#he's gonna catch feelings-- don't tempt him with a good time!

[finestacrobat]

The boy wonder was about to voice an answer when their lips collided uncerimoniously. Despite the sudden act, it was a much welcome one.

He takes a few seconds to learn the rhythm of her kiss, matching it perfectly.

One could think getting a taste of her lips would satiate his curiosity but it only increased it, Dick was hungry for more.

His empty hands occupy themselves with her, gently holding her waistline.

When the kiss is broken, his parted tiers gasp for new air.

"That was... very hot of you. But I lose and you give me a treat?" He blurted out, face inches away from hers still, before pulling her in for another kiss.

The vigilante can't help but wonder what he'll get if he wins next time.

i.⠀⠀a CLOSED STARTER for @katarinawilliams

ii.⠀⠀it's a TRAINING SESSION by yours truly.

The open area they found themselves in proved to be great training spot. With a few ornaments scattered around, these seemed old and antique but their value shouldn't be great since they were discarded there.

"You're finally here!" The masked vigilante greets the other with a salutation.

Nightwing's focus didn't lie on his surroundings now though, he only had eyes for Kat who stood before him and agreed to spar.

He's never sparred with her before, which made the boy wonder ponder how things would go.

Should he start off easy, and see her moves?

Surely both of them could get something out of that training session.

"Let's go for hand-to-hand combat? I will go hard on you so prepare yourself." He warned, assuming a fighting stance with his arms ahead of him.

A confident smirk complimented his facial features the entire time, and before long the man dashed towards her.

With one palm open forward, he aimed to strike her mid-section. His body moved swiftly and eloquently the entire time. A few blows would do for a combo should she fail to block or turn the surprise-factor around.

Either way, Dick concludes it with one strong pull wrapping his arm around her, he aimed to bring Kat closer for his next bombardment of attacks.

Would things go as smoothly as he hoped?

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warnings: postpartum depression, 18+ brief sexual content

"Okay, Ry ry, come on. Work with me. You're alright, baby, it's okay."

You're pacing back and forth across the living room in only a nursing bra and Simon's favorite pair of your shorts, the ones that barely cover the soft pleat where the tops of your thighs meet your cheeks. The coverage of your ass is just barely there, crescent moons creased in invitation for his tongue- willing him, tempting him to lick long lines from outside to inside until you’re spread wide over his face.

Now is not the time, however.

He watches you carefully, analyzing, cataloging, categorizing. Looking for a sign, a symptom, a warning that you might not be feeling as good as you let on. Tough little kitten. Stronger than you think.

The doctor told you to get better rest, eat more nutritionally dense foods, and hydrate. If the dizziness and fainting doesn’t improve, you’ll have to see a specialist.

He’s been breathing through his nose a lot, since you told him. Willing his heart rate to slow, urging himself to be calm.

Still-

His nightmares are no longer made up of his past, but his future. Sequences of you, unconscious on the floor, baby screaming in his crib. Simon nowhere to be found, hundreds of miles away with his finger on a trigger.

You slump in defeat. Orion screams at the top of his lungs, angry at what, you’re not sure. He's tried not to hover, opting to cook dinner instead, but when your voice cracks on your next plea for Orion to stop crying, he breaks away from the kitchen and settles behind you, firm hand rubbing circles into your hip. "Let's give you a break, mama."

You sniffle. "I don't know what's up with him tonight. He won't latch, but he has to be hungry. I don't know what to do." Simon slides a forearm under yours, supporting the baby’s weight, the other one palming your belly. Your head tips back against his chest, heat radiating from your body like a furnace, and he sways you side to side, careful and slow, rocking the two of you in a gentle rhythm. You're both overheated, and you've long stripped Ry down to a diaper, hoping it would alleviate some of his misery.

"Let me take over. You're exhausted." He kisses your neck, using the light shiver shuddering over your skin to his advantage. His touch gentles you, reins in the stubborn streak that keeps surfacing, and he carries no weight of regret when he twists you up with it a little bit. He’s been standing at the bottom of the well, waiting to catch you when you break. "Go get in the shower, and I'll try a bottle in a bit. See if I can't get him calmed down." He presses his lips to your shoulder.

"But... dinner..."

"It can wait. Go on." He lifts Orion, sitting him upright on his chest, and then gives you a gentle swat on your ass.

It doesn't take much convincing after that.

He tries to get Orion to take the plastic nipple of the bottle, tries rubbing on his cheek to trigger the rooting reflex, like you've taught him, to no avail. "Alright, little man. Let's give it a try, c'mon." He doesn't, but the vibration in Simon's chest when he speaks seems to distract him momentarily, enough that his crying stops for a split second, before returning to its high pitched wail. It’s a shocking sentiment. A startling discovery, one that burrows deep, slides under his skin, slicing him open. Could his son really be soothed by his own voice?

“I wasn’t there when you were born.” He smoothes a hand over the top of Orion’s head. “I didn’t know about you, but that’s not mama’s fault, daddy kind of… disappeared, and she didn’t deserve that. I should’ve been there. I know it was probably scary, for both of you.” The wailing and shrieking turns into a mewl. “I’m gonna make it up to you, and her, everyday, I swear. ‘m gonna keep you safe, you and mama, watch you grow, go to school, lose your first tooth. I’m gonna be there for your birthday parties and holidays, as much as I can.” Orion stares at him with wet, tearful eyes, cries turned to quiet whimpers. “Daddy doesn’t have a… normal job, but we’ll make it work, won’t we? You’ll see. I’ll always be here for you, bub.” The broken cries and whimpers almost stop all together, and Simon’s heart glows with pride. He did that. “That’s better, huh? Let’s go see if we can get you to eat something before bed, alright?” He keeps up a steady murmur, pushing open the door to your room, expecting to see- hoping, to see you just out of the shower, but instead-

he finds you in an oversized t shirt and panties, curled up on top of your blankets in bed. A wet towel sits crumpled on the floor, a pair of pajama pants lying on the bed frame by your feet. It looks like you did plan on making it out of the bedroom, but succumbed to your exhaustion instead, and he doesn’t blame you. Today was hard.

“Sweetheart.” He rubs your shoulder, mattress dipping with his weight. Your eyes open, bleary and confused, a question etched across your brow. “Hey, you fell asleep.” You nod, still not with it, lashes fluttering.

“‘m sorry. Baby?”

“He’s right here. Got him calmed down, think he’s ready to eat though.” You yawn, pawing at your shirt, trying to tug it up over your head, eyes closed again. “Alright, I’ve got it, here-“

“Did I miss dinner?”

“No honey. I put it in the oven to keep warm. When you’re ready I’ll bring a plate in f’you, alright?” You sigh, sleep drenched like your lungs are wet, ponderosity sunken in across your body. He thumbs your temple, trying to rouse you a bit more, urging you to roll onto your side, tucking Orion in next to your breast. It must be instinct, the way he finds you in the dark, and you breathe deep once he settles.

“Sorry I fell asleep.”

“You’re exhausted, mama.” Ry makes a little ‘k-ahh’ sound, like a soft puff of air, and you tug at your shirt half heartedly, trying to shuck it upward again. “Do you want this off?” He fingers the hem, and you nod, lifting an arm as he maneuvers around you and the baby.

Bloody hell. You’re a sight, only in your underwear, Orion at your chest. The hall light dips and drags over your body, painting you in yellows and shadow, broad brushstrokes of a goddess splayed out in front of him, feeding his baby.

He can’t tear his eyes away.

“What is it?” You croak, his fingers tracing the valley of your hip and stomach in an answer.

“You’re stunning.” He cradles the back of Ry’s head, leaning close, brushing his nose against yours before kissing you slow, letting it linger, losing himself in the moment.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” You hum into his mouth, still dewy from the shower, fresh spring rain falling from your lips. You’re more awake now, unhurried and sweet, and he slips to his knees at the edge of the bed, smoothing his hand over your shoulder and down your waist. The rolling meadow of goosebumps chasing his fingertips heats his blood-

Until your stomach rumbles. He chuckles. “Hungry?”

“A little.” You cup the back of Ry’s head and nod sheepishly.

“Okay.” He kisses you again because he can’t help it, can’t stop himself or hold back, the physical ache of being so close, yet so far away drives him to touch you, feel you, as much as he can. Before he’s gone. “Sit tight. I’ll get your dinner.”

Later, after he’s fed you (by hand, lifting a fork to your lips over and over as you sat like a perfect little kitten, propped up on a pile of pillows) while Ry nursed, and then put him down, cleaned up the dishes, and placed the baby monitor in its usual spot, he leans over you in bed, where you’re nestled under the blankets, sleepy and sweet. “Hey sleepy girl.”

“Hi.” You whisper, snuggling farther into the covers. “He go down okay?”

“Like a champ. Think he tired himself out with all the yelling earlier.” He presses a thumb to your bottom lip, sliding it back and forth before cupping your cheek. “Get some rest, I’ll get him when he gets up in a few hours.” He jerks his head towards the living room, where he usually takes his post before heading back, a block over, and then anxiously tosses and turns in bed until he hears from you in the morning.

He shifts closer to press his lips to your forehead, but you grab his wrist, grip tight, and there’s a hitch in your breath, a reedy, fragile thing that strikes his heart with bullets. “It’s supposed to get easier.” A tear tracks down your cheek, and he wipes it with his thumb.

“Oh sweetheart, it will. I promise it will.” He tries to soothe you, taking the hand that’s cemented to his wrist and interlacing his fingers with yours. “Postpartum is hard. You have to give yourself a break.”

“I know, it’s just… sometimes I feel like someone else should have been his mum,” your voice breaks, his stomach pitches, heart pounding in his ears. He could drown in the guilt, slip beneath the swell and fill his lungs with it, sink to the bottom with its weight. “Like he was meant for someone else, like someone else would be better. I was so sick when I was pregnant, and when he was born it was… traumatic…” you trail off, desperate, glassy look falling over your eyes before you close them, hand shaking in Simon’s grasp. He wants to wipe it all away, wipe it clean and fix it, patch the gaping wound he left. “Sometimes all he does is look at me and scream, like I’m a stranger. Like he doesn’t… love me, know me. Why aren’t I good at this?” Your chest is stuttering now, short breaths being choked off with sobs, and pulls you into his chest.

“You are good at this, mama.” He kisses your temple. “It doesn’t feel like it, because your head is a little… messed up with all the hormones and changes, but our son is healthy, and happy. He’s safe. You did that. You took care of him all on your own.” You’re still crying, tears spilling over your cheeks, and Simon cradles your face. “I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t here sweet girl. I’ll never forgive myself.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I’m the one who left you like a… like a ghost. I’m the one who didn’t care about the consequences and left you to face it on your own. You didn’t deserve that, and I don’t deserve you or that boy… but I’m going to try to do everything I can to make it up to you. I’m here, okay? You’re not doing this alone anymore. I’m here.” And you’re never getting rid of me. He doesn’t say it, not willing to disrupt the clearly fragile equilibrium of your emotions, but he feels it all the same. “Orion was meant to be yours, ours. No one else’s. You understand?” You nod, lower lip trembling. “Tell me, mama. Tell me you know our baby loves you like you hung the moon in the sky.”

“I- I know.”

“Come here.” He keeps you in his arms, settling back on your mountain of pillows, keeping a palm at the back of your head, other one rubbing up and down your spine. “That’s what you are. The moon. You and Orion, moon and stars. My moon and stars.” You manage a watery sigh, and then burrow your face into his chest, finally calm enough to take some long breaths, seconds turning to minutes as he holds you in the dark.

“Stay.” You whisper against him, nearly asleep again, and he answers with a kiss to the top of your head.

“I will. I promise.”

[buckyalpine]

Alpha quarterback Bucky x Omega cheerleader reader

I need alpha Quarterback Bucky with a cute little cheer leader omega. I'm so feral today, sorry but also send help. Because he is an absolute fuck boy but your his favorite little rut toy.

“Alpha” you squeak as he takes your hand and presses it against his thick bulge, finding you in the locker rooms after a game.

“C’mere pretty mega” he practically purrs against your neck, catching you by surprise. He picks you up with ease, setting you onto the counter while his sinful hands start to kneed at your hips, pulling your tiny skirt up, tearing off your cotton panties. You whimper with need, the scent of your arousal nearly making him drool. He shamelessly pulls his cock out, pumping it, flicking his cock head against your swollen clit making you whine, smearing his arousal over your sensitive nub. “Gonna help your alpha, baby?”

It's a game you both play. After all, he wasn't really your alpha. He hadn't marked you. You weren't his. But that doesn't matter right now. Not when his leaky cock is begging for relief.

You nod, gasping when he pulls you off the counter, bending you over, his tip rubbing up and down before sliding in with one thrust, his head thrown back when he start to build up a steady pace, slamming your hips to meet his.

"A-Alpha!" You cry out, grasping the edge of the counter, his cock deep in your pussy, his unforgiving thrusts speeding up. "Oh god, please!"

He watches your face twists in the mirror reflection, his cute little cheer leader who screams his name both on the field and with his cock deep in her, no one suspecting the innocent omega to be so cockdrunk over the college football player.

“That’s it, good little mega, so fuckin good” He groans, his thighs tensing as his knott begins to swell, panting and grunting, his dick almost hurting with how hard he was for you. No one made him more animalistic than you, your sweet scent making him leak into your pyssy. "Gonna give you my knot, you want that 'mega?"

Your sweet neck is so tempting to him and he wants to sink his teeth in, marking and claiming you. He nudges his nose against your juncture, nipping softly making you whine, craning your neck to give him more access, your desperation making it harder for him to resist.

"Don't tempt me 'mega" He warns, biting softly, his hand coming to wrap around your throat.

"P-Please! Fuck, yes, please, gimmie your knot alpha-want-want it!" You stutter out, eyes rolling back as he growls, fucking you harder, his hand coming around to toy with your clit, rubbing it with his calloused fingers.

"Greedy little 'mega" He moans, struggling to hold back any longer, his cock bursting with cum when he feels you clench around him, "Oh fuck m'cumming, take it babydoll, take my cum"

He pants against your neck, staying buried deep in your pussy while his cock softens, the mess he made inside you slowly seeping out.

“Hmm” a low growl emits from his chest, watching his seed drip between your soft thighs, milky cream sticky and thick. “Can’t wait till the day get to fill you up with pups, mama”

He shoves two thick fingers back into your sensitive pussy making you cry out, his pink lips hushing you with a deep kiss before pulling away and giving your ass a spank. He leaves you panting and messy, fucking your brains out like he owns you, leaving for practice seconds later.

Of course, he thinks he’s just using you. He thinks this is just a game to play. He smirks when he sees you in your uniform again, giving him a shy smile as you approach him after a game. He loves that he has you at his beck and call whenever he wants, your little omega pussy all jus for him.

That is until he smells the scent of another alpha near by and he nearly bares all his teeth, shoving you behind him so your out of sight, protected behind his large form. He knows Walker has had his eye on you every time they visit the campus, the blonde rival happy to try and make a move on the sweet cheer leader with no alpha.

"What's wrong Barnes, scared of a little competition" Walker taunts and Bucky nearly pounces on him, his hands still balled into fists, holding back when he feels your hand grab his wrist.

"Alpha lets go" you whisper and his protective side immediately comes out, seeing you distressed worried face.

"Since when was he your alpha, hmm, 'mega?" Walker smirked making you whimper from embarrassment, immediately letting go of Bucky's wrist.

He wasn't wrong.

Bucky felt a different surge of anger flow through his veins while Steve stepped in between the two men before things got ugly. Bucky shoved Walker out of the way, scooping you into his arms and straight to his place, unable to bear the thought of another man trying to touch what's his, hating the way your face had fallen after what he'd said to you.

You were his Omega.

He was your alpha.

As soon as he gets you in his room, he throws you on his bed, tearing your clothes off without a care in the world. His natural woodsy scent of pine and leather make you wet, your pussy aching, feeling so empty while he tosses his own clothes aside. There's no time to prep when he man handles you onto all fours, spanking your ass when you arch your back, presenting for him, his thick cock humping your folds.

"Whose your Alpha" He demands, dragging his tip up and down at a torturous pace, spanking you again when you wiggle your hips. "Say it!"

"You James, Alpha please, need-need yo-OH GOD YESS" Your words slut into screams of pleasure as he slams into you and fucks you hard and fast, his swollen balls hitting your clit with each stroke.

"That's right. You're mine. My fuckin' omega, m'you're alpha, you hear me?" He forces his cock as deep as it would go, as if trying to claim every bit of your body from the inside and out.

"Mine. Mine. Mine" Bucky growls, slamming into you with unrelenting thrusts, shaking away the disgusting thought of another man trying to have you, his girl, how dare anyone else trying to lay their hands on you. He stars at your sweet unmarked neck, drooling at the touched skin. He wanted nothing more than to show everyone exactly who you belonged to.

"Wanna make you mine forever 'mega" he warns, holding back from sinking his teeth in, nearly whining with his eyes shut. "Wanna mark you, let me mark you up sweet girl, show everyone who you belong to"

"Mark me Bucky" You cry out, his hands coming on top of yours, fingers lacing together as he continues to rut into you.

"Gonna mark you up and fill you till your swollen n'round. Wanna get you nice n'heavy till those little uniforms don't fit n'all you can wear are my clothes, let everyone know who you belong to" He growls, his cock starting to swell like never before, the feeling almost painful.

"Please alpha, please-wan' it-need it!" You beg, gasping at the feeling of his base growing, his moas filling the room. He licks and nips at your neck, whining when you clench around his cock, moving and giving him more access to your skin.

"Mine" He grits before sinking his teeth in, pleasure and pain filling you, a different kind of relief flooding your senses as his knot pops, the both of you collapsing in his bed, his cock still deep inside you. He holds you tightly in his thick arms, soothing you with soft caresses along your sensitive skin.

"You're mine omega" He pants, kissing your mark, cradling your fucked out form to his chest, "All mine"

My bad.

[perrywrites]

Hiii, your absentminded murmuring and handholding writings were so good!!! The handholding scenarios were so sexy and intimate, and the murmuring ones made me laugh but we're also really hot at the same time. Would you consider extending the absentminded murmuring one to other characters? I'd love to see how you would write that scenario with Reo, Chigiri, and Kaiser (if you don't write Kaiser, since I can't see anything for him yet, then I feel like Barou/Shidou would be particularly funny (and hot)).

AAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH, I'm so giddy, I'm glad the intimacy came across well 🤭🤭🤭 and omg... the Shidou one is 100% gonna turn into a public indecency case ngl LMFAO 😭😭😭 like w that man girly u gotta be the rational and restrained one... if you say something like that all. bets. are. OFFFF!

Also all 3 ended up being really long so for the sake of character limit, I'll be posting Kaiser right after, how does tumblr work and how do I post longer writings??? 😭😭😭

Absentmindedly murmuring that you want him inside of you during practice part 2;

NSFW 

Includes; Chigiri, Reo

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 3 (Kaiser, Barou) and part 4 (Nagi, Shidou, Kunigami) and part 5 (Sae, Rin, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya)

Where Chigiri is ‘silently’ possessive (no, because seriously, I can’t be the only one who can just smell the silent cat-like possessiveness and jealousy radiating off of Chigiri, right??), Reo is lovesick as always.

Chigiri: he can feel your eyes burning passionately into his back - he doesn’t even have to look at you to know, he has a feeling you want something… You want him. But still, he glances to catch your dazed stare, finding himself amused by how your fuzzy eyes hazily trail after his form, your pouty lips parted slightly like you’re in a trance. He’s going to have to teach you to be subtler, though, because even as he can feel his heart squeeze in his chest from how cute you are - it’s taking everything in him to be rational and not burn the eyes of every man there - because he doesn’t want anyone else to see you right now. Because that kind of adorably inviting expression on your face should only be seen by him. Not anyone else, just him. The moment it’s his break, he’s sauntering over to you, prideful for anyone else but casual for him, an eyebrow raised. Even as he’s standing infront of you, you continue to stare up at him all dreamily, so he crosses his arms, huffing exasperatedly at your dumb look. He hasn’t even touched you yet, isn’t it too soon to make such a dumbed out expression? “You’ve been staring at me all practice, and now that I’m standing infront of you, you’re just going to be silent, hm?” He tilts his head at you, eyes narrowed playfully. It’s when you say what you say, that his eyes widen instantly. And then his eyes narrow again, except this time it’s no longer playful. Oh, you dared to say that alright. You want him inside, huh? He shifts on his feet, agitated. You couldn’t wait until after practice to tell him that? He can tell you didn’t mean to entice and tempt him as you did, with how out of it you seem, but… Knowing that you’re so out of it in the first place because of how badly you want - no - need him does something to him. And all of a sudden he finds himself fantasizing about having you in a way that makes heat rush through his body, you being all adorably submissive and ready for him, obedient as you always are, all cute whines as you plead at him with your misty eyes to just give it to you already. But of course, he won’t, and this time he won’t be dragging it out for a kind of sadistic affection to see you pout and whine, or to elongate this time of intimacy as long as possible, feel you as closely as possible. Oh no, absolutely not. This time, he’ll punish you. He’ll make you wait, even as his cock is painful and aching, even as you cry out and beg for him, your walls fluttering around nothing, he’ll make you wait for daring to let yourself voice this and be so alluring somewhere another man could see you. And also because now he feels incredibly irritated that he can’t just have you right now, that he has to wait for practice to be over, dammit. For now, he reaches his hand out and roughly ruffles the top of your hair, a successful attempt to get you to snap out of your enamoured trance and get that dumbed out look off your face right now, dammit. And as you look up at him, all wide eyes and confusion, he says, “Go wait for me in the car.” Because no way in hell is he going to let you sit out here or anywhere else and let someone catch you making a face like that again. It doesn’t matter whether it’s him you’re entranced with - of course it’s him - he can’t stand the idea of another man looking at you making that kind of face when he’s the only one allowed to see you like that. Don't forget, after all, he's the one you belong to.

Reo: at first he doesn’t pay much mind to your gaze, after all he’s used to your frequent visits to his practice, and it’s not weird for you to admire your own boyfriend and cheer him on. But he starts paying mind when a teammate elbows him and chuckles discreetly, waggling a teasing eyebrow as he makes some remark about Reo’s ‘busy night’ ahead. He looks at the man for the audacity he just stupidly sprouted to be daring to make a remark about his - Reo’s - sex life; baffled and eyebrow raised, Reo throws a couple of dismissive cold words before turning away - and then he glances towards you and ah. No wonder. Well, that explains the tomfoolery that just transpired. Although Reo responded like that to his teammate’s crass comment (of course he did, who the fuck did he think he was to try and joke around with him of all people about his partner and his’ sex life? Even if they aren’t protective or possessive like him, any other half-decent of a boyfriend should be responding like him, he thinks), now he just feels excited to be the target of your lovelorn gaze. Oh, you love him that much, do you? Want him that much? A part of his brain goes mushy and fuzzy from affection, you’re just too cute, and all his. The moment it’s time for his break, he rushes over to you, impatiently, longingly, desperately - though he tries to seem like he’s normal as he smiles at you and accepts the water bottle from your loose, dangling grasp. Thanking you sweetly and in what he hopes is a casual manner, he downs his water quickly to speak to you about your persistent stare. He cups your cheek, leaning down towards you, eyes creased and pupils saturated with love. “You’ve been looking at me the whole time like that, something wrong sweetheart?” Voice an affectionate coo, he asks you, half-teasingly, expecting you to turn bashful and avert your eyes, to allow him to chase you around with teasing like always. Except you say something that makes something lodge inside of his throat instantly, smile frozen on his face from pure shock. Did you - did you just? Quietly, he asks you to repeat your words, and when you do, in a sugary melted voice, Reo is at a loss of words. You’re still looking at him all yearningly, dazed eyes thick with desire; he can tell how out of it you are. Oh, you really do want him that much right now… And wouldn’t he be a bad boyfriend if he didn’t give it to you right now when you’re all cute and desperate like this? Wouldn’t he be just the worst if he didn’t bend you over somewhere, anywhere, sometime soon, and stuffed you full of his cock? Oh, wouldn’t he be just a sick bastard undeserving of you if he didn’t trap you into a mating press and just kept jackhammering into that wet pussy just meant for him? Breed you full of his cum and love? Just keep on loving you until you cried big fat tears and begged him ‘no more Reo, ah I can’t, p-please, I’m too sensitive!’ like you always do? ‘What’s wrong sweetheart, weren’t you the one asking for it?’ He snaps out of his little daydream when his coach calls him back to practice, saying the break is over. Reo nods, but he doesn’t move, his feet stuck as he looks down at your delirious eyes. Practice be screwed, he needs to get you home now and get inside you goddammit. 

Also this was the exact expression I imagined Reo making at the nameless teammate LMFAO

[cursingtoji]

5 and 24 with nanami 🤓

(nanami as a grumpy dom bodyguard.. PLEASE SEE MY VISION Y'ALL)

𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅!𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊

plus “you’re doing great” ⊱ brat taming, fingering, a bit of car sex, oral (f -> m); the Clichés ™

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who was hired by your father to keep you safe and away from trouble, though he was warned you could be a bit of handful sometimes.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who can’t stand brats, every time you attempt to escape without him noticing he feels like tying you up and fuck your face until you’re crying begging for his forgiveness and promising to be good.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who’s super professional, wearing a full suit and tie everyday, keeping the mysterious look by wearing sunglasses even inside the house. You of course can’t get a hold of yourself and invade his personal space poking his cheek and teasing him for looking so grumpy.

“Am I not behaving well today? You know why? ‘Cause I got a date” you whisper the last part as a secret, asking him to not tell your father.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who knows he would just cause more trouble to himself if he tells on you, so with a tired sigh he takes the keys and drives you to the restaurant, not failing to notice the way you pushed your breasts and wore a sweet perfume for the date. He waits patiently by the bar keeping an eye on your table, especially on your date that he can tell almost immediately it’s not worth a damn penny. The way he can’t keep his eyes on your face for more than 3 seconds without dropping to your cleavage and always bringing the topic back to himself makes Nanami wants to break his nose.

“Did you listen to our conversation?” you ask your bodyguard discretely after telling your date you were going to get a drink at the bar.

“A little bit, yes” he lies, of course he heard the whole thing.

“What do you think of him?” Nanami studies you, your fingers are nervously kneading a clean napkin, your eyes are shiny and wide expecting an answer from him, the blond side looks your date who was smiling down at his phone.

“Are you seriously asking me this?” his answer is harsh, you should’ve seen this coming.

“Sorry, it’s just that I haven’t had much luck with men lately” you confess in a moment of vulnerability, “Do you think we can sneak out without him noticing?” Nanami empties his glass of whiskey in one go before placing his hand on your lower back and leading you to the exit.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who keeps wearing sunglasses inside, but he uses it as an excuse to shamelessly stare at your body. You’ve grown too comfortable around him, barely using a bra anymore, bending way too low in that little shorts and showering with your bathroom door open where, even though he can’t see you, the smell coming out of the bathroom and your humming is enough to tempt him into joining you.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who thinks you have been quite good lately, it’s even a little concerning, but peace doesn’t reign for too long and as soon as his guard is down you leave the house on a little party dress and go club.

You manage to get yourself almost two hours drinking and dancing with strangers before your partner has his hands abruptly taken away from your hips as Nanami twists his arm, you look over your shoulder to see your bodyguard murmuring a threat the man you now see it was not nearly as handsome as the one holding his arm to an almost breaking point. You attempt to tiptoe your way out of his sight but he’s quick to catch your wrist, you gasp when meeting his angered features.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be” he threats tightening his grip on you.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who fingers you in the passenger seat of the car, wanting nothing more than to rip that ridiculously short dress into pieces.

“You’re so difficult and for what? Is this what you wanted all this time?” he groans working his fingers firmly while still trying to drive without crashing.

"What you gonna do to me?" you ask biting your nails in antecipation but don't have to wait longer before your bodyguard is roughly throwing you onto the same bed he sees you go to every night with a different nightgown and has to restrain himself from joining you.

Not tonight though, tonight Nanami is getting what he wanted this whole time.

"That's the only way to shut that bratty little mouth of yours, huh" he mutters with your hair around his hand guiding your head between his legs. You ran your hands from the firm muscles of his thigh to the abs under his white shirt feeling it twich on your palm, tugging the material with your other hand as plead through gags for him to take it off.

"Alright, just because you're doing so great" he opens his buttons one by one and gets rid of all the clothes covering his torso, "C'mere" he pulls your hair until his cock slides off with a string of saliva and precum connecting him to your mouth.

🝮 Bodyguard!Nanami who helps you straddle him smiling widely as he sees you pout, "Don't make this face" he runs his thumb on your lower lip, "I'll make it good for us, but before you have to work for it, it's only fair after what you put me through" Nanami slaps your ass, you understand how stressful it must have been for him so you comply, not before picking his tie from the mattress and putting it around your own neck, your bodyguard smiles giving it a hard tug until your lips are on his.

Also part of the Clichés event:

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

“Who did this to you?” Sukuna

Drunk Confession — Toji

“What happened to us?” Gojo

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[moonstruckme]

i am also sick and now dreaming of comfort from Steve :( hereby requesting a sick fic with Steve and gn!reader pls and thank you (when/if you feel like it!!)

Thanks for requesting babe <3

Steve Harrington x gn!reader ♡ 915 words

When Steve knocks for the third time, you relent. 

You cover your mouth and nose with your blanket as you open the door and block the entrance with your arm. “Don’t come in here,” you warn. 

Steve pushes past your arm easily. He’s carrying a small plastic bag. “How am I gonna make your soup from out there, genius?” 

“Steve, I’m serious,” you say, though you close the door behind him before tailing him into the kitchen. “You don’t want to catch this.” 

He sets his bag on the counter and turns on you. You’re not prepared for his hands on your face, cool and unbelievably soothing. He frowns. “I can tell," he says. "Has it been this bad all week?” 

You’re so tempted to fall asleep in the safe haven of his palms that it takes you a second to answer.

“Pretty much,” you admit. 

Steve hums and thumbs a line down your cheek. “I should have come sooner.” 

“You shouldn’t be here now,” you say, but the fight is going out of you with every second of tenderness. You’ve been pathetically lonesome this last week, filling your home with tissues and discarded dishes while telling Steve over the phone that you weren’t that sick and then indulging in copious amounts of self-pity while walking to the store to restock on drugs and cough drops. 

“You should’a had someone to take care of you,” Steve argues gently. 

“I’m fine.” 

His smile is wry. He lets his hand slip down to your shoulder, giving it a good squeeze before turning around. “Maybe I’ll start to believe you when you can say that without all your consonants sounding like bs and ds,” he says, rustling through his bag. “Deal?” 

You sigh but follow him to the stove, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the counter. “What are you making?” 

“Harrington family recipe.” Steve holds up a box of noodle soup mix. “Water and sodium.” 

You start to laugh but it turns into coughing, horrific, racking coughs that you hide in your blanket. Steve’s hand lands on your back, tentative and then firm as he rubs between your shoulder blades. 

“Jesus,” he says softly. “You okay?” 

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak as the fit dies down. 

“Why don’t you go lie down?” He sounds concerned. “I’ll meet you in there.” 

You want to stay but your cough drops are in the bedroom, so you shoot your boyfriend a lame thumbs-up as you go. Every cough ignites a brood of aches, your throat and chest and temples each throbbing with their own special brand of hurt. The one in your temples sticks around the most. You grab a washcloth after popping a cough drop in your mouth, dampening it with warm water and laying it across your eyes while you lay down on the bed. 

You’re still trying to suppress your cough despite the lozenge when Steve comes in. When you move the washcloth to see him, he looks upset. 

“Your head hurts?” he asks, so concerned you really could cry. 

“It’s just my sinuses,” you say, like that makes it better. “Is that my soup?” 

“Yeah, but it’s too hot to eat.” He leans forward, setting the steaming bowl on your nightstand. “You wanna face massage for now?” 

You blink. “Are you serious?” 

Steve grins, suavish and yet sweet beneath that. “Yeah, honey. Close your eyes.” 

You do. Steve’s hands on your face aren’t a surprise this time, but the effect is about the same. You relax, instinctively, before he’s even done anything, and when he starts pushing at the skin just above your eyebrows with his thumbs, you actually sigh. 

He laughs. “Good?” 

“Yeah.” Your voice is breathy and embarrassing, but at the moment you couldn’t care less. “Where did you learn how to do this?” 

“Hey, I know things, okay?” Steve feigns offense, but he’s no good at hiding the pride in his tone. “I’ve been sick before, too.” 

“Thank you. I owe you my life for this.” 

His voice softens. “Don't sweat it. Just relax for a bit, yeah?” 

It’s not a hard direction to follow. Steve’s thumbs are firm but kind as they press into your forehead and the areas around your eyes. You imagine your skin moldable as wax, his touch smoothing out the crackly lines of your sinuses until they’re soft and supple.

“Can I say something stupid?” 

You crack an eyelid, sniffling. “Sure.” 

“I’m feeling, like, weirdly protective of you right now.” Your surprised laughter launches you into another hacking fit, and Steve’s own smile is guilty as lets go of your face, rubbing your shoulder. “Seriously! I couldn’t give a shit if I’m going to get sick. You look all sad and vulnerable, I feel like a bear or something is going to come in here and you’re too weak to protect yourself, so now it’s my job.” 

“You w—” You press a hand to your chest, tiny tears squeezing out of the corners of your eyes. “—wouldn’t have protected me from a bear before?” 

Steve grins. “And your voice sounds hot like this, too.” 

Your coughing worsens again. You shoot him a look to say Stop making me laugh, but you don’t really want him to. 

“This is what does it for you?” you croak. 

He shrugs. “I’m just saying, there are silver linings.” 

You don’t argue as Steve unwraps another cough drop and passes it to you, placing it in your mouth as he resumes his work on your headache. You suppose there are. 

[cloudiest-dayze]

Rory taglist: @tempt-ress

Do not repost or translate without my permission and credit.

Opposites Attract

Dark!Euronymous x Bimbo!F!Reader

WARNINGS: MDNI, euronymous is so ooc and icky, manipulation, non con because of coercion, cheating (on readers end), pnv, oral (male receiving), degradation, manhandling, rough sex, one use of the word 'daddy' i think that's it but tell me if I missed anything.

As you walk into Helvete, everyone around double takes so hard you're surprised their necks didn't break. Mini skirt your wearing lifting with every step, nipple piercings showing through your tight white shirt. You stop at the register ignoring the wolf whistles from the patrons. Euronymous smirks slyly looking you up and down. "You sure you're in the right place?" His voice condescending.

"This place has all the metal stuff right?" Your voice is sweet as honey on euronymous' ears. "Yea that's us, whatcha you looking for?" He asks seeing an opportunity arise. "I don't know, it's for my boyfriend's birthday." He smiles at you, something not so innocent behind his eyes. "If you want the good stuff follow me." He says as he walks towards the basement entrance. You follow him excited to get something that will make your boyfriend really happy.

As you enter the basement you see Euronymous taking a seat on the leather couch down there. "Come here" he pats the seat next to him. As you sit down your skirt lifts up slightly showing your white lacy panties. "Where are the records you have?" You ask looking around. He puts his hand on your thigh moving it up. "I'll show you after you do something for me pretty girl." He moves his head to your neck kissing it gently. "N-No this... This is wrong I have a boyfriend" You say shakily as you feel him giving you a hickey. "You love your boyfriend and would do anything for him right?" He asks in a soft tone.

You nod in response. "Okay get on your knees then." He says spreading his legs and leaning back. You get down onto the dirty floor knees already hurting from the concrete. You reach your hands up to unbuckle his belt, and pull them and his boxers down to his ankles. As you look at his large cock you gulp out of nervousness. "Well? It ain't gonna suck itself." He snarls impatiently. You take a deep breath and then put it in your mouth, gagging almost immediately from Euronymous proceeding to throatfuck you.

The sounds of your gags and Euronymous' moans fill the empty basement. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, you abruptly get pulled away trying to catch your breath. "Stick your tongue out whore." He says out of breath. You do as you told and he slaps his cock on your tongue before roughly pushing your head back down. You don't know how long you were gagging on his cock before you felt him cum deep down your throat. You pull away trying to catch your breath, mascara running down your face.

