.

It was... weird, but good weird. It was wet, there was too much tongue, teeth meeting more than it should. It wasn't his fault, neither yours, that’s just how everyone’s first kisses are. But yours felt just right. The way he held you tightly, like he was holding the world on his hands. The way he caressed your face tenderly. The way you held his hair, gently pulling him closer to you. The way you smiled against each other’s lips and giggled. The way your heartbeats synchronized into one. 

After you pulled away, eyes still closed, you just stood there with your arms around each other and beaming smiles on your faces. When Mark opened his eyes, he met yours, you have never seen his eyes shining so bright like that. You exchanged your goodbyes and he hugged you one last time pressing a sweet kiss on your forehead before crossing the street.  He was on cloud nine and so were you. 

Nobody was surprised when they found out you were dating. In fact, almost everyone you knew seemed to have made a bet on when the two of you would get together. Mark realized that when saw his brother giving yours twenty dollars, he had bet that Mark would only grow some balls to ask you out after you started dating someone else and your brother had bet that he would be your first kiss. Said and done. 

Your parents were thrilled when you told the. Although all of them knew you were eventually end up dating, your father was hoping it would take a little more time, but that didn't stop him from inviting Mark over just to ‘hang out’ as he used to say, even when you were busy. He told Mark that he felt like his second son and couldn't’ have wished for someone else to be with his little girl. He really enjoyed spending time with your father too, he felt like he belonged to the family even more. The only one that wasn't very keen of the two of them together was you, he would always laugh when you argued with your dad saying that Mark was your boyfriend, not his. 

Besides that, our relationship was much like any other. You had dates everyday, they wouldn’t always be going to amusement parks or to the cinema, most of them were the two of you sitting down while Mark played his guitar, or doing your homework in silence enjoying each other’s presence. The time you would spend just the two of you immersed in your own world was his favorite type of date.

One that he treasured was when the two of you had just finished your exams in school, he knew how stressed you were so he decided that you had to chill out a bit. He took two of the biggest blankets he could find and as much pillows as he could carry and ran across the street with his hands full. Since he basically lived in your house he didn't bother ringing the bell, he walked to your backyard and settled the things down on the grass and sent you a text that said “ i’m by the pool. bring doritos.” 

He watched as the lights of your bedroom were turned off and smiled to himself as he laid down on top of the pillows. When you came to meet him, you had a side smile on your lips and were already in your pajamas. 

“What is this?” He grinned brightly and reached for your hand, that you gladly held, pulling you down to lay beside him.

“This is me making you stop overthinking your grades.” You rolled your eyes playfully, but followed his lead and snuggled him under the blanket. 

You talked for hours. About the most silly things, your deepest desires and fears, you were each other’s safe place. At one point of the night, he was talking about whatever while staring at the stars, but you had found a much more interesting sight. You were on your side facing Mark and had your head rested on your hand, you couldn't help a smile as you stared at his profile. You couldn’t tell, but Mark saw your eyes roam every feature of his face, his almost defined apple cheeks, his pink pretty lips, his little nose… 

“Are you even listening to me?” He giggled when turned to face you and meet your mesmerized eyes. You shook your head lightly before smirking softly.

“I was not. It’s not my fault you distract me.” He laughed throwing his head back and clapping his hands as he felt a little blush creeping on his cheeks, but he moved to lay on his side to face you. You reached a hand and touch his face caressing every part you had been staring, rubbing his cheek, bopping his nose, what made he giggle more, contouring his lips with your thumb, but when you locked eyes he heard a sight leave your lips.

"I love your eyes, you know..." You blurted out. "I mean, I love all of you, but your eyes... They have a special place in my heart." You chuckled and stopped your hand on his apple cheek caressing it gently. He grinned widely and reached to hold your hand intertwining your fingers. 

"Is that so? Why?" 

"They sparkle. I feel like i can see your soul looking at them. They shine. Just like your soul, Mark. And you have such a beautiful one, baby.”

Those words stuck to him until now and whenever someone complimented his eyes he thought of you.

One thing he was grateful for was how much support you gave him. You were always there for him, supporting him no matter what, hyping him when he was feeling down and doing your best to make him happy. It was even you who he told first about the SM audition that was going to happen. You quickly ran to his house to make sure he had typed his informations correctly in the enrollment paper. He was still uncertain if he should try, he was very insecure of his abilities and just the thought of leaving for the other side of the world made his heart ache, but he just let you think that his hesitations were because of his insecurities. 

“Mark! You are amazing. I've already told you this a thousand times! There's nothing to worry about. You are so talented... They are gonna love you. And if they don’t, first their loss. Second, this is just a try out, it’s just the beginning, love. Your life won’t end because you failed one audition. Okay? Have some faith in yourself!” 

You skipped school to go with him to the audition. His brother offered to drive Mark so you could join since his parents would have asked if yours had allowed you to come, the answer would have been  no. During the whole ride to the city center, Mark had his legs shaking frenectly. You tried to sooth him by holding his hand and caressing the back of it, but he was too nervous, not even your touches could make him calm down. 

Once his brother parked the car he felt his heart stop. Mark was so tense that he didn't remember much of what happened after that. He knew his brother had talked the whole time you were waiting, making jokes to try to make him laugh and you hadn’t let go of his hand even for one second. He was glad you were there to reassure him even if it was just by squeezing his hand. 

At some point he was told by the staff that he had to go alone from there. He sighed deeply and nodded at his brother and you, if he wasn't so terrified the would have laughed, it looked like you were the one auditioning. You let go of his hand and offered him a smile, he turned around to walk inside, but after a few steps he felt your hand on his arm, meeting your gently eyes when he turned back. 