"Take off your panties and leave on the skirt." He demands. "W-what?" You ask breathless. "Are you deaf, stand up and take off your panties slut!" He growls. You whimper and stand up and do as he told you to. "Fuck yea, come here sit on Daddy's lap" He groans cock already rock hard again. You gulp and sit down on his cock whimpering at the stretch. "Awh baby does that hurt? You want time to adjust?" He asks in a fake caring tone. You nod, he smirks mischievously and grips your hips and pounds up into your pussy. You scream out, not knowing if you hate or love the sensation and collapse onto his chest. He chuckles in your ear darkly "You like that huh, you like my cock in your tight little pussy?" You moan in reply, nodding your head rapidly.

He pushes you onto your back and puts your legs over his shoulders. You moan loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the sensation. "FUCK OH MY GOD PLEASE!" You scream out. He chuckles and fucks harder rubbing your clit quickly making you cum harder than you ever had in your life. He groans at the feeling of you squeezing his cock making him cum deep inside of you. You whimper at the feeling of him pulling out. "When you get yourself together I'll give the album you want or whatever." He says pulling up his pants and buckling his belt. You turn your head to where he is standing. You nod weakly at him "oh and here's my number we can arrange a way for you to get the newest albums." He winks as he writes down his number with a sharpie in your wrist. He leaves you on the couch quivering in the basement, looking forward to the next time you need an album.

(AN: I plan on writing everyday so sorry for the late post I couldn't think of anything. Tell me how you feel about this one I'm not that confident in this. If you want to be a part of any tag list tell me <3)

[gottalovetumbler]

Wrong car Pt.2

Will prob rewrite but wanted to get this out so here you all go!

Info: Fem!Reader, cussing, cliff hanger (there will be a part 3)

——— 🚗 🏠 ———

Simon's left leg starts cramping when the headlights finally appear. Close enough for them to keep the car in sight but far enough that you don't question it. A particularly rough corner shifts Simon over, almost making him hit his head on the window. He's tempted to stretch his cramped leg but freezes when you glance toward the trunk.

There's no way you know he's back here right? Your music is loud enough to mute his shuffling and he's stayed crouched out of the mirror's view. So what the hell?

“I swear it feels like something weighing a thousand pounds is back there.” You mumble to yourself. Ghost was a tough man but those words brought a cold chill down his spine. 

It's been five minutes since Gaz last texted, and the military truck is still not visible. He begins devising a plan. If the team can't trail you both before you get to wherever you are going, he's got to have a few options. 

The first one is to just jump the gun and grab you. He won't even give you the chance to find him. He'll hold you and explain everything while covering your mouth so you can't scream. You might have roommates and he doesn't want to alert them of course. He'll tell you how he's a high military personnel and accidentally got into the wrong car. Mighteven ask you if you know the bastard he's hunting. 

The second plan is the preferred one. For him to stay hidden and let you head into your house none the wiser. Wait for the team to show up and then just leave without so much as a trace. Judging by how deep into the country you're driving there's a good chance you won't lock the car so the alarm won't sound as he climbs out. 

He glances around the car for the hundredth time, looking at the stupid plushes and blankets you have decorating the car. A flash catches his eye, when he turns he spots the truck headlights. The team has finally caught up, must have done at least double the limit to catch you both. 

The car rumbles as it transfers from asphalt to gravel. Slightly fishtailing as it flies down the road. The team stays on your tail as you continue down the road. The glances you shoot at the rearview mirror tell Ghost that you've noticed the truck and will soon question it if they don't back off.

—----------------------------

(000)000-0000

-*Fall back a bit, she's starting to get nervous*

-Copy

—----------------------------

Only when you take a turn and the truck continues straight, not following, do your shoulders relax as you sink back into the seat. One more turn off the small dirt roads brings the car down a long driveway. Finally coming to a stop in front of a small farmhouse. After shifting into park, you sit there for a second before grabbing your bags and climbing out. 

Holding his breath as you round the car, he watches you walk away, and just like he thought, you didn't lock the doors. He waits as you enter the house and the lights one by one shut off. Only then does he send the guys the all-clear to come and grab him. 

The truck slowly pulls up the driveway without headlights on. Soap pops open the trunk and Ghost quite literally falls out, hitting the ground hard. 

‘Ye a'richt LT? She sae bonny she knocked ye aff yer feet huh?’

‘Shut it, Johnny.’ Simon grumbles as he brushes himself off before adjusting his vest. 

‘Lucky she didn’ notice you. Woulda been a headache en a half trying to clean up tha’ mess.’ Price says, slamming his hand on Simon's shoulder. Before turning back to the truck and climbing in the back, giving Simon the front seat to stretch out. 

Gaz gives a nod of greeting as Simon climbs in. The other three begin discussing how they’re gonna catch the still loose target as Kyle shifts into drive. He lets off the break as the car begins to roll and sends one last glance towards the house. The rough stop of the car pulls the other three from their discussion with Soap shooting a ‘Whit th' fuck Gaz!’

When he doesn't reply to them they follow his line of sight. 

‘Shit.’ 

Standing there in the window wide-eyed and watching them, in shorts and a tee-shirt, is you. Stood there frozen, having witnessed everything, locking eyes with each of the men before taking a step back and darting away from their view. 

‘Dammit.’ Price mutters as he unbuckles quickly before running towards the front door and shoves his way in, his soldiers following him.

——— 🚗 🏠 ———

[radiant-reid]

Spencer and Reader not having very much alone time with each other, since they have a toddler, so they sneak a quickie in the laundry room.

this had to be written, hope that's okay

You've been not so patiently waiting for Spencer for fifteen minutes before he finally slides open the door and steps in. "Finally." You complain, locking the door behind him.

"It's not my fault she needs three stories before she'll nap." He tells you.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "No, that's literally your fault." You remind him. "You always want to read her more stories."

Spencer grabs your chin, holding your face close to his. Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden movement and closeness. "Shut your pretty mouth, and take your pants off." He instructs.

It takes you a moment after he moves away to get your brain working to make a sarcastic comment. "Romantic."

He bites his bottom lip alluringly as he unbuttons and unzips his pants. "I don't need to romance you." He assures you.

"Are you calling me easy?" You question, raising your eyebrows and tempting him to continue.

"I know I've never had a problem getting into your pants." He recalls, devilishly handsome with his smirk.

You smack him on the shoulder before scolding him. "You're a dick."

"No." He shakes his head, grabbing your waist and pulling your jeans down your thighs. "I'm trying to get my dick in you."

"I am just blown away by your charm." You joke.

Spencer chuckles at you, baking you up until your back is against the machine.

You kick your jeans off, wrapping your legs around his waist. He pushes a strand of hair out of the way of your eye line. "Hey, gorgeous." He coos.

"Hi, pretty boy." You reply, nudging your nose against his. "Fuck me now? Please."

His lips meld to yours, kissing you firmly and passionately as his fingers slip under your panties, touching your clit. You moan against his lips, prompting him to push them aside and line himself up with your heat.

He slips inside you gently, thrusting deeply but slowly. It's as blissful as it always is. He doesn't waste any time you do have, pumping in and out of you roughly in a way that makes your breathing uneven.

"Fuck, Spencer, keep going." You cry, pulling him by the hair so you can kiss him.

"Mhm." He agrees, burying himself as deep inside you as he can get. "You feel so good."

Each time, you roll your hips against his until you can feel his cock against your cervix. Every one of your nerves is buzzing. His hands are all over you, trying to hold you as close to you as he can.

Your moans get louder with each thrust until Spencer has to clamp his hands over your mouth. "You're gonna have to be quiet if you don't want to get interrupted."

You really don't want him to stop so you pull him closer, burying your face in his neck to muffle your moans. You can hear Spencer panting against the shell of your ear, a trail of expletives and your name leaving his mouth.

"I'm so close." You moan to him.

"Let go for me, baby." He instructs you, weaving his hand between your bodies to massage your clit.

You cum around his cock at that, squeezing him tightly as pleasure boils through your veins. The pressure on his cock has him pumping his cum inside you and pausing his motion where he's deepest inside you.

"God, I love you." He says, pulling out and adjusting your panties so there's not a mess of his cum all over the laundry room.

"I love you too." You reply, getting onto the floor with shaky legs to redress. "And our laundry room quickies."

He chuckles. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't know this room exists." He jokes.

"Our secret hangout." You declare it.

"Fucking spot, more like." He reminds you.

"Rendezvous." You reason. "It's more romantic."

He pulls you into a quick hug, kissing your forehead lovingly. "Whatever you want to call it, I'm just lucky to have it with you."

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Who Taught You How to Love Like That? - Chapter Four

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person) Warnings: Sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Angst. Word count: ~3.5k

Series masterlist

Chapter summary: An understanding is reached and Aegon dishes family dirt at a BBQ.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Her phone vibrates on the coffee table, the buzzing causing it to move dangerously close to the edge. Quick as a flash, Mysaria lunges forward from the sofa to catch it before it topples to the floor, smirking when she sees the name that’s flashing up on the screen.

“How many times is that today now?” She asks, gently tossing the phone to her as a missed call notification replaces the incoming call alert.

She shrugs, not averting her gaze from the TV screen as a rerun of Come Dine with Me, that neither of them are particularly paying attention to, plays to itself. “Dunno. He’ll get the hint eventually.”

It’s Sunday evening and she hasn’t spoken to Aemond since she woke up alone in his flat the previous morning, despite the fact he texts and calls her more times than she can count. She deletes the messages without reading them, and lets each of his calls go to voicemail. He’d made her feel cheap, used, put a price on her body, and she had no desire to ever speak to him again.

Mysaria sighs, flopping back against the sofa cushions. “Can I be a bitch for a second?” She asks, turning her head to face her. “You aren’t going to like it, but I think you need to hear it.”

She leans her head back, eyes flitting to meet her flatmate’s, already feeling a prickle of annoyance heat her skin, but decides to let her say her piece. “Go on then.”

“Why are you punishing him because you’ve caught feelings?”

Her annoyance bursts forth into anger as her brow furrows, her body language becoming squared and defensive. “I haven’t–”

“Yes, you have,” Mysaria interrupts. “I get that he did a shitty thing by leaving you high and dry, but he clearly feels bad or he wouldn’t keep trying to reach you. Give the guy a chance to explain himself, if you don’t like what he has to say then break things off.”

She scoffs in frustration, turning back towards the TV and rolling her eyes. “You are so bloody annoying!”

“Because I’m right,” Mysaria says smugly, leaning over to tap her on the nose. “You gonna call him back then?”

She chews her lip absentmindedly, turning her phone around in her hands. She supposes it wouldn’t hurt to reach out to him, if only to ask how to return the five grand he’d transferred to her.

The buzzer to the flat startles her out of her train of thought and Mysaria peels herself off of the sofa with a groan of “Finally! I’m bloody starving!”

Pizza first, then she’ll call him. She’s definitely not putting it off, she reasons with herself, she just doesn’t want her food to go cold.

“Erm…so it’s not pizza…” Mysaria says awkwardly as she re-enters the living room, a silver haired figure a good deal taller than her trailing behind her.

Dread gnaws at her stomach as she takes in the sight of Aemond, hair thrown back in a bun, dressed in a tight black henley and fitted black jeans, holding the largest bouquet of lilies and roses she’s ever seen before. Even when she’s angry with him he still manages to look absolutely breathtaking, and it irritates her.

“I’ll just…uh…” Mysaria makes a gesture towards her bedroom, and quickly makes herself scarce.

Lucky bitch.

“You’ve not been returning my calls,” Aemond says flatly.

“No…” She responds quietly, feeling the warmth of embarrassment spread through her, as she plucks nervously at the legs of her jogging bottoms. He’s never seen her not put together, and she loathes that she feels shame for her appearance, when she hasn’t done anything wrong. Him seeing her with messy hair, an oversized t-shirt and threadbare joggers makes her feel weak and vulnerable in his presence.

“Or replying to my texts.”

“I know.”

“Listen, if the other night wasn’t good, or I hurt you–”

“Why don’t you sit down?” She interjects, suddenly realising how absurd he looks, stood in the middle of the living room, dwarfing everything around him with his obscenely large bunch of flowers.

Aemond nods gratefully, taking the seat next to hear. “These are you for, by the way,” He tells her, handing her the flowers.

She hums a quiet thanks, immediately overwhelmed by the sweetness of their aroma, and places them on the coffee table, knowing she’ll need no distractions if she’s to say what she needs to say.

“The other night was great, really great, actually,” She begins. “But you just left the next morning without a word, and that really upset me.”

“You were upset because I left?” He asks, sounding almost surprised.

“Yes!” She replies with exasperation. “You made me feel cheap, and used.”

“Cheap? But I bank transferred you afterwards.”

“Jesus, Aemond! I’m not a prostitute!” She throws up her hands angrily, gesticulating her point.

He swallows thickly, clearly considering his next words carefully. “I know you said you’ve never done anything like this before, but neither have I, and I made a mistake. My grandfather called me into the office early on Saturday morning. You looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you. I’m sorry that my carelessness has hurt you, but I am keen to continue our arrangement.”

It all seems so simple when he words it like that. She could easily have reached out to question his actions, but she’d allowed her emotions to guide her and now feels foolish because of it. When she says nothing, Aemond presses on. 

“No funny business, I promise. We don’t have to sleep together again, but I’ve enjoyed having your company at family functions, it makes them more bearable. Please say you’ll consider it?”

She’s not sure what prompts the words from her mouth, perhaps it’s the pleading look in Aemond’s eye, or the fact that she enjoys his company too, but she says them before she fully has a chance to think about them. “Okay, we’ll carry on as before.”

“Thank you,” He says earnestly.

The buzzer sounding again prevents him from saying anything else, as Mysaria hurries from her room towards the door, in pursuit of her pizza delivery.

“I suppose that’s my cue to leave,” Aemond says softly. “I’ll text you, okay?”

She nods, and they both stand, hovering near each other, both unsure of what would be an appropriate goodbye. Eventually Aemond leans in, kissing the corner of her mouth lightly before pulling back and exiting the flat. She holds her fingers against the area, still able to feel the press of his lips even after he’s departed.

It takes three days for Aemond to message her again, and in that time it feels as though she could crawl out of her own skin with the apprehension that his silence brings. Had he changed his mind, decided her withdrawing contact over an honest mistake was too much to deal with? It fills her with a nervous energy that makes the days unbearable.

The relief she feels when he finally deigns to reach out is borderline humiliating.

Not sure if you remember my half sister, Rhaenyra, but she is having a BBQ on Saturday. Are you free?

I remember. Are you sure you want to go after what happened on your mum’s birthday? Xoxo

My mother will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t go. Will you come with me?

Yeah, I’m free :) xoxo

When Saturday finally rolls around, she keeps her hair and make-up simple, wearing a floral sundress and strappy sandals, but immediately feels underdressed as she recognises the house they pull up outside of as being the one they’d been to for Jace and Baela’s engagement party.

She has little time to dwell on her appearance though, as Aemond ushers her through the expanse of the house and out into the back garden. A sprawling, lush green lawn that could be considered more of a field due to its size plays host to various members of the Targaryen and Hightower families, as the smell of barbecued meat lingers on the breeze.

Aemond leads her around, his hand glued to the small of her back, so she can say polite hellos to everyone. Alicent and Criston greet her with warm hugs and kisses to both cheeks, Helaena does the same, while standing with Baela and Rhaena, the two girls offer a quick “hello” in sing-song unity. Aegon merely holds up a hand by way of greeting, looking less than enthusiastic to be there, and Otto says a polite “good to see you both”. The rest of the family’s greetings are a little more frosty, with Rhaenyra, Jace, Luke and Joffrey giving curt nods of acknowledgement, while Daemon is too preoccupied with the barbecue to notice they’ve even arrived.

“Viserys and Aegon not joining us?” Alicent asks Rhaenyra softly.

“It would mean having to switch off their Playstation, so I very much doubt it,” Rhaenyra says with a roll of her eyes.

The tension is palpable, but her nerves subside slightly when she sees a Rhodesian ridgeback galloping around the garden, with a copper coloured dachshund hot on its heels.

“Oh cute!” She says, turning to Aemond. “Could you not have brought Vhagar?”

“No,” He sighs. “She doesn’t get along with Syrax and Caraxes, so I’ve left her with the dog sitter.”

She gratefully accepts a glass of Pimm’s that’s offered to her by Otto, before he tells Aemond he needs a word.

“You’ll be okay for a moment won’t you, darling?” Aemond asks her.

The pet name causes her breath to catch in her throat and she merely nods, not trusting herself to speak. As they walk away together, she wanders over to a corner of the large garden, pretending to examine an ornate sundial to keep herself busy, when she feels a presence beside her.

Aegon has sidled up to her, beer in hand, a slight smirk on his face. “Having fun?”

“About as much as you are, by the looks of things,” She replies with a tight smile.

“At least you’re getting paid to be here.”

Her eyes go wide, her chest tightening as she realises he knows.

Aegon chuckles. “Ah, you didn’t think I knew? It’s fine, who do you think showed him the app?”

“O-oh…” is all she’s able to stammer, feeling too shocked to say anything else.

“You play a convincing part,” He takes a swig from his bottle. “Too good to be acting, actually. You can’t fake how you look at my brother.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She snaps, feeling the familiar heat of embarrassment tingle at her flesh.

Aegon snorts derisively. “Look, take it from me, don’t get attached. My brother is the last person you want to get involved with. This whole family is a fucking car crash.”

She sips anxiously at her drink, nodding slightly. “I’d noticed none of you seem to get along that well.”

“That is the fucking understatement of the century. Has Aemond told you much about us?”

“Nothing substantial.”

“Allow me to fill you in,” He gestures discreetly towards Alicent. “My mother used to be best friends with my half-sister, they went to school together. My grandfather and my father were business partners, tri-owners of multiple companies alongside Daemon. When my father’s wife, Rhaenyra’s mother, passed away suddenly, my mother started dating my father.”

“Jesus…” She mutters under her breath.

“Oh, it gets worse!” He says with a leer. “See, Rhaenyra wasn’t happy that her best friend had shacked up with her dad. I mean, who would be? She was even more pissed off when the three of us came along, as it meant she was no longer an only child. She started sleeping around to get back at my father, that’s how she ended up with those three.”

Aegon nods towards where Jace, Luke and Joffrey all stand.

“What about her other two children, Aegon and Viserys?”

“Those are the kids she’s had with Daemon. They got married shortly before my father passed away. Mum thinks she did it just to strengthen her claim of the assets, as Daemon’s a partner in the business and Dad didn’t bother to leave a will. Everything Mum has ever tried to claim for us she’s contested.”

“So that’s what all that talk of Dragonstone Cottage was about at your Mum’s birthday?”

“Yeah, ‘Nyra’s sneaky way of trying to hoard assets for her brood.”

“How do Baela and Rhaena fit into all of this?”

“They’re Daemon’s children from a previous marriage.”

“But Baela is engaged to Jace, isn’t that a bit…” She trails off, not knowing the exact word she wants to use.

“Incestuous?” Aegon lets out a laugh that borders on being too unhinged to come from a place of genuine mirth, before taking another swig of his beer. “Yeah, yeah, it is.”

“So what does this have to do with Aemond? Why should I not get involved?”

Aegon rounds on her. “Has he ever told you about, y’know…” He taps his eye.

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Hmmm. Probably best to leave that to him to explain then.”

Their attention is pulled away by the sound of a fork being tapped against the side of a glass. She turns to see Daemon standing at the head of the garden. “Just wanted to thank you all for joining us today”, He says as everyone gathers closer, herself and Aegon included. “I think such an occasion is cause for celebration.” He brandishes a bottle of champagne, before popping the cork, a few that are stood closest step back out of its line of fire.

Luke smirks, elbowing Aemond. “He should be careful, almost had your other eye out.”

It happens so suddenly it seems like a blur, but Aemond has Luke by the collar and Aegon is rushing forward to tackle Jace away. Punches are thrown from both sides, until the ensuing scuffle is broken apart by Daemon and Otto.

Aemond’s eye is wild as he approaches her, his breathing ragged, and his usually immaculately styled hair tousled. “Come on, we’re leaving,” He grits out.

She has to hurry to keep up with his long strides through the house and to the car, and they drive in silence, Aemond’s knuckles blanched with the force of the grip he has on the steering wheel.

She drums her fingers anxiously against her thighs, not quite knowing what to say, but it is Aemond who eventually breaks the silence.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” He says quietly. “It was a bad idea for us to go today.”

“What was that all about?” She asks as gently as she can. “What got you so heated?”

Aemond sighs heavily, keeping his focus on the road ahead, and for a moment she doesn’t think he will answer her.

“Luke’s the reason I lost my eye,” He admits. “His little comment today got to me, and I lashed out.”

“What happened?” She turns slightly in the passenger seat to face him.

“It’s stupid really, an irresponsible rich family allowing their kids to roam the woods with Airsoft guns. The official story is that it was an accident, but accidents don’t happen at point blank range, accidents aren’t something you never apologise for.”

“Jesus, Aemond, I’m so sorry.” Her heart aches for him, having to play happy families with someone who has maimed him

“It is what it is,” He says with a slight shrug. “Makes being around them harder than it already is though. Thank you for being there with me today.”

“That’s alright,” She fidgets nervously with the hem of her dress as they pull up outside her block of flats. “Do you want to come inside for a bit? You shouldn’t be alone when you’re feeling like this.”

No funny business.

Her heart races as Aemond’s hands disappear up her skirt, reappearing with her underwear grasped in his fingers, dragging them down her legs.

We don’t have to sleep together again.

She buries her hands into the softness of his hair as he latches his mouth against her, bringing her to quick release with harsh strokes of his tongue. Every thought of what they’d discussed on Sunday evening leaves her mind as he pushes her back against the mattress, the force of his thrusts inside of her causing her toes to curl and her eyes to roll back, until he eventually collapses against her with a grunt, the faint pulsation of him inside of her signifying he’s reached his end.

They fall asleep, curled around each other in her tiny double bed and she’s pleased to see he’s still there when she awakens the following morning.

“Your mattress is fucking terrible,” Aemond grouses sleepily, pulling her tighter against him. “It feels like I’ve slept on a pile of loose change.”

She giggles, nuzzling into his neck.

They spend most mornings like that, over the coming weeks. Aemond becomes a frequent presence in the little flat. Her feet stay planted in his lap while they watch TV after work in the evenings, before he fucks her into the mattress like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Their mornings are lazy and indulgent, spent slowly exploring every inch of each other, before they part ways to go to work, only to do it all over again in the evening.

She buys a dog bed, which takes up half the floor space in her bedroom. Aemond raises an eyebrow at this.

“Vhagar’s quite fussy about where she sleeps,” He tells her, only to watch in disbelief as the elderly doberman circles several times on it, before settling down to nap. “I stand corrected.”

Their presence in her life becomes larger as time goes on, and it’s difficult not to feel that it is more than it is, but she is constantly reminded of the transactional nature with every shopping trip on Oxford Street, every visit to Champney’s Spa, each time he hands her his credit card.

The thought occurs to her that perhaps she ought to broach the topic of what they are, how their relationship is developing, but each time she decides against it, too afraid he’ll say something she doesn’t want to hear.

Mysaria smiles as she sees them snuggled together in front of the TV, when she comes home. “You’re here so often, we’ll have to start charging you rent,” She says playfully.

Aemond pulls out his phone, bringing up his banking app. “How much?” He asks, deadly serious.

“Aemond, she was joking!” She laughs, swatting his arm playfully.

It’s been a slow Saturday morning, almost midday and she sits at the kitchen table, a satisfied ache between her legs, as she sips at a coffee while Aemond plates up eggs benedict for them both. One of the things that surprises her most about him is that he’s able to cook, and he does it well.

She eyes him carefully as she pokes at her breakfast, unable to shift the feeling of how his fingers dug into her flesh, how he gazed at her so reverently, his lips featherlight against her throat just an hour before.

His money, his lavish lifestyle, she wants none of it. She just wants him, so she decides that this time she’ll be brave and shoot her shot before she has the opportunity to second guess herself.

Carefully, she sets down her cutlery and rests her chin against her hand. “So I’ve been thinking…about us.”

Aemond pauses, fixing her with his right eye.

Nerves flutter in her belly at his silence, but she continues anyway. “What we have, let’s make a proper go of it? I don’t care about your money, Aemond, I just want to be with you.”

He clears his throat, setting down his own knife and fork, before slowly wiping his mouth on a napkin. “I can’t do that,” He says quietly.

She is immediately struck by the hollowness in her chest, sucking in a harsh breath to ground herself against the lump forming in her throat.

Aemond reaches across the table, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re perfect,” He reassures her. “But I’m not, and I don’t do relationships. My circumstances are too complicated, I’d end up hurting you, and that’s the very last thing I want to do.”

She can’t argue with him, he’s being so bloody nice about it, and Aegon had warned her of this. She wants to scream at him, to cry, to tell him it isn’t fair, but it’s her that has asked for this, and at least he’s being honest with her, even if the truth does make her feel like her chest is being crushed under a vast weight. “I understand,” She chokes out.

“I’m sorry,” He says sadly, genuinely.

“Can you…can you just go, please?” She whispers, unable to look at him.

He nods, standing and presses a gentle kiss to her temple before leaving.

Only after she hears the front door click closed, and the feel of his lips have faded from her skin, does she allow herself to fall apart. Hot tears cascade down her cheeks, as she feels the presence that has taken up so much of her life leave behind a gaping void in its wake.

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10

MDNI----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, brightest member

warnings: implied smut, evelyn annoying the fuck out of hotch pt 2

Chapter Nine:

The morning light filtered in Evelyn's bedroom, casting a lazy glow across the room as Spencer's kiss melted into Evelyn's lips. She stretched languidly across the bed, the soft fabric of her lounge set--a cozy ensemble chosen for the day's travels--wrinkling beneath her. The scent of mint lingered in the air, a fresh reminder of her morning routine now complete. Spencer stood, the sheets sifting, his departure slow and reluctant.

"You're not leaving me already, are you?" Evelyn's words were a playful whimper, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a hint of feigned distress. Her hand lazily patted the empty space beside her as if to say there was no good reason for him to get up just yet.

"I'm going to engage in a necessary biological process commonly referred to as 'using the restroom'," Spencer said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. "You're very needy in the morning,"

"'M not," Evelyn protested with a drawn-out whine, but she puckered her lips in a pout that begged contradiction, her hands pulling on his sleeve. "Round two?"

Spencer's laughter was a soft rumble, his lips grazing the delicate spot beneath her chin, causing a ripple of giggles to escape her. "Tempting as it is, I should get out of here before Hotch shows up. I'm not sure 'we were just analyzing sleep patterns' would fly as an excuse."

"Yeah, I doubt he'd buy that."

As the bathroom door closed behind Spencer, Evelyn sank back into the pillows. Casual was a term she had never associated with sex before--yet here she was in a no-strings attached arrangement. The simplicity of it all was good and so was the sex--god the sex was good. Evelyn never knew it was possible to want to have it all the time, yet here she was feeling like she could jump his bones at every minute of the day.

Spencer re-entered the room, his eyes sweeping over the space with an inquisitive glint. The room was a reflection of Evelyn herself--unapologetically girly, with walls adorned with soft pastel shades and shelves lined with an array of romance novels. He paused at the collection, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

Evelyn shot him a look, her arms crossing defensively. "Listen, not everyone finds the dictionary to be a page-turner."

"I didn't say anything," Spencer replied, his hands raised in surrender, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

"You didn't have to," Evelyn retorted, "I could hear you thinking it."

Spencer's fingers grazed the spine of particularly worn novel. "May I?"

"Hands off, pretty boy!" Evelyn's protest was cut short as she bounded from the bed, trying to intercept Spencer's reach for the book.

Spencer's chuckles echoed in the room, the book just out of Evelyn's reach as she hopped in vain. With a quick, fluid motion, he captured her wrists with one hand, and with a gentle firmness, her pressed her against the wall. She stood on her tiptoes, the top of her head barely reaching his chin.

"Spencer Reid, if you don't put that book down this instant, I'll--" Evelyn demanded.

"Patience," he replied, the pages flipping rapidly under his gaze. "I'm conducting research."

"Research, huh? In that case let me assist," she trailed off, her hands catching the hem of his shirt, coaxing him back to the bed.

With a laugh, Spencer closed the book. "Evelyn, Hotch will be here any minute. Are you even packed?"

"Of course, I am," she replied, "I'm just gonna miss our nights together while I'm gone, Dr. Reid."

"I'll miss you too," Reid admitted. "Did you know that the heart doesn't actually 'miss' in a literal sense? It's a brain colloquialism for the activation of the brain's reward system, particularly the anterior cingulate cortex and insula, which respond to emotional stimuli..."

Spencer's lecture on the heart was cut short by a sudden, firm knock on the door. Evelyn's eyes widened as she darted a glance through the window, spotting the familiar black SUV outside.

"It's Hotch," she hissed, a note of urgency in her voice. "Please tell me you parked in the garage."

"I did," Spencer assured her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Okay you stay here," Evelyn directed, her gaze flickering from Spencer to the door as she snatched up her suitcase. "Make sure you wait until we're gone to leave, mkay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer replied, a soft chuckle in his voice, punctuating his words with a gentle tap on her ass as she made her way out.

Evelyn moved to the door with a fluid grace, pulling it open to find Hotch in an uncharacteristically casual stance. He was dressed down for the flight in a soft, gray henley that accentuated his build, paired with jeans that were a far cry from his usual suits. She found the sight disarmingly attractive. Hotch, in turn, was struck by how Evelyn's casual outfit clung just right, only seeming to enhance her natural elegance.

"Morning, sunshine," she chimed, her smile sharp and gleaming as she tore her gaze from his body.

Hotch's gaze fell to the overstuffed suitcase at her feet, one brow arching higher than the other. "Planning to move in, or is that all for three days?"

"Oh, Hotch, you wouldn't last a day with me as a roommate. I'm a handful and then some," Evelyn teased. "And this," she gestured to herself, "takes a suitcase full of effort. It's not sorcery, but it's close."

Hotch watched her with a measured gaze, finding himself momentarily lost in thought. Inwardly, he doubted the necessity of her suitcase's contents. She hardly needed meticulous preparation to look the way she did. It was a thought, he chastised himself for having, he was her boss, and such considerations were definitely beyond the scope of the role.

Evelyn made a move for the suitcase, but Hotch was already one step ahead, effortlessly hoisting the luggage before she could. Side by side, they walked to the car, their footsteps in quiet accord. With a swift motion, Hotch stowed the luggage in the car, and they both climbed into the car.

Evelyn settled in and her gaze fell to a coffee cup awaiting her. "Hotch, is that for me?"

Hotch started the engine, feigning indifference. "Let's just say I prefer my mornings peaceful, and a caffeine-deprived Evelyn is anything but."

She grinned, noting the vanilla scent wafting from the cup. "And you got my favorite?"

"I make it a point to remember the important details--unlike like someone."

"You know, I had a feeling you'd bring that up," Evelyn said with a roll of her eyes. "A girl's entitled to one coffee mishap, isn't she?"

The early morning drive to the airport was a quiet affair, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional melody that Evelyn couldn't resist singing along to. It seemed that every song on the radio was her 'favorite,' and she serenaded Hotch with a gusto that was inversely proportional to her musical accuracy. Hotch's expression might have read as mildly pained, but in truth, he found her off-key notes unexpectedly charming.

Evelyn navigated the narrow plane aisle with a practiced grace, sliding into the middle seat. On the window side, Hotch had already claimed his spot, his gaze fixed on the world outside. The aisle seat remained vacant but not for long. A man, older and with a certain disheveled charm that bordered on sleazy, soon occupied it.

His suit was a tad too shiny, the kind that tried too hard to impress, and his hair was slicked back in way that seemed to defy both age and gravity. Evelyn, ever the person she was, didn't seem to mind as she offered him a polite smile, the kind that was courteous yet distant. The man returned the gesture, revealing a gold tooth that glinted in the cabin light.

"Well, isn't this cozy?" the man started, "I must say, you make our cramped quarters seem rather pleasant."

Evelyn flashed a polite smile. "That's very kind."

Hotch sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the exchanged with an intensity that betrayed his calm exterior. His protective instincts were fully engaged, a subtle tension visible only in the slight clench in his jaw. He watched as Evelyn navigated half the flight with her usual poise, responding to the main's veiled advances with nothing more than polite nods and neutral smiles.

Oblivious to any underlying intentions, she carried on with an air of kindness, her attention occasionally drifting to the window. Hotch, ever watchful, noted the subtle cues--the way the main leaned in, the too-warm chuckles, the searching glances. Yet, Evelyn seemed unaware.

"Your choice of material is quite... enlightening," the man remarked, his knee brushing against Evelyn's for the umpteenth time.

"Oh this?" Evelyn remarked casually, holding up the romance book. "Just a little light reading for the flight."

The man chuckled, his tone dripping with innuendo. "Careful, those can set quite the mood. Might be more than you bargained for."

Confusion flickered across Evelyn's features, failing to grasp the full intent behind the man's comment. Hotch, however, was all too aware, his patience wearing thin with each 'accidental' contact between the man's knee and Evelyn's.

In a moment of quiet resolve, he leaned towards her, his voice a soft murmur meant only for her ears. "You said you prefer the window seat, correct?"

Evelyn's eyes widened, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile of genuine surprise. "Are you offering it to me?"

He confirmed with a simple nod, his eyes holding hers with a gentle firmness.

She lowered her voice, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "You're just full of surprises today, aren't you? I better start taking notes; the team's never going to believe this."

Evelyn stood up, her movements betraying a slight reluctance as she moved to switch seats. Meanwhile, Hotch stood from his seat, his stature filling up the limited space between them. As Evelyn edged by, the proximity caught her off guard, sending a surge of warmth through her, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

"Oh, sorry," she breathed out, barely audible, as a wave of crimson flooded her cheeks, her mind chastising her for the clumsy encounter.

Hotch offered a silent nod, his own heartbeat imperceptibly faster.

Time stretched on and as the drone of the engines filled the cabin, Evelyn rose yet again, her movements fluid yet mindful in the confined space. The narrow space forced Evelyn to turn her back as she edged by, her focus solely on the beckoning call of the restroom. Hotch, his composure momentarily slipping, masked his distraction with a cough that sounded almost strained against the quiet chatter.

Hotch was a man of control, yet as Evelyn moved past him, her presence was undeniable and quite literally right at eye level just like her ass. The fabric of her attire accentuating her every move, leaving an imprint on his watchful eyes that lingered longer than necessary. Hotch's gaze followed her every move, tracking her discreetly until she merged with the aisle.

The man beside Hotch, leaned in closer than necessary. "Quite the view, huh?" he commented in a hushed tone, a sleazy grin spreading across his features.

Hotch's expression hardened, his jaw setting a firm line. Facing the man, his eyes were steely, his voice a low rumble of warning, "I'd suggest you keep your observations to yourself. It's a long flight, and I'd hate for it to become any longer for you."

The remainder of the flight passed without incident, the earlier tension dissolving into the cabin's recycled air. Evelyn, none the wiser to the exchange between Hotch and the man, mused to herself about the sudden peace.

As they disembarked in Miami, Evelyn and Hotch were greeted by the warm air that wrapped around them like a welcoming shawl. The hotel loomed around them, a sprawling resort nestled amidst lush gardens and shimmering waters.

"Hotch, look at this place! I think the Bureau's expense department got their wires crossed," Evelyn gushed as they entered the lobby, where her attention was swiftly stolen by the sight of the pool through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I half expect to see a celebrity or two lounging by that pool. Speaking of which, how strict do you think they are about conference attendees taking a 'research break' in the water? Asking for a friend, of course."

"Evelyn," he began, "what you do in your free time is at your discretion. However," he continued, his gaze locking onto hers, "we have a dinner engagement this evening with some key figures from the conference. It's an informal setting, but impressions matter. I trust you'll bring your usual insight and professionalism to the table."

"Professionalism? Oh, you've got it, boss man. I'll be the picture of professionalism--so much so, they might just mistake me for you," she teased, her grin suggesting she was only half-joking. "As long as you keep me on the guest list for these conferences."

Hotch's gaze lingered on Evelyn for a moment, a silent warning conveyed in the briefest of looks. "I need to meet with some representatives from the BSU," he said, "Here's your room key," he added, handing her a small envelope with a practiced hand. "Remember, 'be good' isn't just a suggestion, it's an expectation."

"Oh, Hotch, when have I ever been anything but good?" Evelyn asked, batting her lashes with an exaggerated innocence.

Hotch offered nothing but a deadpan look in response to Evelyn's words, the unamused mask firmly in place as he turned and walked away with measured steps.

Evelyn's delight was unmistakable as she made it to her room. The space was more than nice--it felt luxurious. From the plush bed to the breathtaking view that beckoned from the window. But the room couldn't contain her restless energy for long. She swiftly changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and tank top.