“Hey. Before you get in. I just want to say how proud I am of you. I can't put in words how amazing and talented you are. Just trust in yourself, Mark. You are gonna shine more than the brightest star in the sky. And i'll always stand by your side no matter what happens.” You winked and gave him your brightest smile. “Now go get them.” 

That was all what he needed to regain his confidence. 

The results came a week later. 

When he told you the news you screamed and laughed like never before, hugging him so tight that he had to ask you to loose it a bit. You had told him how happy and proud you were of him and gave him a little lecture about how he should trust himself more, but soon was kissing all over his face again. Before you left to go home, he thought he had seen a different shade on your eyes, but he shrugged it off at that time.

The time he had to say his goodbyes and pack was way too short. He tried to stay as much as he could with you, but he had a ton of things to do before leaving to Korea it made hard for you to have some time alone. He was feeling bad because he felt like he wasn’t giving the attention you deserved, but you reasured him that it was alright, that you understood why that was happening and that you would be with him even if he just had two minutes to talk to you.

On the day before he would go to Korea he took to spend it only with you, he took you to a walk on the park, bought you your favorite ice cream, took you to the little playground where you met and didn't let go of your hand. It didn't even feel like he was leaving, he was so happy to be able to make you laugh and look at your bright eyes that he forgot why he was doing that. 

He only remembered it later that day when he heard you on the sleepover you were having at his house. Neither of you were supposed to sleep, so you could spend more time together, but he closed his eyes and felt asleep. He woke up a few minutes later when heard the bathroom door close followed by your quiet sobbs. He realized how difficult it was for you to let him go. He knew you were happy for him, but he could understand what you were going through. Having your best friend in life that it’s also your boyfriend to move to the other side of the world while you had no choice, but sit back and watch, it breaks anyone's heart. He didn't think he could be so selfless if he was in your shoes. All the times when he thought about becoming an artist he saw you by his side,  but he realized that you always somehow knew that wouldn't be possible, that you couldn’t be part of that. Even so, you were there supporting him, wanting him to pursue his dreams, to be happy, even if that meant that you would have to let him go. 

Just by hearing your shaky breath he could tell you were trying to control your emotions, but every time you would inspire, a loud sobb would come out from your chest. It was too painful hearing you break like that. He barged in the bathroom what made you quickly try to put a smile on your face and hide your sadness, but failed. He just pulled you into his chest and buried his face on your neck letting his own tears flow down his cheeks while you resumed crying, this time on his arms. Once you were calmer, he brought you to the couch where you hugged each other for the whole night while he caressed your hair and whispered on your ear sweet nothings and promises that he didn’t know he could keep. 

You didn't come to the airport with him in the next day. You had told him that you prefered to say your goodbye on your street when you could pretend he was just going on a trip. He had laughed, but felt his heart ache. When the time came, you tried not to look at him, he knew you didn't want him to see you cry again, he knew you wanted to be strong for him, but he held your face to make you stare at him, he wanted to look into your eyes since he didn't know the next time he would be able to do it.

You didn't need to say a lot of words to make him understand everything you wanted to tell. He pulled you to a last tight hug staying like that for a few minutes. Eventually, he had to pull away since his parents were telling him they should go. He held your face between his hands, eyes roaming around your features like he was trying to engrave the sight of you on his brain.He let go of you with a nod once he felt tears start to rush to his eyes. As he was about to enter the car, you held his hand catching his attention. You walked to be in front of him and leaned up to press your lips gently against him. 

“I’m really proud of you. And I love you.” 

And then he left to Korea to chase his dreams, leaving the love of his life behind.

All those memories, those intense moments brought a sad smile to his lips and made tears well up on his eyes. He sighed deeply rubbing his hands on his face and trying to put himself back together after those old feelings that had come intensely over him all at once. Even after so long you had the same effect on Mark as before. 

Yes, of course he dated after you. He fucked around, he was at his peak of popularity, there were girls falling on his feet, he tried to forget you, he tried to find someone with whom he could share his life. But none of them felt right the way you did. He couldn't help comparing them to you and none of them came even close to be as special as you were. Even if his head wanted to let go of you, his heart wouldn't . He couldn't love them the way he loved you. The way he loves you.

Mark stared at the brown envelope on his hands and twirled it one last time before opening with trembling hands. Inside there was another envelope, but this time it was a pretty white paper sealed with a golden wax. He turned around to look at the back and he read his own name written in your elegant handwriting, just like in the notes you would leave around his bedroom or on his notebooks. He smiled fondly and ran his finger over his name feeling warmth spread on his chest. Soon, after letting his thoughts run to you again, he left out a shaking breath before finally breaking the seal and pulling another paper from inside, his heart beating wildly on his chest. 

As soon as his eyes met the first words he froze. His heart sank. Feeling a bitter taste on his mouth he read the golden letters over and over, but couldn't believe. Or didn't want to. He only realized he was crying when some words on the bottom of the paper were becoming blurry. He dropped the papers on his lap and rubbed his eyes trying to get rid of the excess of tears on his eyes. His mind was blank. How could that have happened? How he could have let that happen?

He the papers once again, but this time he noticed something that he didn't have before. 

At the back of the paper, on the top corner written on a red pen that didn’t match the golden letters printed on the paper there was a inscription scrambled on your handwriting. He couldn't help sobbing when he finished reading. It said: 

“My love, i confess, i’m getting married, but the love of my life was and it’s always gonna be you. Yours, ___ .” 

author’s note: so....??? i loved writting this so much, but i cried so hard at the end. I would really really really love to read what you guys thought of it. And if you came until here, thank you so much!!! <3