Evelyn's casual stroll through the hotel brought her to a halt outside a bustling conference room where Hotch stood, surrounded by a circle of professionals. One woman in particular caught her eye--a vibrant figure with a small tattoo adorning her exposed shoulder, her proximity to Hotch just shy of intimate. Her laughter rang out, a decibel too high, piercing the hum of conversation. The sound seemed to echo in Evelyn's ears, stirring an unfamiliar jealously as she watched, a sense of possessiveness she hadn't anticipated washing over her.

"What am I doing?" Evelyn questioned herself, a frown marring her usually carefree expression. She shook her head, trying to scatter the unexpected feeling that clouded her thoughts. She was already with one coworker. With one last look at Hotch and the woman, she turned, her footsteps echoing through the hall.

The evening had settled over the resort, casting a soft glow of the evening lights. In her room, Evelyn stood before the mirror, draped in a black dress that embraced her form with an almost immoral familiarity. The neckline offered a glimpse of the swell of her breasts that made her second-guess the appropriateness for dinner. She pondered if the dress crossed the line from chic to scandalous, especially since Hotch had left the dress code to her imagination.

As she reached for her lipstick, a knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the sight of Hotch. His dark suit was crisp, the lines clean and authoritative, setting off the steely look in his eyes. For a fleeting second, Evelyn found herself at a loss for words, her usual quick-witted banter deserting her. She marveled at the sharpness of his jawline, the intensity of his gaze.

She blinked, a rush of warmth flooding her cheeks as she took a moment to appreciate the man before her. Regaining her composure, she greeted him. "Well, if it isn't Agent Hotchner, looking sharp enough to cut through red tape."

His eyes softened as his gaze dragged up her figure. It was rare when words, typically his steadfast ally, seemed insufficient. Clearing his throat, he allowed a genuine smile to touch his lips. "Evelyn, you look beautiful."

The unexpected warmth in Hotch's voice sent a flutter through Evelyn's stomach. A blush crept up her cheeks as she stammered. "Oh--uh, thank you, hotch," she managed, her voice a notch higher than usual. She stepped aside, gesturing him in. "Just give me one sec, I need to... uh, apply my lipstick," she said, her hands fumbling for the cosmetic.

As Evelyn carefully twisted the tube of lipstick, she began to speak. "So, who exactly is going to be at this dinner...?" She trailed off, focusing on the precision of the crimson shade as it glided over her lips, forming an 'o' shape. "And the seating arrangements, I hope they're not too formal. It's always so awkward to make conversation when--"

Hotch found himself unexpectedly transfixed, leaning casually against the doorframe yet entirely absorbed by the scene before him. Evelyn's lips, parting and pressing as she spoke, were all he could see. She was speaking--something about the dinner, the guests--but the words seemed to drift away. All of it was drowned out by the delicate precision with which she painted her lips, the occasional catch of her teeth against the plush red, the way he could imagine those same lips wrapped around his cock. The mundane task, one he had never given much thought to before, suddenly seemed the most fascinating thing in the world.

Evelyn caught the distant look in Hotch's eyes and paused, her lipstick hovering mid-air. "Hotch?" she probed, a note of curiosity in her voice.

He snapped back to the present with a slight start. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sounds great," he mumbled, almost as if on autopilot.

Evelyn eyed him quizzically for a moment but then shrugged it off with a smile. "Well, I'm all set," she said, slipping her lipstick into her purse. "Shall we?"

The restaurant was a cocoon of warmth and subtle elegance, its walls adorned with tasteful art and tables set with crystal and fine china that caught the glimmers of the chandeliers overhead. As Evelyn and Hotch made their way through the hushed conversations and the soft clinking of cutlery, she felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with the slightest edge of nerves.

As Evelyn neared the table, a sharp pang of recognition coursed through her--the woman from before was there. The woman who had flirted with Hotch, her casual elegance now a sharp thorn in Evelyn's side. The closer they got to the table, the more Evelyn felt the bitter vine of jealously winding its way up, tightening around her voice. It made it all worse as she realized the same woman that was flirting with hotch was the infamous Lillian Lewis, best-selling author and behavioral analyst. She was a legend in their work.

Hotch, ever composed, acknowledged the table with a subtle nod. "Professor, gentlemen," he began, "this is Special Agent Evelyn Gideon."

The men at the table, both influential benefactors of the BAU, received her with a warmth that melted away some of her stiffness. "Agent Gideon, a pleasure," the man, Thomas Weller, remarked, his handshake warm and reassuring.

Dr. Reeves greeted her with a thoughtful nod and a smile. "Welcome, Evelyn. It's always good to see new faces in the field."

Evelyn mirrored their greetings, her smile unfurling effortlessly, softening the formality of the moment. Her voice turned to one of admiration as she tried to push aside the knot of discomfort in her stomach. Despite her confusing feelings to Hotch, game recognizes game. And Professor Lewis was one of the best.

"Professor Lewis, it's an honor. Your work on micro expressions has been a game-changer in high-stakes negotiations."

Professor Lewis gave a curt nod, her 'Thank you' slicing through the air, sharp and devoid of the earlier warmth. Her eyes, a steely grey, seemed to appraise Evelyn with a scholar's critical gaze, flickering over her with an air of polite disinterest.

As they took their places at the table, Hotch smoothly slid Evelyn's chair out for her. As she eased into it, she shot him a teasing smile. "Such attentiveness, Agent Hotchner. I wasn't kidding about taking notes, the team will need a full briefing when we get back."

Hotch leaned in, his breath a whisper against her ear. "Remember how I said being good wasn't a suggestion?"

The warmth of his breath left her momentarily dazed, a tingling sensation lingering where his words had landed. She shrugged softly at his words, shooting him a quick wink.

As the dinner conversation ebbed and flowed around them, Dr. Reeves leaned forward, drawn by the familiar ring of her last name. "So, your father is Jason Gideon?"

Evelyn affirmed with a modest tilt of her head. "The one and only."

With a scrutinizing look, Professor Lewis cut into the conversation, injecting dryly. "Must've been nice having that as your golden ticket."

The comment hung in the air, and Evelyn felt a momentary discomfort. She recovered quickly, though, with a light-hearted retort. "Well, it certainly wasn't a Wonka bar, but it did come with its own set challenges," she said, hoping to deflect the tension with humor.

Without missing a beat, Hotch offered a measured nod in Evelyn's direction. "Evelyn has earned her place on the team. Her record stands on its own."

Evelyn managed to navigate the rest of the dinner with grace, her laughter blending seamlessly into the restaurant's hum. It was easy for her to charm the benefactors just like Hotch assumed she would: the way she remembered personal details, the easy way she joked about the appetizers, or how she gracefully deflected any praise to her team, specifically her unit chief.

As the clinking of glasses subsided, Mr. Weller nudged Hotch with a knowing look. "The bureau's lucky to have someone like her," before shooting a wink to Evelyn, he added, "And hey, if you ever get tired of this guy, give me a ring, huh?"

As they prepared to leave, Hotch's hand found its way to the small of Evelyn's back, guiding her through the crowd. The warmth of touch sparked a cascade of tingles down her spine, and she couldn't help but press back against his palm, a subtle gesture not lost on the observant eyes of the professor.

"Did you hear that, Hotchner?" Evelyn teased as she pressed closer to him. "The bureau is lucky to have me."

Hotch's fingers gave a gentle squeeze on her back, his voice low and teasing. "I knew that would go to your head."

The hotel's quiet corridors echoed with the soft tread of their steps as Hotch accompanied Evelyn to her door. The distant hum of the air conditioning lent a subtle rhythm, while the floorboards yielded a soft protest against their weight.

Evelyn paused at her door, her palm grazing the cool metal of the doorknob. Her gaze flickered up to Hotch. "Guess I'm not high on Professor Blake's list, huh?"

A smile of quiet assurance played on Hotch's lips, his gaze steady. "I wouldn't quite put it that way," he murmured, his voice low. "That's just her way."

Evelyn exhaled a breath tinged with mock amusement, her gaze honing in with accusation. "Well, she sure seemed to have a different way with you earlier," she insinuated, her words just loud enough for him to catch.

"What was that?" Hotch asked, an eyebrow raised in silent invitation for her to elaborate.

"Nothing," Evelyn retorted with a swift dismissal.

Hotch shook his head, a silent chuckle in his throat.

He lingered, his eyes savoring her--the contours of her face, the curve of her beck, the line of her shoulders. Hotch found himself captivated, unable to divert his attention. As the hallway seemed to condense around them, Hotch found his gaze on the delicate bow of her lips, the color seeming to tempt him in more ways than one.

"Goodnight, Evelyn," he finally managed.

"Goodnight, Hotch," she voiced evenly, her words smooth and controlled, a veil over the wild drumming of her heart.

With a final nod, Hotch turned and walked away. Evelyn retreated into her room, the door's click sealing her inside, its sound a faint punctuation in the quiet. She exhaled a deep, satisfied breath, a serene smile playing on her lips. She moved with a soft deliberateness, preparing for bed, her slow and purposeful movements discarding the dress.

She pulled out her pajamas, the fabric soft and familiar between her fingers. A shade of blush with tiny hearts, the material hugged her just right. Dimming the lights, she climbed into the plush bed, the sheets cool against her skin. 

next

taglist: @nonamevenus @aceofspades190

[leigh-kay]

Phone Calls || Ethan Landry

warnings// overused gf phonecall smut plot, you all mad at me for cutting it short probably, she touches herself and he watches lol, ethan being a menace, degradation <3

She was alone when the phone rang, watching her favorite show. She was biting into a piece of the watermelon she'd grabbed in the kitchen when it startled her into dropping it.

"Hello?" she huffed, picking up the piece from her comforter.

"Hello y/n," the rasp was unmistakable to her ears.

Reagrdless, her eyes rolled, "Turn that stupid thing off. You made me drop my watermelon you jerk."

He sighed on the other end of the line, cutting the voice changer, "You know I thought it'd be funny-"

"To call me using your serial killer persona voice? Ha. I find it hilarious."

"You said it was hot when I showed up covered in blood ," she could hear his pout.

Switching to speaker phone, she sat the phone on the pillow beside her, "It was. Hell even the voice effect is... something. But your voice is my favorite."

She continued to eat her fruit, smiling at the sound of his silence at the end of the line.

He never knew how to take compliments. His flustered behavior gave her an idea. Why not push his limits?

"You sound pretty all the time but I love when you whisper in my ear. Or when you get all grumpy and assertive and sound all... aggressive."

He can tell what she's up to, and it has the opposite effect she'd imagined. Rather than turn bashful, he cuts straight to the very tone she'd talked about.

"Is that so, baby?"

"Mhm," she smiles, though he can't see her.

"Now that I think about it... you do fall apart so easily with just a few words," he's tempting with his words, "dont you pretty?"

The fruit is moved to her bed side table as she readjusts in her sheets, "The words you choose to say play a part too you know."

"Yeah? Like what?"

Heat floods her body as she thinks of all the different things he says. When she's on top of him. When she's pinned beneath him. How he begs when he's in her mouth.

"When you call me yours."

"And don't forget it. What else?"

She can feel her panties as they catch the heat pouring out of her.

"How you say my name when you.." she trails off, eyes shut.

"When I what baby?"

A sigh rushes out of her, "when you're inside of me."

"You just love when I fuck you, don't you?"

Her fingers trail to the line of her shorts, inching them down, "You know I do."

He could hear the slight whine in her voice, "Are you touching yourself?"

She gave no answer as her fingers run through her slit.

"Answer me slut."

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes mr. psycho killer," she snorted.

"Don't roll your eyes at me baby," his voice was less angry and more teasing, "now you're gonna do what I say, yeah?"

She'd come to the conclusion that he was watching her. Which also led her to believe that if she did as she was told, he'd fuck her the way she really wanted. Deal.

"Yes sir," she smiled, eyes wandering to the window at the far side of the room. She imagined he'd be sitting there, up in the tree beside it, watching her.

"Good. Now, play with that pretty pussy just like I would hm?"

She didn't need to be told twice. Slow circles across her clit made bumps break on her skin. She could feel her temperature rising as she grew needier with the teasing touches she granted herself.

"Look at you, teasing yourself just like I would. I bet you wish it was me though," she could hear the pride in his voice and while it annoyed her, orgasms trumped annoyance any day.

She took a breath, "Ethan please."

"Please what baby?"

"Just come in and touch me," she tried to keep her composure, "I'll do anything."

"Make yourself come and we'll talk about me touching you."

She groaned in frustration, "feels so much better when its you though!"

He laughed in a breath, "I know it does. But i want to watch you."

She knew he'd get what he wanted. He always did with that smile and those stupid fucking brown eyes of his. Disagreements were nonexistent the moment he made her look at him and shes pissed at the fact just picturing him is enough to make her more agreeable.

Regardless, her fingers slip into her cunt as she mumbles his name, dragging through her in a quick speed.

"Faster, angel," he demands.

"Please," she moans, "keep talking baby, please"

"God you're a whore. Touching yourself to my voice?"

Fucking hell.

Her eyes squeeze shut as he continues, "Such a pretty whore though hm? My pretty whore."

She nodded, curling her fingers in just the right way to make her whine.

"Sound so needy too, can't fucking wait to touch you honey."

She curses as she falls apart, crying his name and within seconds her closet door is thrown open.

A scream fills her room as he steps into the light.

"Fuck you!" she huffs, shooting daggers into the man ten feet away.

"You knew I was watching," he grins, making his eay towards her before crawling ontop of her.

"You know you say my name so pretty when you come?" he teases.

She finds her eyes rolling again as she glares up at him, "You said you'd fuck me if I listened."

He laughs, fingers stroking the column of her neck as he takes her lips on his own. She was perfect for him. So needy and so fucking mean. He loved it. He loved her.

Her fingers find home in his hair as she wraps her legs around his waist, dragging him closer into her.

The hand beside her head is supporting him as his free hand locks on her waist, holding her to the mattress beneath them.

As she gives a particularly sharp tug to his hair, he gasps into the kiss, hand rushing to her throat. As he sinks his fingertips into the flesh of her neck, she grins into the kiss hes pressing to her lips, "Harder."

He fights the laugh in his throat as she stares up at him, "You're in no place to make demands."

Before she can utter another word, he's squeezing tighter and letting his mouth cover the space across her chest, enjoying the way her body reacts to every move he makes. The way her back arched and her hips would roll against nothing gave him a pride he'd never had before her. She gave him a lot of things he'd never had before.

"I think," he began to drag his hand over her still dripping pussy, "I want a taste."

Her body shivered at the contact as he got between her legs. She could feel that she was insanely wet, but his commentary on it made her body burn with embarassment.

"You get so wet for me," he grinned, pressing his lips along the insides of her thighs.

Her hands attach to his shoulders as his mouth connects with her clit, tongue immediately rolling over it in slow motions. As her hips rose from the bed, his hands locked around her waist, forcing them down.

Her head fell back as his fingers slipped inside of her. She knew she was in for a long fucking night.

[meedoo1809]

(Alrighty, this is a risky experiment and my first time trying this.

Let me preface this by telling you this is objectively not good, and you shouldn't be expecting anything before you start reading.

This is just Charles of my imagination and how I'd like him to be. Oh, and it is missing a couple of alphabets.

Ok, now you can continue)

Charles Xavier

NSFW Alphabets 👀

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): He cleans up himself and probably makes a bath for you. Then you sit together and read or some cute shit.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of their partner’s):  He loves your neck and collarbone. Basically biting it, sucking it, giving you hickeys that are borderline visible when you're wearing normal clothes.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically…): Idk I feel like he would go with your preference.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): He would probably not mind a threesome, being a kinky telepath. But he'd be constantly in your mind saying naughty stuff to remind you of your true allegiance.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): Probably has a fair amount of experience under his belt during his university years. He knows what he is doing but is different depending on the partner. Tries to cater to their individual needs.

F = Favourite Position : He is into everything but probably more into those where you face each other. Like you straddling his lap.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc):  He is absolutely the biggest tease ever, is goofy and teases you until you get very turned on and then he gets turned on because he is invading your mind and then it all gets serious suddenly.

H = Hair: Being the rich gentleman he is, yep he probably is well groomed.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): How much more intimate can you get if he's in your mind whispering nothings all the time, if his emotions are yours and yours his.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon):  Oh he loves it. Especially when he catches you having dirty thoughts.

K = Kink: Public sex, very risqué. But he don't let anyone see it obviously although he is heavily tempted to.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do): Everywhere in that big mansion of his. Even though he is scared of the mutant kids intruding, he is thrilled to do the deed in the office, in the big expanse of the garden, beneath the old tree, on the old vine-grown garden chair, pressed on the brick wall outside the house.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): 

Mostly your dirty thoughts of him while he is working or cooking or teaching. At the time he sends you a warning, and at night he fulfills your fantasies.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): 

Controlling you in the bed is something he would never do. He wants you to do the things you want to not what he does. Controlling people have bought nothing but sadness and horror to him.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): 

Loves giving oral. He loves going down on you and see your mind disoriented while he does so. He whispers encouragements like "darling, you should say something."" What do you want me to do? " "sweetheart, I can't hear you" "Don't tell me this is your limit, love" .

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.): 

He is excruciatingly slow. (Idk how many times I am gonna bring up telepathy because I fucking love it)

He loves drawing out each moan of yours until he is so turned on by your pleasure that he starts to pick up pace and then fucks you like no end.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): always, but then fills your mind with what he would like to do if they had more time.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): 

Yeah, he is pretty kinky. Like I said, public sex is a kink of his.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for)

Telepathically unlimited, and that's probably enough for you too.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): 

He loves toys. He encourages you to use them when you're not next to him. And he reads your thoughts while doing so. He loves whispering " darling, go on, I'll help you with it" " oh my sweetheart can't handle it, is it too much for you? Let me make it better" while he is in the office not breaking a sweat and you're in the bedroom.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): 

He moans and he loves it when you moan. Even though he can hear your thoughts, it never feel enough until he makes you moan out his name like a prayer.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): I like to think he is a switch. He loves to bottom and top depending on what you're both feeling at the moment.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): He has a moderate libido. Does not need to fuck all the time but when he does, you can guarantee it's about to be a spiritual experience.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): He reads to you and tucks you in. After which he falls asleep.

Thanks for reading if you did lmao.

I'll never be doing this again because it's embarrassing af for me as a sexually repressed person.

[lateatnewyork]

Hi, could I request a Bodhi fluff prompt number 1? I think it would be something he would say to his partner, since Xaden mentionned that Bodhi was possesive in Iron flame when he saw Violet wearing his flight jacket.

I hope you don't mind that I'm joining your two requests together 💕

Second request: "Hi! Could I request a Bodhi smutt prompt 31? Like maybe he came to visit after graduating Basgiagth? Thanks in advance, there's not enough Bodhi fics :))"

Missed You

Bodhi Durran x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, swearing, fluff, breeding kink?

Prompts: Fluff - "You look really good in my clothes”, Smut - "Show me how much you missed me.”

Summary: Bodhi was stationed a post far away from you, and you hadn't expected him back so early. He intends to show you just how much he has missed you.

a/n: i agree, bodhi does not get enough love, i haven’t read fourth wing or iron flame in a while so sorry if things aren’t exactly the same 🫶🏻 as always unedited

I stand in the kitchen, with my hands on my hips, my eyes glaring at the ingredients I have laid out on the counter. Bodhi is coming home tonight after 2 months stationed at some post.

Gods I missed him.

“I could make a cake,” I mumble to myself.

No, I’ve done that too many times.

I continue glaring at the ingredients as if they have some hidden answer in them.

“Fuck it I’m making the cake,”

I had just put the cake in the oven, elbows deep in flour.

The door unlatched but I couldn’t hear it over the sound of the tap running.

“Hi my love,” I hear a deep voice behind me. Gasping, I run to Bodhi, jumping into his arms.

Kissing him hard on the lips, I savoured the taste of him. His strong arms wrapped under my thighs to hold me up. Pulling away, I try to catch my breath from that knee weakening kiss.

If Bodhi hadn’t been holding me, I definitely would’ve fallen.

“Missed you” he mumbles against my lips, I giggle and whisper “I missed you too baby”.

“Oh shit I have flour all over me,” I stammered, “I’m gonna get it all over your clothes”.

“I don’t care,” he retorts pulling me closer “Did you know how beautiful you look?” he gazes deep into my eyes. “Even like this?” I chuckle.

“Especially like this, makes me wanna get you all nice and round with my kids,” he groans out.

“What are we waiting for then Lieutenant, show me how much you missed me,” I commanded.

A cheeky grin crosses his lips, “Gladly”.

Gripping onto his shirt, I yelp as he carries me over his shoulders and runs up the stairs and to our bedroom.

"Bodhi, I swear to fucking god if you drop me, I'll gut you," my head bobbles as his grip on my thighs tightens. I gulp at the feeling, hopefully he doesn't notice.

"Have more faith in me darling," his hand loosens and just as I'm about to start yelling again it comes in contact with my ass, a loud slap echoing.

"Bodhi!" I gasp, about to lecture him again when I realise that I can pinch his butt.

And that's exactly what I do. His reaction is more milder to mine, probably because he isn't being carried over someone's shoulder.

"Didn't know you were an ass kind of lady, sweetheart," he chuckles.

"It's hard not to be when my husband has such fat ass," I grin.

He pushes me against the door and kisses me hard. His lips find mine in a hungry, passionate kiss, his lingering touch conveying the depth of his longing. The intensity of his desire for me is palpable as he holds me tightly, cherishing the moment of reunion after being apart for so long.

I deepen the kiss, my lips hungry and insistent against his. With a firm yet gentle touch, he begins to skillfully remove my clothing, his hands tracing the curves of my body with reverence. Each garment falls away, revealing my bare skin to his hungry gaze.

As my body is exposed to him, he takes a moment to stare at me. "Bloody hell, you're stunning," he whispers, his voice filled with genuine awe. The way his skin glows under the dim light, the way my curves beckon him closer, it's all too tempting to resist.

I begin to rid him of his own clothing, each piece discarded with urgency. The room fills with the sound of fabric hitting the ground as the anticipation builds between us. I pull away from the kisses, admiring the sight of Bodhi towering over me.

Closing the distance between us, I pull him into another passionate kiss, our bodies pressed together. My hands roam his exposed skin, exploring every inch with a mix of passion and hunger. The heat between us intensifies, and I can feel the electricity building in the air as our desire intertwines.

In this moment, there's nothing else that matters. It's just him and me, consumed by a primal need for each other.

"Please Bodhi I need you" I whimper out.

He pauses for a moment, his intense gaze locked with mine. I can see the raw desire in his eyes, the vulnerability in my plea. A flicker of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans in closer, his voice a low, gravelly whisper.

"You need me that bad love?" he responds, my tone laced with a mix of arrogance and satisfaction. "Well, lucky for you, I'm right here."

Without further hesitation, he guides us towards the bed, his touch firm and commanding. Bodhi presses me down onto the mattress, his body hovering above mine. My hands roam his body, igniting every nerve with a teasing touch. I can sense his anticipation, his craving for the connection we share.

Leaning in, I capture your lips once more in a searing kiss, my tongue dancing with his. I can feel the urgency building as our bodies meld together, the heat between us becoming undeniable. With each touch, each caress, he makes it clear that he's here to fulfill my every desire.

"Tell me, love," he murmurs against my skin, his breath hot against my ear. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. I'll take you to places you've never been before."

"I want you in me, Bodhi" I whine out.

A wicked grin spreads across his face as he hears my plea. The sound of my need ignites a primal hunger within him, pushing him further into his dominant nature. Bodhi positions himself between my legs, my gaze locked with his as he slowly enters me, inch by inch.

"You want me in you, love?" he growls, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness. "You're going to get exactly what you need."

With each thrust, our connection deepens, savoring the way his cock hits that spot in me. My moans and whimpers echo in the room, fueling his desire to give me pleasure beyond measure. He sets a rhythm, his movements steady and powerful, ensuring that every stroke hits the right spot.

As he watches I surrender to the pleasure, he praises me in his rough, sex-laced voice. "That's it, love. Take me. Take all of me," he encourages me, his voice laced with a mix of dominance and adoration. "You feel fucking amazing. So tight and wet for me."

He continues to move within me, my hands scratching into your back, pulling him impossibly close to me. I revel in the feeling of our bodies moving together in perfect harmony, lost in the intoxicating dance of pleasure.

"You were made for this, love," Bodhi whispers, his voice husky with desire. "Made to take my cock. To be fucked by me. You're doing such a good job."

I lose myself in the moment, completely consumed by the passion between us, as we both chase the peak of pleasure, the world around us fading into oblivion.

"Fuck, I'm so close, Bodhi," I moan out.

I can feel the build-up of pleasure coursing through our bodies, the tension reaching its peak. His grip on my hips tightens as he quickens the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, fueled by my desperate moans and pleas for release.

"Give in, love," he growls, his voice filled with a mix of need and dominance. "Let go for me. Come undone."

He continues to drive into me, his movements becoming more relentless, chasing both our climaxes. The room is filled with the sounds of flesh agains flesh, the intoxicating symphony of pleasure.

As I feel the waves of pleasure crash over me, I can no longer hold back. I let go, my release washing over me in a powerful surge. "Fuck, Bodhi," I moan, my voice filled with satisfaction. "Shit".

I watch as his body tenses, his groans growing louder as Bodhi reaches his own climax.

"You're beautiful when you come," he whispers in my ear, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "Absolutely fucking beautiful."

We ride out the waves of pleasure together, our bodies intertwined in the aftermath of our passionate union. The room is filled with heavy breaths and the lingering scent of our desire, a testament to the intensity of our connection.

As we come down from our high, he gathers me in his arms, holding me close. "You were made for this, love," he murmurs, his voice filled with tenderness. "You're mine, now and always."

Bodhi got up to clean us off, he comes back with a t shirt of his own and put it over me. "You look really good in my clothes," he grins.

"Can't say the same for you,"

a/n hope u liked this, the cakes probably burnt😭💀

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. v

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | photo cred

chapter summary: You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. -- In other words, Joel takes you on your first date. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 8.6k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY (it's happening, folks!) - unprotected sex, please dm if you want specifics but I’m not trying to spoil too much. If you don't want to read the smut, it doesn't happen until about halfway through the chapter. Crying after sex. Angst. FLUFF. Mentions of anxiety & self-doubt, alcohol consumption.  a/n: Help! I can’t stop writing fit checks into this story!! This ended up being insanely horny but also shockingly sweet. I worked way way way too hard on it so please say nice things to me. Might need to take a couple days off because I'm really feeling burnt out. So please enjoy in the meantime.

-May 16, 2003-

Joel doesn’t like lying to Sarah.

Although, he’s not sure that he’s lying to her as much as he is simply….omitting information. Depending on who you ask, that could still be considered lying.

He’s fresh out of the shower when he steps into the living room, fishes through the catch-all basket located just inside the front door, and pockets his wallet and keys.

“Where are you going?” 

Sarah’s lounging on the couch, on her back, one of her hands slung behind her head. There’s a book opened on her lap, but she’s not reading. “You’re all dressed up.”

Joel looks down at his green flannel shirt, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Truth be told, he’s a little ashamed he doesn’t have anything nicer in his closet. It’s not like he ever has any occasion to dress up, but he’s already feeling self-conscious and being (most likely) underdressed isn’t helping. Based on the very limited information he knows about your past relationships, you’re probably accustomed to crisp dress shirts, ties, blazers. He doesn’t own any of those things — he did, at one point, have the tux from his wedding, but he’d gotten rid of it after the divorce. Every time he saw it in the back of his closet, it made him sick. Regardless, tonight he’d done the best he could otherwise - showered, trimmed his beard, and even dug through his medicine cabinet for an old – probably expired – bottle of cologne. Hopefully it was enough. 

“I’ve uh….I’ve got a date.” Joel says. 

The theme song from That’s So Raven is blaring through the living room, but it immediately cuts out as Sarah presses mute and sits up entirely from her spot on the couch. “Really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Joel says. “Your uncle is coming over, though, he’s gonna drop me off and then he said he’d take you to the movies.”

As if on cue, he hears Tommy’s truck pull into the drive. “Yes!” Sarah leaps up from the couch. “I have to change first.”

“Hurry up, babygirl, I’m already runnin’ behind,” Joel calls after her. 

Tommy knocks twice on the front door before letting himself in anyways. 

“You’re late,” Joel informs, shutting the door behind him. They should’ve left five minutes ago, and the last thing Joel wants is for you to think he’s not punctual. To be fair, he’s not, and almost never is. But you don’t need to know that….yet. 

“Hello to you, too,” Tommy trails after him into the kitchen. Joel is tempted to chug a beer, or fish the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’s got in the cabinet out to take a shot — just to take the edge off. But he refrains. It wouldn’t be a good look to show up smelling of booze.

“So…who's the lucky lady?” When Joel doesn’t answer right away, Tommy presses. “Come on, Joel, who is it?” 

He contemplates telling his brother the truth, but he doesn’t want to give him the idea that he had taken his advice. He didn’t. Well maybe he did, but he knows Tommy will become insufferable if he finds out. 

“Is it who I think it is?” Tommy asks. “It better be.”

Unfortunately, Tommy knows him too well. They’re brothers, and really, Joel’s first and oldest friend. The answer is written all over his face. 

Tommy grins. “Fucking finally. Oh my god, dude, I thought you’d never-”

“Alright, alright!” Joel interjects, eyes darting nervously up the stairs, where he hears his daughter shuffling around in her bathroom. “Keep your mouth shut, I haven’t told Sarah yet.” 

Tommy raises his hands in defense, but at least seems to understand how serious Joel is. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. Are you excited?”

“Yeah,” Joel looks down at the countertop, and is compelled to be honest with his little brother. “I’m uh….I’m a little nervous, though. Been awhile since I’ve done anything like this.” 

Tommy grows serious. “Do you want my advice?” 

“Yours?” Joel feels like whatever advice he has to offer is likely questionable, particularly with someone like you. “No thanks. I’d rather make a good impression.”

His brother ignores the subtle dig. “You sure? Because unlike you, I actually go on dates. I mean, it’s been what, like….ten years?” He crosses his arms, pretends to think. It’s probably only been a couple of months since the last time Joel took someone out, and Tommy knows it, but he loves to dramatize. “I mean at this stage, you’re basically a born-again virgin. Do you even remember how to put on a condom?” 

Joel crosses his arms and glares at his brother, who begins giggling at his bad joke. “I knew I shouldn’t have fucking said anything to you,” he shakes his head.

“Oh come on Joel, you’ll be fine,” Tommy says. “Really. She’s into you. I could tell when we were all together the other night. Even when I was dancing with her, I kept catching her lookin’ your way…”

“Yeah, well….” Joel rubs the back of his neck to play off the surge of warmth he gets from this information. “Thanks.”

Sarah’s bathroom door opens, and he hears the staccato beat of her sneakers coming down the stairs. Joel points at Tommy one last time. “Not a word, understand?” 

Tommy nods just as she rounds the corner.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah raises her hand to give him a high-five, which they both purposely miss so they can collide palms on the downswing, grab each other’s hands and then begin a secret handshake so complex that Joel, who has seen it a thousand times, still doesn’t think he could execute correctly if he tried.

“How’s my favorite niece?” 

“I’m your only niece.” 

“Touche,” they shoot at each other with finger guns before she wraps him in a hug and Tommy presses his nose to the top of her head. Despite the fact that their little routine is costing Joel precious time, almost all the annoyance he’d been feeling with his brother dissipates at the sight.

“We all ready?” Tommy asks her, then points at him. “Don’t want to make this casanova late.”

“Yeah, of course not,” Sarah looks over at Joel with a smile that doesn’t seem entirely sincere. When she was younger and he’d gone on dates, she always had a lot more questions. Who is it? What is she like? When can I meet her? Is she pretty? Over the years, however, she became less and less interested. It was because she was smart, and had caught onto the pattern - he’d go on a date, maybe one or two more, then there’d be a long period of nothing before the cycle repeated itself every couple months. It rarely developed into anything that would concern her, and Joel always kept the details to himself.

While they’re en route to the restaurant – a little French bistro that had opened up recently — Sarah and Tommy bicker about what movie they want to see.

“I wanna see Holes. I just read the book.”

Tommy grimaces. “What about Matrix Reloaded? It just came out.”

“I already told dad I’d go to that with him.”

“So?” he looks between Sarah and Joel. “Why can’t you just see it twice?”

“No,” Sarah says emphatically. “I have to see it with dad first. It’s not fair.” 

Tommy groans, mutters under his breath. “I can’t believe you let her watch that crap,” as if he wasn’t about to do the same thing.

“She likes it,” Joel shrugs.

“All the more reason to see it tonight.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns. 

“Fine.”

“I don’t really like it, though. I just like to keep dad company so he doesn’t have to see it alone.”

“You’re too nice,” Tommy takes a beat. “Are you sure you aren’t adopted?”

“Shut up,” Joel and Sarah answer at the same time, and Joel holds his palm behind him for his daughter to slap. 

Tommy acquiesces, his truck jolting as it pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. Joel’s heart rate picks up immediately. The car rolls to a stop and Joel turns to look at both of them. “Alright, I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Sounds good,” says Sarah. 

“Have fun,” Tommy raises his eyebrows, winks, and thankfully Sarah doesn’t see it, because she’s getting out of the truck to take Joel’s spot shotgun. He makes sure she’s settled with her seatbelt on before he shuts the door.

He isn’t trying to waste time, but Joel watches them pull out of the lot and back onto the street before he goes inside the restaurant. Really, he just needs a minute to collect himself. There’s no good reason for him to be as anxious as he is, he’s already kissed you once, and you had seemed to like it — quite a lot too. For the past week the feeling of your body pressed up against him, legs around his torso, was pretty much all he thought about when his mind wandered. Mostly at night before bed, and even today, in the shower when he was getting ready - just to try and calm down. Even now, the idea leaves him flustered.

Nevertheless, this probably isn’t even technically a first date. He hasn’t had issues speaking to you in the past, so this should be easy. Right? But what if you change your mind? And what if it dawns on you that he’s not your type? Even worse, what if you realize he’s just not good enough? 

Joel forces himself inside before he talks himself out of this. When he enters, he sees you first. You’re across the room, leaning over the small bar where a few other patrons are. Greedily, he takes you in, and it’s easy to trace your figure in the tight black shift dress you’ve got on, sheer black tights underneath. It’s sleek, stylish - not that Joel knows much about that. As usual, you stand out in stark contrast to every other person in the place. He likes it. But he feels underdressed. He’ll look ridiculous standing next to you, and he briefly considers turning around, leaving, and saving himself the embarrassment.  

That’s until you move, angling yourself towards him and scanning the restaurant, an elbow resting on the bar, a hand on your knee. You’re looking for him, waiting for him, and finally, you’re rewarded when your eyes catch. Suddenly, Joel doesn’t care about what he’s wearing. He doesn't care that he’s not good enough. At the very least, he doesn’t have to guess if you’re interested in him anymore, not with how you’re gazing at him — a soft smile and narrowed eyes that betray your enthusiasm. Sure, he's not good enough, but he decides if he’s going to go down in flames, he’ll do it trying to convince you otherwise.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Maybe I should’ve eaten a proper lunch, you think to yourself. You’ve barely touched the drink in your hand, but you’re already starting to feel it. And even though you are the designated driver tonight, for now, the slight buzz is welcome, working to soothe. 

Over the years, you’d been on your fair share of first dates. Unlike most…you don’t hate them. For whatever reason, getting to know new people had always come easy, particularly if they were the right person. Being a lawyer, you had a knack for talking yourself into or out of almost anything. So it was just as easy to let someone know if they weren’t the right person. The best part of first dates, however, was that they lacked all the things you hated — promises, expectations, and conversations that went deeper than general pleasantries. 

So all things considered, you shouldn’t feel as tense as you do right now.

There’s a few factors that might have something to do with it, and your brain turns them over,  biding your time until your date arrives. 

First is the text that sits opened on your BlackBerry.

Dad’s home from the hospital. Doing better. Call when you can. - Vince

Your father has been in and out of the hospital for the last month or so, his health rapidly declining. But every update from your brother, however innocent they may be, feels like veiled threats. You should be here. You should know this. I shouldn't have to text you about it. I can’t believe I’m the only one looking after him. A part of you wants to believe that Vincent wouldn’t play that sort of game with you, but as you’ve gotten older and grown apart, you’d gotten worse at deciphering his motivations. Vaguely, you acknowledge that you could just be projecting, and you are the only one trying to make you feel bad. 

And then there’s Joel. 

He’s running late, you hope, or he’s stood you up. And you have already promised yourself that you’re only gonna wait ten more minutes before heading home with your tail tucked between your legs. The thought of that makes you regret agreeing to this in the first place. You’d already embarrassed yourself the last time you were together, practically begging him to take you on the kitchen countertop, but he’d insisted on doing this right. You should’ve pushed harder because you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe….a zipless fuck would’ve sufficed. Oh, who were you kidding? You knew yourself, and the way that you could get hung up on the right kind of person. Joel was that kind of person. But you don’t like how formal this feels. So real. 

He knows you better than most first dates do. You’ve told him more about your family, about your fucked up childhood, about your aversion to committed relationships more than any friend you’ve made since moving to Texas. And he listened. It should make you feel better. He knows what he’s getting himself into, and he asked you here anyways. Maybe he’s having second thoughts. 

For what feels like the thousandth time, you check your emails and take a sip of your dirty martini – your preferred vehicle for alcohol consumption. Ultimately, you like the idea of a martini more than the actual taste, but you appreciate how direct they are. You scan the restaurant one last time, doing your best to look casual, like you don’t really care. Like you’re supposed to be there alone. 

But when your head turns towards the entrance, Joel is standing across from you. 

He gives you a bashful smile, one that makes your stomach flip, and makes his way over – though he doesn’t seem to be in a rush. It’s like he knows you’d sit and wait for him for as long as it takes – you would, you will, you are. 

When he finally lands in front of you, one thumb hooked in the belt loop of his dark-wash jeans, he leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek for the briefest moment, and pulls back, looking you up and down. 

“It’s good to see you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly. The term of endearment makes your ears feel hot. You're shocked at the effect he has on you, almost can’t believe it. It scares you, too, but you want to chase the feeling. “You look great.”

“So do you,” because you’re not one to lie. He does. As good as always, but he might’ve trimmed his beard for the occasion and maybe….put on cologne? It’s hard to tell, and in your brief experience being so close to him, he’s always smelled good regardless. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “Can’t count on Tommy to get me anywhere on time.”

“It’s alright,” you say casually, like you hadn’t had your whole exit strategy planned out just minutes ago. “I got to have a drink while I wait. You want something?” you gesture towards the bartender. 

“Sure,” Joel answers. “How about an old fashioned?” There’s no room for him to sit, so he leans next to you, arm on the bartop, invading your personal space while you wait for your table. Your skin buzzes like you’ve never been this close to a man before in your life. Pathetic. 

He orders his drink before he speaks to you again. “Have you been here before?” he asks. 

You shake your head no. “I was planning on coming a couple months ago but….never got around to it.”

“It’s good,” he says. “I’ve been a couple times.”

“Is this where you take all the girls you go out with?” you raise an eyebrow, grateful that your voice sounds even despite the way your blood is fizzing, your heart pumping so fast you can feel it in your ears. 

Joel shakes his head no. “That’s down the street.”

“Oh?” you nod, sip your drink. Whatever buzz you’d been feeling is gone in the wake of adrenaline. “So….why didn’t you take me there, then?”

“It’s not as nice,” Joel smirks, leaning in a little closer – if it were possible. His lips are practically touching your ear, and his voice is raspy for what comes next. “And I’m trying to impress you.” 

“Right,” you can’t help but smile, pulling back so you can lock eyes. He’s so sincere you can’t even think up a clever quip in return. “How thoughtful.” 

He gives you a cheeky grin. You want to touch him, want to hold him, want to fist the front of his shirt or tug on the hair at the back of his neck and stick your tongue down his throat like you aren’t surrounded by an entire restaurant of patrons. 

It’s going to be the longest fucking dinner of your life. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You survive. 

But at a cost. 

And you don’t learn anything new about Joel, except for the fact that your memory hasn’t exaggerated how charming he is, how charismatic, how thoughtful. All the times you’d allowed yourself to daydream about him didn’t hold a candle. Enjoying the meal is difficult, because you just want to get him alone. He can sense it – you’re pretty sure, because he orders himself a coffee after dessert, and sips on it ever-so-slowly, smirking at you over the rim of the mug.

When dinner’s over, you offer to drive Joel home, since he’d gotten a ride here. By this point, the martini is long gone from your system and you sort of want to pour yourself another when you get home. Even if you don’t drink much, the nerves have resurfaced. 

He walks a few paces behind you as you leave the restaurant, taking his time, and you step to your side of the car, making to unlock it – until something grabs your bicep – briskly – and spins you around. 

It’s Joel. He snuck up behind you, you hadn’t heard, and he’s right in front of you now, pinning you between the car and his body, surrounding you entirely. He lifts a hand, cups your cheek, and kisses you. It happens so fast you let out a whimper of surprise – directly into his mouth, but he swallows it down, and cradles you so gently, but still firm. Resolute. I’m not letting you go.

When he pulls back, you notice his cheeks are flushed, ever so slightly. It makes you wonder what you could do to see them get even redder. Your arms have found their way to rest on his shoulders, and you’re boxed in, the handle to your car door digging into your ass. Without a word, just a cheeky grin, he retreats to the passenger's side of the car and gets inside. 

You settle in the driver's seat beside him, and he looks over at you. “Hope that was okay, I couldn’t wait…” he says, almost apologetically. “But I was tryin’ all night to be good.”

“Yeah, well….not much use in that anymore,” you tilt your head. “Do you want to….hang out at my place?”

“Yeah, we can ‘hang out’ at your place,” Joel quips.

Scoffing in mock offense, you offer a retort. “What would you rather me have said? Come over for a nightcap? That’s a little cliche.”

He grimaces, as if he’s in agreement. You continue. “Or would you rather I be more direct? Joel, why don’t you come over so we can have sex?”

That makes him laugh, loudly, and it’s such a warm, comforting sound, you wish you could find a way to capture it and hear it over and over again. “Oh, is that what’s going to happen?” he asks. 

“Guess we’ll find out,” You shrug, trying to play it off, in case you overstepped. Then you focus on putting the keys in the ignition without fumbling. 

It’s not a long drive back to your place, but Joel seems determined to make sure it feels like it is. Either that, or he’s trying to get you to cause an accident. First his hand is resting on the back of your neck, brushing through the hair at the base of your skull. Then it’s on your shoulder, his thumb pressing into your taut muscles. You actually have to bite your tongue so you don’t moan. It’s not even sexual, really, but it just feels good to be touched, especially by him.

Eventually, you hit a stoplight, and while you’re waiting, his hand continues to wander…and comes to rest just above your knee. His hands are fucking huge, first of all, which maybe you’ve noticed before, and there are a few scars and scratches on the backs of his knuckles. It's the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way he’s settled it so casually like it’s nothing – like it belongs there, and he doesn’t even have to ask. Of course he doesn’t. And the confidence, the cockiness. It feels like someone’s taken an arrow to the pit of your stomach, and something thick and hot starts curling down, down, down….

You swallow hard, and he’s looking at you. He doesn’t speak right away, just stares, something dark and unfamiliar in his eyes. 

“I hope I’m doing alright,” voice raspy, low, but still smooth as ever.

Shaking your head, you’re able to surface just enough over the haze of arousal. “You want a performance review?” you tease, giving a small smile. “We should hold off on that until later…” 

That makes Joel laugh again, your stomach flips, and his thumb begins to stroke your kneecap, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh, inching forward to clasp farther inward, nearly grabbing at you, squeezing. The only thing separating his skin from your own is a thin pair of stockings that end dangerously close to where his hand is working. If he finds out that he’s just a few centimeters away from meeting bare skin, you’re afraid of what could happen.

“Joel,” you warn.

“What?” he asks, voice light and innocent.

“You’re distracting me.” 

“You want me to stop?”

No. The light turns green, and you have to hold back the impulse to break every traffic law if it means you’ll get to have him just a second sooner. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“--my room is–” Joel cuts you off with another searing kiss, and it takes a second before you can conjure the self control to pull away again to finish the thought. “--down the hall.” 

“Yeah?” 

He’s got you crowded back against the entry closet of your house, hovering over you, one of his hands bracing itself beside your head, and the other slowly dragging down your body, his lips following….moving down your neck. 

“Uh-huh,” you barely can get it out between strangled gasps for air. 

And then he’s hooking his hands behind your knees. “Are you sure you don’t want, like-” Joel lifts you, and you lock your legs around his torso. “An amaretto or something?”

“No,” he’s gripping on to you so tightly it hurts, but you don’t mind. 

“I could put on….a record-”

“No,” he repeats, and you’re being carried down the hall. 

You hadn’t expected him to pounce on you the instant that you came in through the garage door. Not that you minded. It’s just that usually you’d play it a bit more coy. You’d set the mood, light a candle, have a chat. But, you suppose you don’t need to do anything to get you in the mood. You’re already there. 

Joel’s mouth never separates from you, not until you’re in your room. He’s so sure of himself, you think he might be the type to throw you into the mattress, climb on top of you and rip at the zipper on the back of your dress. But he doesn’t. You’re laid down delicately, like you’re made of glass, and he’s being careful not to break you. 

He weaves his thumb and forefinger around both your wrists, then pulls them up so they’re pinned above your head. This way, you’re completely at his mercy. When he lowers himself between your legs, and you feel the weight of his body pressed against you, you groan, fighting against the restraint, desperate to touch him. So you do the best you can and wrap your stocking-clad feet around his waist, trying to get some leverage, to bring him closer.

“Just wanna take my time with you, darlin’,” he murmurs softly, like he can read your mind. You’re starting to think he can – how else can he be so irresistible on his own accord?

Joel makes good on his promise. With you all docile beneath him, he takes the opportunity to kiss every inch of exposed skin available – even though you’re still fully clothed. Each press of his lips has you breathing unevenly – sighing, then gasping, then sharp, short inhales. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you can’t help but giggle and quirm. 

Joel huffs in response, releasing you from his hold, and he tilts his head to whisper in your ear. “Do you have any idea how much I like hearing that? Knowing it’s because of me?” Immediately, you lower your hands to cup his cheeks, to regard him. He can’t be serious. 

“You’re too sweet,” you mutter. 

“So are you,” he answers, and ducks his head to return to your neck. “So sweet, and so fucking pretty, too…” His hands begin wandering, one of them cupping your breast, thumb finding a peaked nipple even through the fabric of your dress and your bra. The words he’s saying are too much, you’ll do anything to make him shut up, arching your back so you can feel him – already hard – against your clothed core. 

“Joel-” 

“God, I want to see you-fuck!” he pulls back, rolls you over, and you shift your weight so he has access to the dress’ zipper at your side. He makes quick work of it, and brings you to a seated position, helping you remove it all the way before kissing you again, then abruptly stopping. He wants you so badly….but he’s trying to savor the moment. “Let me look at you for a second.”

He takes you in, the stockings you’re wearing and the matching set of black lace you’d picked out beforehand. Of course, you’d thought about this. You always did for occasions like this, but Joel had stumped you. What would he like? This….was pretty understated, but he seemed like a salt-of-the earth guy. Not what you were used to. It probably wouldn’t make a difference whether or not you were in full-on lingerie. And even if you knew he wouldn’t care, you still had wanted to impress him. All the more reason to try.

“This for me?” he asks, hooking his finger on the inside of your stockings and snapping the elastic. 

“Yeah,” you nod, honest. “I want you, Joel.” And there’s more to it, too. You’ve thought about just how badly for months. It kept you up at night, then helped you fall asleep when you couldn’t shake his image from your head. For now, you are going to keep that to yourself. But it doesn’t mean it’s not gonna slip out. Not when he’s looking at you like this. 

“Yeah?” he says, steps forward, towers over you. “I want you, too, so fuckin’ bad. So fucking pretty, baby,” Dropping back to your elbows, you feel…small. Any other time, you might sit up, try to feel some kind of control, but for whatever reason, you stay where you are.

Joel wasn’t exaggerating when he said he wanted to take his time. It’s frustrating. It’s torture. He worships you, makes sure his mouth is on nearly every part of your body before he finishes undressing you. Your ankles hook over his shoulders, his hands grazing, dragging thin nylon up and off each leg. He kisses your calves, the inside of your knees, your thighs. He uses one hand to unhook your bra and pulls it away. He spends what feels like hours with his mouth on your breasts – sucking, licking, nipping – hands cupping, grabbing, pinning you down. The whole time, he’s telling you how badly he wants you, how pretty you are, how good you’re being for him. He’s either touching you too much, or maybe not enough. It’s hard to say. Only after he’s reduced you to an incoherent, whimpering mess do you somehow find the strength to fight back. 

By this point, you’re lying in the middle of the bed, your leg hooked over his hip, the waistband of his jeans digging into bare skin. He’s still got all his fucking clothes on, which makes everything so much worse, because it’s clear whose in control here, and it’s certainly not you. 

The button of his flannel is where you start, and then you work downward. Joel doesn’t stop you at any point. You think he might, just because of how things have been going. But he’s as easy as you are, and you take him in all the same after you’ve shucked off his jeans, and he’s closer to your state of buff.

To be fair, you’ve spent enough time lingering by the windows – when he’s outside mowing the lawn shirtless, or picking up his newspaper in the morning, or doing workouts in his garage with the door open (such a tease!) – to have an idea of what to expect. He’s not ripped by any means but neither are you – and you’ve never liked that anyways. But it’s not hard to ascertain that he spends all day in the sun, lifting and hauling things around. His muscles are defined, rippling lightly under his skin with each panting breath he takes. Joel’s a spectacle – broad and tan, a line of dark hair dipping from his belly-button down into the waistband of his dark-gray briefs. You can make out the way his cock is straining against the fabric.

Once you’ve appraised him as best as you can – you can see that he’s studying you, almost like he’s anxious, like you might not like what you see. As if he doesn’t know. Ridiculous. You aren’t going to leave him guessing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Joel,” you shake your head. “You’re a fucking stud.”

Joel’s face breaks out in a grin and he yanks you back so you’re on top of him, legs on either side of his chest. And finally, finally, you can touch him like you’ve been wanting. His skin is warm – it’s kind of hot in your room, you’d forgotten to turn on the A/C, so you’re both a little sweaty. But and it’s unclear if it’s because of the heat or just how worked up you are. It doesn’t matter, because it only turns you on even more. You trace the broad plane of his chest, hand snaking down…all the way to his boxers, but he stops you. 

He’d let you undress him, allowed it, but this…it crosses a line. Joel hooks his hands behind your thighs and begins to drag you up, up, up, while he shifts lower. It takes a second to register what he’s doing, and when it does, you try to stop it.

“Joel, wait I-” 

“I have to taste you darlin’, that okay?” His dark hair is fanned out around his head, resting on your floral pillowcase. In the dim light, his pupils are so blown out you can barely see anything else except black. “I’ll give you whatever you want, but you’ve gotta let me taste you first.”

It’s not that you don’t want it, but he’s taken you off guard, and you’re already overwhelmed by how intimate all this has been, gentle and languid while he whispers honeyed words into your ear. His mind seems already made up, and you don’t really want to tell him no.

“Alright,” you manage, and you grip the top of the headboard. 

It’s embarrassing how wet you already are. It started with his hand on your knee in the car, and you have spent the last hour clenching around nothing, squeezing your legs together and searching for friction. Anything. Well, you are about to get it.

Joel’s lips press to the insides of your thighs, once more, dangerously close to where you’re weeping for him. His nose bumps your clit when he turns his head, and you whine – hips sinking to seek the contact that he’s been denying you, and then immediately pulling back in a moment of clarity.

“No, no,” Joel’s hands immediately land on your hips to hold you in place, bringing you lower. “Stay right there for me.”

You don’t dare move. 

Finally, his mouth finds you. You think he might tease for a little bit, go slow, because he’s been doing that all night, and it’s become infuriating. But he doesn’t. He eats you out, laves at you. A hot, velvet tongue that works up a steady rhythm. It’s interrupted only by the vibration of his moans every so often, which only add to the pleasure. For a moment, you miss how he’d been talking to you before, but you’re so sensitive, so eager, that you think you’ll sacrifice anything if it means he’s not going to stop. Joel keeps you still with a bruising grip on your hips. All you can do is let him have his way and whimper his name over and over, listen to him groan in response. 

Being consistent is key for you. And Joel is nothing but. Practiced, but feral….like he’s been holding back all night. It’s been a long time, or maybe he’s just that excited, it’s hard to tell. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Can’t bring yourself to care about much more than him, the man below you working you over with just his mouth. 

“I’m…Joel, I’m-” you try to pull off again, it’s too much, but he doesn’t allow it. Even if the position he’s in is compromising, he’s managed to find a way to assert himself. The coil inside you has wound so tightly that almost every muscle in your body is tense. Now, can’t even move, not even if you wanted to, and he keeps going, your words have only made him more determined.

The coil snaps. You cry out, using the headboard to stifle your noises – not worried that it will probably leave a mark. If you get nothing else from Joel, then at least it will serve as a reminder that he was here, beneath you, lapping up everything you have to give him. The orgasm leaves you weak, trembling, but he holds you up, works you through it until the waves begin to cease, and then you’re so overstimulated, so sensitive that you start to feel lightheaded. “Fuck, Joel, I can’t-” You tug on his hair, hope he’ll get the hint and release you, but he doesn’t. If anything, it only spurs him on.

His mouth is white hot on you, his tongue damp, firm as it circles your clit and drags downward. He gives you nowhere to go, no opportunity to come down from the high, so within minutes, or seconds – at this point, you’ve lost track of time – he’s worked you up to the precipice of release, and you’re coming again, crying out to him.

At last, he eases off, lets you relax. You do, carefully, and so does he, gradually removing his mouth from you while your hand untangles from his dark curls. Joel holds you steady as he sits back against the headboard, keeping you splayed across his lap. You don’t waste your time saying something stupid like “you didn’t have to do that,” because you’re not gonna pretend you didn’t love every second, but mostly because you’re not sure you’re capable of speaking just yet. His hand catches your jaw, and he looks at you – innocently, like he hadn’t just done what he had done, like his fucking beard, and chin, and lips weren’t still wet with you. But the ornery glint in his eyes gives him away. “You liked that?” he has the audacity to ask. 

A shaky hand comes to pinch your eyebrows as you let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah, Joel….yeah.”

“Good,” he answers. 

“I was right about you,” you manage. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs, and his hand skates up your arm, the other settling on your waist. It’s grounding, reassuring as your heart attempts to steady its beating. 

“You’re trouble.” 

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, and he leans in close. “Only for you, pretty girl.” 

Your hips jolt back at the term of endearment, so much so that you feel the length of his cock, hard against your ass. It’s your turn to take care of him, but it shouldn’t be difficult, because your arousal is already building again. It’ll be much, much, easier to come again, specifically around him. Plus, right now, you are willing to do just about anything for him. You kiss him, and it’s sloppy, lick the taste of yourself out of his mouth. Heat curls again in the pit of your stomach, and you grind yourself down on him through his underwear.

Joel’s head falls back, bonks the headboard, and the thud of impact is overshadowed by his agonized moan. You reach down between your bodies, let your touch land over his clothed cock. He pants out your name. So many things you could do – with only your hand, or your mouth, but before you can decide, he speaks again.

“Wanna be inside you,” he grits out. “So fucking bad.” 

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No, no. I need you.”

“You can have me,” you nod, leaning forward to kiss his neck, pushing down the elastic of his underwear. Joel lets you, his hips stuttering, until he freezes. “Shit.” He reaches out to halt your movements.

You look up, his eyes are wide. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I uh, I left my wallet in the car,” Joel’s voice is pinched, palms leaving your body to press against his eyes, frustrated. “I brought condoms, but they’re - I’ll have to go get them.”

“I have some,” you pipe up, nodding towards your bedside table. Joel reaches for it, but it's your turn to stop him. “But I mean, I’m clean,” you say. “...And I have an IUD, so…” 

Joel pauses, stares at you under thick lashes. “You sure that…” So tentative. “....That’s okay with you?” 

You feel yourself smirk a little as you look at him. It’s not something you’d allow anyone to do. But you’re feeling a little lost in the moment. The part of your brain that usually tells you to run for the hills whenever things get too real has turned off. It’s not the first time he’s caused that, and you sort of enjoy the delusion. There’s no question. It’s Joel.  “Oh, yeah.”

The words ignite something in him that you weren’t entirely prepared for, and he’s pulling you hard against his mouth with one hand, while the other pushes his briefs down the rest of the way. You don’t get the chance to see him, to feel him, before he’s lining himself up with your slick cunt. 

It’s a soft glide of sensitive skin across sensitive skin, and you shake with anticipation. You don’t even know you have your eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, until you hear Joel’s voice. 

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “Please just-” he swallows hard. “I wanna watch you. So fucking pretty.” 

You obey, and he guides your hand to replace your own. It’s not until your hand wraps around him that you’re aware of just how thick his cock is, throbbing and leaking, and it makes you all the more eager. Slowly, you start to sink down, but it’s too challenging to take him all at once. So first, just the tip, you roll back to ease the sting, then gradually sink lower and low. 

Joel moves closer to you, holding his breath, guiding you along, propped back against the pillows. “That’s it, so fucking good, baby…”

You understand why he was moving so languidly earlier. This is meant to be enjoyed. After some time, and lots of praise, your hips settle flush with his own, and he’s seated fully inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that your body isn’t fully ready to accommodate, but it has your toes curling and mouth hanging open, bearing down on him involuntarily. Under Joel’s watchful gaze you feel terribly, terribly exposed. 

“Keep going,” Joel encourages. So you move. It’s experimental at first, small ruts against him, getting used to the way it feels. It doesn’t take you long to find the spot that makes you abandon eye contact, throw your head back, and –

“Oh, Joel.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he sounds strained, pinched – he’s holding back, but still enjoying every second. “That feel good?”

You nod furiously. He lets you find a rhythm that works for you, lets you take your time, and once you do, he starts to match your pace. His hands don’t stay in one place for very long. First, they’re resting gently on your ass. Then they’re cupping your tits, watching them bounce as they sway with your movements. He brings his knees up behind you, pressing his feet into the bed, and uses the leverage to fuck himself deeper each time you lower yourself onto him. 

At this point, you’re unaware of what types of noises you must be making, and you’re thankful that you’re alone so you can be as loud as you want. His cock is hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed, and rolling across the same spot over and over and over. 

“You feel so perfect for me,” Joel says, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling. “So, so good, baby, so fucking pretty.” 

“Mm-hmm,” is all you can answer, nodding furiously and feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with every thrust. 

You’re too easy for him. And you were too worked up to begin with. “Joel, I can’t-”

He slams his hips up into yours so hard you cut yourself off with a choked gasp. Then he does it again. “You gonna come for me?” he asks. “I can feel you, baby, I know it’s close.” 

“Y-yeah,” he’s got you stammering on your words. You’re clamping down onto him so tightly it hurts. But you’re so desperate to come, to feel what it’ll do to him, that you don’t stop.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hands around your waist, pulling you down so your lips are nearly touching. “Stay close to me.”

“Oh, fuck, oh-” The warmth of his body so close to yours, your hands bracing themselves on his chest, the comfort of his arms around you, all coupled with one vicious rut of his hips has you right there. Joel tilts your head back just enough so you’re forced to look directly at him – and then you come undone. 

You want to close your eyes, turn your head, but you’ve got nowhere to go, and he’s right in front of you. Joel’s touch slides up your back, draws you even closer, and you ride out your third orgasm of the night while pressed entirely against his chest, forced to be vulnerable in a way you’ve never been with anyone before. “So good, baby, so good. Such a good fuckin’ girl for me,” he praises you through it, works you through it, until you’re all but melted in his arms, and he still hasn’t pulled his eyes away.

Utterly spent, you know, distantly, somewhere, that he has to come. However, Joel takes over, flips you both so you’re underneath him, and presses himself deep into the cradle of your pelvis. He’s heavy on top of you, but the weight is somehow soothing.

“I thought about you,” you murmur, hoping it’ll help. His jaw is set, solely focused on his own release. “How good you’d feel.”

“Fuck, really?” he grunts. “I-I- did too.”

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling flush at the admission. “I thought about….letting y-you use me.”

Joel groans your name, curses loudly, ruts into you even harder. You can feel him throbbing, so fucking close, and you arch yourself up to meet him, pleasure already building again, even though you thought it wasn’t possible. 

“It’s so much better, Joel, you’re so much better–” 

Than I imagined. But you don’t have to finish the thought. The idea of you, thinking of him, seems to be enough as it is, and you feel him pulsing, warmth blooming and spreading out as he groans, throws his head back and spills himself impossibly deep inside you. If you weren’t utterly spent, the feeling of him coming – and nothing between you, probably would have set you off again. For now, it’s enough.

His whole body goes limp as he relaxes his arms from where they’re braced on either side of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You hear him take a few, haggard breaths once it’s over, and then a deep chuckle vibrates in your ear. “Fuck, baby.”

You rub his shoulder lightly to soothe him, and his lips find the underside of your jaw, kissing lightly his beard scratching your cheeks. For an undetermined amount of time, he remains there. Normally, you’d probably check his watch, but you’ve noticed that the one he always wears is broken, and really….you feel content.

Finally, Joel pulls away, cursing under his breath and withdrawing from you. He runs his hand through his hair, and flops on his back by your side, and you feel horribly empty. After he’s cupped your cheek, turning you gently to look at him – he gives you a tender, affectionate smile. 

It hits you like a freight train. 

He was not the type of man you dated. The men you dated liked to slap, choke, withhold. That had always been what you’d gotten off to. The more frenzied, the more impersonal – the better. That wasn’t to say Joel hadn’t been passionate. But you’d never experienced anything like this before.

You tear away from his gaze, focus on the ceiling. Heart pounding, threatening to break through your ribs, you feel your mouth dry up, your eyes burn and fuck – you’re about to cry. Try to turn yourself away from him, but he sees it. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just uh-” your voice catches on the lump forming in the back of your throat and cracks audibly, raw. 

“Hey– ” you hear the mattress shift, he’s moving closer, and you start to scramble. You’ve gotta leave. Get to the bathroom, compose yourself. “Where are you goin?”

“Joel, I just need to-” but his hand circles your wrist, and you don’t have the power to resist him. The bones of his hand press firmly in your cheek, turning your head so you have to look at him. There are tears in your eyes.  

“What’s wrong, baby? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Up close you can see that his eyes aren’t brown – they’re hazel. Mesmerizing, long lashes – gold and green rimming his irises. How had you not noticed that before? 

“No, no not at all it was just…” you’re talking so fast, not even sure where you’re going with the sentence. “I’m sorry, I liked it I just-I don’t know,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you cover your face. You don’t want to feel this way with him here. “I’m not used to-” 

Joel, who has never seen you at a loss for words, frowns, draws you against him. “Come here.”

“It’s okay,” he lets you press your face just below his jaw. He’s being so soft, it makes everything that much worse. Tears slip down your cheeks, landing on his skin. He strokes your hair, holds you so tightly, firmly, "It was intense, huh?” 

You want to resent the way he’s speaking to you – like you’re a child who fell off her bike and skinned her knee, and not a grown ass woman realizing how disconnected she’s felt with every other partner until now. But unfortunately, it’s kind of working. You murmur an affirmation in response. ”I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he promises. 

He holds you until the tide of emotion swells, settles, lips against your temple, his fingertips tracing up and down your spine, and gives you the time to compose yourself.

“That was really nice, I promise,” you say, eventually. And then, because he’s been so gracious, you’re honest. “It’s just been…a long time…” Forever, really. “Since I felt…”

“I know,” Joel nods. “Me too. It’s alright.” 

“Yeah,” you bob your head. He holds your face reverently, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss before tucking you back against his chest. You close your eyes, nestle against him. He strokes your hair while you listen to the steady beat of his heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next thing you know, you’re being gently shaken awake. Somehow, you’d fallen asleep. 

“Hey, baby,” Joel murmurs softly. 

“Mmm?” you groan in response, exhaustion clinging to your limbs. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta get going.” 

You scoff into his neck and make a noise of protest, still not entirely roused, he’d woken you too delicately. When he speaks, his lips brush against your forehead, hands still tracing up and down the lines of your body and making you shiver. “I told Sarah and Tommy I’d be home by midnight.”

“Right,” you mutter, finding the strength to push yourself off of him and stretch. Joel sits up, very tentatively releasing you from his grip. 

“I’m sorry I had to wake you, I can see myself out.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “No, please. Do you need anything?”

“Can I use your bathroom?” 

“Of course,” you point towards the ensuite. 

Joel collects his discarded clothes off the bed, then the floor, and disappears. You hear the sink running, watch the shuffling shadows he casts in the crack below the door. While he’s doing that, you slip into your robe and run your fingers through your hair, taking in the disheveled state of your bed, before deciding to clean up in the extra bathroom down the hall.

On your way back, you run into Joel, who looks better than ever, tanned skin glowing, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.” 

“This was nice. I had a really good time.” 

“Me too.”

“Will you…” he trails off, rubs his jaw. “Will you be okay? I don’t want to-”

“I’m fine,” you say, dismissively. “I just had a moment.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” Joel studies you carefully, and you’re prompted to continue. “I promise. Joel. This was nice.”

“It was,” he grins. “I’d like to see you again.” 

“Me too,” you don’t even think before you answer, despite everything. It surprises you, how willing you suddenly are.

“Good.” He kisses you, slow and lingering. “I’ll give you a call.” 

“Okay.”

-

part vi

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[foryiujeans]

cupid’s arrow.

synopsis. a wall full of hearts and arrows written by mysterious cupids of ships around the school, what happens seeing your name with a certain someone?

pairings. crush!sung hanbin x fem!reader.

warnings. none.

word count. 3.0k

general taglist. @forsobeans

“cupid’s wall is finally here!”

you've never seen the campus so busy. large groups of students hanging around and just having a good time. you arrive with zhanghao and ricky, both of them who were staring quietly at the students. you, on the other hand, you were holding onto your phone for dear life.

within seconds you're caught up in the crowd, loosing all sense of direction as you're swept up in a sea of excited students.

“y/n!” matthew waves you over the second he spots you looking lost. a relived smile adorns your face when you see him, thankful to have found a friend when the three of you were confused by the sudden crowd.

“we’re sitting over here." yujin takes your hand to lead you to safety.

you spot gyuvin and gunwook first, the latter sending you a friendly wave as you reach them. you’re fully aware of the other presence at the table, you can feel his gaze on you but you don't get a chance to even quickly glance his way before your attention is diverted.

"scoot round." matthew laughs, indicating for them to make some room. zhanghao guides you to sit next to him, offering you a drink, which you accept right away.

ricky was standing, gazing at the people who were crowding over a wall and writing on it, “what’s with them?”

“it’s cupid’s wall,” jiwoong said, “you basically draw a heart and write two people you ship which may become true.”

the boys really wanted to check the cupid’s wall out after the crowd has cleared less. you were for sure thought it was nonsense but since they made it sound more interesting, you guessed you had to check it out as well, with your crush.

in the corner of your eye, you saw sung hanbin was conversing, joking around and talking with zhanghao who was doing his presentation on the spot with his laptop opened on the table. the sound multiple of footsteps were heard as it went away. you head lit up and saw that the cupid’s wall had no one there.

“oh cool, they all left. let’s go!” gunwook raced gyuvin to the wall and took the markers and pens that they had placed to write on.

zhanghao went after you, standing beside you as you both scanned the wall with names and hearts written on it. the introverted boy had nudged your side, catching your attention.

zhanghao x y/n.

you and zhanghao are best of friends since middle school. he had taught you how to play the violin and tutored you for the subjects that weakened you while you tutored him his weak subjects. the brunette only laughed at the two familiar names someone had written while you held onto a small smile, chuckling.

"hi y/n." the familiar voice made your heartbeat panic.

"hello hanbin."

you tried not to let your flustered state show at how endearing he was-but nonetheless still annoying.

you softly push at his shoulder which caused him to rock backwards as he was bending over with his hands on his knees to be leveled with you who was crouching. he let out a big smile, not wanting to laugh in the quiet atmosphere of the school, although tempting because of your actions that he found ridiculously adorable. shoot, he even found your deep-sleep-drooling face adorable, proved by the countless pictures of you in his phones gallery. he looked at the boys who were writing names and hearts in one same area.

"i saw your name with hao’s?" he asked me, referring to the cupid’s wall.

"ah, we’re just friends,” you sheepishly answered and frowned at the second, “i don’t know who wrote that.”

he pursed his lips into a thin line, his hand holding onto his bag, “you’re not gonna write?”

the moment you shook your head, hanbin only lets out a small laugh and ruffled your hair. the warm feeling in your stomach was about to burst and you know it. he then stared at his other friends in front of him who were pointing at names and laughing with each other.

“y/n, look!” yujin grabbed your hand and wanted to show you what he wrote. more like they wrote.

sung hanbin x y/n l/n.

the huge amount of your name and hanbin’s were scattered in the same area with pink and red hearts around it. the boys had written all of them in one big red heart with both of your names in pink hearts inside. the blush on your face was pretty visible to which gyuvin and taerae had teased you about.

with a nod, you quickly pull your hands back to break out of the visions. internally cursing yourself for being stupid enough to think that the lover in the visions had been you-just how delusional were you now? sure, you've always been a head in the clouds type of person, falling in love with the possibility that everywhere you go, the next person you meet might just be the love of your life. eye contact with the cute dog walker at the park turns into getting lost in their eyes while walking under the stars. a brush of hands with the hot barista at the local coffee shop turns into holding hands while reciting wedding vows.

and though hanbin was indeed good-looking, even with his face half hidden under the shadow of his hood, this wasn't the same. he was a friend, and you thought he only liked being friends with you. ut was silly to have thought of the possibility of being in his future in the first place, but even more ridiculous to say it out loud.

you immediately shake off the thoughts when you catch him staring.

"so?" he leans forward, looking at you like he has some big secret to share. "what did you see?"

"um, your love life will be just fine."

"yeah?"

"yeah." the small piece of lint on your sleeve becomes so interesting when trying to avoid his intense stare.

the moment of awkward silence between the two of you excluding the noises the others were making in the background was heard. it was only him staring at you with an adorned smile on his face while you were avoiding it.

“i saw it.”

"oh." you swallow the lump in your throat. "i’m not sure why it's there either."

he knew you liked him, you were just denying it.

if he does detect your lie, he doesn't say anything about it. instead, his expression morphs into something softer. "love can be found everywhere, Y/ N," he murmurs.

and how do you answer? it might be too soon for him to know about your feelings, but it's also too soon for your heart to be speeding up the way it does. for you to feel a small burst of butterflies in your stomach every time he so much as stares at you for a moment too long, and for this cover story and the re-enactments to feel more tangible than the abstract concepts they're meant to be.

"besides, i’ll be such a good date for you." hanbin releases you and steps back, smile turning shy as he holds out a hand. "or boyfriend?"

the wave of silence between the two of you didn’t even make you realise that the others were already gone.

hanbin breaks into a soft smile. "you know, i’ve always wondered what you keep thinking about. when you get lost in that world in your head, what do you see? what do you think about?"

"it’s different every time," you murmur, trying to ignore the way your palms feel all too hot intertwined with his. "but these days... it's you."

you don't tell him that it's also getting to know him, falling for him, and imagining how you should be the one doing all those things with him like in the reading. it’s picturing a love that flourishes ever so slowly, one that silently rests between the two of you, growing steadily until a day when it becomes the only thing you can hear.

and though you leave all that out, your answer seems to be enough for him.

"me?"

"yeah," you say softly, avoiding his gaze that was staring into your eyes.

your words feed the twinkle of hope in his eyes as well as the one that seemed to have been blossoming in your own heart for a while now. maybe you can finally admit it; this would be the last time you see him, so maybe it wouldn't matter what happens now.

you know it when he leans in, breath but a whisper at your ear as he says, "you’re really bad at lying that you love me, y/n."

now you don't have to look into his future to know that all the scenes you'd seen were about you. Now you can picture it — hanbin looking up from your laced hands on the table and seeing your smile, face no longer out of focus. pulling away from your kiss in the orchard has you seeing your own gaze, surprised but content. and then there's this very moment when you see yourself in hanbin’s eyes and you just know.

cupid’s wall really did brought two together.

a/n ! thank you so much for reading and giving me requests. i’m thankful that you guys enjoyed reading it and giving all the notes and support. i do not own any characters, music or pics given, will definitely work harder for the next ones !

signing out, miaaa hihi !